#i love that it ends with five saying he feels absolutely splendid and giving a huge smile

[verticalplane]

4th January 1982 - Happy 42nd birthday Castrovalva!!!

[lavendertales]

Love in the dark: Part III**

pairing: Javier Peña x wife!reader

summary: when you’re given a timeout and allowed no form of contact with each other for a month, you and Javier find it surprisingly difficult.

word count: 5.1k

WARNINGS: talk of grief & death. cunnilingus, piv, cowgirl.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @pedropascalsx​ 

series masterlist | AO3

Unsurprisingly, you wake up alone.

Javier had to go to work early, as per usual, but you knew that he had been eager to leave, sort of glad the two of you didn’t have to talk about the previous night.

Frankly, so were you.

Last night was only another mistake to add to the pile of ones you made in the past year or so; nothing new, nothing groundbreaking. Yet it still feels as if each time he leaves—or when you do so—another piece of you breaks.

You realize you have to leave in roughly half hour so you rush to make yourself at least a cup of coffee. That’s when you remark the flowers on the counter, in the same spot you and Javier tainted last night.

Confused, yet deeply touched, you inch closer to the vase, noticing there is also a little card.

I’m really sorry about last night. I know it wasn’t for all the good reasons, and I’m truly sorry about that, Hermosa.

I love you. I have loved you since the moment I saw you and I’ll keep loving you. I promise I will do better. For you, for me, and for us.

Javier

You take a deep breath, trying to control the stream of tears that threatens to break free from your eyes. This is how you know Javier—kind, loving and protective. You understand that his inner demons have resurfaced and it’s a tough battle, but you got your own and you cannot always be expected to pick up the pieces of this crude shadow of your husband.

So you try your best to go through your work day with a clear mind and not focus too much on the first joined session after a month you and Javier will have that afternoon.

Though it’s no easy task; as you skim through the stack of papers on your desk, your mind flies to what’s to come, feeding you all kinds of scenarios that solidify the empty hope you carry within.

You want to reconcile more than anything. While you realize that having things back to the way they were is not possible, you sure miss that intoxicating sweetness from the beginning. You miss the times when it was all talking and sex. The hot, sticky sweat dripping down your naked, flush bodies stealing breaths from each other—

The sudden mention of your name brings you back to reality. You’re back in Ms. Pearson’s office, sitting cross-legged on the couch and staring at her wide-eyed.

“Is everything okay?” she asks you.

As it turns out, fantasizing about your husband the whole day gets you through the day with little to no effort. You got no clue where the day went, nor when you ended up on this couch next to Javier.

“Yes,” you smile politely. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem. You were about to tell me how things are going.”

“Right. Well, not as splendid as one might think.”

Ms. Pearson chuckles, and so does Javier, but he keeps quiet.

“It’s been a little over a month. Give it some time.”

“We’re both trying.”

Something nests in your belly and throat all of a sudden, the size of a fist, and it’s hard to brush off.

“I wanted to ask you, what do you think it’s the root of all these issues between you and Javier?”

You take a deep breath in, brief flashbacks of your five years together running through your mind as you prepare an answer. There are so many things that you might deem as responsible for the rupture happening between the two of you but, aside from Javier’s past trauma, one stands out.

“My mother passed away shortly after we moved to Laredo, three years ago,” you say, nearly choking on the words.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. It was… sudden, and it shocked us all. My depression spiraled. I was… a zombie, for weeks. Javier did his absolute best to be there for me, but it was so hard.”

“I can imagine.”

“I think it was worse because… when I was sixteen, my sister passed away. It was another shock.”

Even Ms. Pearson seems shocked at that revelation, and you cannot blame her.

“I am so sorry,” she says.

“It took me so long to get over my fear that I was somehow responsible for killing my sister. And when the same happened with my mother… I was so lost. Javier tried, bless his heart, but after two months, I went to live with my family for a while in San Francisco. Heal together, as it were. He was supposed to come with me, but he didn’t. He said he didn’t want to intervene and let me spend quality time with my family, but the matter of the fact is… I knew he couldn’t handle it. I knew it was too much sadness for him, I knew that my depression was terrible and it scared him.”

“It was never a matter of handling it,” Javier practically groans.

Both you and Ms. Pearson turn towards him and notice the gloomy expression that resides on his face.

“I just wanted to give you space,” he continues. “It was clear there was nothing I could do to make you feel better, so I thought being with your family was the best choice.”

“Still, it would’ve been nice to have my husband there.”

“For what? I was clearly not even wanted around.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

Ms. Pearson gestures you to calm down, though it’s increasingly difficult when you sense another storm rising.

“You were miserable back in Laredo,” you tell him. “You still are, but especially when I was away, you were miserable, and let everyone know you were miserable. So I came back. I came back, for you.”

“You came back because you had to.”

You frown, anger threatening to boil your skin into an open wound. “No, I didn’t have to, actually.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Yes, I do! You’re still miserable in Laredo, you feel trapped, and because of that, you resent me and everything that has to do with us!”

“For the last time, I do not resent you! You’re the fucking love of my life, how could I ever resent you?!”

“Because I see it in your eyes. The admiration you had, the… spark in your eyes, it’s—it’s gone.”

Javier huffs. “I was so… goddamn in love with you, I just wanted to be with you, no matter what.”

“By leaving me.”

“In the first two months after it happened, you were barely there. You were a zombie, like you said, and I just felt so… powerless. You did everything mechanically, calculated, but you weren’t there. No matter what I did, I couldn’t help you snap out of it. So I thought giving you space and time with your family would be better. Because I wasn’t enough.”

You don’t argue against him this time. Deep down, you approve of his words. Hard not to when your feelings are headed in the same direction.

Ms. Pearson quickly notes of Javier’s real issue with the situation, finally beginning to tie some loose ends, and watches you both curiously.

“And when I came back, the whole town knew about my breakdown, about my mom…”

“No one ever said—“

“I basically trapped you into a life you always hated, and now… you’re stuck.”

That’s the last straw for Javier.

He repositions himself on the couch, rage searing from his whole face.

“Don’t you ever say that,” he practically whispers. “I don’t ever do things I don’t want to. I would not have come back here if I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to. You felt obligated. You wanted to help your father out on the ranch, and you finally had a good reputation after Colombia. You could finally make amends after everyone hated your guts for what you did to Lorraine.”

Javier stands up and starts pacing around the office.

“You know the story with Lorraine,” he mutters. “You know that’s not what happened.”

“Fine. But after my mother’s passing, you couldn’t just walk away, it would just be the same story all over again. And hence… obligation.”

“I did it because I love you! Everything I ever did, was because I fucking love you!”

“I love you too, and that’s why we’re here, to fix this!”

“The whole reason why we’re here is because of you and what you want! I am trying to give you what you want, whatever that is, but you are making it so damn hard.”

“Why can’t you commit to anything?”

“I’ve committed the last five years of my life to you.”

Ms. Pearson subtly clears her throat, gaining both your attention. Javier finally sits back down next to you, avoiding your eyes once again.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” she says. “We’ve circled right back to where we started. So maybe it’s time to hit the reset button.”

“Great! Let’s—let’s reset. How?”

“Have you ever considered spending some time apart? Since your arguments began, I mean. A break can actually—“

You exchange a look with Javier before looking back at her.

“You mean separation?” Javier asks. “No. We’re trying to save our marriage, not destroy it. I don’t wanna do that.”

You gently shush him, making him feel confused.

“Don’t think of it as a separation. You two have gone through so much. You’re completely different people than when you first got together. It can be helpful to rediscover who you are. Take a break from one another.”

Javier chuckles mockingly, breaking the tense atmosphere by making it somehow even more suffocating.

“Break, separation… same thing,” he says, exhaustion evident in his voice. “It’s the first step to divorce, is this—is this what you want?”

“Why don’t you let Ms. Pearson finish?”

“Look, from my experience, couples come to therapy for one of two reasons. Either one person wants out of the relationship and they need help telling the other, or they both desperately want it to work. They want to fight to make it work.”

“Well, we wanna make it work, right?”

Javier’s voice is almost pleading, begging you to listen to reason but there is no need for it. For the first time in who knows how long, you feel awake, lucid, sober, and capable of making the right decision.

“Right,” you answer.

He frowns albeit your indifference to his facial expression.

“And the break is not an end,” Ms. Pearson reassures you. “A break is a tool to help make it work, for an agreed upon time and then we come together, reevaluate the relationship.”

Javier rolls his eyes, the crease between his brows still crinkled.

“No, I don’t like it, I—no,” he blurts out. “I think it’s crazy, I’m sorry. I mean we’re supposed to be getting closer, now we need space? I don’t—I don’t follow. We need more time together, not apart, no.”

“Javier, deep breaths, as we discussed.”

He tries but it’s so damn hard, especially when he sees your face deep in thought.

“That’s how you make things work, right?” he pleads from you. “No break, right?”

It feels like an eternity passes as you think things over. Ms. Pearson watches you curiously, as does Javier, but it’s only the latter who has a bad feeling.

“I think we should take a break,” you say.

It’s his turn to remain silent; he can’t help but feel upset and disappointed as you define the terms of this so-called break with Ms. Pearson.

“How long—how long does the break last?” you ask.

“As long as you’d like. We decide that now.”

“Okay, uh… thirty days?”

Now Javier feels insulted. Shocked, he turns to you.

“Thirty days, a month? You need a break from me for a whole month?”

“It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

That stings, but it is undeniable regardless of its past circumstances. Ms. Pearson calls you out firmly.

“You wanna say something, now is the time,” she encourages you.

“Javi, I was trying to be nice,” you seemingly excuse yourself. “I don’t think that that’d be enough, I mean… if I had thought that you’d go for it, maybe… three months, six months?”

Javier stands back up again, laughing, since it feels like the only reaction left for that moment.

“Oh my God, six—six fucking months?” he asks through shocked laughter.

“I’m trying to be honest, Javi. I want to save us, but the only way that I know how to do this is by being honest.”

“This feels like a joke, just… a really shitty joke at our expense.”

You’re silent again, concern legible on your face as you stare at Ms. Pearson. When no one says anything else, Javier takes a seat yet again, hands joined together on his lap.

“Fine, thirty days,” he concedes. “How does it work?”

“Do you have children?” Ms. Pearson asks.

“No, why?”

“If you did, I’d recommend living in the same house, separate bedrooms, but since that is not the case, you two should be in two different living spaces.”

That’s when it hits you. “We do take care of Javier’s father though. We take turns. Two days me, two days him. We help him with his daily chores and so on.”

“Alright then, the same house it is, separate bedrooms. You’ll essentially have separate lives. Boundaries are vital: make a schedule for your chores and jobs, and stick to it religiously. No talking. No communication except in emergencies. Lastly, this is very important, no intimacy. No sex. With other people, or with each other.”

DAY 1

You’re already in the kitchen when Javier walks in. You’re making breakfast for yourself and ignore him as he’s almost doing circles around you.

“Dad’s all good,” he coos. “He seems to be continuing the bashing of the neighbors theme he’s got going on this month.”

You still don’t respond, nor do you look at him.

And apparently, it is far more than Javier can take.

He says your name, voice trembling and eyes wide like a puppy’s as he searches for yours.

“I didn’t sleep at all, I—I can’t do this. It’s been one night, and uh… I feel… we don’t need this. How are we seriously supposed to not talk for an entire month?”

You find that quite ironic, given the fact that in your relationship, you were usually the more talkative one—although not by much.

“Just—just please, please look at me, I need to talk to you,” he begs.

You drop the knife on the platter with a semi-loud clink, and stare at him exasperated. You share the same need, the same desire, yet you find adhering to the rules far easier than him, it seems.

You want this to work more than anything.

But then, right as Javier shows you a little smile, you take your breakfast plate and sit at the dining table, leaving him alone and, indeed, fearful.

He swallows it all like it’s vomit threatening to erupt from him, and follows your lead.

DAY 3

Javier waves goodbye to his father as he watches him drive off in that rusty old truck. He sits on the porch for a little while, then he hears giggles from inside the house. Frowning, he makes it his mission to go check.

And sure enough, there you are in the kitchen, cooking with your friend, Angela.

“I really thought I did!” Angela laughs.

You both stop as Javier enters the kitchen.

“Oh, hey Javi,” Angela greets him all perky.

“Am I interrupting?” he asks.

“No, we were just���cooking.”

“I can see that.”

He crosses his arms at his chest, eyes fixated on you.

“I thought you had to study,” he says.

Angela looks at you, then back at Javier with hesitation.

“Right, talking is against the rules, sorry,” she says as Javier rolls his eyes in anger that other people know their business. “Yes, she does, her examination is in two months and there’s a lot to cover for the board presentation. But you obviously already… know that, so uh… yeah, I am helping her, but we are taking a break.”

Javier walks slowly towards the kitchen island, picking up the bottle of wine. “Neat,” he says, taking a large sip straight from it.

“I’m also making ambrosia salad if you’re into it,” Angela tries to soothe the situation.

But you and Javier exchange a rather venomous look in return as he leaves the kitchen with the wine bottle in his hand.

He makes a mental note to share that to Ms. Pearson on his next solo session.

DAY 10

He’s not sure how he got in that bar, and with his dad, no less, but there’s no other person more suitable to talk to, someone that would never ever judge him.

“It’s called indoor separation,” Javier says. “We… live in the same house, we do our chores and other stuff, we just can’t talk or have sex.”

“Sounds tough.”

“Tell me about it.”

They both chug the first shot of tequila and order another one right away.

“How did it get here?” Javier seemingly asks himself. “One minute ago we were so happy, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other… and now we’re arguing about everything all the time and… shit, I think I might start to like the silence.”

“Mijo, when that happens, it’s not a good sign.”

Javier stares him down, unimpressed as he passes one of the two glasses to him.

“Nothing about this is a good sign.”

Second round of tequila, done.

“Your mother and I could go days without talking to each other,” Chucho says. “But she never allowed that, she was too feisty and stubborn. That you get from her.”

Javier chuckles softly. “My wife doesn’t let it happen either, but now she’s… scary good at this.”

“Have you thought that the reason she is so tough, mijo, is because she’s trying to do this for you both? Because you have hesitations?”

Javier gulps, avoiding his father’s concerned yet caring look.

Third round of tequila, done.

“When we do talk, though, we… use a patch that might not be the best idea,” Javier shyly admits.

“If it works, it ain’t stupid.”

Fourth round, done.

“But you’re trying, it’s a good thing,” Chucho says, patting him on the back.

“I know. I know. I just… it’s overwhelming.”

Fifth round, done.

And then it was just Javier who did the drinking, reaching honorable number of eight in shots consumed.

“God, I miss sex,” he blurts out, much to Chucho’s amusement.

“Tell me about it, mijo.”

Javier frowns, barely registering what he’s saying.

Next thing he knows, he’s in the back of a cab, going back to his home that no longer feels like one. With nothing more but his chaotic thoughts, haunting past and estranged wife.

He’s making his way to his bedroom, a little drunk, and notices your door half open. He peeks curiously, just for a second, he tells himself. He sees you passed out on the bed, book open on your stomach, and his heart nearly trembles in his chest. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this even, but he dares want more.

He steps forward in the bedroom, a silly smile smeared across his face as he sits on the edge of your bed, caressing your arm. Then you wake up, slightly embarrassed and picking up the notes that fell out of your book. You smile pleasantly at him, igniting that fire within Javier that only you could turn on and off at will.

He simply stares at you, suddenly feeling awake. Your lips find each other naturally, softly, but you pull away.

Only for a second, so Javier can stare at you with a pleading glare that makes your knees weak.

Then he kisses you again, and all is forgotten once more.

“So you broke the rules?”

Ms. Pearson’s tone is more curious rather than judgmental.

“Not really, no. We stopped. We didn’t have sex. She had to study, I mean… I wanted to ask her how it went, but… we stopped.”

“Close enough. We said no intimacy of any kind.”

“Well now I wish we hadn’t stopped, so—so what happens now?”

“In order for this to work, you have to follow the rules for the full thirty days.”

Astounded, Javier can only stare back at her. “You don’t mean that—?”

But Ms. Pearson nods, feeling just as sorry for them, if not more.

DAY 11

“We broke the rules. Again.”

Ms. Pearson stares at you, surprised. “So you had sex.”

“No! No. When he didn’t come home last night, I thought that he was sleeping with someone else, which… is against the rules. And also… the idea really, really killed me on the inside. But then I thought okay, if he’s not doing a stranger, then… what if he’s not okay? And that killed me even more. So I made him talk to me.”

The office was buzzing with people, phones, all kinds of liveliness, but you only cared to see Javier, to hear him for the first time in… who knows at that point, two weeks, three weeks?

“What are you doing here?” he asked you as you pulled him out of the room, dragging him by his wrist.

“I know that we’re not supposed to do this, but we live in the same house, so I still know when you don’t come home.”

“Okay…?”

“And it’s not even for me, but it’s just… if something were to happen to you, I would have to tell your dad, and—“

“I was with my dad. We had a hamburger, fries and a beer. Then I slept at his house.”

“I was worried!”

“I’m fine, okay? Nothing to be worried about.”

“She was jealous,” Javier tells Ms. Pearson next.

There’s a spark in his eyes, hope in his voice.

“She was… irrationally, obviously jealous. Do you know what that’s like? To have such a person be jealous that you’re out there doing God knows what?”

“I do.”

“It’s like… the hell am I gonna do? Cheat? There’s no one better than her.”

“Well, it’s not the healthiest way—“

“No, no, I know, I realize that! It’s just… it felt so nice. Kinda see her point of view, when I get jealous. She—she cares. She still does. She was worried about me.”

Javier slowly realizes that everything that’s been going on in therapy has a positive impact on him and his feelings; he’s starting to feel a little lighter, to feel like there is hope after all.

“Holy crap,” he says. “Does this mean this thing might actually be working?”

Ms. Pearson only shrugs, smiling at him.

DAY 29

You’re alone in the kitchen, hunched over the materials for the presentation that is on Monday. You’re tired, your neck hurts, and it’s probably past midnight, but you have to keep going. Everything has to be perfect for that presentation.

You notice Javier in the background, moving slowly so as to not disturb you. He pours some wine into his glass and watches you from behind. There’s something about the way you’re so focused despite your exhaustion: you’re determined and eager, you got that fire in you that always set him ablaze as well.

You’re the same passionate woman at your core, the very same woman he fell madly in love with.

You rotate your neck, pulling back on your chair so you can rub a hand against the pesky kink there. Javier takes notice, observes you quietly, and inches closer to you, glass of wine forgotten. When you hunch back over the papers, he moves even closer, hands on your shoulders. You gasp, barely able to contain yourself.

It’s been so long now that you felt his touch, you could easily come in under a minute.

And you suspect he could, too.

“Javier, I—I need to—practice,” you say in the weakest voice possible.

“No talking,” he whispers in return. “Rules.”

You don’t even put up a fight when his hands roam down your back and down to the hem of your tank top. You lift your hands up in the air, finding yourself shirtless under his touch, and you shiver. Good God, his warmth, his soft touch, the way he’s gently twisting your nipples till they pebble in between his fingers, they’re all making you drunker than any type of alcohol.

All of a sudden you’re making out like randy teenagers on the bed, with you writhing underneath him.

“You know—“you struggle to say in between his hot kisses on your neck. “Tomorrow’s our last day.”

“Close enough, huh?”

You both smile in the middle of the kiss, one of your legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him in.

“She’s gonna make us—start again and I can’t—I can’t go through it again—“

“What if we don’t tell her?”

“Oh, look who’s a bad boy.”

“Like you wouldn’t know it, Hermosa.”

You can’t help yourself anymore, not when he leaves a wet trail of hot kisses down your stomach, dragging down your shorts and exposing yourself completely to him.

You’re barely breathing, let alone blinking, when his mouth finds your pussy, licking dutifully against your folds, slickening them to the best of his abilities. Your fingers trace his hair with ease, tugging at it as you arch your back against the sheets, your body filled with the wildest sensations.

You don’t say anything, not even his name; he doesn’t say anything either. Your moans fill the room, followed by glib sounds as his tongue dips in between your folds. Javier tries to fumble with his clothes, reach his throbbing erection that feels like it’s going to explode, but he fails to do so. Eating you out while you reach to play with your clit is more than enough to send him well over the edge.

You come on his tongue not long after he began his sweet torture. Not surprising, given how much tension you’ve accumulated over the past two months. And Javier doesn’t stop: he licks and sucks like his life depends on it.

You tug on his hair a little harder to make him pay attention to you, and as he lifts his head from between your legs, you throw him a beseeching glare that he instantly receives.

You bite on your lower lip as you watch him undress, giving his cock a few strokes. He huffs eagerly, moving closer and lifting one of your legs. Then he remembers, safety first: he reaches in the drawer, searching for a condom.

Once the condom is in place, he starts to slide in, carefully at first, in one swift, long thrust. There’s tranquility in the way he’s so needy and intimate with his motions, but it also carries that spicy, yet saccharine taste from when you first got together. Now, you both find a pace, neither rushed nor too slow. It’s just right, just the right amount of push and pull that allows you to feel him throbbing inside of you.

You hold onto his broad shoulders, reaching to kiss him sloppily as your body rocks with each of his thrusts. You still don’t speak; there is no need for it.

But soon, Javier grows more impatient—as do you—and snaps his hips faster, his calloused hands grabbing onto your hips to pull you even closer, however attainable. Your moans are concomitant to one another, completing each other flawlessly. Breaths gets hitched inside your chest, almost knocked out of your lungs when you feel the impending pressure in your belly. You grab hold of his cheeks, watching in trance as some hair locks bounce off his forehead while he fucks into you, and you let go.

You clench around him, hard. So hard that Javier nearly screams at how spectacular it feels to have you so close, to be so deep within you. It’s an honor, really, some sort of miracle to be able to be with you, of all people, and the fact that you’re right there beneath him, coming on his cock while neither says anything, yet everything is being said…

If there is a God, this one’s mighty generous.

He stops, starting down on you and kissing you. He kisses you properly, unlike anything over the past few months. Then he whispers something unintelligible, maybe your pet name. What you do hear with certainty as he bites your earlobe is mine and always.

Mine, always.

Drunk on his presence and high on those two words, you start to pull yourself up, with Javier still inside of you. Now you’re snug on his lap, starting to ride him as you kiss him tenderly. Javier welcomes you once more, moaning into your mouth. How the hell is he still so hard? He came less than ten seconds ago, and yet… when it comes to you, under any pretense, shape or form, he’s as subdued as he could be.

His hands roam aimlessly on your back, head buried in between your breasts as you ride him faster, eager to achieve another sweet orgasm from both your sides. He’s reaching to the deepest spot inside you that makes you see stars and you’re on the verge of tears at how good it feels. There’s about a million things you want to tell him now: how much you’ve missed him, how glad you are you took a break because hell, it seems like it worked, how great he is to you, how full you feel, stuffed with his cock, how no one could ever measure up to him, with all the good and the bad stuff.

You say none of that though. You ride him till you come again, all over him, till Javier thrusts upwards to meet with more of your hips, brushing up against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. You both grunt and moan as you release onto one another, sweat sticking to your bodies.

Javier’s forehead rests on yours, barely moving inside you now. There are plenty of things he wishes to say to you, but he settles for silence. Anything he could say, you already know. There is no one who knows him better than you, inside and out.

“I love you,” you tell him.

Somehow it feels unexpected, and Javier stares at you wide-eyed. “I love you. So fucking much.”

You smile. “So fucking much.”

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[spiltscribbles]

Ahh I've always wanted to send a prompt. How about “Whoa. Easy, easy. I’ve got you.” with some sleep intimacy. Can I just say I love you and your writing.

