#i need to either get an eye operation or buy new glasses but both are expensive

[travestismo]

every day I have to do tasks. and even worse, every day I have to spend money

[nrdmssgs]

Spiraling 2

Masterlist Part 1

Very mild angst, this time with happy ending Pairing: Ghost x you TW: swearing, mentions of military operations, mild mentions of torturing (no detailed descriptions) Summary: You confess him and try to spare him of your feelings right away. But it is not needed.

"The problem is dealt with. I'll be staying here for a little longer. Staying frosty."

The only way, your message could ring more false is if you end it with an emoticon. But Ghost doesn't notice it, he never does. Ghost doesn't even answer on your message. And you know - It's for the best. This way, in a complete silence, it's so much easier to still love him, meeting no rejection.

You've tried so many times to end this for good: stop thinking about him, imagining, how would he react to something, you've just witnessed, stop worrying about him to the point of not being able to sleep or eat properly. Your last attempt was desperate and thoughtless: you came clean before him and dragged yourself as far as it was possible, hoping, that time could help you heal.

At first, you really felt better: new tasks, unfamiliar faces, a foreign country - all this filled the emptiness that you had previously guarded, like the apple of your eye, because only in this void Ghost was only yours. But in a pair of months you caught yourself making a photo of a sunset, as it was so mesmerizing, you thought, he would love it. And you understood: you didn't make any progress. The void was still there. Filling it was harder than filling a glass without a bottom. That's when you sent that fake message, bargaining for some more time.

When you finally came back - it took you all your strength to look calm. And in seemed, that Ghost believed you. You tried to grow a distance between you two. You believed, it would work as a shield from pain. It never did.

You both keep your masks on - only yours is not that obvious. Nobody can see, but your life now fits between short breaths.

Inhale: Ghost is standing outside, leaning against the wall of the barracks, you pass by.

Inhale: you and him are alone in the armory for a few minutes before someone else enters.

Inhale: Sunbeam touches his eyelashes for a second until he looks away.

In between these breaths you fit entire missions, sleepless nights at work, exhausting workouts. Your days are gradually intertwined into one endless thread.

But one day this thread stretches and trembles like a string. You two are alone, surrounded by enemies. Your hideout will be uncovered sooner or later - it's only a matter of time. You can't break through the enemy blockade from the inside: you've used up almost all your ammo. You frantically gut your magazines, trying to get more ammo for Ghost as he covers your trembling hands with his. He obviously got, what were you planing.

"No, we either make it out of here together, or not make it at all." His voice is stern, tone - peremptory.

You raise eyes on him, barely containing your rage. Bloody fool. I'm trying to bargain here for at least your life...

He puts a bunch of plastic clamps into your hand. "Tie me up. Bring `em Ghost and that might buy us time."

"Might?!" You were furious. For the first time in your life, you didn't believe your commander as he asked you to pay the highest price - his safety for a mere possibility of living till the moment the reinforcement reaches your destination. "No! No-no, we are not doing it, no..."

He cuts off your sporadic mumbling, cupping your cheeks and guiding your face towards him. Given, that Ghost barely touched not only you, but anyone - this gesture of his startles you. He wants, needs you to do it. "Look at me, soldier!" His fingers squeeze your face lightly. "Look at me and think of every time I failed you, every bit of pain I brought you. Then take a bloody clamp and tie me up. Now they'll probably beat me, maybe they get more creative, but if you happen to see or hear any of it - I want you to think only about problems I caused you. Is that clear?"

Your lips are quivering: maybe it's his rough voice, that pains you, maybe it's your helplessness in this situation, maybe it's his plan. But you do as he asks. The last thing, you want to do is to risk his life. But you were always such a good colleague, perfect squadmate. Maybe, it's time to play this part one more time, if it makes him happy.

You take a last look at him, before stepping out of your hideaway: a perfect bait, a true beast of man, restrained and humbly quiet under your gaze. You hate to see him so, deep inside you are screaming, begging for his mercy, pleading him to run. He takes a step closer and whispers one word in attempt to cheer you up.

"Showtime."

You feel as if you were thrown into ice water. With each next step, your arms and legs become numb. You do not remember how you led Ghost directly into the enemies' lair, how you yourself knocked him to the ground in front of them. "This dirtbag wouldn't see a lie even if it was written all over his fucking face." You wish, you'd forgotten those words leaving your lips, immediately, but you don't.

But the worst part is what follows: they beat him in front of you, they get creative, you witness everything. But his eyes never leave yours. And both masks: yours and his, stay on. The only thing, that helps you to endure through this torture is a sight of his hands, that were tied so badly, he can escape any minute now.

Showtime. This is so 'not Ghost', so out of character, he must just have heard it somewhere... Every time this word pops up in your mind, a lump rolls up in your throat. But you don't show it.

Beating, mockery, Ghosts barely audible hissing - everything is interrupted in an instant, when a suspicious crunch is heard in the thickets outside the window. "I did not send anyone to reconnaissance," says one of your captors. You look back at him and hold your breath. If your plan is revealed now, you and Ghost are as good as dead. You don't dare to look at the window and let others know, you wait for the attack.

Dead silence is interrupted by a terrible crack, with which Ghost rips loosened clamps and throws aside the chair to which he was tied. You do not have time to turn in his direction when he knocks you down at full speed, and throws you to the ground.

"Give me one reason to not strangle you right here, you scum," he growls into your face.

Dull, drawing pain flows from your skull along the spine to all the limbs. You are exhausted and lost. You look into his dark furious eyes and don't even understand, what is going on. But your mask cracks and slowly falls apart as pain, sorrow