~Notes: 😭😭 OH KY GOD SUGAR!!! You are so beyond adorable! I love you to pieces! And I do not deserve such kindness💜😘😘 So I at first read this as sleek Becs i am an idiot... so honestly this is 4700 words of pure smut😳😌😌 but uts early morning so it’s stilly sleepy intimacy kvdjhj Thank you for the prompt! But if smut isn’t your jam plz lmk and I’ll write you something else😣😣😘💜

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.-

If asked to choose his favorite feature of Remus’s, Sirius reckons he’d have a difficult time with it, like to a ridiculous degree. It could easily be the dimple that shows up right on the apple of his cheek when he sports that glowing, reluctantly amused smile that only appears after Sirius or James have hexed a Slytherin prat right in front of him, and not even his Prefect sensibilities prove strong enough to scold them for it. Or maybe it’s the splatter of freckles that dance on the tops of his shoulders and the bridge of his nose right after summer hols, and he looks gloriously golden and it’s all Sirius can do not to kiss each one right in front of all the wizards congregated in nine and three quarters. Or maybe it’s simply the way he gnaws on his bottom lip whenever he’s thinking particularly hard on a subject— a habit usually reserved for potions lessons and when it’s a late night in the library and they’re both tucked away in a dark nook and Sirius has pushed Remus up against a bookshelf while stroking him in his trousers with intense precision. One corner of his mouth curled in challenge, dipping down to lick at that hollow on Remus’s long neck, tacitly reminding him that he best keep quiet lest Madam Pince has their heads on a couple of stakes she surely keeps beneath her desk for opportunities just like this.

Alright, if Sirius is being at all honest, it’s a frequently alternating list of all of Remus’s most splendid attributes, but at the moment, Sirius thinks there’s no question that in fact it’s Remus’s eyes that can ruin him with just a glance. His eyes that are a deep, vibrant green with flecks of amber that dance in their depths. Eyes that look like September, like the very start of their school term. Eyes that make Sirius think of the forest where Padfoot and Moony roam. Eyes that make Sirius think of fire lit common rooms and the taste of butterscotch on Remus’s lips, and such an overwhelming sensation of adoration that it could very well suffocate him if Sirius isn’t careful. It’s such a contrary color from the crisp and cool shades of emerald that accent the regality of 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus’s eyes are something warm and wonderful and where Sirius would gladly choose to get lost inside of for the next eon to come— Most especially if it’s a moment like this, with one of his hands knotted in Remus’s hair while the other one is busy thumbing small circles into his bare stomach. Where Remus is enthusiastically kissing Sirius back— fervent and famished and so fucking gorgeous— His arms loosely tangled around Sirius’s neck from where he’s lying beneath him, long legs bracketed on either side of Sirius’s narrow waist, and yeah, Sirius has always had three inches and two stone on Remus, but he often forgets that Remus’s lithe stature isn’t just for show— he’s got discrete strength beyond a normal wizard, and he chooses to fall under Sirius. Chooses Sirius who’s all hard edges and marble planes. He chooses Sirius simply on the merit that he’s him, and they’ve always been at least somewhat drawn to one another, even before either one of them really knew what it meant.

Sirius inwardly preens, presses more forcefully down against Remus and revels in the slight whimper Remus lets out just then, hands grappling Sirius’s broad shoulders just that bit tighter, keeping him close just that bit more desperately.

It’s remarkable.

The dormitory’s blessedly quiet this Saturday morning— James is off being a ponce on the quidditch field in preparations for their match against Slytherin in a couple weeks— the final one before they graduate and leave Hogwarts’ hallowed halls for the final time— And Peter had kindly buggered off after some not particularly well veiled threats waged by Sirius so he could get some alone time with his sodding boyfriend for Merlin’s sake. They have all morning to stay like this. Sirius can spend hours on end watching as the early light unspools in Remus’s hair— lacing into his curls and turning them a lovely tawny color— and he gets to revel in how Remus’s breath quickens every time Sirius bucks down and rubs their barely clad, already hard cocks against one another. And Sirius can whisper sweet nothings into Remus’s still sleep supple skin— sometimes filthy, and occasionally wicked, and always exultant— letting himself drown into the sounds that Remus moans out in turn, poetry if anyone were to ask him. And they don’t have to worry about nosey roommates or trying to keep quiet or staying inconspicuous from prying eyes that threaten to snatch this snapshot of bliss away from him.

If Sirius could stay in the slice of eternity for the rest of their days and beyond, he’d choose it every single time. And maybe that could be their future, their life after Hogwarts— far away from this looming war beginning to ravage their world as they know it, and divorced from the whispers of the Order that Dumbledore has created to fight against those barmy, blood crazed lunatics.

A future that’s normal and safe and glittering like the silvery film around their patronuses.

Remus would probably get a Muggle job, maybe in a University of some sort. Sirius always thought he’d make such a brilliant professor, make all the school kids mad with how he’s so brilliant and beautiful and compassionate. Sirius and James already know that they’ll both end up in the Ministry as Aurors, because of course that’s the job for a couple of dashing young lads such as themselves. He supposes by then Evans will have been convinced to stop the on again, off again nature of her relationship with dear Prongsie, but he knows that even if not she and Remus are as thick s thieves, she’ll never just let him get away from her friendship after graduation. So maybe she’ll come visit in their flat after her internship at St Mungo’s, and of course Pete is always terrified that if he doesn’t spend every waking minute with at least one of them that he’ll be forgotten, so he’d be there too. The five of them, bombastic and bright and babbling on a lazy weeknight with glasses of fire-whiskey and plates of take out and Remus perched securely into Sirius’s embrace, and everything being just as it should be. Something golden, something wonderful, something splendid.

But as he begins to nip at that point against Remus’s sharp collarbone that’s become his favorite through the duration of their nearly year and a half of dating, he wonders not for the first time if Remus has the same prospects— if he wants to spend countless mornings just like this and endless nights in a similar way, if he wants to pick up Sirius’s discarded socks and eat the dinners Sirius makes for them, if he wants to tumble so thoroughly with Sirius that they don’t even know where one begins and the other ends anymore. Sirius wonders if he wants any of that, or if Remus is planning to go back to Wales with his parents instead of taking up Sirius’s casually thrown around offers for him to stay in the London flat that Alphard had left Sirius along with the gold and the watch and all the expectations of doing better than the Black name has always meant.

And the possibility of that— the possibility of Remus not dreaming of the same forever as him— cuts Sirius to the quick, and he doesn’t let himself think about it, instead sits up on his forearms, so that he’s peering down at Remus now, and he cups the length of him over the cotton, squeezing to hear the melody of Remus’s gasp and grounds himself into the moment once more.

“You’re in a mood this morning,” Remus intones, more than a bit breathily while Sirius moves his hand to push beneath Remus’s pants from behind, cupping one of his cheeks for a good and proper squeeze.

“Mmm, careful, or else I’d think you don’t like this method of being woken up,” Sirius counters, feels himself preen at how Remus’s face dusts scarlet, though it doesn’t last long when Remus retaliates by tugging at his hair, beyond mulish looking at Sirius’s glee.

“You know, I do have to do some more research on that final paper for charms that Flitwick gave us,” he muses— the unrepentant tease.

“Are you sure of that,” Sirius asks, dipping back down to worry the skin of Remus’s earlobe between his teeth, while the pads of his fingers make a pedal soft trail to the cress of his arse, lighter than breath while he circles the small, tight entrance of him— just grazing around the hole with languid intent, occasionally dragging over the opening with a dry finger, never delving any deeper than that. And it gets it’s intended effect— namely, the balls of Remus’s heels pressing up against Sirius’s back, and him gasping out these guttural, maddening mewls as he tries to buck down, tries to finally get some penetration.

“Merlin, are you going to just tease me till those wankers get back, or will you finally fucking do something, Black.”

“I think I like keeping you on the edge, sweetheart.” Sirius retorts, punctuating the point with a small wiggle of the top of his pointer finger, the one now comfortably nestled inside of him.

“Absolute prat,” Remus fumes, though when he begins to try moving once more, Sirius stunts the action by lying his forearm against hiss lightly muscled stomach, pressing most of his weight there while he gives one final, goading push with his finger and drags his hand to instead rub against the expanse of Remus’s pale, thin thigh, wants to lap at the skin there but also doesn’t want Remus to win this little battle he’s waged— not yet at least.

“Well Maybe if you ask nicely?”

The twist of Remus’s features tells Sirius that he’s absolutely fuming, but also he won’t leave because he’s gagging for it just as much as him. “You’re the dog, if you don’t recall. Maybe I should make you beg to hump even my leg.”

“No need for such a wicked tongue, Moons,” Sirius sneers, hitches Remus’s legs higher on his waistline so that the head of his cock can graze at the concealed hole. “Just a please would suffice.”

Remus scoffs. “You’re mad.”

“I’m also very patient,” Sirius leers, begins thrusting only slightly, nudging at him and delighting in the flicker of emotions that flashes over Remus’s face— going from indignant to wanting to abashed and landing on a cool sort of resolve.

“Oi, if you’re all talk, I’m sure I can poke around in the library, see if Leon is still—“ The rest of Remus’s sentence is swallowed up by the frenzy of movement that clashes inharmoniously from one moment to the next. And suddenly Remus is lying flat on his front, with one of Sirius’s legs pressed unswervingly between his legs, an accioed bottle of lube in one of his hands while the other nearly tears Remus’s pants trying to drag them off.

“You’re such a little arse, Lupin.” He hisses, tossing the garnet to the side along with his own before he begins palming his prick with the Muggle lotion type substance Remus had brought along from after easter hols, when they had visited that brilliant little shop in Soho— and Sirius isn’t sure if he should be proud or simply smug at how it’s already emptied by half.

“You like how little my arse is, Black,” Remus retorts from where his head is now squeezed partially onto his pillow, punctuating the point with a small shake of his bum.

“Right, so that means I’d rather not think of the other plonkers who’ve seen it before I got my hands all over you,” Sirius snaps, not actually irritated— even if he hates the sight of Leon sodding Bennett more than anything else.

“It was just a joke,” Remus tells him, soft and sincere and away from that playful tone he was using from before.

“Yeah, you better have been,” Sirius says, but then dips down to kiss between Remus’s shoulder blades— to the left of where he’s got a hand spread across his back— just to assure him that he’s not actually upset.

“You’re brilliant you know. The best in every way, I hope you understand that,” Remus tells him, a bit quieter and a bit more reserved, in a voice that wavers only slightly with the nerves of the admission. “I’ve only ever been in love with you— And I know that it’s probably not the same, I know that you’ve had others and we’re only eighteen and—“

Sirius cuts him off with one single, quick smack against the width of his arse— an arse he can probably write a thousand sonnets and a million more odes about— and he returns to kneading at the muscle there. “Don’t be an idiot, Remus. You know I love you like mad, more than anything— you’re everything.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s good— Erm, I mean—“ Sirius can only see half of Remus’s face from this angle, and most of it is obscured by his curly fringe, but he can detect the pinkish flush feathering over his sharp cheekbone and the way he’s begun to gnaw on the end of his mouth, eyes half lit and hooded. And God, sometimes Sirius thinks that it’s the blind leading the blind with them as they dance along this precipice of the most precious thing either of them has ever held in their quivering grasps.

“Right convenient if you ask me,” Sirius says instead of something from the stream of soppy poetry he’s thinking about— the love sick lyrics dedicated to Remus and Remus alone. He doesn’t want to potentially fracture this single understanding that they’ve finally revealed to one another. Rather, Sirius scrapes another chunk of the slick, Muggle substance into his hand and cloaks himself completely before taking a bit of it against Remus’s arsehole, his insides melting like molasses once he feels the warmth of Remus cloaking him, the way Remus’s entrance is practically fluttering, practically trying to swallow Sirius whole.

“Oh, yeah— Just a bit more.”

“Shh, let me take care of you, Moony,” Sirius reproves with absolutely no heat, instead sounding more than a little horse as he adds another digit and watches as Remus expands beneath his touch, watches his long fingers being devoured by him— the bronze tan Sirius always sports during the warmer months melding into the pale patches of Remus that rarely sees sunlight— watches their jagged edges piecing together like a sacred tomb, and Sirius knows right then and there that he’d want to be lost in every facet of Remus for every eon to come, even when they’re nothing but cinders and ashes and wisps of starlight. He’d want this, he’d crave this. He’d always need this, need Remus in any way he’d take him.

“Oh— Sirius, please, right there.” Remus suddenly squawks, jolting forwards and grappling for either end of his fourposter’s wooden bars. “Pl— Please.”

Always beyond eager to watch his lover come undone, Sirius adds one final finger before crooking them inside of Remus, skimming the little nest of nerves found there, and repeating the action twice more before he hears Remus’s choked off demand, “Bloody hell, Sirius! Will you just give me what I want!”

“I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” Sirius absolutely beams, gingerly pulling out from his gaping and empty entrance so to lather himself one final time, kisses the freckle behind Remus’s left ear as he snakes a hand beneath his stomach to raise him up slightly. “Can you stay like this, baby.”

His arms still slightly shaking from when Sirius had been teasing his prostate, Remus nods resolutely, shuffling around so that he’s resting his chin on his forearms, and his back is arched so beautifully with his pert arse stretched back in an inviting fashion. “You just worry about making this last hour worth my time.”

Sirius sniffs, pats Remus’s behind with a tad bit more intensity than strictly needed. “You and that lip is gonna get the best of you one of these days, Moony.”

“Mmm, I’ll believe it when you actually begin proving as much,” Remus barbs, and God Sirius loves him so fucking much— feels his chest absolutely contract with the ferocity of it.

“Right, well, you just sit there, looking pretty. All right?” Sirius intones, cards a hand through Remus’s hair and tugs just slightly before letting go completely to adjust his position from behind him— both hands on either end of Remus’s waistline and his dick poking at his hole— and God the throbbing is becoming painful with how badly Sirius just wants to plunge inside, to fuck and pound and thrust into Remus until he hears his boyfriend— his partner— absolutely sing with pleasure. “You are beautiful, Remus, you know that, right? Know that I think you’re the most bloody gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen, that the scars just show how otherworldly you are?” Sirius emphasizes that final point by thumbing across the one skirting across the the side of his neck, stretching from the bottom of his ear and ending at the point of his collarbone. It’s the most prominent one, the only scar besides a scratch on his pinky that can’t be covered up by a trusty jumper or pair of corduroys. The one Remus is most sensitive about, and the one he probably hates nearly as much as the bite marring his inner thigh.

“Sirius, please. Just not now,” Remus implores, sounding like a blown out candle all of a sudden, and Sirius can’t have that. Doesn’t want him to feel anything close to shitty while they’re doing this, while he has him this way. So with an obedience he only has if Remus asks him for as much in his more cautious of cadences, Sirius clenches his jaw, and keeps the adoring words stuck to his teeth, and he distracts himself by finally moving forwards, and it’s like a blink of the eye wen suddenly everything around him goes hazy, feeling like a disillusionment charm has been cast with how everything feels intangible, floaty, feels unsubstantial in comparison to the hot, tight pressure of Remus wrapped around him, made all the more etherial by the sounds of Remus’s melodic moans and gorgeous gasps and the way he moves in tandem with Sirius, how he cants back to meet the electrical current of Sirius fucking into him.

And he isn’t sure who says what in the gargle of words being spilt between them, is pretty sure he’s saying something about how beautiful Remus always is for him and then Remus replying with something about Sirius giving more to him, giving him something harder, deeper, quicker, and then, somehow, Sirius has got both of remus’s wrists in his hand and he’s pressing them against the small of Remus’s back, and he’s slowing down, suddenly wants this to last so much longer, wants to keep Remus this pliant and open and uninhibited for him for just that bit more.

“Merlin, I love you,” he says, focussing on the sweat collecting into the divot of Remus’s pinched shoulder blades and leans down to lick over the spot. “So fucking much.”

“Me too, Sirius! Sirius, I love you too! Please don’t stop, please.” Remus begs, canting back and twitching his fingers, obviously needing some sort of friction, though Sirius doesn’t think he’ll give it to him quite yet.

“What if I do though?” He asks, affecting an innocent tone while he slowly pulls out of Remus, pushing inside with shallow thrusts now, giving him hardly more than his tip. “What if I keep you like this, wait to see how long it takes you to come off of this alone, untouched. Just by my cock teasing you like this?” Remus makes another, strangled sort of noise deep in his throat, and he shutters in a way that convinces Sirius he’s not completely opposed to the offer. “You’d like that, yeah? You’d like me holding you down like this and watching you absolutely go feral? Go unraveled beneath me? Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even mind if I kept you like this for the rest of the morning. If I fucked you stupid and didn’t let you come even then. Just plug you up with that naughty toy we got from that Muggle shop when you visited me over Easter in London. Trap my spunk inside and just keep you nice and open until I decide to give it to you once again— drag you to a bathroom stall or an empty cupboard and fuck you senseless. Bloody hell, Remus, you probably wouldn’t even last a minute, hmm?”

Remus stays quiet, doesn’t unclench that taught muscle in his jaw, but his pupils are blown and he’s completely flushed, and Sirius is so thankful he can read the smallest nuances of him, loves knowing how absolutely wrecked just the idea of that has gotten his beautiful Moony, the side of him that no one else could ever see. The side of him hidden by his aloof exterior and measured words when around others. No one else gets to see this hauntingly beautiful, desperate little thing he becomes under Sirius’s hand, how he’s strung to vivid colors by Sirius mumbling such wicked contemplations into the expanse of his warm, golden skin.

“Are you going to answer, love,” he asks, with a lecherous sort of grin, pounding into him with a lack of delicateness from before, only twice, only enough to get Remus writhing again. “Do you not want that?”

Remus squeaks as the top of his head grazes against the headboard from the impact, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut while his thin lips fall open. “I reckon— Erm, I reckon that would be all right. Just to try.”

“My lovely academic, has to give everything a go,” Sirius crows, returns to thrusting measuredly in and out of him, kisses the nape of his neck with soft reverence. “But you know, we wouldn’t have to sneak around like that in only a couple weeks. We’ll be graduated,” he twists his hips slightly and presses down a bit more viciously than the slow paces probably would’ve entailed, and Remus quite literally groans at the feeling of it. “I’ll have that bloody huge flat, and you could be there too. We could spend every morning like this, Moony my love. We could christen every sodding room on the first day alone, and then I’d make you some of that veggie curry you like and you can sit there with an ice pack on your bum after I’m done with you.”

“Oh— Hah, you think you’ve got that sort of stamina,” is all Remus manages out in response, his features going tight with hunger when Sirius retorts with a staccato of uneven thrusts inside of him, stopping only when he feels the release willing up his own body, doesn’t think he’s ready to end this conversation quite yet.

“With you in one of my T-shirts and nothing else?” Sirius asks, watches the way Remus’s toes quite literally curl when he slides inside his used hole once more, shaking Remus slightly with how he moves and thrusts and squeezes his wrists hard enough to bruise. “I bet I could get it up an infinite amount of times! THere will be studies invoked for the phenomena of my cock, Moony. Potions inspired that’d never work, because they could never get it right when I tell them it’s the sight of you waiting for me looking wide eyed and teasing— waiting to be debauched— that’s got me so erect. I’ll be a household name, you watch.”

“You— Oh, oh. Yes like that please Sirius just a little more— Hah, you’re a madman.”

Sirius leers, does as told and grabs forcefully against Remus’s biceps and pounds him flat on the mattress, fucking into him and thrills with all the different noises he’s dragging out of Remus, the way he can’t even form words amidst his groan. “Then you best stay with me, who knows what a madman could do all on his lonesome.”

Just because he’s always been a bit sadistic, Sirius stops his graceless rutting, lies nearly entirely against Remus instead, tugging on the back of his curls so that he’s got a better view of Remus’s gaze. “Wha— Oh, yes, fuck yes you plonker. Of course I want to move in with you, just wanted you to ask properly instead of beating round the bloody bush!”

Sirius feels his brows hike up, absolutely gleeful. “You wanton little slag, you just wanted me to use my manners, eh?”

Remus huffs, looking beyond grouchy. “Yes, yes, and obviously, like the contrary bastard you are, you decide to actually do as much when I’d rather you be beating inside of me., but thus is my fate being stuck in love with such a wanker.”

Sirius can’t help but cackle at the incredibly cross expression Remus has got painted over his features, and he pecks a path down his temple and down to the dip of his shoulder muscles in apology. “You know I’m not one for subtleties, Moony.”

“Humph, well how’s this for subtle. Will you just ruddy fuck me and keep this discussion on the back burner for afterwards?”

Always eager to please his boyfriend, Sirius gently presses him back down on the sheets and rises only enough so to continue the easy rhythm between them, only increased by one of his hands circling Remus’s blazingly scarlet cock, pushing him through the loop of his fingers every time Sirius rocks harshly into him, going speedier and speedier with every choked out plea coming from Remus.

“What about this for a wanker?” He asks snidely, snapping forwards especially roughly, and twisting remus’s prick only slightly in turn, knows how much he enjoys the contrast of that.

“Yes— Yes, yes, yes Sirius! Just keep going, please, love, please. God, I love you. Holy fuck.” 

And it’s not another thrust inside before Remus is spilling into Sirius’s palm and the contracted muscle pumps the orgasm out of Sirius himself.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Sirius groans in a voice that’s nearly completely faded, and totally pious, careful to move outside Remus’s overly sensitive hole, and still panting while he absentmindedly grabs for a spare vest. He mutters a labored aguamenti before he brings it to Remus’s behind and begins to dab gently at the skin there, smattered with lube and Sirius’s come and a good amount of wetness from his sweat.

“Oh,” Remus shakes, sucking in a breath and tensing at the sensation of the intrusion.

“Whoa. Easy, easy. I’ve got you,” Sirius assures him gingerly, tossing it to the corner when he’s finished, and can’t help but kiss the small dimples found right against the skin that cups over his arse.

“The, mmm. The house elves, Sirius. They don’t deserve that to deal with.”

Sirius only barely manages to hold back the roll of his eyes at Remus’s tendency not to understand how much those buggers enjoy any and all cleaning. Merlin, leave it too Moony to feel bad about something that someone wants to do for him. “I’ll grab it later, promise. Bin it o whatever.”

Remus only replies with a soft sound of consent, letting himself be gathered into Sirius’s arms properly, his head cradled against Sirius’s chest and Sirius’s arms wrapped around him while he kisses the crown of his tawny curls.

“You want a kip then?” Sirius asks amusedly, feeling his own eyelids beginning to droop.

“Hmm, yeah. That’d be nice. Then we can talk about that hideously orange breakfast table you’ve got in the flat. I bloody well won’t be living in any proximity of that monstrosity, Padfoot.”

Sirius can’t help the laughter that spills out, and he agrees to the conversation but demands that Remus call Winifred by name, lest she gets her feelings hurt.

“Madman,” Remus reiterates, completely fond as he dozes off, and when Sirius feels the breaths falling out of Remus’s lips even out, he thinks that them nestled into one another like this might be the only salvation he ever wants to know, the only sensation he could ever crave— The only sunlit snapshot he ever needs for the rest of his days.

[qqueenofhades]

Fake dating AU for the idiot Heartrender Husbands! I beg of you!

As ever, I am preposterously easy to enable, and since they will eventually make an appearance in A Phantom in Enchanting Light, I decided to write their backstory for that verse. Also, “fake dating but it’s only fake because they’re both idiots” is an Aesthetic. I love them.

Moscow, 2010

The guy is most definitely late. Fedyor got here early – probably too early, since they’re supposed to meet at eleven and he arrived by quarter past ten – but it’s now 11:08 and still no sign of him. Fedyor has claimed a corner table in the coffee shop just off Red Square with its splendid old tsarist-era décor, surrounded by the murmur of conversation and clicking laptop keys as his fellow Muscovites get on with their daily lives. The rule is fifteen minutes, yes? If Ivan Sakharov doesn’t show up in another seven, Fedyor is free to bail. But it’s been so long, and Nadia, the mutual friend responsible for this set-up, has begged Fedyor to give him a chance. And since it is understandably difficult to date as a gay man in Russia, Fedyor’s patience must be tested longer than usual. He sips his flat white and glances at the door again. Still no Ivan.

Fedyor opens his phone and checks the photo that Nadia sent him, trying to decide if this man is attractive enough to compensate for his tardiness. It’s hard to tell. It is 11:14, and he is absolutely about to pack up and leave by no later than 11:25, when a tall, grim-faced man in a red windbreaker strides in. He stops short, glances around, spots Fedyor, and powers over with such single-minded determination that Fedyor fears he’s about to be arrested. “Hello,” he says curtly. “I am Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. I believe you are waiting for me?”

“Ah – ? I am Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, yes,” he manages, offering a hand, which Ivan crushes in a Terminator grip. “It’s – nice to meet you?”

Ivan snorts, pulls out the other chair, and drapes his jacket over it, then orders a small plain coffee (black like his soul, evidently). Then he returns, sits down, and claps his hands as if he is calling a misbehaving class to attention. “Where are you from?” he barks. “How long have you lived in Moscow?!”

Fedyor continues to gape. He’s genuinely not sure if this is Ivan attempting to get to know him on speed-run, or if he’s being interrogated by a FSB agent who can’t even act for two seconds like he’s not. It’s ominously possible. Dmitry Medvedev is the president and there are hopes that there might be a social liberalization, but the Orthodox patriarchs and the far right have been increasingly agitating against Russia’s embattled LGBTQ community, and things could just as easily get worse. Is this a setup or a setup? Nadia would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation, of course, but maybe she was likewise fooled. You’d think that if this was a sting, they could have found a guy who was actually capable of pretending to be on a date, but maybe that’s the point? What the hell is going on here?

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it. As a matter of fact, he is originally from Nizhny Novgorod, but moved to Moscow for university and has lived here for seven years, but if Ivan is with the FSB, he probably already knows that. Is this a trick? Is Ivan trying to match him to some police intelligence file or see if he’s a liar? Fedyor is seriously about to get up and walk out (or maybe sprint out) when Ivan, perhaps realizing that he’s blowing this to a heretofore unprecedented degree, says, “Sorry. I am from Krasnoyarsk. I enjoy rugby.”

Of course he likes rugby if he’s from Krasnoyarsk. This is a disaster. “Uh, what side?”

“Krasny Yar,” says Ivan, in the tone of a man about to stand up and belt out the fight song. “I also enjoy football. Yenisey Krasnoyarsk. Though I have begun supporting Lokomotiv since I came to Moscow. That was five years ago.”

So, he’s definitely a hooligan. Fedyor does his best to keep smiling. In the flesh, Ivan is definitely not unattractive. His hair is crisp and brown, there are glints of hazel in his eyes, and he has that hard, chiseled handsomeness that Fedyor always ends up getting suckered into. Except for the fact that he is lively, extroverted, and outgoing, likes clubbing and mingling and making friends, and this man does not appear to have ever heard of a single one of those things. What was Nadia thinking? It’s not like her to whiff this badly. Or did she have to be so circumspect in asking Ivan if he would like to meet Fedyor that, even if he’s not an undercover cop, he is in fact clueless about the true nature of this social engagement? Thinks it’s guys being pals?

“Did you have somewhere you were coming from earlier?” Fedyor asks, after another excruciating silence. “Is that why you were – ?”

“My apologies. The bus was late. I am normally very punctual.” Ivan scowls ferociously, as if the bus ever dares to do such a thing again, he will personally murder it. “What hobbies do you enjoy, Fedyor Mikhailovich?”

“I think you can call me Fedyor, yes?” They are clearly nowhere near “Fedya” and “Vanya” just yet, but “Fedyor Mikhailovich” always makes Fedyor look around warily for his grumpiest professor at MSU. He tries to think of subtle conversational gambits to find out what Ivan knows, without being obvious. Oh God, he really should just cut his losses, but something – perhaps the pathetic conviction that even a terrible date is better than no date at all – keeps him in his seat. Presuming that he does get out of here alive, he will call up Nadia straightaway and ask her many, many questions, mostly consisting of Why??! “Well,” Fedyor says at last. “I like having fun?”

“I also enjoy fun,” Ivan says, stone-faced. “I am very funny.”

Russian humor is normally extremely deadpan, to the point that Fedyor does wonder if Ivan is in fact a diabolical troll genius, but somehow he doesn’t think so. The rest of the conversation proceeds in this fashion, but by the end of an hour, Fedyor still has no idea if he has just been on a date or a trip to the gulag. Ivan gets up, administers another bone-crushing handshake, thanks him for his time, and marches out. Fedyor can practically hear the Red Army Choir thundering some patriotic anthem in his wake.

When he gets home that afternoon, Fedyor is resolved to write off the whole thing, except it was weirdly kind of not as bad as he first thought, maybe, somehow. If nothing else, he’s fascinated by this, like watching a slow-motion train crash. He takes out his phone with the intention of calling Nadia, only to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. When he opens it, it reads, Hello. Your company was agreeable today. Thank you. Perhaps we could meet again next week. Please reply yes or no. The message uses the formal styles of address, and some of the spellings are slightly old-fashioned. He has also signed it – Иван Сахаров – in case there might be some confusion with another Ivan the Terrible at Dating of Fedyor’s recent acquaintance. It is a bit like getting a text from the undertaker.

Fedyor stares at it, insanely tempted to burst out laughing, and finally, just because now he’s too curious to refuse, texts back his gracious acceptance. Still chuckling, he makes dinner, and then, as his phone pings with Ivan’s response, wonders in horror what on earth he is getting himself into.

This is how things continue for the next six weeks. Ivan and Fedyor meet up for the second time, stroll sedately around one of Moscow’s many city parks together, then part ways, and this time it’s Fedyor’s turn to ask if he would like to do it again. He isn’t sure exactly why, except that Ivan is unexpectedly easy to spend time with, and he nods in stoic approval of whatever Fedyor says. Of course, they follow the usual rules of dating which are especially important in Russia: don’t talk about politics, don’t talk about religion, don’t talk about America, don’t talk about Ukraine, don’t talk about Chechnya. From what Fedyor can glean, Ivan’s views tend to the doctrinaire, but he is surprisingly undogmatic, and willing to at least act as if he has an open mind. If he was an FSB agent, it feels like he would have busted Fedyor by now, but maybe he is waiting for him to do something unmistakably gay. That’s not it. Right?

Nadia calls, wanting to know how it’s going, and Fedyor grills her for forty minutes over whether Ivan is a law enforcement plant, a lonely guy looking for a friend, the world’s most method practical joker, or just extremely stupid. Nadia insists that he is actually very nice once you get to know him (HA, thinks Fedyor) and has no particular affection for either the ruling classes or the oligarchs. He can certainly be an acquired taste, but he is not evil.

Forced to accept it, still chickening out of asking Ivan whether he knows they’re dating, wondering if they are dating, if Ivan knows that Fedyor knows they’re dating, if Fedyor only thinks he knows that they are dating while they are not actually dating, or if Ivan thinks he knows that they’re dating while they’re… whatever the fresh-fried fuck is truly happening here, Fedyor trudges off for what has become his almost-weekly rendezvous with Ivan the-Maybe-Not-Quite-So-Terrible. They manage to have a few conversations verging on meaningful, and Fedyor has found himself telling Ivan about his family and Nizhny Novgorod and other such things. Fedyor likes to talk and Ivan likes to listen, though he breaks in now and again with a bone-dry quip. He’s still never what you would call loquacious, or easily forthcoming, but Fedyor likes that. Ivan is tough, complex, enigmatic, guarded, occasionally willing to let down his walls but only if the other person is worth it, and Fedyor finds, to his surprise, that he wants to be worth it. If this is a long-con mind game, he almost doesn’t care. (Almost.)

The problem, however, is that they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a month and a half and they haven’t gotten any closer than walking through a park, outdoors, in full view of their fellow comrades. Even the first time Fedyor takes the plunge and invites Ivan to his apartment, they sit three feet apart on the couch, watching a badly-Russian-subtitled version of Die Hard and providing critical commentary. Fedyor’s English is a lot more fluent than Ivan’s, and his middle-class family, while not exactly wealthy, is definitely better off than Ivan’s hardscrabble clan of miners and loggers in Siberia. That upbringing certainly does explain, to some degree, why Ivan is the way he is, and Fedyor wonders anxiously if Ivan views him as an insufferably posh city boy. Ivan barely finished high school and went straight to working in a Krasnoyarsk aluminum factory. He definitely did not faff around Moscow State University and attend global development seminars in Paris.

Nonetheless, despite their obvious differences, they do get along, and Fedyor is unable to deny the fact that he would, if it’s all right with everyone, like it to be more than that. Of course, finding out if Ivan knows, etc. etc., has been the paramount challenge, and there is no way to find out other than to go for it. Fedyor is 75% sure that they’ve been going steady for two months, but if it’s actually the other 25%, this is going to get awkward in a hurry. Is this essentially a fake relationship, or is it only fake because they’re both idiots?

After having duly commended his soul to God, Fedyor invites Ivan over on Saturday night. He rents a tiny flat by himself since he’s been burned on rooming with strangers, but Ivan is used to it by now, and it doesn’t feel too small with the two of them. Fedyor strains his limited culinary skills to cook supper, probably making his babushka cluck her tongue and sigh in a judgmental fashion back in Nizhny Novgorod, and they sit down and eat in silence for five minutes. Then Fedyor says, “Vanya?”

The consistent use of the diminutive has started sometime in the last few weeks, neither of them remember quite when. Ivan doesn’t correct him. “Yes?”

Fedyor clears his throat. “Do you…” He winces. “Do you… like me?”

“Yes?” Ivan says again, looking confused. “I would not have spent so much time with you if I did not, don’t you think? We are friends.”

“Yes, I know that we’re friends, but…” Fedyor looks at the ceiling. It doesn’t help, so he looks back at Ivan. “Are we… special friends?”

Ivan continues to look blank. “Are we?”

Fedyor resists the urge to tug at his collar, thinking that it’s a damn good thing that he didn’t go with his other idea of just leaning across the table and passionately kissing him. With absolutely no change of tone or expression, Ivan says, “Please explain. Special friends how?”

“Friends who want to…” Fedyor takes a deep breath. “Be… more than friends?”

“How?” Ivan orders again, ruthlessly. “Be clear, Fedya.”

“Are we maybe… boyfriends?” Fedyor’s voice squeaks on the word. “As in… we have feelings for each other that aren’t just… friendly? Like… feelings which are… romantic?”

Ivan continues to stare at him like a statue for several more seconds, and Fedyor contemplates the feasibility of tunneling directly through the floor of his apartment and running all the way to Latvia. Then at last, Ivan throws his head back and – startling Fedyor deeply – breaks into real, genuine, belly laughter, the kind that he has never heard from Ivan before. “Oh my,” he chortles, slapping the table. “Your face. You were sweating bullets.”

“WAIT, WHAT!?!” Fedyor pushes his chair back and stands up with a clatter, incandescently outraged. “Are you – were you messing with me?!!”

“Maybe a little,” Ivan says, wiping his eyes. “You know, all this time, I have not been sure if you are shy or a terrible prude. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“God’s Mother in Heaven – ” Fedyor feels another prick of disloyalty to his babushka for swearing on the Bogomater, but some people deserve it. All inhibitions forgotten, he charges at Ivan like a runaway train, as Ivan springs out of his own chair in readiness, and starts pounding on his chest in transports of fury. “You are the worst! You are the worst person ever! For two months, what have we been doing?! I have been afraid this whole time that maybe you don’t know what’s really going on, and now – ?! You are the worst!”

Ivan catches Fedyor’s flailing arms, holds them away from him, and picks him up bodily, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall. “Maybe I am just a dumb country boy from Siberia,” he remarks, “but even I am not that stupid, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I hate you,” Fedyor pants, their faces and their mouths an inch away from each other. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mmm?” Ivan cocks an eyebrow. Then he plants both hands on either side of Fedyor’s head, leans in, and deeply, savagely captures Fedyor’s mouth with his own.

Every remaining vestige of barely rational thought in Fedyor’s head evaporates in screaming shock. He still wants to shove Ivan away, knee him in the balls, or break a chair over his head, but if he did that, he would have to stop kissing him, and he can’t do that either. He moans, Ivan’s tongue takes the opportunity to slip into his mouth, their hands clutch and claw and their legs melt out from under them, they turn away or break contact only to gulp a breath before diving back in again, and the next time Fedyor is aware of anything, they have collapsed on his kitchen floor in a wrung-out, entangled, gasping heap. Ivan says in his ear, “Do you still want me to leave, Fedya?”

“No,” Fedyor manages. “Because now, I am really going to make you suffer.”

Ivan’s smile is dark and full of promise. He pulls back, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand. “Then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

(Ivan doesn’t leave Fedyor’s apartment that night. He doesn’t leave it the next night either. At the end of the week, Fedyor calls up Nadia and informs her that he hates her so much, and when they do next see each other, he’ll shake her by both shoulders and then thank her for introducing him to the no-good, truly awful, very bad love of his life.)

[suzuki-violin-school]

Dating Class 1-A HCs

Dating class 1-A headcanons !

Content: SFW, fluff, nicknames, date ideas, denki saying a bad word, canon midoriya

Denki Kaminari

calls you little mama

babbles incoherently about how much he loves you when he short circuits

not good at verbally expressing himself but shows his affection through gestures and touch

i.e. trying to say “you’re radiant and beautiful” but accidentally saying “butt good”

followed by “...wait, fuck”

Eijiro Kirishima

very spontaneous and spur of the moment doesn’t know what a schedule is apparently

will text you at 5:54 and ask you on a date for 6:00

calls you sunshine but if he’s in trouble he’ll call you apple of my eye

“Oh, hey Kiri!” “Why hello, apple of my eye!” “...What did you do this time?” “It wasn’t me, it was Bakugo!” “That’s even worse!”

loves it when you sit on his lap, won’t let you get up basically ever

only the manliest men can land a partner as splendid as you

you help him dye his hair when his roots start showing

because one time he did it himself and ended up with pink stains just about everywhere

Fumikage Tokoyami

buys jewelry because crow brain says shiny but he gives it all to you because he doesn’t want to give in to the bird instincts

still though, he LOVES when you wear it because seeing you enjoy his gifts is so heartwarming also because he needs the shiny, therefore he needs you

you tease him about being a bird but cuddling up together in his nest bed is c o m f y

he has a bunch of tiny trinkets under his pillow though (he hates to admit that he gives in to the crow instincts)

calls you “my feather” of “my finest little trinket” uwu

you wanted to buy him a light to help control dark shadow since his room is practically pitch black but you wanted it to match his aesthetic = purple lava lamp

“crows mate for life, you know.” “okay, and?” “just thought i’d share.” “i wasn’t planning on getting rid of you in the first place.” “...thank you.”

lots of very goth/emo style dates

Hanta Sero

you spend a lot of time playing around with his tape

your favorite thing you’ve done with it is make a hammock that you two napped in together

there is nothing, nothing, you love more in this world than his stupid dorky smile

you stare at him a lot and he teases you about it every time he catches you

you spend a lot of time with kaminari when sero’s not around and you both like to gossip about him

sometimes you call him office depot

Izuku Midoriya

he is constantly as red as a strawberry no exceptions

doesn’t understand why you’re with him but ok

v clumsy and nervous more than usual

i.e. *busy looking at you while walking, trips over nothing, suddenly forgets how to speak when someone asks if he’s okay*

you both have a thing for softly kissing each other’s scars

he says “uwu” and “owo” out loud and you want to cry every time he does

Katsuki Bakugo

once he’s holding you he basically never lets go of you ever

i.e. holding your waist when you’re cooking and resting his head on your shoulders will even follow you around like that if you’re walking even though it looks ridiculous

sends mineta to recovery girl every five minutes but only because “you’re mine and i don’t think you fully understand what goes on in a guy’s mind when he looks at you”

some people say tsundere, i say the exact opposite

screams about you and your relationship 

if you put dye on his hands, he can make colored fireworks in his palms !!

Mashirao Ojiro

hear me out: tail cuddles

good god he never stops worrying about you

if you’re even three minutes late to something it’s all “what if they’ve been kidnapped by villains? What if they were killed?”

he’s SO soft though

he goes all out when it comes to taking you out

one of the best date schedules: restaurant (he makes sure you get your desert and refuses to let you pay for ANYTHING), a long walk afterwards to enjoy the outdoors and get fresh air, gives you a small gift, occasionally stops by a café for a quick pastry before going home

aizawa either hasn’t figured it out yet or just doesn’t say anything about you two spending the night in each other’s dorm rooms he knows but he thinks you’re a cute couple and lets it happen 

Mezo Shoji

you’re a big ol mess around him before you actually start dating

scratch that, you’re still a mess

“are you okay?” “yes! i’m fine!” “are you sure?” “...no.” “what’s the matter?” “um... i can’t figure out which of your hands i’m supposed to hold.”

he instantly falls apart when you say that

you’re still a shy little puddle around him so you’re a little hesitant and nervous about everything and don’t always say what you’re feeling outright

but he knows that and can read you like a book so he will stop what he’s doing the moment he notices you’re uncomfortable with something

def calls you princess

kisses through the mask uwu

Shoto Todoroki

calls you angel but only in private

doesn’t always understand social cues so you end up in awkward situations sometimes

he’s either very blunt or completely closed off when it comes to expressing feelings

warm massages

he will aggressively insist that you wear his clothes

likes giving you flowers but never a full bouquet because he thinks that’s overkill

Shouta Aizawa

oh sweet jesus this man is a whole meal

you look after his class every now and then when he needs a break which is always if we’re being honest

in that respect, you also have adopted all twenty of his students

you two were already basically married, now you’re also basically parents

will trap you in the scarf and drag you towards him to hold you when he’s had a bad day

he falls asleep at a desk, on a couch, at the dinner table a lot so you have a special blanket to drape over him when he doesn’t make it to the bed

his worst nightmare is someone taking his phone and seeing all the pictures of you he’s saved because they’re not pure

Tenya Iida

“are you giving her a piggy back ride?” “no it’s training” *runs away at top speed*

bakadere bakadere bakadere bakadere b

absolutely clueless when it comes to relationships

tries to study dating

ends up doing a lot of things that are really out of character for him because he read it on a forum or in a book or saw it in a video

it’s cute and you appreciate the gesture but uh... why

“what are you doing?” “...learning to be a good boyfriend.” “you already are a good boyfriend, stop being ridiculous.”

[aceofspadegrass]

Pancake Day, but Better

Characters: Niragi Suguru, Dori Sakurada, Last Boss, Cabot, Aguni Morizono, Chishiya Shuntaro, Hatter

Genre: Crack Part 2, now with pancakes.

1.9k words

Prompt: Can you do like a sequel for that dori and niragi crack,cause i want to see dori in pancake day and introducing himself to chishiya,last boss(and catbot)aguni,and hatter. And i have an urge that maybe hatter would like him because how he dresses himself how hatter likes it to be,also chishiya would just go up to niragi and say" Wow, he's actually even more better then you niragi. Maybe he's smarter then you too" As he walks away leaving a a angry niragi - @a-simp-20

(Counts as a Part 2 to this)

*Rubs hands together* Heck yeah, more gentle chaos. Time to gently bully this giraffe lizard man again.

Now with the added addition of pancakes! Fun times for all!

Despite the laws of the Borderlands and the highly likely chance that nobody knows the actual date that passes by, people still managed to produce what someone offhandedly referred to as the 'Borderlands Holy Day'.

Now, what pray tell was the Borderlands Holy Day? Was it a religion?

Despite the fact that it had 'Holy' in its name, no. It wasn't a religion. Although if someone tried hard enough it could become almost like a cult. Wouldn't be the first time.

So what was it?

Well, obviously.....

It was Pancake Friday. The greatest day of the century. The premise was simple enough: Every Friday everyone gets a pancake. A single pancake. Want more? Well, you better bet and compete for other people's pancakes. The only thing more exhilarating to the members of the Beach than winning games and living another day to party and do fuck-all was Pancake Day.

So, of course, when Friday rolled around, people weren't thinking of anything except the spoils of little bets and competitions over the week, thick fluffy pancakes topped with whatever they pleased and whatever the Beach had in stock at the time. Even Niragi was thinking about pancakes, because what's better than bragging about how many pancakes you got that week?

Nothing, that's what.

Pancake Day was great.

Niragi walks down the corridor with the strut of a man that knew he was feared, and he heads to the dining area where the pancakes would inevitably be given out. People were already there, a few making last minute bets in an attempt to win just a little extra amount for the day. Niragi found it almost amusing. Such a pitiful sight. Niragi himself had already gained a total of four whole pancakes, two of which he won off of some idiot who just thought he was really pretty.

" There's a lot of people here. It must be really important, right?" A smooth voice pipes up from just a little behind him, and Niragi is reminded quite forcefully that he didn't come here alone.

" Of course it's important, it's Pancake Day! Haven't you ever heard of it?" Niragi spat, Sakurada merely shrugging and walking away to talk to other members of the Beach. Niragi scoffs and storms away. At least he didn't have to think about the other him anymore, no matter how neat he looked.

He ends up finding Last Boss standing in the corner by himself, watching everyone else with a self made distance, leaning against his katana. His cat was chilling right besides his foot, apparently having her snack before the pancakes came out and making quiet eating noises. Niragi made sure not to accidentally step on her, which wasn't that hard to do. Niragi stares at Last Boss almost expectantly, waiting for even the slightest hint of a greeting, but all the other man does is stare ahead, lost in his own thought.

So, like a completely normal person would do to a guy ignoring the other, Niragi starts poking Last Boss in the side with his sniper rifle.

" Hey. Hey. Hey. You awake?"

Last Boss just continues to ignore him, and Niragi's pokes get a little harder the more he gets ignored. " Hey! Why are you ignoring me! Come on!"

Last Boss finally looks in his direction, and Niragi grins in victory, Last Boss just staring at him blankly. " Fucking finally, you were ignoring me."

Last Boss just continues to remain silent, but Niragi didn't care, instead putting his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looks out among the people still puttering about. Niragi could barely make out that Sakurada guy, who was talking to some random nobodies, Niragi scoffing to himself. He points him out to Last Boss, whose gaze follows the direction of Niragi's slender finger.

" See that one? Yeah, that one busted into my room and kept spraying me with water, the nerve of that guy."

Last Boss mutters something under his breath, Niragi not picking it up properly. He glances at Last Boss suspiciously, Last Boss just continuing to stare off at Sakurada without any sign of emotion on his tattooed face. Niragi groans, and he looks back in the direction of Sakurada, only to see that somehow the bastard has disappeared. Niragi frowns and looks around from where he stood to see whether he could see him again, but no dice.

The area was getting more and more full the longer Niragi tried looking, to the point that he gave up even trying. At some point Last Boss' cat had finished her snack, and he could feel Cabot rubbing her body across his legs as well just for the hell of it. He looks down at the feline, Cabot just doing her own thing like she usually did.

" Hey you little fuck. What's up." Niragi mutters down at the cat, Cabot just continuing on her little rub spree before going over to Last Boss and meowing loudly until Last Boss bent down and picked her up, Cabot resting happily with her butt in the crook of Last Boss' arm and her head and front paws draped over his shoulder.

Niragi rolls his eyes at the sight, and finally the time had come, Hatter walking in with the utmost grace, people cheering him like they do every time they see the man, with Aguni not that far behind. Niragi and Last Boss head towards the little stage Hatter insisted needed to be built for Pancake Day, standing in position as Aguni joins them, Hatter going up to the Pancake Podium.

" Greetings everyone! Today is the glorious and absolutely magnificent Pancake Day! I hope all of you have worked hard to acquire your pancakes!" Hatter shouts with arms outstretched like a bird's, people cheering and whooping excitedly. " I, for one, have a total of five whole pancakes, as throughout the week I have worked hard to get them from my loyal and beautiful members, and that one person who sadly perished in a game and bequeathed their pancakes to me for many months to come! May their soul be at rest, the courage of them~" Hatter announces, the crowd going wild.

" Now, may the pancakes commence!"

People scattered to tables near immediately, and the kitchen doors open as the designated chefs come out with the freshly made pancakes on carts. Niragi and Last Boss end up following Aguni and the rest of the executives plus Hatter to what was apparently the special table, used only by them.

Niragi grins as he leans back in his chair. At least Sakurada would stay away for now-

" Oh, there you are!"

Speak of the devil. Niragi shuts his eyes in annoyance as his clone comes over. Several pairs of eyes shoot to him, and despite his eyes being closed, Niragi could still feel the smug and interested smile Chishiya was giving off.

" Oh? And who are you, you splendid looking being?" Hatter's voice rings out. " Your outfit is immaculate, but I have never seen you before. No, wait...... I have seen you! Except less fancier. And usually with a hat. Who is sitting right there."

Niragi wanted to shoot this man so bad.

"My name is Sakurada Dori, it is very nice to meet you." Sakurada greets them.

Niragi finally bothers to open his eyes as Hatter stands up, and apparently does a quick check over of Sakurada, nodding to himself. " Yes, you are absolutely stunning. I love what you've done!"

" Are you the one that made Niragi take off his hat?" Aguni asks, low and stoic as always. Niragi rolls his eyes at that. He didn't intend to get rid of his hat, Sakurada just kind of yeeted it outside his window without even asking. The nerve of this guy.

Sakurada quickly nods. " I will get him another hat eventually, as I promised, but only as long as he shoots his gun responsibly!"

" Is that so...." Aguni mutters, and just kind of nods like a sort of proud dad.

Hatter grins even wider, and claps Sakurada across the back. " Now that's some courage! Hey, what say you, would you like one of Niragi's pancakes? As a sign of strength!"

" What?!" Niragi shouts, and he stands up, slamming the table. Aguni watches him quietly, as does Last Boss, the latter just staring more than a tired gaze like Aguni was sporting at the moment. " You can't do that!"

" But I can! I'm the leader after all, I can say what I want, and what I want is practically law here, Niragi. Remember who your boss is." Hatter smiles at Niragi in that sort of way that Niragi hated, but a firm tap on his arm by Aguni made him relent, Niragi angrily muttering to himself as he sat back down.

" Ah, thank you very much, but I don't need to take his-"

" Nonsense, you deserve it! Besides, Niragi already gets... how many?"

" Well I had four, but apparently not anymore."

" Three is plenty for you! Anyways, so that means you get two pancakes, you funky little ball of glory!" Hatter states.

" Are you sure? Is that alright with you Niragi?" Sakurada looks to the man, Niragi just grumbling some more.

" Don't worry about him, he'll get over it." Chishiya mentions, and Niragi quickly glares at him, Chishiya casually looking back with that damn smug ass smile on his lips.

" Fucking undercooked egg white." Niragi mutters under his breath, Chishiya just continuing to smirk.

Still, the pancakes arrive to their table, Hatter inviting Sakurada to sit with them for the day so he could talk about fashion, mainly about what kinds of hats the other liked, Sakurada easily falling into conversation with him. Niragi just drowns his now three pancakes in maple sauce, grumbling under his breath.

Last Boss was watching Niragi just nearby, eating his single pancake as Cabot got to treat herself to two whole cat-specified pancakes like she deserved, and goes to whisper to his cat, Cabot flicking her tail a little at whatever Last Boss muttered.

" You have a very nice cat there! It must be enjoying everything since it appears to be very well cared for and happy." Sakurada mentions at one point, Last Boss staring at Sakurada silently. Sakurada just politely smiles back, and Last Boss just slowly blinks, then nods.

" Thank.... you." Last Boss says, and Cabot looks up finally, and bumps her body against Last Boss, the man quietly petting her as Sakurada watches with a happy expression at how sweet the sight was. Sakurada makes small clicking nosies in an attempt to beckon the cat over to him, Cabot meowing and wandering over curiously, sniffing at Sakurada's fingers before letting herself get pet by the man softly. " She seems to like me already!" Sakurada says happily, Last Boss slowly nodding.

" That's good. She likes being pet gently." Last Boss mutters, and even Hatter tried to get in on the cat patting session.

" Hey Niragi." Chishiya's voice catches Niragi's attention, and he looks up at him, already despising of what he was about to spew out from his lips. The limestone fox man just smiles at him, pancakes already gone from his plate.

" The fuck do you want now."

" Your clone is actually way better than you. Perhaps even smarter than whatever half brain you have up there." Chishiya remarks, and with that he stands up and walks away from the table, immediately sliding himself into a group of people leaving and disappearing from his sight.

" YOU LITTLE FUC-" He whips out his gun, ready to chase Chishiya down and kill him like he always wanted to.

Water gets immediately sprayed on his face the second he stands up again, Niragi sputtering. " No. Bad Niragi."

[agathaharknes]

yennaia + gamer au

This was supposed to be three sentences and definitely not crack but I just had to... sksjsjssksjjs.

Yennaia prompt: Gamer AU.

LINK TO ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN IN THE REPLIES.

Word count: 1.8k+ Pairing: Yennaia. Rating: T.

Tissaia really had no idea why she was doing this. Perhaps to appease Rita. Perhaps because her addiction to nicotine had worsened over the course of one year of a bloody Continent-wide pandemic and she was loath to use her credit card every time she needed a new pack of cigarettes. Perhaps she was going through a midlife crisis to cope with the fact that being the Chancellor of Aretuza College was already stressful enough without half the generations there trying to fool her subordinates into thinking cardboard replicas or even mannequins counted as attendance or simply because the rest of the Board of Governors (Stregobor) couldn't differentiate between what could be said through an email and what required her to clean her entire house so the background of her call was pristine.

Her controller vibrated in her hands, (Why, for the love of the Gods, couldn't that setting be turned off?) her knuckles turning white from gripping it so strongly. "Oh, for fu- heaven's sake." There, she had been ambushed. Again. A funny and wholly unexpected thing happened, though, one of the users turned on her companions, offing the lot of them with clean headshots the brunette definitely couldn't pull off in the span of twenty seconds.

"Uhh..." What does one say when your virtual saviour just betrayed her entire party on a whim and was being cursed at obnoxiously loudly and vulgarly for it?

Yennefer ignored Sabrina calling her names that absolutely applied to her and her hormonal reaction to a lovely blue-eyed MILF the likes of which she had only seen in her dreams. "No thanks needed, love. I was getting tired of seeing you frown like someone had keyed your car every time you got killed. A pretty thing like you should only have cause to smile." Oh, Gods, now she sounded like a creepy old man that lived in his mum's basement. Great. Good job. Her Social Studies major was an absolute hit. Fuck her life. Fuck Oxenfurt College. And fuck Sabrina's witch-like cackling while she was at it. "Name’s Yennefer." She choked out miserably.

Tissaia scowled at her laptop. Hackers. Amazing. This was the best day of her new normal life. "Mind telling me how you broke through the most expensive antivirus in the Continent, dear? Because now I really need a refund." Now she also needed to contact Aretuza’s IT team on a Saturday night, because she was not about to mess any further with these blasphemous machines, thank you very much.

Wait, what? "That wasn't me... You left your camera on." The woman legitimately squealed at that, her oversized jumper sliding down her left shoulder and exposing just a glimpse of her collarbone as she pinned up her hair into a bun with... were those pens fashioned as swords? Oh, bugger, this was so not the time to get turned on! "Are you alright?" Mercifully Sabrina, Renfri and Phillipa were already accosting someone else, else she was sure the brunette would've completely lost it, more than she already was doing, anyways. "Hello?" No answer.

Tissaia was fishing for her boots when she started ranting, “Oh, don’t you worry! I’m fine! Just dandy! This is exactly how I wanted my life to go.” She motioned with her hand to the space around her. “I wished for nothing more than dealing with complete morons from nine to six, five days a week, whilst trying to make sure my sanity doesn't desert me.” Biting her lower lip for a moment she began checking that the ends of the laces were the same length when she pulled them up. “Running right after to my local grocery store to buy more instant meals that are probably going to give me cancer in five years if the bullshit articles my mother keeps sending me-”

Yennefer had told herself she wasn’t going to allow this wasn’t going to get any creepier than her misguided comment but she still had a gift code for that nice liquor store which conveniently had retailers popping up every six blocks everywhere for the last few months, especially in Thanned isle, only Gods knew why. “This bloody succubus of a twat that is my best friend has been forcing me to constantly use this cursed game by changing the password for my email and then Aretuza’s server and then-” Bingo. One text to Philippa and they had her IP address, with a mortified Triss already calling Jaskier since she was the only one that had managed to get a decent scholarship at that posh college.

This was her future wife who was about to jump from a bridge from the looks of her and they just had to do humanity a great service by saving her from herself and from sobriety.

“Can you believe that tosser? I am a lesbian! I spent my teenage years clad in flannel until my girlfriends staged an intervention kind of lesbian! Yes, Vilgefortz, I will sue you for harassment in the workplace and I will blacklist you. No, Vilgefortz, I don’t want to break quarantine to go on a date with you and I definitely do not want your disgusting cologne anywhere near my-” Tissaia’s head shot up, her doorbell was ringing and she pinched the bridge of her nose, reaching for a new, disposable, mask.

“You stay right there.” She threatened the girl, who had the most beautiful violet… Perhaps she really ought to let Coral get her a therapist. It rang again. “Gods-damn-it.” She thought.

Her plan was going marvellously. She would only have to sleep with a knife under her pillow for a few weeks for blackmailing Sabrina (Who honestly hadn’t the slightest talent to pass off plagiarism as a sudden stroke of genius in her final project without her aid.) into going along with this. The blonde was lighting the candles around the monitor without trying to burn her hair off and had given away her best bottle of cheap but still good wine for the cause. Thanks to Renfri and her frankly psychotic, owl obsessed, girlfriend she already knew what she would be replacing her trauma-ridden last name with! Splendid!

The brunette shut the door on Jaskier’s face after taking the brown paper bag from his hands, spraying the bottle of vodka inside it with so much disinfectant that it dripped down onto her carpet. Taking off her gloves and disposing of them, she grabbed a knife from the counter and ignoring the annoying blue light that came from the kitchen table, “Oh, shit. You’re soulmates. I’ll tell the rest of the girls we’re all fucked.” Tissaia cut off the upper part of the glass in one smooth hit, like Calanthe had taught her when the then teacher could still be considered fun by her groups of friends.

“Shut up, tiddybug!” She heard Yennefer sing-song.

Feeling like being crass the blue-eyed woman took a rather large swing directly from the bottle. Sitting back down, she sighed. Yennefer took a dignified sip from her wine; she could do balanced when her significant other to-be needed to let loose. “Did you like the bottle? It has good reviews from… wait a minute… apparently several alcoholics who don’t know what a budget is.”

Tissaia’s face paled. “I thought you weren’t a hacker.” The woman muttered. She didn’t fancy getting kidnapped and… No, no, no. Fucking Rita. What was the cost of moving, again? If she slept four hours less a day and split her cleaning time in two she could probably trade this house for Stregobor's in-

“I am not!” Yennefer cried. Bloody hell. “You just mentioned that you worked at Aretuza and-” Sabrina had probably started a group call and Phillipa was indeed hacking into her computer to save her arse. The Redanian was currently writing a script for her to follow. “Your username in the game is your surname. My friends and I tried to get into that school a few years back and I do remember that the Chancellor is a woman and that her last name is de Vries.” Her username wasn’t her last name, it was actually something that suggested she was an Ice Queen of the highest order. Queen Elsa from the movie Frozen would be intimidated kind of Ice Queen.

“Everyone is aware the highest-ranking members of the faculty live in chalets near the castle, pardon, the building.” True. According to Triss, that was a part of their contract that if unfulfilled prohibited them from working there ever again. To Yennefer that seemed borderline cruel, forcing them to be available at all hours like circus animals for juniors that didn’t deserve their spots.

“My best friend is a student there and she knows which one is your home because she wants to eventually be a teacher.” Partially true. Until that day came, Triss, like any rational individual, avoided the Chapter’s Village like the plague lingered inside, and wouldn’t be caught dead there unless she had to stop Sabrina from doing something stupid because of the anarchist phase she was going through. Jaskier was an acquaintance of hers of sorts because Triss had tutored his boyfriend Geralt in Biology and being daddy’s boy, he knew which one was Tissaia’s house because he had almost gotten expelled like fifteen times.

“I honestly just wanted to do something nice for you, you sounded like you needed it and… I know quarantine hasn’t been lifted once in Temeria since it all started.” Philippa wrote then that she would probably make for a decent actor without flashing her breasts to the audience every five minutes. She pursed her lips and replied in the mock post-it note to fuck off.

“I… I… Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- I’m sorry, darling.” Her pale cheeks flushed at the term of endearment that slipped her tongue and Tissaia bowed down her head, red-painted nails caressing the glass bottle almost reverently. “Say, why don’t you tell me what your email address is and I send you my mobile via chat? The explosions in the background aren’t that, uhm, comforting to listen to when I’d much rather be hearing your voice.” Should she have looked up she would have seen the smile that threatened to split Yennefer’s face. “Only if you want to, of course! I- what am I even saying? Never mi-”

“No! Wait!” She placated. Sabrina squeezed her shoulder as she went to retrieve her phone charger, offering her a genuine smile. “I’d love to.”

“Okay.” Said Tissaia, an awed sound leaving her throat when blue finally meet with lilac. Gods, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Rita could have whichever bottle, all the liquor she wanted from the school’s cellar for indirectly enabling this.

Was one week a proper enough courting period to then buy the engagement ring? Or should she just have Philippa get her the best, costliest one from that jewellery eshop they all liked through some minor fraud that would take her like half an hour at most, today? “Good.” Yennefer de Vries had such a nice ring to it.

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

Paper Rings (or Dani and Jamie accidentally adopt a family and also move in together)

Moving in is a process.

A process in italics. A process, underlined. A process emphasized heavily, with quotation marks around it, because Dani isn’t sure of how to describe the two months that have somehow resulted in her apparently having opened her home to a middle-aged couple, a sulky teenager, and child who bursts into the phrase “Perfectly splendid” in intervals, and a lawyer trying her very best to also have a dating life.

“Did you forget your whole entire girlfriend?” Jamie asks her, arms weighed down by a box full of crockeries and Flora who’s hanging on her back.

Oh.

Dani raises a finger like she’s making a point. “I did not,” she says, very slowly, hoping to somehow generate words as she speaks. “I did not mention you, because I didn’t need to. Because you, baby, have always been home for me.”

Hah. Take that, Hannah. To think she was of the opinion Dani couldn’t romance very well.

Jamie stares at her. “You’re so full of shit, Poppins.”

Miles opens his eyes from where he’s been listening to music on the couch for the past half-hour and leans forward, only to say — “Busted”, and Dani is officially done with everything.

*****

Strangely enough, it starts with cream.

Dani remembers it well, because it’s one of the very few argument-esque discussions they’ve had in their year and a half relationship. It’s one of the nights Dani is over at Jamie’s as opposed to it being one of the nights Jamie is over at Dani. They don’t keep track anymore. Most of the evenings, it just comes down to how much in a hurry they are to get to some place and eat and stretch out on the couch in peace.  

(Amongst other activities of course, so most of the time it’s Dani’s place)

So they’re at Jamie’s apartment, on a chilly evening about five months into dating when she jumps into bed after her shower and asks Jamie for her hand cream.

“Oh, that,” Jamie says. She opens her nightstand drawer, takes out a bottle and chucks it in her direction so it lands roughly an inch away from her hand. It also lands with its label upwards, so Dani is reading the words correctly when she says —

“This is a body lotion.”

“Yeah, that’s what you needed, right?”

“No, babe,” she answers Jamie patiently. “I asked for hand cream.”

Jamie frowns. Stares at the bottle. Then back at her. Does that for about two more times before she opens her mouth.

“Um,” she says, picking it up and pointing it to her other hand in an exaggerated motion. “Yes. You do put this on your hands.”

Why would you do that, Dani thinks, with exclamation marks punctuating every word of that. “I use hand cream. You know, it’s like foot cream but for your hands.”

“What’s that?”

(She’s not going to bore everyone with what the whole discussion that occurs then. The words keep coming, the exclamation marks keep increasing, and somehow, they conclude in this absolute gem of an ending that nobody knows how to process.)

“How could you not—”

“—wait, I’m sorry, we didn’t exactly have fancy shit up in prison, you know.”

There is silence. Dani sees her girlfriend’s lips twitching, her eyes betraying the mirth hanging behind her words. She picks up her pillow and throws it in Jamie’s face.

“You cannot keep pulling the prison card every argument we have, you ass.”

“But it works so well!”

“That wasn’t even the point. The point was that hand creams are best for hands and foot creams are best for, you know, feet and—”

“—and somehow,” Jamie tells her, “my hands and my feet are made of skin like the rest of my body. Look at that! What a surprise!”

“That’s a valid point,” Dani says, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, trying her very best to be a nice and supportive girlfriend. “But that’s like saying that you can wear your underwear on your face since every part of your body has skin on it.”

“Who says I’m even wearing underwear?” Jamie’s right eyebrow is raised, lips pressed flat with the effort to keep from laughing and well—

(In her defense, she does have the sexiest girlfriend in the world and it’s totally understandable that she got distracted)

The next evening, she orders an entire set of creams, with Jamie grumbling in the background somewhere. I’m here most of the time anyways, she says. It’s for the both of us, if that makes you feel any better.

From Jamie’s smile, she thinks it does, and that’s how the idea starts taking root in her mind.

*****

This is how love works. Or so she’s heard. The honeymoon period is but a couple of months, and then real-life hits. After three months is when that bright illusion shatters, of your partner possibly being the most beautiful angel to ever grace this planet, and you start seeing them as who they really are — clueless and flawed individuals who do not know the difference between moisturizer and hand cream.

So she waits, holding her heart carefully in her hands. Waits a month. Two. Four. Five. And it is a couple of days after Owen and Hannah baked them a cake to wish them a ‘Happy 6 months together, y’all’, that Jamie pokes her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth.

“Oi nah flick offa,” she says, and Dani blinks.

“I didn’t get that, sweetheart.”

Jamie disappears (to get rid of the foam in her mouth, Dani guesses) then reappears a minute later, face glowing. “I said I’m not sick of you yet.”

Dani smiles at her. “I’m not sick of you either.”

And it is such a strange thought, once articulated out loud. She still wakes up every morning, and stays for a while admiring the way the sunlight hits Jamie’s face, the way it dances with her skin and makes her look like an old Goddess; still wants to cling to Jamie like a panda whenever she sees her after a long time. Her heart still hasn’t gotten used to the most wonderful woman in the world loving her, touching her, kissing her, and she still has to give it a little time to restart every time she makes Jamie smile.  

Six months she’s kept thinking This will go away. Six months and it hasn’t.  

Dani kind of thinks (hopes, dreams) it’s forever.  

Dani kind of knows it’s forever.

Jamie plops onto the bed, arms stretching out across her back and legs finding their place over hers, interrupting her train of thought. It’s when she’s nuzzling into Dani’s shirt that the color of the shirt registers.

“Is that,” Dani says. “Is that my shirt?”

Jamie’s hands are already clutching at the fabric of the oversized lavender shirt as she finishes, as if Dani’s going to take it away from her. As if it doesn’t make Dani’s heart do funny things inside her chest to see her in it. As if she doesn’t want Jamie to only wear her clothes, because she looks so at home in them. Like she is Dani’s, forever.  

Like Dani is hers, forever.

“It’s your place,” Jamie argues. “There’s only a certain number of things I can keep wearing, you know?”

Dani kisses her cheek. Hums.

“I’m keeping it,” Jamie continues.

“Okay,” Dani says, simply, her smile saying the things she’s too embarrassed to say out loud. It’s yours. Whatever I have is yours. My home, my clothes. My heart.

(The next night when she’s over at Jamie’s, she makes Jamie pack an entire drawer full of her clothes into her bag so she can carry it over to her own place for the nights to come. There’s an empty space cleared up in the closet that sings Jamie’s name every time Dani opens the door. It will never be empty again.)

*****

“But Jamie, please,” Flora pleads.

“Yes, Jamie, please,” Dani parrots, highly amused at the vein twitching at the corner of Jamie’s forehead.

Jamie takes one look at them, at Owen and Hannah cozied up on their couch, at Miles who’s reclining against the wall trying to appear supremely disinterested and then finally to the kitten who is sleeping in Rebecca’s arms.

“Absolutely not,” she declares.

“But look at him!” Dani says, pouting. It is unfair, she supposes, for both her and Flora to pout together in the face of Jamie’s reticence but desperate times call for desperate measures.

(And she wants to pet that kitten, desperately)

“He’ll be happy with you, really,” Owen jumps in, just for the satisfaction that Jamie’s annoyance gives him, and immediately gets hit with a deadly look.

“Why don’t you guys keep him, then?”

Hannah tsks. “Oh,” she says, sounding not very sad. “I have that allergy, you know.”

“You haven’t sneezed once in all this time!”

“It’s.... a seasonal thing. A seasonal plus feline thing. I don’t know how to explain it to you, dear.”

“Baby,” Dani says, hands reaching out to hold Jamie’s. “He needs a home. We can give it to him.”

Jamie’s slowly developing a half-crazed look in her eyes, which Dani finds hilarious. “And who is this we you’re referring to? Because I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be the one taking care of the.... the thing.”

“He is a kitten,” Flora emphasizes, indignantly.

“A one-eyed kitten,” Rebecca adds, and after a round of Aws and coos that’s how Cyclops ends up living with them.

“I’m not taking care of it,” Jamie announces, right away, and Dani reminds her of it every day for a month after the day she finds them on the couch with the kitten conked out on a sleeping Jamie’s chest.  

(“We are not calling the poor thing Cyclops,” Dani protests.

Miles simply grins.)

*****

It’s time.

She’s said this to herself every morning when she wakes up in Jamie’s arms, her four pillows strewn around them and with most of the blanket hanging off Jamie’s side. Every evening as they walk back to Dani’s place arguing whether it was Chinese or Indian they were in the mood for, and when they’ve inevitably ended up at Owen’s restaurant, sharing a meal with the rest of their family. Every time they bicker over Jamie’s clothes now taking up more space in her closet than her own dresses. Let’s move in, she thinks, more and more with each passing in. Let’s live together, she almost says when Jamie decides to pop into her own apartment inevitably.

Surprisingly enough, Jamie says it first. They’re watching some reality show that involves a very accomplished woman and twelve idiots trying to win her hand, when Jamie turns to her and asks her if Dani would consider moving in with her.

“Sure,” Dani says, off-handedly, before she chokes on the large gulp of water she’d taken a moment ago. “Wait, what?”

Jamie is very determinedly not looking in her direction, her eyes hyper focused on one spot of the screen. Dani plays with her hair and waits.

“I was.... wondering, if you’d like to move in with me.”

Wondering, as though Dani wouldn’t lay down her life if Jamie asked, Dani thinks. She raises her hand, and nudges at Jamie’s chin until they’re facing each other.

“Have you thought about it?” she asks, carefully.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, which is the problem,” Jamie grumbles, and Dani is endlessly endeared by the adorable frown on her face. “Thinking about how nice it would be to go to sleep and wake up next to you every morning, and how my brother could use my apartment when he’s home from college during the holidays, and me not having to move more and more of my clothes here—”

“—and the stupid cat,” Dani adds.

“—and the stupid cat,” Jamie concludes, glancing once at Cyclops who’s finding great pleasure in chasing the Roomba around.

“Sure you’re not sick of me yet?” Dani asks her, casually, hoping she picks up on what she really means to say.  

Jamie kisses her once, twice. “Never, my love.”

And that’s that.

*****

“Catch,” Owen shouts, before a vase comes sailing through the air and lands perfectly in Miles’ hand, followed by the sound of their combined laughter.

Dani, who’s just gone through the five stages of grief, collapses onto the couch next to Rebecca.

“How did we accidentally adopt a whole bunch of children?”

“Hey!” Rebecca protests. “I am a mature adult who has her whole life in order.”

“You’re just got sent a Wazzup on Tinder by a 40-year-old man who enjoys fishing on the weekends, kid,” Jamie passes by, hand reaching out to mess up Rebecca’s perfectly done hair. “Nobody here has their life in order.”

Rebecca sticks out her tongue. “This is not nice.”

Dani disagrees. This, impromptu lasagna dinners at least thrice every week filled with laughter and ribbing, days full of sunshine and kittens and the prettiest woman at home in her arms, she thinks, is very nice, actually. Love takes effort and work, but somehow it is also easy and beautiful, and so worth it that it’s found a permanent place behind her ribcage, in her lungs, in her limbs, and in her eyes.

“Do you think this is straight?” Hannah asks her, pointing at the photos on the wall.

“Nothing about this is straight,” Miles mumbles.

“That’s very funny, Miles,” Dani snipes at him, but she gets up and stands next to Jamie. Looks up at the photos.

There’s one of her on the street corner, sitting with her typewriter, surrounded by a bunch of clamoring people. One of Jamie and her brother. One of Cyclops perched on top of Miles’ head. One, of the time when Jamie and Dani had been trying to take a romantic photo all day, only to get interrupted by Owen finger-gunning in the background. The photo had ended up including all of them, squashed together on the tiny couch, with Flora half on Jamie’s lap, and half on Hannah’s.

(There’s a last one that Rebecca had snapped in the middle of dinner one night, of Dani and Jamie staring at each other, speaking a language only they knew. Dani’s hand, carrying a spoonful of mashed potatoes, is half-raised, with the spoon almost touching Jamie’s lips. It’s Dani’s favorite. She knows Jamie loves it too.)

This is how love works, she thinks. You build a relationship. Family just sort of forms around you.

“It’s perfect,” she says, head leaning on Jamie’s shoulder.

And it really is.

[owlsbride]

Icha Icha and prejudice:the Book Club

Chapter VI: The Plot Thikens

Sakura entered her apartment still trembling. It had been just a few silly words, but they had let her dizzy, flustered and, trembling. She recalled the words for herself once and again with her back against the door. "Have a good night you too, Lizzie." She was so naive, so childish. In an instant, she forgot their little fight about suitable marriages, and how Kakashi had shown on his behalf, that being a Hokage was much more than being a polite, pretty face to shown around towns or councils. That if something was suitable for the village, he will just go for it no matter what, without thinking twice. Meanwhile, her, the sweet and lovingly Sakura, only sees marriages as the union of two people celebrating their love, that only death could tear apart. She was helpless. Hopelessly devoted to love.

And maybe the reason why she was absolutely alone.

'That was not a fight Sakura.' Sakura rolled her eyes, stepping away from the door.

'I've been in fights, and trust me Sakura, that was not a fight.' She pondered for a moment the words of Inner Sakura. If that hasn't been a fight, what other thing would have been?

"If that was not a fight according to you. then what was it?" Sakura asked herself while making a coffee, messing everything in her kitchen more than necessary.

'It was just a talk' Inner Sakura began knowingly 'He was just stating how good the union between Shikamaru and Temari was going to be for both villages.'

"Yes, I know that" The real she was expecting something else, something more revealing. Maybe Inner Sakura understood Kakashi better than her. '

What else do you want to find, Sakura?' that know-it-all voice.

Sakura was silence contemplating her mug with the brown steamy liquid inside.

'Look, you wanted him to tell you how happy he was about the future possible wedding, how he hopped for the babies to come fast, and how much he wishes someday he would feel the same.'

"Well..." Sakura opened her mouth "Yes, I guess I was expecting something more heartedly" she finished dropping her shoulders. She never noted she was so tensed.

'Sakura are you kidding me, or you for that matter?' Inner Sakura was outraged 'You've been dating 2 years Sasuke, and now you expect his mentor to be an emotional sweet man, capable of lay all his feelings on the table just like that.'

"Maybe yes, maybe I thought Kakashi was different" Sakura was at the verge of tears "maybe I thought that he still has feelings, even if he is so broken."

'Listen to me and listen closely, cause I'm not going to repeat something that we both already know.' The voice in Sakura's head for the first time was tender, sweet, friendly 'He is broken, yes. He is as cool as a cucumber, and an aloof, but he would never hurt any of you. He told you himself that. He is a tough guy, a killer if it needed, so how can you pretend from him to just pour his heart out in a restaurant table.'

"You are right but..." Sakura was ready to protest once more.

'Sakura, you are too immersed in that book you gave him. Idealizing love and relationships, hoping that from one day to the next Kakashi transforms into Darcy' Sakura was starting to feel tired of this conversation.

"It's not like..."

'Sakura, do whatever you want, but stop expecting things from others that are not willing to give. Instead, why don't you focus on Icha Icha?'

"Yeah, like if that could help me in something." Sakura concluded.

'You never know.' Inner Sakura slowly walked away from Sakura's primary thoughts, leaving the hard work to be made by her own. Sakura went straight to the shower, hoping that it would help her to think clearly.

Maybe she was expecting too much about all these things around the books. Perhaps she expected him to notice her into another light, where they could both share life together, even if they already share one. Maybe with Pride and Prejudice, he would note some things about its characters that could be related to them. Maybe if Kakashi read some of her own thoughts there... Nah, she was being too rational and deluded and foolish at the same time. Probably Kakashi was taking the book as it was: a teasing game between them. Two idiotic friends and co-workers, who like flirting (a lot) with each other.

But, cause there is always a but, Sakura found herself asking why Kakashi has addressed her, not once but twice, as Lizzie. Of course, Elizabeth was the main character of the story, but why her? He could have called her Jane. Yes, Jane, always looking for the right husband, the real love, a suitable one but a man splendid as the sun, a true gentleman, honoured and lucky. Or he could have called her Mary, the intellectual Mary, the one who is always felling apart. Mary, who doesn't relate with Jane and Lizzie, and neither with Lydia and Kitty, because she was exactly in the middle. The outcast girl that someday will be ready to explode all her professional habilities and became the most notorious nin doctor of Konoha.

'My God, Sakura, I can't leave you alone for five minutes, and you are already ruining an excellent shower?'

"Why? Why did he call me Lizzie."

'Because is the main character's name?'

"Yes, but there has to be something else. Kakashi is no that simple."

'Sakura...'

"What if he is reading underlines? What if he is cryptically answering my question about Darcy or Wickam?"

'So which one is he then?'

"Oh..." Sakura blushed her self "I think I can't know that. At least not for sure."

'What do you mean' Inner Sakura asked already knowing the answer

"The thing is that I know Kakashi" Sakura started drying herself comfortably in her heavy and comfortable towel "He's obviously a Mr Darcy: dominant, gentleman, sure of himself, proud, well-positioned. He usually sticks to his principles and above all things he consciously considers absolutely all situations. He's rather lonely, so yes, he's a Mr Darcy."

'So... where are your doubts then?'

"I don't know nothing about Kakashi's love life," Sakura said simple aplaying some hydrating oil for the skin, she liked the one that smelled of pears.

'Does he have one?' Even if Inner Sakura was right.

"Come on, you're not going to think he is a virgin right? you are too bold to think something like that" Sakura reply thinking that for once she had won her Inner self

'Of course not, idiot! I'm not talking about sex. I'm referring to relationships, but coming from that man, I wouldn't be surprised if he is actually a virgin' Inner Sakura pondered, and Sakura herself darted her thoughts to unknown places.

'You are terrible after all, Sakura' Inner Sakura was laughing, 'You are already thinking in all the things you could do to him just to teach him.'

"Oh, come on! Not even Ino would dare to say something like that" Sakura defended herself. '

Call her and check for yourself. And Sakura?'

"What?"

'There is no need to keep on playing with that oil. You are already moisturized.'

Sakura left the bathroom in a flash of fury and went straight to her room. She jumped over her big comfy bed just wrapped in her not so much dry towel. Inner Sakura, was nowhere to be found in her head so she could rest a bit. She knew that she had to change into her PJs, but somehow she didn't feel like. Sakura was feeling comfortable and a little bit rebel? Yeah, almost a punk. If someone were to enter her house or room, they would find her barely covered by a large towel slightly dropped from one side and nothing more. The situation was tempting but pointless and disappointing: Nobody was going to visit her tonight, or the next one for that matter. So, pushed by this new femininity and sensuality found almost like chance, Sakura took Icha Icha in her hands, and began to read. If Kakashi could handle Pride and Prejudice, she would do it with the little orange book full of secrets.

"He found her underneath a leafy tree. The rays of the sun filtered through the spaces between the leaves, drawing on her skin magical patterns that he longed to travel with his hands, his lips, his tongue. She would leave for a few moments and then push it away, as she always did, it would slip through her fingers like flower petals in the wind. The fire awakened in his body would be unbearable. She knew that he would follow her to the end of the world, to the flames of hell that were nothing compared to the fire of passion that awoke every time they were together, within reach of his curious hands—a sigh of difference."

Oh boy... This was going to be a long night.

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

Notes:

Hello Everyone!!!!!! How you've been? I want to apologize for not updating before, in journalism, we say that we don't publish the excuses. I think I Kind of feel like I ow it to you. The thing is that I'm starting to quit smoking, and you have no idea (or maybe you do) how hard it is. Even more, if one of your greatest pleasures is writing while drinking coffee or something stronger and a cigarette!! That's what took my time. Try to write only with a sad cup of tea. But I guess I'm starting to improve in that area. I will end like L, full of candies, sweets, and coffee around me! If you are interested in following my process as a hilarious journal, I can leave you my Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/owlsbride

Now with the story, What is going on with Sakura and these new sensations she is living? What do you think? A virgin Kakashi? I don't think it fits him, as I don't think that womanizer thing fits him either.

Well, I'll be waiting your comments and kudos and follows and love, which is very much appreciated it right now.

Well Next chapter in a few days, we are going to see what happens in Suna,

[angelsdevils]

Oishi x Reader

Title: My Princess Fluff No Warning

Oishi watched as you focused on doing your homework, you and Oishi was in the library. There wasn’t any tennis practice today, so Oishi got to spend more time with you. You didn’t know, but Oishi was absolutely in love with you. He was too shy to confess to you, but he knew that he wanted to spend more time with you. Oishi shook his head before you caught him staring, and he stared in his book. He looked at the problems but he couldn’t focus, when you were so close to him. 

“Oishi~kun. When is your next tennis match?” You asked, stopping from working on your problem, Oishi looked at you meeting your beautiful (e/c). He almost forgot to answer, but he came back to reality before thinking for a moment. “Uhm, it’s three weeks away. Why? What’s up?” Oishi asked, and you looked down playing with your shirt. You took a deep breath before giving him your smile, that took Oishi’s breath away every time.

“Well, my performance is tomorrow. I am getting really nervous and I was wondering if you would go, to you know cheer me on. I am really nervous, especially there is going to be no one that I know there as well. I would really like it if you showed up.” You said, Oishi smiled before nodding his head.

“Of course, if you want I can bring the entire tennis team if you want more supporters.” Oishi said, you thought about it for a moment. You were close with the tennis team, so them being there would do your nerves some good. 

“That would be great, thank you so much, Oishi~kun.” You said hugging him tightly, Oishi felt a small blush cover his cheeks but he hugged back. He rubbed your back, and you both stayed in the hugging position for a while. It felt right having you in Oishi’s arms, and he could smell the strawberries and cream shampoo you often used.

“You are welcome, after all you always support me in my matches. The least I can do is the same, plus I never seen you perform because you are too shy to sing in front of us.” Oishi said, you turned your head with a smile.

“Yeah, and tomorrow is a big deal. It’s my first time having such a big role, I play Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.” You say with a blush, Oishi gave you a wide smile before holding your shoulders gently. 

“That’s great, why are you just telling me this?” 

“I was a nervous wreck and everything. I still am.” You say rubbing your neck, but Oishi gives you a smile and grasp your hand gently which relaxes you. 

“You will do amazing, I know you will.” Oishi said, you nodded your head as he takes his phone out and began to text the group chat for the tennis team saying that you want their support at your performance tomorrow. You went back to working on your homework before finishing it, once you finished it you packed your bags and Oishi did the same.

“Everyone even Kaido and Tezuka is going to come support you.” Oishi said, you took a deep breath with a smile.

“Thank you so much, I won’t be so nervous...hopefully.” You say, and you both walk out of the school, Oishi walks you home. You both talked about a few things, and Oishi slowly slid his hand into yours. You almost didn’t notice if it wasn’t for him being closers and tracing circles on your hand. You looked up at him with a blush, and you noticed he had a blush on his cheeks as well. A silence filled the air, but it wasn’t awkward in fact it was really comfortable. He walked you to your porch and you gave him another hug before unlocking the door. 

“I will see you tomorrow, I have to be their early. So I will see you after the performance.” You say, and Oishi nods his head. 

“Yeah, you got this I know you do.” Oishi said, and you gave him a high five before going into your home. 

~time skip to the next day~

You were in the back of the stage, in your costume. Your hair was done exactly how Jasmine’s was, and you wore a bright blue dress that was beautiful. It made your skin glow, you looked in the mirror feeling extrememly nervous you could tell the auditorium was filled with people. This made you want to run and hide, but you were the main part of this world you had two songs to sing. You stood behind the curtain, and when the music began to play, you could hear ‘your’ Prince Ali sing as you both were standing hand in hand. Your eyes search for the crowd before seeing your tennis friends, there you also saw Oishi who had a wide smile on his face. You looked over at 

“I can show you the world: shining, shimmering, splendid.

Tell me, Princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?

I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder. Over, sideways,

And under on a magic carpet ride.”

“A whole new world, a new fantastic point of view, no one to tell us

“no” , or where to go. Or say we’re only dreaming. A whole new world, 

A dazzling place I never knew But when I’m way up here it’s crystal clear

That now I’m in a whole new world you. Now I’m in a whole new world with you.”

“Unbelievable sights, indescribable feelings. Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling. 

Through an endless diamon sky.”

“A whole new world (Don’t you dare close your eyes)

A hundred thousand things to see (Hold your breathl it’s gets better)

I’m like a shooting star, I’ve come so far, I can’t go back to where I used to be. 

A whole new world, with new horizons to pursue. I’ll chase them anywhere 

there’s time to spare. Let me share this whole new world with you.”

The song finished, and everyone began to clap and cheer for you two. You blushed, and smiled as the main male performer hugged you laughing, you laughed as well with a blush. Your eyes met Oishi and he was staring at you with that smile that made your heart pound. You both ran off of the stage, and several other performers went before it ended. When you left from behind the stage, Oishi and the tennis team was standing by your locker room. You blinked as Eiji hugged picking you up and spinning you around.

“E-Eiji let me down.” You laughed softly. 

“That was amazing (Y/N).” Momo said, patting your head as Eiji said. 

“I knew you could perform but never like that.” Inui said, you blushed at all of the compliments. You hid your face by looking down, but Oishi tilted your head up with a smile. 

“You did absolutely amazing. I knew you could do it... my princess.” Oishi said with a blush on his cheeks. Your eyes snapped to his, and he smiled as Eiji pushed him closer to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you both grew quiet. 

“Thank you Oishi~kun.” You say in a quiet voice.

“Oishi kiss your princess already.” Eiji said, that made your eyes widen. Oishi searched your eyes for any objections but he didn’t see any just confusion.

“I love you (Y/N), can I...kiss you?” He asked, you shyly nodded your head and he placed his lips on yours. You closed your eyes, and leaned more into the kiss. Ryoma’s eyes were covered by Momo’s hands, and everyone else was cheering besides Tezuka, Kaido, and Inui. Oishi parted before stroking some of the stray hairs out of your face. You buried your face into his chest, and he laughed softly holding you tightly. 

“So I am your girlfriend right?” You asked, and Oishi hummed. 

“Yeah, if you want to. I want you to be.”

“I would love too, because I love you too.” You say.

“(Y/N), I hate to ruin the cute moment  but we need the dress back.” Your musical performance teacher said, and you nodded pulling away from Oishi.

“Right I am coming.” You say, and Oishi nods letting you go. You smiled before going into the changing room.

“Finally he has his crush.” Momo said patting Oishi’s shoulder.

“Took him long enough.” Kaido mumbled. 

“I think they are perfect for each other.” Takashi said, and Eiji nodded his head.

“I agree, he liked her for a long time.” Eiji said ruffling his hair, remembering when Oishi, you and Eiji first met. It had been in their first years, you were smart, shy and perfect for Oishi yet he was too shy. 

“Geez guys.” Oishi said, rubbing his neck embarrassed. Once you changed into your regular clothes and removed the make up you left and you shyly took Oishi’s hand in yours. 

“Let’s get food.” Ryoma said, as his stomach growled. 

“Seems perfect, I refused to eat before my performance.” You said laughing softly. 

“Why?” Oishi asked concerned, and you gave him smile letting him know it was okay. 

“Eating for a performance when I am really nervous makes me sick.” You say.

“Makes sense, well lets feed you.” Oishi said. Everyone began to joke around, talking about your performance, others talked about the upcoming tennis match. You and Oishi was in the back with laced fingers, sharing kisses and small talk.

[kooala]

once you realize - chapter three

USERNAME CHANGE!! 

!!used to be kookie-off-his-kookie  but now it’s kooala!!

A/N: Hey guys! I’m glad you enjoyed my last chapter! Here is the third one and I really hope you enjoy reading as much as I loved writing it!

I also hope you guys will be happy to hear that it’ll turn out to be longer than expected so get ready for five, potentially six chapters! (: ✨

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x his girlfriend Mina, Jaebeom!

Tags: best friend! Jungkook, idol verse, friends to lovers!

Genre:  angst, fluff, mutual pining, basically the cutest falling in love story

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: language! flirting!

Parts: chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven

Summary: After the nightly confessions seemed to have put Jungkook into a much better mood, he felt like there was no harm in being a little more bold. 

masterlist

It had taken you a solid hour of laying in bed without moving an inch before you felt confident enough to leave your bed to get some water from the kitchen, maybe some toast if you felt brave.

“Don’t you look like a fresh spring morning.”, Mina laughed as she walked around the corner and spotted you sitting on a barstool, your head resting heavy on the cooling kitchen counter. The toast next to you, still untouched as the thought of food alone made you feel nauseous.

“I feel fucking splendid.”, you mumbled and only as you saw Taehyung cut the corner a few seconds after her, you sat up, looking at him confused. He waved to you, only dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, messy hair, maneuvering the pans and fridge as if he had done it a hundred times before. She could’ve at least mentioned he was here.

“So why did you drink that much? And how did things turn out with Jaebeom?”, she asked nosy, leaning her elbows on the counter and watched you. You shot a quick look to Tae who was making scrambled eggs in a pan and although the smell coming from the pan was tempting, you declined his offer to make you breakfast. It felt too risky.

Erm...,” you started the conversation, feeling a little uncomfortable with the new extra in the house “I actually don’t.. know.”, you mumbled. 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”, Tae chuckled as he turned around with a plate of food, placing it down in front of Mina as he kissed her head softly and for a second you stared at them with an ugly jealousy raging inside of you. You didn’t want to be that jealous friend, but they seemed genuinely happy. 

“I just can’t remember. I had too much to drink – I don’t even know how I got home...”, you mumbled sheepishly and watched Mina grab your toast you hadn’t touched.

“Jungkook took you home.” The shocked expression you must’ve had on your face, made her suspicious and she rose an eyebrow.

“Oh please no.”, you mumbled and covered your face with your hand embarrassed. Out of all the people to see you in this state, you really didn’t want Jungkook to be the one taking care of you.

Taehyung showed up with a second plate, offering it to you one more time and as you declined again, the both of them disappeared down the hallway together into Mina’s room.

Looking at the empty hallway for a moment, hanging after your thoughts, you eventually gathered yourself up and headed to your room as well, grabbing your phone anxiously.

You: 정국아~! Jungkook: 네? You: Did you take me back to the dorm yesterday? I’m so sorry for causing inconveniences... Jungkook: Don’t worry about it ㅋㅋㅋ Jungkook: How are you feeling? Hungover? You: I feel awful. Jungkook: ㅋㅋ I can imagine! Want to grab some lunch? Jungkook: I said I’d bring you breakfast but I think it’s good you slept in ... You: I don’t know if it would be a waste. I can barely even smell food... Jungkook: I’ll make sure to eat the rest of it! I’ll eat all of it ㅋㅋ You: Okay I’ll do my best and get ready. Lunch is on me though!!! Jungkook: Perfect - let’s meet at the one from last time in an hour! See you soon ((:

It took a deep breath and a lot of will power to peel off of your bed to head into the shower. Although seeing Jungkook made you feel all giddy and excited, nothing could overlook how awful you still felt. 

Hoping for it to get better after the shower, you took your time to pamper yourself, taking your time to pick out some clothes, even if they were comfy and put on some make up just to make you feel somewhat human again.

The thing you were most thankful for at the moment wasn’t only the close friendship with everyone, it was also the fact that most of the promo was done. You finally had a little bit more lean way and although it wasn’t much, a day off like today was a day you could spend with your friends, especially Jungkook. It was rare that both of you were available at the same time and you wanted to take advantage of every second of it. He had always been a good friend and although it was never ‘easy’ to have a guy friend, Jungkook was very sensitive and caring and listened to you if you needed to talk about problems within your group of girl friends. He didn’t mind listening and giving advise which was one of his many  amazing qualities you appreciated so much about him. This made the fact that he took you home while you had been knock out drunk yesterday, even more terrifying. Especially in combination with your confusing feelings you’ve been dealing with lately.

“Oh look at her, there she is! Party-queen, our Soju princess, give it up for the number one beer drinker in Korea!” You could hear him yelling from down the street while clapping his hands, cheering a couple of times. 

Feeling the heat kick in, you put your hands on your cheeks and simply looked down to the floor, feeling absolutely embarrassed and terrified. All you could do now was pray that he would be decent enough to not exploit you right to your face today. 

You looked back up, watching him make his way down the street, doing a little dance and you couldn’t tell if your cheeks felt hot from the embarrassment, or the way he looked today.

Jungkook looked like he hopped right out of a cover shooting in his ripped jeans with a tucked in t-shirt and a loose, open button up on top of it, looking even more put together than usual. 

His fluffy hair was bouncing as he walked towards you and you couldn’t help but feel like you had to raise both of your hands and just slide them through his hair. “You know, there’s no need to be insecure about how cool I am. We can’t all be alike.”, you smirked as he walked up to you and you could see his bright smile, looking down at you. “Someone’s in a good mood. No headache?”, you asked and he shook his head, smiling brightly. “Not even a little. I am really good.” His dimples came out even more and he couldn’t stop the wide grin on his face as he opened the door for you to enter the restaurant first. “Thank you.”, you smiled and walked ahead, letting him go ahead though once you were inside since you quite enjoyed it when Jungkook was leading.

Both of you followed the lady guiding you to your seat and after taking off your coat and getting comfortable you saw him smiling at you suspiciously.

“Is there anything you want to tell me? Because I don’t know what happened last night, as embarrassed as I am to admit this.”, you mumbled after ordering your drinks and food and he rose his eyebrows, almost worried.

“Nothing? No memories at all?”, he asked, taking the drinks as they brought to the table and poured the small coke bottle into the glass for you. 

“I can’t remember how I got home, first off. I also have no idea what happened after we played that shot game. I think the last thing I remember is having a very deep Soju fueled conversation with Jimin. Who I believe is the reason the night ended the way it did, by the way.”, you mumbled, thanking him for pouring your drink and taking a sip then.

Jungkook watched you in amusement and chuckled a bit at your innocent behavior, considering yesterday wasn’t one of your innocent nights at all. He got to putting the beef on the grill immediately while listening to you and you simply watched him work his magic. 

“You had a conversation with Jimin, right. And then you had one with Jaebeom.”, he said and shot you a quick look to see if that sparked any memories and as you watched the meat sizzle on the grill, you remembered a couple of scenes of the night before.

“Oh god, I did sit next to Jaebeom...”, you mumbled quietly and put your hand over your mouth embarrassed since you remembered his hand around your hip. The worst part didn’t seem to be the hugging, it was the fact that absolutely everyone was there to witness it. 

“Yea...”, Jungkook simply stated, not interested in getting into that topic too much because he didn’t feel like dimming his happy mood after the conversation yesterday. 

He folded some meat and sides into a perilla leaf and held it over to you, offering. Bending in you took the bite and nodded thankful, covering your mouth while chewing.

“Why didn’t you say anything though? You’re my friend you’re supposed to protect me from dumb decisions, you know?”, you mumbled after chewing and chuckled. Jungkook didn’t seem too interested in the conversation and scooting a little bit on his chair, you could tell he was almost uncomfortable. He didn’t really reply to that comment and you just took a sip of your drink.

“What was I thinking though. Now I have to text him and tell him I’m not interested... Man this is so embarrassing.”, you mumbled quietly, dipping your pork into one of the sauces. 

“Oh you told him alright...”, Jungkook laughed low, looking over to you to watch your expression carefully. Dropping the meat from your chopsticks onto the table you looked at him shocked.

“What?”, you asked in shock. “What did I do?”, you mumbled, your voice lower as you picked the piece of meat back up to eat it. Jungkook took a big bite and you  could see that he seemed to thoroughly enjoy this conversation. “Well, do you want the long version? Or the short one.”, he smirked and took a sip of his coke.

You only stared at him and seemed to sink into your chair more and more, dreading the story that was about to come. With a worried expression, you nodded hesitantly.

“So, it started off with you sitting next to Jaebeom, right? And I mean it wasn’t bad but you seemed cozy. And then you walked off and so did I so I don’t know what happened in between, but when I returned with Yugyeom you were crying in the hallway with Jimin. I offered to take you home and as we were leaving JB walked after you and wanted to talk to you on the street – so I let you.”, he smirked and grabbed some of the radish. You listened to the crunchy sound it made while he was eating for a moment. 

“You let me? Oh goooood.” Closing your eyes you covered your face with your hand again. You couldn’t even get yourself to look at Jungkook because you felt so embarrassed for everything he had already mentioned.

“Yea and he did the whole ‘hey, let’s meet up sometime’ and you did the dramatic ‘I’m drunk and I like someone else, we can’t’ and then I walked you home.”, he laughed and you couldn‘t help but reach over to smack his arm once for the smug smile on his face. 

“I said I like someone else? God no...”, you mumbled, pushing your hair back nervous. 

“I can’t believe I did that. And I can’t believe I don’t even remember it! God this is so awkward I’m sorry you had to witness all of it.”, you mumbled with bright red cheeks and Jungkook only smiled at you with an understanding look on his face. 

Although he enjoyed the fact that you regretted all of it and from the conversation that had followed after he had taken you home, he knew that you weren’t going to end up dating Jaebeom, but seeing you like this made him feel guilty. He didn’t enjoy it when you suffered, no matter if it was a fun situation or not. 

“Don’t worry about it, noona. It sounds worse than it actually is, it was no big deal. He was okay with it and it’s not like you were so black out you couldn’t walk or talk. It’s all good.”, he smiled and you crossed your arms on the table, resting your head on it embarrassed. If there was a super power you’d like to take advantage of, it would be disappearing into thin air. Right now. 

Resting your chin on your palm for a moment you let your eyes trace over Jungkook’s face for a second, stopping at the little freckle on his lip and as you realized what you were doing, you turned your eyes back to the food on the table and started eating some radish quietly.

As you felt Jungkook ruffle through your hair for a second, you felt a warm tingle run down your back, followed by goosebumps. He ran his fingers through your hair again to tame the mess he had created and you had to take a couple of seconds longer to hide those red cheeks of yours. 

“Please tell me you’re just trying to mock me.”, you mumbled then as you sat back up to look at him. He seemed to have trouble keeping that smirk off his face.

“Oh I wish. And when I took you home you tried to take my hand and asked me to take off your pants because you couldn’t do it yourself.” He blurted out the last bit without even noticing and although he felt a little guilty for exposing you that way, he really was looking forward to your reaction when you heard. 

“How is that not bad?!”, you yelled way too loud and Jungkook turned his head to look around embarrassed, nodding excusing to the elderly couple next to you. 

“Because it’s no big deal, Y/N. It was only you and me, no one saw. You had a moment, I helped you take off your make up and... pants and then you got into bed and it’s all history. I’m not going to tell anyone and I’m the only one who saw. Don’t worry.” He smiled over and you still couldn’t help but feel the embarrassment linger between the two of you. 

“But you did say ‘I’m not asking you to grind on me, just take off my pants for god’s sake.’, or something along those lines. I may just dream of that.”, he joked and closed his eyes dreamy, forcing you to smack his arm one more time. With a bright laugh he rubbed his arm and shook his head.

“Won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

“You better not if I was only in underwear!”, you said and Jungkook couldn’t hold back his laughter now. He didn’t know why he enjoyed you being embarrassed about it so much but maybe it took away from the fact that he had in fact seen you only in your underwear and now he felt less bad about it once you knew. 

“I mean you did ask me to take off your pants so if anything, we’re only closer now.”, he smirked and you couldn’t help but start laughing as well, playing with the glass in your hand.

“What are you doing tonight?”, Jungkook asked after finishing absolutely everything that was left on the table within a matter of minutes. 

“Tonight? Nothing really. Probably listening to Tae and Mina making out.”, you chuckled and finished your drink while watching him pull out his wallet.

“How about you come over? A few people are coming over and we wanted to watch the new Avengers movie if you’re interested? Mina and Tae will be making out there for sure.”, he joked.

“But seriously, it will be fun. Also my schedule is going to be packed again so it would be nice to spend some more time together before I’m unable to.”, he smiled and looked over at you. 

“Naw, look at you being a cutie.”, you teased a little bit and Jungkook jolted his head a little to the side, noticeably embarrassed about the comment and with a crinkled nose, he tried to hide his pinks ears by going through his wallet.

“Think about it. I’d like to have you there.”, he smiled honest and got up, walking over to the cashier to pay for the meal. The gesture absolutely surprised you because usually the both of you pay for your own meals. There was a tingly feeling that started spreading out in your stomach while you were watching him pay for lunch and you couldn’t hide your smile as he returned.

“What?”, he smiled, handing you your coat as the two of you walked out. “Nothing. Thank you for paying, Jungkook.”, you smiled over and he shyly waved it off, following you outside onto the street.

“Right then, I’ll see you tonight?”, he asked, pushing his hands deep into his jeans-pockets and giving you a breathtaking, dimply smile. Trying to collect your thoughts while looking at him you nodded, pushing your hands in your coat pockets to somehow cope with your nerves.

“Okay I’ll... come with Mina then she’ll know all the details.”, you smiled and Jungkook seemed to beam once you agreed to join.

“It’ll be fun, there’ll be loads of people and we can even share a seat if you want to.”, he smirked, walking backwards a few steps without taking his eyes off of yours.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Jeon Jungkook!”, you yelled after him and as he looked around worried to see if someone had heard you, you only chuckled.

“See you later.”, you waved at him. “Get home safe. See you later, noona.”, he replied with a smirk and you watched him walk down the street a little further before getting into a Mercedes.

If you’ve managed to read this far, I’d be more than happy if you could like and share my chapter if you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions for improvement or any drabble requests - make sure to shoot me a message!

thank you so much for reading and I hope you’ll stay around for the fourth chapter! 💖

 © kooala (stealing, translating or reuploading to other sites is prohibited.)

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda

Notes: I hope to add a new aesthetic for each chapter because...well work sucks and I need a way to unwind. :)

Substance abuse is a serious issue. If you need help with an addiction, please call The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHS) National Helpline – 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Killian Jones

2 weeks ago

The hotel room was littered with empty bottles of rum and beer, it smelled of smoke, leather, and sex. The naked girl strung out on the expensive leather couch had passed out hours previously from too much drink.

“Lass, do share!” Killian tipped his glass back, the sting from the alcohol had been dulled six drinks previously.

The brunette gyrated on top of his lap, rubbing her center against his naked form. She passed the $100 bill to him and then began slithering a trail of wetness against his skin with her tongue. He pushed her out of his way to lean forward, rolling the bill and inhaling the white powder into his nose, his head fell back against the chair. His eyes closed, letting the feeling wash over him.

The girl continued her duty, eagerly sucking his cock while her hands caressed his chest. Her fingers trailed the flesh on his left arm, and he reached out with his right hand, grabbing a fist full of her hair and yanking her away from him. She stared at him wide eyed. “No, you can touch me anywhere but there.” He growled, shoving her back down to his groin.

He closed his eyes again, getting lost in the swirls of her tongue and the euphoric sensations of her mouth gloriously working his cock. “Mm, Milah.” He groaned.

“Who the hell is Milah?” The girl stopped her eager work.

His eyes blew open, looking down at the dark-haired girl who was staring at him angrily. “Mary?” He said warily. “Nancy?” He pressed his fingers to his head and squeezed his eyes shut trying to remember the damn woman’s name. “Janice?” he said snapping his fingers.

“It’s Abby.”

“Who cares.”

The girl got up from his lap and walked toward her friend who was passed out on the couch. “Fuck you.”

“I already did that, twice, and I don’t seem to remember any complaints, darling.” He leaned over and took another snort. His vision distorting slightly. “Get back over here, it’s not going to suck itself.” The girl reluctantly walked back toward him. “Abby love, please.” He added.

He took another shot of rum as the girl reluctantly returned to continue her task of pleasuring him. “You’re damn good at that love, my heart is absolutely racing.” He groaned, sweat pouring off his forehead.

She stopped her task, “You sure you’re ok, Mr. Jones?”

“What are you bloody stopping for?” He yelled, grabbing the bottle next to him, and tipping it into his mouth. His hand slid onto his erect member, tugging himself to try and reach the release he so desperately needed. “Do I have to do this for you?”

His heart really was racing. The girl stepped back from him, retreating to the couch to try again and wake her friend.”

“Who needs you.” He growled angrily. “I’ll do it my damn self.”

He closed his eyes. Dark hair invading his thoughts. Images racing across his lids.

“I love you Milah.” The scenes played out like a movie on fast forward in his brain. “Why would you do this?” Blurring, bright lights, his headache was blinding him. “Killian, you shouldn’t…” His heart was pounding out of his chest. “Oh God what have I done?” Red lights and rain?

Wait. Was it raining in his room?

Darkness was threatening to swallow him, he was screaming into the night.

“Killian, wake up.”

He could faintly hear someone speaking to him. He tried to respond; words didn’t come.

“Call 911.”

 Present Day

Killian watched the land come into view, a bright patch of green over a sea of blue. It was a beautiful sight that he would surely have welcomed if he were here for pleasure.

“At least you’ll have a gorgeous view during your stay.”

Killian glared at the man sitting across from him, gripping the leather handle on his seat. “Yeah, I’m sure sightseeing is the first thing they sign you up for, right after racquetball and cricket.” He grumbled sarcastically.

“I know you’re upset with everyone, KJ, but you know we had no other choice, right?”

Killian looked away, glancing out the window again to focus on the ground as the wheels touched down.

He stood when the plane came to a stop and walked toward the exit. Robin got up and followed him. When he got to the steps he turned around and faced the man. “I think I can turn myself in Dad.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “I’m just trying to be here for you.”

“I think you’ve done enough Rob. Go home.” Killian turned and bounded down the steps, grabbing his bag from the pilot, and storming toward the car waiting for him.

“Killian Jones?” The man asked.

“Yup, I’m the lucky bloke!” He said mockingly and climbed into the backseat.

“Welcome to Wonderland.”

“Wonderland? You can’t be serious. What a bloody stupid name.” He mused but the man simply shut the door behind him.

The trip from the small airport only took five minutes, Killian watched the beauty of the island zoom past through the darkened windows of the limo. He slammed back against the headrest and squeezed his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Killian, this has to stop, you almost died this time. Do you think this is what mom would have wanted for you?” “And yet I’m still here.” “Is that what you want? To not be here? Because I can’t decide if this is a death wish or you are just fucking stupid.”

The car came to a sudden halt, he let out a long groan and peered through his eyes. The door opened and he stepped out into the sunlight.

“Welcome to Wonderland Rehabilitation Center, Mr. Jones.” The moment he left the car, he was greeted by a man in a security uniform. “Names Graham, Pleasure to meet you. I happened to hear the call that you were arriving and wanted to greet you personally. Can I just say how much I loved “Seasick”? That song changed my life, man.”

“Oh good, a fan. Splendid.” He said sarcastically as he brushed past the man and up the walkway to the entrance.

He heard the guard’s footsteps behind him. “I checked you in, but you’ll need to meet with Regina.”

“Well point me in the way of this Regina then and let’s get on with it.”

“You’ve found her.” A dark-haired woman was standing at the front desk, her dark suit and heels told him that this was a woman who liked to be in charge. “Regina Mills. I’m the Manager here at WRC.”

“I suppose this is where you read me the rules and tell me how its going to be, scared straight or something, right?”

“Something like that.” She grinned and gestured for him to follow her.

“So, you’ve met Graham, he’s my head of security, so if you step out of line, break any of my rules, I’ll know about it.” She opened the door to her office and sat at her desk, waving her hand to the chair across from her.

“Just tell me what I need to do to get out of here.”

“Ready to leave so soon?” She mused.

“No, just eager to get back to my life.”

“Ah yes, Killian Jones, Mother died when you were four. You lived with your father, Brennan and brother, Liam until you were 17, dropped out of high school when your dad died and started a band with your high school buddy Robin Locksley at 18.” She turned the page in his file. “How am I doing so far?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not here for a history lesson.”

“I wasn’t finished.” She cut him off. “Let’s see, got your lucky break playing in a bar when you were 22, signed to a 1-year contract with Capitol Records. What’s the name of your little band?”

“The Sea Dogs and it’s not exactly little.”

“Ah that’s right. Your 1-year contract turned into a multi record deal, didn’t it?”

“Aye, we won a Grammy, actually.”

“Never really understood your band honestly, the sea doesn’t have dogs. Never the matter, where did I leave off, ah your aspiring acting career. Three picture deal, isn’t that correct?”

He nodded. “Yes, the last film starts production in 6 months. Hence my need to finish this up.”

“You can’t rush recovery, Mr. Jones.”

“Then does this little story have a point, or should we continue wasting my time?”

“The point is, I don’t care who you are. You’re not here on vacation, this isn’t a spa. If you want to leave WRC, I expect you to work for it. You’ll find that we have many special people here. Movie stars, musicians, billionaires, the fact of the matter is, I don’t give a damn who you are. You’re all the same here.” She tossed his file onto the desk. “Addicts.”

His jaw was tense.

“The sooner you realize that’s who you are, that’s when your recovery can start and not a second sooner. Until then you’re just another rich guy hiding from his problems on my island.”

“Well, this was uplifting. Are all the sessions going to be this inspirational because I want to make sure I get my money’s worth.”

“You’ll have individual therapy sessions 3 times a week and group session once a week with Dr. Hopper. There is a cafeteria where you will have all your meals, any medication will be provided to you by Dr. Whale. I understand you are still in the process of physical therapy since the…”

“That is correct, I assume my physical therapy will continue with Dr. Whale also?”

“Yes. There is a gym where you can work out on your down time, as well as yoga classes that are hosted by our recreational therapist and dietician Zelena West.”

“Yoga sounds most interesting.” He mused sarcastically.

“Lights out is at 10pm. No sex of any kind.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“No sex. I would assume that is self-explanatory, Jones or do I need to provide you the rules in a book with pictures?”

“No Ma’am. But 10pm? Honestly, I’m going to miss Big Brother After Dark, and who doesn’t love a good reality show with drama, am I right?”

“I think you’ll find that the sooner you take things seriously, Mr. Jones, the better your stay here will go for you.” She glared at him. “Now if I can just get you to sign some paperwork for me and turn in your cell phone and any personal items into this bag. I will have it locked up so you can gather them when you leave.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, tossing it into the bag.

“Did you need to check your messages or send any before you turn it over?”

“Nope, don’t have anyone I care to communicate with.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you are permitted to make your first phone call after completing 14 days of treatment. After that you will have access to the phone in the lounge during the hours of 9am to 9pm.”

“Am I scheduled for restroom breaks as well or am I allowed to take those as necessary?”

She stared a hole through him. “Dr. Hopper is going to have a field day with you.” She chuckled dryly.

There was a knock on the door and a fair skinned man in a white coat poked his head into the room.

“Did you call me for a patient meet and greet?”

“Ah yes, Dr. Whale, may I introduce you to Killian Jones.”

The man stepped into the room and extended his hand, withdrawing quickly when he looked down at his missing limb and swapping the hand he extended. “Nice to meet you. How long has it been?” He asked, pointing to his lack of appendage.

“Long enough to not want to talk about it.” Regina cleared her throat and Killian internally groaned. “Three months.”

“I got the notes from your previous physical therapist so we will continue strength exercises three days a week starting tomorrow.”

“I can hardly contain my glee.”

Dr. Whale exchanged a glance with Regina. “Oh, Dr. Hopper is going to love him.” She nodded with a smirk on her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He remarked before turning and leaving him alone with the abrasive woman on the other side of the desk.

“So, when do I get to go to my room to sit and reflect on my life.”

“Ah yes, let me take you to your room now.” She stood, depositing his items in her desk drawer, and locking it behind her. “This way.”

He followed her down the corridor, noting all the windows lining the hallway with views of the ocean. He wished again that he were here for a different reason. “Here you go Mr. Jones.”

He stopped before entering the room. “Jones is fine, Mr. Jones is my father, and he’s no longer among the living.”

“Alright Jones, home sweet home.”

He stepped into the room, more windows looking out onto the island. His eyes settled on the two beds in the room. “Um, I’m pretty sure this is costing me a hefty penny, but care to explain why I need two beds?”

“You must be the new guy.” A man pushed past him into the room.

“This is your roommate, August.”

“Roommate? I thought this place allowed privacy and solidarity.”

“Did I forget that rule, sorry about that. For the first 2 weeks, all patients are paired with someone who has already completed their first 14 days.”

“I don’t need a bloody babysitter.” Lowering his voice and turning toward Regina.

“Think of him more as a buddy.” She appeared to be taking joy in his discomfort and anger.

“I don’t need one of those either.” He growled.

She turned on her heels and started off down the hallway. “Dr. Hopper will see you in 20 minutes. Don’t be late. Your buddy can help you find your way there.”

He clinched his fist, watching the woman click her heels on the tile until she turned the corner and disappeared. He spun around and stepped into the room.

“It goes by quickly.” His new babysitter was sitting on one of the beds reading a book.

“Not quick enough.” He tossed his bag on the empty bed.

“You’re that guy, aren’t you?” He stood up and pretended to look off into the distance. “Ahoy Matey there’s land ahead.” Killian groaned and tossed his clothes into the empty dresser. “Sorry, but you’re pretty recognizable.”

“Fantastic.”

“Secrets safe with me. No one cares who anyone is here anyway.”

“How long have you been here?”

“24 days. You get used to the way things work around here after the first week.”

“Not bloody likely.” He grumbled.

“Hey, don’t fight it, trust me, the first guy I stayed with when I got here has been here 6 months and still keeps breaking the rules, at this rate, he’s never leaving.” Killian thought about his situation. He knew the more he resisted the longer he would be stuck on this island and he wanted nothing more than to leave this place and get back to set.

“Perhaps you have a point. If you would be so kind as to show me to Dr. Hopper’s office, I would much like to get a start on getting the hell out of here.”

He followed the man down the hallways, a maze of rights and lefts until they exited the building and crossed a lush green lawn to a small building on the other side of the complex. “First door on your right.” August pointed toward the building. “Good luck.”

He stepped through the doors and was greeted by a friendly, curly haired man, “You must be Mr. Jones, I’m Dr. Hopper, but you can call me Archie.”

“Killian will be fine, Archie.”

“Alright, Killian, please join me in my office.”

Killian walked into the room, not at all surprised to see the long couch and leather chair. He nervously took a seat on the couch and looked around. “So, uh how does this work, do I lie down, or can we skip that part?”

The man laughed. “None of that is necessary, unless that makes you comfortable. Our sessions will happen three times a week, sometimes I may ask you questions, other times you may feel like sharing, but really, the most important part at WRC is that we make sure you don’t ignore the mental part of your recovery.” Killian shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He had no idea how he was supposed to sit here and share anything with this man, a man he had just met. “What exactly are we supposed to talk about?”

“How about we talk about what brought you here.”

Killian looked at the ceiling. “My bandmate, Robin brought me.”

“Not who, but what was the reason you chose to come to Wonderland?”

Killian laughed loudly. “Chose, that’s an interesting way to put it.”

“And how would you put it?”

“Forced, not given much choice, ordered to come, your pick I guess.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“Yeah, did you know that there’s a moral clause in contracts?” He clicked his tongue in his mouth in annoyance. “Guess I should have read the fine print.”

“So, you’re here because your behavior was deemed to be in breach of contract?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And do you think your behavior was acceptable?”

“I think my behavior was no one’s business but my own.”

He nodded and then wrote a few sentences in his notebook.

“What? Was that the wrong answer?” Killian said dryly.

“I’m just taking notes, it doesn’t mean that I agree or disagree with anything you have said. I’m merely here to observe your response.” He put down his pencil and looked back at Killian. “Tell me about the night of the accident.”

Killian’s jaw clenched and he formed a fist with his right hand. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

“Interesting response. You had attended a premiere for your first movie, is that correct?”

“What were you doing talking to him?” “We were just talking, Killy. He’s your co-star.” “Bullshit. Don’t lie to me.” “Killian, would you stop acting like this.” “I’ll stop acting like this when you start telling the goddamn truth.” “I’m not going to talk to you while you’re drunk.” “No but you’ll fuck him when he’s drunk, isn’t that right Milah?” “Fuck you.”

Killian flinched when he heard the man sit forward in his seat. “This is fucking pointless.” He growled.

“Neverland? That was the name of the movie, right?”

Killian stood up suddenly and began pacing. “How much longer do we need to talk about this today?”

The man shut his notebook. “This is your time, if this is too overwhelming for you on your first day, we can pick this back up in our next session.”

“Thrilling, I can’t wait.” Killian raced out the door, almost sprinting across the lawn before he found a spot against the wall underneath a tree and paused. He leaned against the building trying to calm his breathing. He said he would come here after his detox in order to satisfy his director, but he would be damned if he was going to spend his days baring his soul to a stranger about things he hadn’t even shared with his brother.

He agreed to lay off the drugs, he begrudgingly swore off rum to make everyone happy, but this went too far.

He was going to have to find a way around this therapist BS if he was going to get out of here.

He shoved off the wall and walked back toward his room, pausing as he passed the front desk. Blonde hair and gorgeous legs capturing his attention. “Name, please.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Emma.” She glared at Graham. “Swan.”

“Say’s Nolan in my logbook.”

“Listen asshole, it’s Emma Swan. Update your damn records.”

He licked his lips, working his eyes down to the curve of the woman’s ass. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Notes:

Here we go again... I will try and post an update once a week. This one will be longer than my last fic and requires a lot more research, so it may take a bit longer to update than MHFLB did.

[letsgofoletsgo]

A Wander Through the Weald

(Heyo! I’ve wanted to write a Postwickshipping fic for awhile now, so I hope you like it! <3)

It had been one month since Gloria defeated the “Unbeatable Champion” Leon. The greatest champion Galar ever seen had been dethroned Sometimes Gloria couldn't believe it herself. It seemed like just yesterday that he had given her and his younger brother, Hop, a Pokemon in Postwick. Gloria remembered the journey alongside her next-door rival fondly, challenging each other and exploring the region. 

While she relished in her victory in the semifinals, part of her heart ached when she remembered Hop’s face. He appeared to take the loss in stride, yet she couldn't help but notice the sorrow in his eyes. He did end up somewhat confiding in her about his new sense of misdirection in a battle of all things. However, he did find a new path after aiding in the Dynamax crisis; Sonia offered for him to study and help her in the Pokemon Lab, which he accepted. Gloria was happy for her friend, and was eager to see what discoveries he might make. 

The new Champion hadn’t seen her friend in weeks, and was missing him quite a bit. So she decided to drop in for a visit one warm, spring day. 

-

“Hop! You have a visitor!”

The boy looked up from his desk. He had a textbook open and was in the middle of jotting something down. He placed down his pencil and turned around to see Gloria enter his room with a bright smile. 

“Gloria!” Hop’s own face lit up as he rose and hugged her. “It’s so great to see you!”

“Likewise!” The two let go. “I haven’t seen you in forever, so I thought I’d pay you a little visit.” 

“Heh, you’re right, guess you’re busy with all your fancy champion business,” he teased. 

“Well, it’s more like I’ve been training to take on the battle tower for the last few weeks, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Oh yeah! I remember you telling me about that. You recon you’re almost ready?” 

“I think so. Gotta smooth the edges a bit with my team, but I’m pretty sure we’re nearly set.” 

“Sweet! Well, I wish you luck!” He smiled. 

“Thanks, mate. So, since I’m not doing anything today, do you think I could pull you away from your studies for a couple hours and go for a walk maybe?” 

“Oh, uh, I’d really like to, but I kinda still have some work left-”

“Don’t worry about it Hop, you’ve been working pretty hard and I think you deserve a break,” Sonia chimed in, grabbing a notebook from a shelf. 

“Er- Really? Awesome, thanks!” 

“Hehe, well then, it’s a date!” Gloria said cheerfully. 

 Hop’s heart briefly skipped a beat when she said that, and a brief blush spread across his face. He caught Sonia giving him a brief smirk before heading upstairs.

“So, you ready?”

“Y-Yeah! Totally, let’s go!” He stuttered a bit, resisting the urge to facepalm. 

The two headed South from the lab, walking down Route 1. The sun shone gently along the grass and leaves, which rustled from an occasional skittering Skwovet or fluttering Rookidee. There were scattered clouds in the sky, casting long, misshapen shadows across the distant rolling hills. Wooloo were peacefully grazing or sleeping in the surrounding pens, and the two made a game of trying to count them all. As they approached Postwick, Hop began to explain what sort of things he and Sonia were studying; the key differences between Dynamax and Gigantimax, what causes a Pokemon to change form during the latter, etc. They had formed a theory that it may be related to Mega Evolution in the Kalos region. He was about to go into the genetic specifics that he knew of, when they realized they reached the gate in front of Gloria’s house. 

“Ah, seems we have reached the entrance to thy Slumbering Weald,” Gloria commented poshly, to which Hop giggled. “If you think about it, our journey kinda started here, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, you’re right; remember when we saw Zacian for the first time? And you tried to fight it?” 

“I do! And we were knocked out for like, ten minutes. Imagine if your brother found us like that!” She laughed. 

He laughed too, yet remembered how close his face was to hers when he awoke, and could feel a pink tint return to his face again.

“So… What do you say we take a stroll through the woods again? For old times sake?” Gloria suggested. 

“Sure, fine with me.” 

With that, she swung open the gate and proceeded through. She then skipped on ahead of Hop, then turned back to him near the entrance, looking at him with that familiar, glowing smile.

He wished he could tell her how wonderful that smile made him feel. 

“Gloria, wait up!” He stopped a moment. “Woah, where did all the fog go?” 

“I guess it lifted? It does feel weird being able to see farther than five feet in here.”

To their surprise, the thick fog that normally enveloped the Slumbering Weald had disappeared a fair amount. There was still a thin layer on the ground and rolling along the tiny hills, but it allowed the sun to shine through the leaves and reflected across the dew hanging on the foliage. 

“Cmon, lets see what sort of things we can spot here now that it’s clear,” Gloria piped in. 

“Hey, I bet I can find more cool things that you,” He challenged with a smirk. 

“Oh, you think so? How ‘bout we see then?” 

The two rivals proceeded to wander about the Weald, pointing out weirdly crooked trees, large rocks that jutted out of the ground, oddly-colored plants and berries, the like. While having fun with their little expedition, Hop found his eyes on Gloria several times. He saw how face eyes lit up as she found a pretty leaf, or how she laughed as she poked a cluster of funny-looking mushrooms. He noticed how her eyes marveled in wonder as she looked inside a split tree or turned over a rock. Seeing her having fun and exploring the world around her brought a genuine smile to his face. The sun beaming onto her pale complexion also happened to complement her face wonderfully, and he couldn’t help but stare... 

“Yo! Earth to Hop!”

The boy snapped out of his trance with a dumbfounded look. She rolled her eyes slightly before walking up to him.

“I wanted you to see this rock I found,” she presented a stone about the size of her palm; it has a typically craggy surface, but upon her turning it around, showed an almost rainbow-colored crystallization inside.

“Wow, that’s one heck of a geode there!” He exclaimed, admiring the hues.

“You got anything else cool yet?” 

“Uhh, yeah,” Hop quickly scanned over his shoulder and dove for the nearest thing to him. 

“Check out this leaf!” He brought a decaying, frail leaf to her face, and in the process half of it flaked off. The ensuing silence felt like a jab in the gut. 

Gloria’s face scrunched a bit and she giggled. “You’re such a dork, you know that?” She said as she lightly hit him on the arm. “C’mon, if I’m right, I think we’re pretty close to the center of the Weald.” She turned and proceeded down the shady path. 

Hop processed that moment for a second before following- caught between the fluttery feeling of hearing her laugh and mentally kicking himself for his stupidity.

 After turning the bend on the faded path, he was pleasantly reminded of the splendid beauty of the hero’s shrine. The ancient structure stood in front of a still lake, only occasionally rippling gently when a wild Pokemon would take a drink. The sunbeams swayed through the leaves, rustling ever so slightly.

“You know, no matter how many times I come here, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful this place is,” Gloria stepped onto the shrine, looking over the lake. 

As much as he agreed with her, Hop found himself more entranced with the girl in front of him. Her body looked illuminated against the lake, almost as if she was a legendary herself. The boy was speechless at her hauntingly ethereal appearance, yet wanted nothing more than to tell her how absolutely, stunningly gorgeous she was. 

“Hey, how about we sit for awhile?” She sat down on the side of the shrine facing the lake, hunching over a bit to look into the depths of the lake. 

He snapped out of his daze once again, following her and sitting next to her. He saw how the water reflected on her hazel eyes, creating a blueish projection onto her pupils. 

“Hop, is there something on your mind?” She asked bluntly. “You’ve been rather tense all afternoon.”

“Have I?” He would usually deflect with an “I’m fine”, but something felt different. He felt like this was the moment to tell her. He felt like he could tell her.

“Well, there is something I’ve been thinking about,” he began. “I know you’ve heard this from me a million times, but all my life I’ve wanted to prove I could live up to my brother, that I could be something more than him. Even after I became a trainer for real, everyone always saw me as Leon’s younger brother, the kid who aimed to beat the unbeatable champion.”

He sighed, and turned his face to hers. “But you always saw me as me. Not the champion’s little brother, not just another rival, but as me. As Hop.” 

She gave him an endearing smile. “Hop, you’re one of the most fun-loving, caring, zestful people I’ve ever met. You never let anything stop you, and you greet challenge and adversary with a smile. Even when things are looking down, you don’t give up and you keep going. I’ve admired that about you for as long as I’ve known you, how could I not?”

“Heh. For the longest time, I was wondering how anyone ever could.” He admitted with a slightly sorrowful tone. “What I’m trying to get at Gloria, is… Well, I won’t lie; You’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

Gloria stared at him in shock. Hop just fixed his sight into the water, afraid to meet her gaze. 

“Hop, I… I don’t know what to say, I’m…” A bit impulsively, she leaned against him, causing the boy to tense a bit. 

“You know, our journey across Galar, I have a lot of fond memories of it. From meeting so many amazing people, learning things about Pokemon I never would have guessed, to building and training my team, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. That journey helped me see who I am and what I want. But, thing is, you were one of my favorite parts of it too. We always helped each other, and you wouldn’t turn your back on me no matter what. You were always so excited to hurry to the next town or challenge me to a battle. You made it all so much fun. And because of that, I’d say you’re one of the best things to happen to me too.” 

Hop couldn’t quite describe the feeling in his chest. It was a mix of disbelief, anxiety, wonder- but mostly pure joy. He didn’t say anything, rather just wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She returned the embrace, and sighed contentedly against his shoulder. He placed his head atop hers, nudging her green hat a bit and nestling into the scent of her soft, brunette hair. 

The two remained at the shrine until the moonlight glistened across the lake, neither wanting the moment to end.

[sweetwritertanya]

Distractions At The Library

Summary: Namjoon is looking for you in the library, where you are studying for approaching exams. Of course, he ends up being a distraction even when you are angry at him.

Warnings: None, this is just FLUFF! A short and sweet drabble I’ve been meaning to write for a while now. I think I’ll write a smutty part 2, what do you think? Let me know!

Word Count: 1508

Namjoon was looking around behind his high scarf and pulled down beanie, hoping to God no one would recognize him. It’s not like the place was very busy at this time of day, but all it would take was one person to take a photo of him and he would be in trouble with the agency.

The only reason he was even taking this risk was because he really wanted to see you. And he knew you were mad at him for how long it has been since he came face to face with you. But now the album was all done, the songs were all recorded and ready to release, he finally had a bit of free time. Until the promotions started, anyway.

Footsteps loud in the almost empty library, he turned a corner and finally found you. He allowed himself to just marvel for a minute, at how incredibly beautiful you looked. Hair pulled back, but with a few strands falling out, round arms covered in a grey sweater layered with a warm dress on top. The fabric hugged the swells of your breasts tentatively, your lower belly poking further with the siting position you were in, thick legs crossing at your ankles beneath the chair. The black tights you sported were so stretched that your skin showed through. You had about ten books around you, and were currently focusing particularly hard on one of them, taking notes as you read.

Namjoon licked his dry lips and gulped at how delightful you looked right then and there.

Shaking the dirty thoughts out of his head, he picked up his pace and picked the chair next to you to sit on before you even noticed someone was approaching.

He was wearing very low-key clothes and you could barely see his face, but you recognized him immediately.

“Joon!” you exclaim and immediately slap your mouth shut, looking around with wide eyes to see if anyone heard you. Thankfully, it didn’t seem so. You turned back to your boyfriend with frowned eyebrows and pouted lips tugging down. “What are you doing here? And how did you know I was here?” You whispered angrily.

He leaned towards you, so that his shoulder was touching yours, crossed his arms on the table and laid his head on top, thin eyes set on you as he pulled his scarf a bit down and you could see his smile under.

“It’s exam season. Of course you’re in here” he simply states, in a low murmur. You huff.

“Must be nice to know where someone is. You know, without having to text them and wait hours and hours, sometimes days for a response” you say grudgingly. It was Namjoon’s turn to pout.

“Hey, I have never gone more than a day without texting you back. And I apologized for it” he defended.

“No, you didn’t” you refuted, starting to pick up the books you had pulled out to study, suddenly not feeling like reading them anymore. “You gave excuses, manly about how busy you were, how you spent hours working on a song with Yoongi or going to record vocals with the boys.”

You got up from your chair, grabbing all the books, pulling them to your plushy chest so they wouldn’t fall, trying to avoid Namjoon’s reaching hands, but he grabbed five books before you could stop him.

“I was just trying to explain myself, telling you the truth” he maintained as you started walking down the aisles of bookshelves with him right behind.

“Guess what, Namjoon. I’m busy too. In case you can’t tell, my classes and studying takes up a lot of my time and energy. Nevertheless, I always pick up my phone and text you at least twice a day, because I care about you and I want to know how you are doing. Too bad you don’t feel the same.” Your anger turns into sadness, as the thought that he didn’t love you as much as you loved him crushed your heart a bit.

The loud sound of something falling makes you jump slightly and you were just about to turn around to see what had happened when two long arms come around your stomach and Namjoon scrunches down to hide his face on your neck, cold nose making you shiver a bit. You place down the two books you still had to return to their places on the shelf, sighing as you lean into his warm embrace. His lengthy body seemed to engulf yours so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. His scent of rain and dew comfortably immersed you.

“I do feel the same, Y/N” he reassures, lips brushing the skin of your shoulder as he spoke, arms growing tighter around your fluffiness. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, baby. The only reason I don’t text you while I’m working is because I know I won’t be able to stop. I’ll be distracted, waiting for your response. And if I call you it’s even worse, the sound of your voice makes me just want to come run to your arms.”

Your heart swells a bit at his explanation. A small smile comes to your lips, one of your hands squeezing one of the arms around you and the other coming up to brush his head, over the beanie he was wearing. You feel him pulling you tighter at the gesture, landing a sweet kiss on the curve of your covered shoulder.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to appease me?” you ask warily.

His arms loosen at that and he lifts his head, but only enough for his big hands to grab your scrumptious hips and turn you around so you are facing him, his hands clasping together on your lower back, pressing your bodies together tightly and resting his forehead against yours as he looked down lovingly at you.

“Of course not. I mean every word” he tells you.

“And you do have a way with words” you sigh, smiling up at him and swinging your arms around his neck. “Don’t you, Mr. Songwriter?”

“Only because you give such inspiration” he smiles widely back, cute dimples showing up. “Can I kiss my beautiful girlfriend now?”

You giggle, amused.

“Since when do you have to ask?”

With an odd flutter on your stomach, you closed your eyes at the same time he closed his, leaning down and closing the remaining few inches between your lips to gently tug at them. Breaths intermingling as mouths joined together in a slow and rhythmic movement, you melted against him, tingling sensations coming up your spine as your heart beats loudly against your ribcage.

Hands roaming up and down the bumps and lumps of your sides and back, but still keeping it innocent enough, Namjoon deepened the kiss in order to taste your honeyed flavored mouth. Tongue sinking past your lips, he offered deep and slow strokes against your own, the hairs at the nape of his neck standing up at the electric shocks it originated, running down his back to his lower abdomen.

He could never get used to this, kissing and tasting you; it intoxicated him. He squeezed you tighter, urging to feel your soft and plush body against his, memories flashing behind his closed eyes of all your splendid curves, the smoothness of your skin, the graspable flesh, the jiggling motion it made… It drove him absolutely crazy.

“Nam… Namjoon…!” you tried to call although his lips were restless against yours, making it very difficult to think straight. “Namjoon, we’re in a library, calm down” you remind him when you finally pull away enough to part your mouths.

“I missed you so much” he simply states, through half-closed eyes, trying to catch your lips again.

You place your index finger against his eager mouth, keeping him in place as you smile warmly up at him, the other hand brushing his right cheek sweetly.

“Help me return these books to their places and we can go back to my house together, okay?” you propose to him.

“Finished studying for your exams?” he questions dizzily as you start picking up the books he dropped as well as the ones you put on the shelf behind you.

“Like I can study with you around!” you laugh.

“Why? Am I such a big distraction?” he teases, helping you with the books.

“Don’t flatter yourself. A lot of things distract me, which is why I prefer to come to the library to study” you elaborate. Smirking, Namjoon leans so down so he is at eye level with you.

“Too bad there are distractions at the library, also. Mainly, me.”

“The only distraction than can follow me here, I’m afraid” you concede, leaning forward to catch his lips for a quick peck before walking past him. “C’mon, these books won’t put themselves back.”

“Right behind you, babe.” You miss the complete love-struck and affectionate gaze on Namjoon’s eyes as he follows you through the library, a silly dimple smile tugging at his lips.

[enchanted-prose]

#6 The Lady Renlyn Karise Is Missing Her Right Boot!

Hey howdy hey! I’m finally on time again! 

Word count:  4,514

Characters: Imogen, Amarinda, Lord Feall (Original Character), Lady Renlyn Karise (Original Character), Jolly (Original Character), Brat, Beetle, and Roach (Original Characters)

Notes: So many new people! Anyways, this fic introduces a very important character, and I’m very excited to be publishing her debut! I will be returning with Part 2 of the Vaults very soon, I just needed to keep you all on your toes for a bit!

Enjoy!

"I can’t thank you enough for helping me with the selection,” Imogen said as she walked arm-in-arm with Amarinda, and she knew that Amarinda’s hopes were as high as her own. “It just became so hard to choose.”

“I’m just glad you trusted my judgement,” Amarinda’s dimpled smile shone despite the dark, cloudy evening.

There was something else on Imogen's mind: the fear that maybe, just maybe

Amarinda's judgement was wrong this time.

Two months ago, Amarinda was called away to spend time with her cousin, Crown Princess Eline of Bymar, at a quiet party for friends and family. Tobias went with her, of course, as well as a splendid entourage. They weren't away for too long, perhaps a few weeks, but it was a lonely time for Imogen.

She prided herself on being a good listener. Imogen's attendants loved telling her the latest gossip, but were far too afraid to have a meaningful conversation late into the night.

Though Jaron was her confidant, husband, and best friend, there were some things he, ah, had a different perspective on.

It was difficult without Amarinda's company.

Imogen did her best to remain positive despite growing lonely. She wasn't the loudest queen there had ever been, and she didn't feel comfortable asking for favors.

But Jaron soon caught on to how much Imogen missed Amarinda, and how much Imogen simply couldn't connect with her attendants.

As gently as he could, Jaron suggested finding a new lady-in-waiting to keep Imogen

company, as Amarinda's duties as ambassador to Bymar would soon require her to make frequent trips to all five Bymarian kingdom states in preparation for Princess

Eline's official coronation. He created a list of women he thought would get along with Imogen, and she did the same.

Ultimately, the choice became too difficult.

Each woman would make an excellent companion. However, Imogen realized another very important factor.

She needed a lady-in-waiting who'd get along with Amarinda too.

In the end, Imogen asked Amarinda to make the final choice, and not to tell her who it was until the day she arrived.

And that day had finally come.

"Oh, I do hope she gets here before it rains," said Amarinda as she  gestured to the darkening sky. "We haven't had any really frightening storms in a long time, I think today's the day we get a taste of the storming season."

"Do you think that she'd like the rain?" Imogen asked, suddenly realizing how very nervous she was to meet her new lady-in-waiting.

"Absolutely. You two will probably get along very well, I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"It's silly, being this nervous."

"I don't think it's silly at all! You're meeting a brand new person who hasn't been to court in several months and has quite the reputation for her staring, but don't let that intimidate you. You're the queen. People love you."

It was still difficult adjusting to being the highest lady in the land.

After all, nearly five years ago, Imogen was a servant pretending she couldn't speak to avoid her master's eye.

Shifting from being one of the most disliked people in the kitchen to the most admired woman in the kingdom wasn't exactly easy. There were eyes on her almost every moment of every day. Ears listening for her voice and anything they could use against her. Mouths telling flowering lies, spilling with compliments that didn't seem genuine, and biting back harsh comments.

There was always the chance that her new companion would find her too quiet, too dull, and not all that exciting.

After all, that's what some duchesses believed.

"Can I know her name yet?" Imogen was wringing her hands, her eyes glued to the stairs as she and Amarinda glided their way into the great hall.

Amarinda's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, looking dreadfully smug. "Absolutely not, otherwise you'll ruin the surprise. I've given you hints, list them off."

Imogen began thinking of each reason in her head.

"Out loud, Imogen," laughed Amarinda.

"Reputation for staring, her name's on the list Jaron made, she hasn't been here for several months."

"Also that she's very blonde, that's an important one. Any guesses?"

"Promise not to laugh?"

"I swear I won't laugh."

The great hall wasn't nearly as full as it usually was, much to Imogen's relief. Jaron was out on a hunting expedition with Mott, and Tobias had been called away to tend to an ailing old woman. However, there was one brightly dressed troubadour lounging on a chair, strumming a lute while several ladies and lords listened to his ballad.

Oh, Jolly, he always had to have a crowd with him.

It was quite funny, really. Crowds turned him into quite the adventurer. Imogen enjoyed having him around, he'd added several new songs to his repertoire.

Though some of them were a little too sad for Imogen's taste.

"Is it Lady Ayvar- no, she's got ginger hair, sorry about that one," Imogen waved her hand as if trying to shoo away her mistake. "Um, Lady Isla, from Eberstein."

Amarinda smiled, "No, but you're quite close. Guess again."

"Lady Vanesse from the lowlands?"

"Not her, either, and she's not nearly as close of a guess as Lady Isla."

"Lady Helene?"

"Almost, but not quite," Amarinda was still grinning. She thanked the pages who opened the massive oak door leading out to the castle courtyard. "Want to guess again?"

"Not really, I, ah, don't really know who else to name," Imogen confessed.

"Good, it'll make the surprise even more shocking."

The courtyard was filled with people rushing to finish their duties before the storm hit.

Women dashed left and right with their arms full of laundry. Page boys were leading a group of large Bymarian war horses towards the stables. Lord Feall and several soldiers were sorting through a band of thieves.

Imogen swore she recognized one of them.

She narrowed her eyes, and leaned forward in an attempt to see more details.

"One of them looks familiar," Imogen muttered.

"Everyone looks familiar from a distance," said Amarinda. She shrugged her shoulders,

"Roden and Lord Feall have been working really hard to capture some members of the Faola. Feall has told me he suspects that one of them is the notorious Mireldis Thay."

"I've heard that name before."

Amarinda took a deep breath, which meant that she was going to try her best to explain the situation as fast as possible. "Queen Danika sent several investigators to try to find her, but they were expected to arrive several days ago. Jaron sent out several soldiers to find them, but if what Roden said was true about Danika's representatives trying to find evidence against House Thay, I hope they never come."

"Why not?" asked Imogen, trying her best not to sound too eager about learning more from Amarinda.

There was a pause before more words came.

"I knew Mireldis Thay when we were children. We got along, and she was very important to Princess Eline. I don't know everything that happened, as I only learned of

House Thay's strife several months after Tobias and I were married. And I- and I'd rather keep my memories of Mireldis as they were. I want to remember her as my friend, not my enemy."

Words would only make the situation more painful than it needed to be.

Rather than say anything more, Imogen wrapped her arm around Amarinda's waist, giving her a side embrace for a moment.

Her desire to preserve the memory of her friend was something Imogen would do her best to respect.

She wondered why Feall was so convinced that Lady Thay was one of the Faola.

Why he was so concerned with catching her.

She didn't have it within herself to ask Amarinda her thoughts and shatter the peaceful quiet. Imogen knew that she'd receive answers in due time, all that was needed was a little bit of patience.

"I arranged for a larger greeting party," Amarinda said after several moments of silence.

"They're all waiting for my word, I'm just waiting until we get word that our new guest is

in the city, I don't want everyone waiting for too long."

The fear Imogen had felt before was slowly warming up to excitement. "When do you suspect she'll be here?"

"Possibly half of an hour, maybe more than two hours," she was trying her best to be nonchalant, Imogen knew that much.

A fat raindrop hit the cobblestone step below the pair.

"Maybe even more if it begins to rain."

Imogen cracked a smile, "It'll be alright."

"Now you're telling me not to be nervous, wasn't I just telling you the same thing a little while ago?"

Amarinda's laugh was contagious, and Imogen caught herself giggling along as well.

Another rain drop hit the ground.

The courtyard, which had been bustling with laundresses not long before, was devoid of all drying sheets and doublets. No page boys and the massive horses they were leading could be seen.

Only Feall, the soldiers, and the thieves, which Imogen was certain were Faola gang members, remained outside.

Imogen watched silently as Feall separated several of the Faola from the others, and gestured to the underground dungeon. The Faola that hadn't been pointed towards the dungeon were let go.

They practically ran from the soldiers as their brothers in arms were taken away.

Feall stood back, watching as his men and the captured Faola marched out of the courtyard. Once they were out of sight, he sent the remaining soldiers to their posts, and approached Amarinda and Imogen.

"Good evening, your Highness," Feall dipped his head. "Ambassador."

"Lord Feall, it's good to see you here," Amarinda flashed a bright smile.

"Those were Faola, were they not?" asked Imogen, genuinely curious about the thieves going straight to the dungeons. She'd heard much about the Faola and their morally grey ways after they attacked Feall.

"They were indeed," confirmed Feall. "We've been, ah, sifting through the ones we capture. I'd much rather take their leaders captive and coerce them into telling us where their fellow vagabonds are instead of slaughtering each one we find. Captain Harlowe and I are trying to prove that the crown wants justice.

"The Faola we released technically didn't do anything wrong, merely stumbled onto a scene at the wrong time. The ones we arrested, however, were inciting a fight in an alleyway. While that's not a crime as hefty as murder, it's still a disturbance of the peace. They'll spend a week in the dungeon and then be released, hopefully after realizing that the guard doesn't want them dead. They are still people, after all."

"You're a good man, Feall," Imogen smiled, and clasped her hands together. "Have you considered staying here longer?"

Amarinda and Feall exchanged a glance. He cleared his throat, "It depends on if King Oberson wants to stay longer. I don't want to see trouble befall him as he returns home to Bymar."

Ah, King Oberson. The portly king of Dinwallis, one of Bymar's five states. He'd come to rub elbows with Tobias and Amarinda, but recently informed Roden that he was concerned for his safety, and wanted to remain in Carthya.

It probably didn't help that Danika was sending investigators to locate Lady Mireldis Thay.

Tobias later told Imogen that when Mireldis's name was mentioned in Oberson's presence, he went as pale as a freshly cleaned sheet.

There was a silent understanding that until Oberson was certain there was no Mireldis Thay coming to kill him for some random reason, he'd be staying in Drylliad.

Which meant Feall would stay too.

"The suspected storm is making me a little nervous," Amarinda confessed. "There was a woman coming to Drylliad tonight, I fear they were caught up in the rains."

Imogen blinked several times.

What happened?

Oh.

She'd focused on her own thoughts for too long and vanished from the conversation.

Feall noticed. "Glad to have you back, your Majesty."

"I'm so sorry," Imogen felt her cheeks grow a little pink. "Have you heard any word from our guest?"

"I have, actually," Feall was beaming, his smile so warm that it could've rivaled the sun.

"I sent out a squadron of men, I hope the captain doesn't mind. They'll be here-"

A loud clap of thunder shook the sky and-

Several fat raindrops splashed on Imogen.

Then all at once, the heavens opened up.

Rain poured down, instantly soaking Amarinda, Imogen, and Feall. In a fit of giggles and childish shrieks, Amarinda and Imogen sloshed their way back into the castle, painfully aware that their dresses were creating ponds as they stood safe from the storm outside.

Imogen looked up at Amarinda, the kohl lining around her eyes had melted down her face. They both began to laugh as Amarinda giddily wiped around her eyes. Even Feall was chuckling.

“Can you please send word to my friends in the great hall that our guest will be here soon?” Amarinda asked, most of her kohl successfully wiped off.

The page boy who opened the door nodded his head, and dashed off to do as he was told.

"Do you know our guest's name?" Imogen asked suddenly, turning her gaze to Feall.

"I do, as a matter of fact. But I have been sworn to secrecy to preserve the surprise, as Lady Amarinda asked. Would you like me to find one of your attendants so you both can change out of your wet clothing?"

Amarinda seemed to consider his offer, "Scared we'll catch our deaths, Feall?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"You said you heard from our guests," Amarinda crossed her arms, likely to keep out the

cold.

"Do you know when she'll be here?" Imogen asked excitedly, her nervousness had faded the second she realized how close she was to meeting her new lady-in-waiting.

She couldn't deny how ready she was to meet this new guest, couldn't deny that she was definitely anxious to see how the situation would pan out.

Feall ran his hand over his bearded chin, "Very soon."

"But how soon?"

"You're beginning to sound like your husband, your Majesty."

A new wave of giggles overtook Imogen. The thought of her becoming more like Jaron was something she and the rest of the castle feared.

It was bad enough having one Jaron.

But at least one Jaron had a worrying Tobias to keep him in check.

Two Jarons would likely mean the castle's destruction.

Several courtiers began shifting into the large front room, their eyes wide once they saw both Imogen and Amarinda soaked to the bone. None of them said anything.

Except for Jolly, who'd pushed himself to the front.

He pointed at Feall’s soaking tunic, "That's unprofessional, sir."

"So is pointing," Amarinda stuck out her tongue.

"It's good to see you again, Ambassador."

"Are you still frequenting Queen Danika's court?"

"Absolutely I am!" Jolly strummed his lute. "She adores my company."

"I like his company too, he's got numerous songs I absolutely adore," Imogen held her hands up in mocking surrender. She knew that Amarinda wasn't Jolly's biggest fan.

"Thank you, your Majesty, I think I'll write one about-"

"There will be no ballad writing about anybody in this room!" Amarinda insisted, trying to

wring out her braid as she did so. "Plese, Saints, please no ballads."

"Your loss, Ambassador. Besides, I already have one written about sir Feall, it's quite catchy."

Feall arched an eyebrow, "Is it now?"

Imogen took Amarinda by the elbow, and led her away from Jolly and the potential argument.

They’d change from their wet clothes, and hopefully Imogen’s new lady-in-waiting wouldn’t arrive while they were away.

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

The minutes were ticking by, slowly turning into an hour.

Imogen and Amarinda did their best to sit with the courtiers. Amarinda looked at the large clock imported from Mendenwal seemingly every minute, which only made time slower.

When the clock hit the top of the hour, four of the courtiers excused themselves.

The clock continued ticking.

And then two hours passed. The courtiers and welcoming party vanished, Jolly began to strum a tune about an outlawed princess from the north.

Four hours.

Six hours.

Six hours had passed since the storm hit, and there was no sign of Imogen’s new lady-in-waiting or the squadron of guards Feall had sent to meet them.

“Jolly, can you play us another song?” Imogen asked quietly, rubbing her eyes in a futile attempt at staying awake.

The troubadour yawned, nodded, and strummed his lute, “Is there anything specific you’d like?”

“Something happy.”

“I’ll play The Girl Who Ate Everything because I know that-,” Jolly shot a look at Amarinda, “-somebody hates it.”

“It’s not very kind of you to make that assumption,” Amarinda checked her nails.

Imogen knew she was doing her best to be polite.

Amarinda only ever checked her nails to avoid rolling her eyes and appearing rude.

Jolly inhaled, exhaled, and played the opening chords for the song. He opened his mouth, preparing to sing the first note-

Suddenly, a pounding knock shattered the peaceful air. Jolly jumped, striking a discordant note, which only made Amarinda laugh.

A page burst in through the door. He inhaled deeply, eyes bulging out of his face, bowed, and used his loudest voice for his declaration:

"The Lady Renlyn Karise is missing her right boot!"

Amarinda snorted.

Missing- missing her right boot.

What a way to make an appearance.

Instantly, Imogen thought of a million possibilities of the person her new lady-in-waiting could be. Adventurous, wild, somebody loud and talkative. The type of person that would exhaust Imogen in a matter of minutes.

Dear Saints, she was becoming nervous again.

“Renlyn Karise is here!” Jolly raised his lute in triumph. “Saints, love that woman. She’s charming, absolutely charming!”

"Renlyn Karise?" Imogen made a face, she'd never heard of that name before.

She wasn't even sure if it was on the list of women recommended for the position.

"Come on! Come on, let's go outside and see her," Amarinda said, taking Imogen by the elbow and leading her through the large doors before she could protest.

“I suppose I’ll stay here then!” shouted Jolly.

Imogen held a hand over her head as she and Amarinda took the steps two at a time.

Excitement threatened to knock her back.

The rain was still beating against the stone courtyard, but not with the fury it had before.

A large white carriage was waiting in the middle of Carthyan soldiers, a tall young woman was talking to one of them.

"Lady Renlyn!" Amarinda cried, waving her hand above her head.

Renlyn Karise was as tall as some of the soldiers guarding her carriage. Her hair, though dripping wet, was the same shade of wheat fields waiting for harvest. She dropped into a deep curtsy as soon as Amarinda and Imogen were finally within conversation distance.

She seemed like a nice person.

"I'm very excited to have you in my household," Imogen said, putting her best smile on her face.

"Not as excited as I am," was Renlyn's reply, and yet, her face was locked in a bored expression.

"Lady Karise, you're soaking wet!" Amarinda noted, gesturing to Renlyn's clothing. "And where has your boot gone!?"

"I hate carriages."

"And shoes too?"

"Yes, or I would've been wearing both."

Amarinda chuckled, though Imogen couldn't deny that she was a little confused. It wasn't until a smirk tugged at Renlyn's mouth that she realized Renlyn wasn't being serious.

It seemed that Lady Renlyn Karise's humor would be dry enough to combat the storm. She was collected and quiet.

They’d all get along very well.

"There are three children waiting in the carriage," Renlyn gestured behind her.

Amarinda didn’t hide her surprise."And where did you pick those up?"

"Just outside the Vaults, they were in the custody of three guards. Lieutenant Alistair informed me that the situation will be taken care of."

"What situation?"

Renlyn avoided the question, "It will be handled. I suspect that I will not be given my boot back, unfortunately."

Something in Renlyn's dry voice made Imogen suspect that there was more to the story.

It also made Imogen suspect that she wouldn't get those story details until she and Renlyn were better friends.

"The children will be taken inside," Amarinda promised. "What are their names?"

"Brat, Beetle, and Roach."

"Are you- are you joking?" Imogen tilted her head.

"I don't joke, your Majesty."

The carriage door clicked open. Out spilled three tiny, and incredibly dirty, children. Two girls, one boy.

A tall man, Lieutenant Alistair, held his cloak over the trio, preventing them from getting wet. Renlyn didn’t look away from the odd group as they made their way up the castle steps and into the warmth waiting inside.

Imogen tilted her head.

She wasn’t against bringing orphans into the castle.

She just wanted to know what brought them there.

"You must be cold," Imogen said, gesturing to Renlyn's clothes and then to the sky.

"We're going to get sick if we don't get into something dry."

"We had a group of people here to welcome you, but I suspect that you'd like to avoid people until you're ready," Amarinda added. "I suspect that they're all distracted anyways. It's very late and we have a popular troubadour in the castle at the moment."

"Which one?" Renlyn asked.

"Jolly of Angelmarr, he's Bymarian and an idiot."

"Ah, I know him, actually. Is he still,um, the one who. . .?"

"Is the favorite of Queen Danika, my aunt? Yes, he is."

“You know Jolly?” asked Imogen, deftly steering both Renlyn and Amarinda to the castle. The rain had become a constant drizzle now.

Renlyn nodded, “I do.”

“I hope he’s slipped off somewhere else, Imogen and I were listening to him play the lute. He’s talented, I’ll give him that, but still an annoyance.”

Imogen rubbed her nose as she hid her chuckle.

The page boy who’d announced Renlyn in her right-boot-less state was sitting on the steps. He jumped to his feet as the three women approached, and held open the door. Renlyn nodded her thanks, but kept her eyes glued straight ahead.

Drylliad castle was humble, yet magnificent. You’d be a fool to call it ugly, but a wise man to call it slightly plain.

“Jaron wanted to secure more money for fixing things rather than hanging full tapestries from every wall,” Imogen explained, suddenly self conscious about a castle.

Self conscious.

About a castle.

To Imogen’s surprise, Renlyn didn’t comment on the plain walls. Instead, she nodded. “I’m very much in debt to the king, he’s been assisting my search for workers.”

“You’re a businesswoman?”

She nodded. “I sell ships, and, ah, other goods.”

“How are things, by the way?” Amarinda asked, carefully lifting her skirts as the three women began to walk up the stairs to Renlyn’s apartments.

Several moments passed before Renlyn spoke. It was obvious that she was more than a little uncomfortable. “Very well. King Aranscot has commissioned several pinnaces. There is a demand for, uh, certain fabrics in Bymar and Gelyn. I take pride in the ships I’ve built, but the real money comes from what I can sell using those ships.”

“You’re quite hated among some of the trade guilds in Bymar, I applaud that.”

“I’m also a woman playing a man’s game.”

“How did you come into business?” Imogen asked, fascinated by Renlyn’s choice to do something like that.

“My elder brother was heir to my father’s trades,” Renlyn frowned. “I was betrothed at a tender age, but my brother died, making me the eldest and therefore the one to inherit all my father owned. I was tired of being passed around like a horse, and taught myself how to run a business.

“Rather than sew myself into new dresses, I requested the bolts of silk that would’ve gone to my gowns and began to sell them. Eventually, I was trading silks and giving my father a run for his money. We chose to work together, rather than run both our companies into the ground, and became much more powerful than before. When my father died, I received it all, and now I’ve proven that I’m more than just pretty teeth.”

There was pride flaming in Renlyn’s eyes, Imogen could practically see the flames leaping out.

Imogen cracked a smile.

Renlyn was a hard worker, they’d get along very well.

“We’re both very excited to have you stay with us at court,” Amarinda said as she dragged both Imogen and Renlyn to the right. “Just in time for summer, too.”

Ideas grew in the back of Imogen’s mind. The thought of running a trading empire on her own was thrilling. “Renlyn, King Oberson will be staying here for the summer, have you considered speaking with him about sending a gift to his wife?”

A rare grin slipped across Renlyn’s face as Amarinda dragged her into the small suite saved specifically for her.

“You’ll be staying here unless Imogen requests your company at night,” Amarinda spread out her arms, showing off the lovely room.

“It’s very, ah, colorful,” Renlyn noted as she stepped inside. “My clothes are being brought up so I can-”

“Nonsense! Imogen and I selected several gowns for you, we can’t have you catching your death before you even start your new position.”

Imogen nodded, and gestured to a single wardrobe pressed up in the corner. “There’s plenty of gowns in there, would you like us to wait outside while you change? Do you need-”

“By the Saints!” Renlyn burst, her sudden outcry causing both Imogen and Amarinda to jump. She’d nearly ran to the wardrobe, and was running her hands all over the tiny details. “Do you have any idea how beautiful this is? Look at these! The figures have faces! Faces! This alone could serve as a dowry!”

The wardrobe was indeed lavish.

Hand carved from dark wood, the wardrobe boasted a scene depicting a beautiful woman accompanied by many lance wielding men. Several other details had been added to the side panels and drawers.

It was odd, thinking about how a piece of furniture could serve as somebody’s dowry.

Renlyn was mumbling to herself, touching every single part of the wardrobe. A wide smile broke across her face, “I’ve been expanding my business to include multiple trades. I’ve got an army of carpenters itching for something. My, my, this is genius! Yes, yes, and then the profits could help me with the blacksmiths. . . Oh, yes.”

“This is how Tobias gets when he finds another physician’s reports,” Amarinda grinned. “It’s wonderful, seeing somebody devoted to what they love.”

“Perhaps we should give Lady Renlyn and the wardrobe some privacy,” Imogen suggested, nodding towards the door. She cleared her throat, “We’ll be right outside!”

If Renlyn heard them, she didn’t say anything, as she’d finally opened the wardrobe and was snooping inside.

As both Imogen and Amarinda left Renlyn to inspect the wardrobe, they exchanged a smile.

Lady Renlyn Karise would make a lovely lady-in-waiting indeed.

[sleepy-sunlight]

Do you ever think about when Cullen realized he wanted to marry the Inquisitor? When did it happen? Was it after some grand battle or just one morning when he looked at her while he was filling out reports?

I’m not quite sure if this was a writing request or not but I thought this over and went ahead and wrote a prompt that answers the question for you! 

Thank you so much for sending in the question darling! I hope you have a splendid day and of course, enjoy!

———————————————————————————————————–

The thought first came to him in the morning.  

Early sunlight poured in through the old splintered wood boards and craggy stones of his watchtower, the perfect patch of rays streaming onto him to make him squeeze his eyes tight in denial.  

He wasn’t even ready for the day. Just give him five more minutes – or hours, really.  

But then he felt you stir beside him and he figured opening his eyes for just a moment wouldn’t hurt.  

Your head was tucked in the crook of his neck and you snored ever so quietly – something that’d make your face burst into red when he’d mention it later. You pressed close to him like he were a fire in a frigid tundra, even though the commander was notorious for his icy grim, and your legs were tangled like vines with his beneath the sheets.  

In most situations, Cullen would’ve been antsy to move, to busy his mind because anything would be better than to let his mind wander to those dark, pitiless depths. Yet this time, he could’ve stayed like that for ages – forever, if he was able. You brought comfort into his life that he hadn’t known since Honnleath where the days were met with the songs of birds, blooming flowers upon the windowsills, and the smell of fresh bread that’d waft throughout the square.  

Safe.  

Cullen felt safe.  

The feeling had been missing from him for so long, he’d almost forgotten how precious it was. He never wanted to let go – never wanted to let you go.  

He was snatched from his thoughts at the sudden lurch in the bed, your legs and arms straightening out so as to stretch, a small, quiet yawn pouring from you. Your fingers reached out and weaved through the curly tangles of his hair, Cullen sinking into your touch as if it were as instinctual as breathing.  

“Good morning…” You whispered with a crackling, gentle voice.  

He simpered, wrinkles stretching about the corners of his eyes while he smiled. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”  

“Like a bear in winter,” You drawled and glanced to the outside with heavy, slow-blinking lids. “Is there any commotion outside?”  

“No, it’s still early.”  

“Really? And here I thought early for you was at the crack of dawn.”  

“It was,” He moved your messy strands away from your face, revealing your tired grin and fond gaze. He swore he could stare at you for an eternity, like a work of art in plain sight. “but I’ve been more inclined to ‘stop and smell the roses’ as Josephine says.”  

“Next thing you know, you’ll be taking the occasional day off to yourself!” You gasped dramatically. “Oh, what is the world coming to?”

“Nothing short of an absolute disaster.”  

You snorted. “Well while everything else falls apart, I’m going to snag us some cinnamon bread.”  

You pressed a sweet, sleepy kiss to the corner of his mouth before you sat up, the white sheet still clinging to your shoulders and wisps of your hair, adorning you almost like a gown.  

A gown…

A wedding gown-  

The thought caught him like an animal in a trap.  

A wedding. A marriage.  

A marriage to you.  

Once Cullen thought he’d never live long enough to even fall in love – then, he met you.

Now, when he’d never even considered marriage, here it was before him – all because of you.  

Truly, what a wonder you were.  

He could remember the bond between his own mother and father and how they’d constantly reach for one another with woven hands and an understanding that could only be forged through the countless years they’d spent together. They were the closest of friends and the paragon of soulmates if such a thing were true.  

Would he find that if he married you?  

“Cullen?”  

He threw himself back into reality and stared up at you as you dressed yourself lazily with mismatched buttons and oversized clothes aplenty. Amazing how drowsiness clouded your judgment. It was precious, horribly so.  

“Is that my shirt?” He asked, smirking more than he’d like to admit.  

You glanced down at the oversized cloth so enormous one would think it was a tent. “Maybe.” You snickered. “Do you want it back?”  

“No. I like it better with you.”  

You beamed, warmer and brighter than anything the sun could muster.  

“Oh, you sap. Do you want anything else from the kitchen?”  

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught by someone?” He questioned.

“Well, I hate to spill my ‘undying devotion’ so soon but I’d sneak into the kitchen for you even if there were a dragon waiting for me.”  

“And you call me the sap.” He scoffed, his heart still secretly melting like a fool. “No, I’m alright love – just hurry back.”  

You hung at the ladder with a snarky glint in your gaze. “Already miss me?”  

He chuckled. “Terribly.”  

All the cinnamon bread in the world could wait if it meant the day would hold off a minute longer.  

As you disappeared beneath the old, wary floorboards, Cullen’s mind wandered back to marriage – and of you, the only person he’d want to spend the rest of his life with. You beside him, for the rest of his life…

He smiled so wide it hurt.  

The two of you could find a home for yourselves in Fereldan – make one even, he didn’t care in the slightest as long as you could call it your own. There’d be no countless reports to be filed but instead maybe a garden or a study full of papers to be read, not filled. You could adopt a hound – maybe two! There could be a fireplace for them to rest their tired paws at the end of the day and even a spot where children could-

Oh, Andraste’s grace, he was thinking about children already and he hadn’t even mentioned the prospect of marriage aloud.  

However, you had already confessed that you wanted to stay together, even after the Inquisition. Would it be so daring of him to add rings and vows?  

Well, he supposed it was a bit more than just rings and vows, but what reason was there to say no? In his eyes, it made perfect sense.  

He adored you, more than anything he’d ever known – more than he thought it possible to love something. You held his heart in its entirety and could do whatever you wished, he didn’t care so long as it were yours.  

You were brighter and kinder than anything Thedas deserved and you’d lit up his days like a torch in a murky cave with your wild tales of adventure and recounting of your past that reminded him just how much he missed being a person instead of a soldier.  

To wake up every day with you in his arms, to hear your laughter, and to chatter with you until the stars shone like fireflies in the sky… it sounded like a dream. A dream he wanted ever so truly.  

He turned his head at the sound of creaking from the ladder, two fresh slices of cinnamon bread clasped in your hand as your head popped into view.  

“Phew!” You scrambled to your feet. “I almost got caught! I thought fighting got my adrenaline pumping but goodness – that did me in.”  

“I’m surprised you made it.”  

“Oh, just barely.” You teased, aimlessly walking towards him as you began to break apart your piece with eager bites. “Damn, it was worth it though.”  

“Was it?” He simpered, taking hold of your arms to pull you forward into his lap. “Come here. Can I ask you something?”  

He took in a sharp breath and tried to ignore how his stomach twisted with all sorts of awful nerves.  

“Of course,” You swallowed your bread and gave him a fond, reassuring kiss. Your taste of warm cinnamon lulling him in and later leaving him to lick at his lips long after you parted. “What is it?” You asked, your forehead settling against his own.  

He opened his mouth to speak but found the words getting caught in his throat.  

Was now really the best time to potentially propose? Neither of you were exactly prepared – he wasn’t even sure how the two of you would make it through the rest of this war, let alone a wedding ceremony.  

All he knew was that he wanted to marry you. He unquestionably, utterly did.  

But more than that, more than anything, he simply wanted to be with you. He wanted to love you and be loved in return, just as it was now with you in his arms and contentment beyond anything else. That was what he ultimately wanted.

So, if marriage had to wait, Cullen supposed he could bide his time. He was a patient man after all. You were worth it.  

“Nothing, actually.” He finally said. “It left me.”  

“Aw come on, now I’m curious!” You puffed out your cheeks indignantly. “You’ve got to have something to ask me!”  

He paused. “Alright. Do you love me?”  

You wrinkled your nose and laughed. “That’s a silly question. Of course I do.”  

“Could you say it?” He gave a crooked grin.  

“Mmhm,” You purred. “Commander Cullen Rutherford, I love you very, very much.”  

He softened and closed his eyes, taking in a deep, comforted breath as he spoke with such sincerity it was almost overwhelming.  

“I love you too.”  

He’d tell it to you a million times over if you asked and perhaps someday, he’d tell it to you on your wedding day.  

He just simply couldn’t wait.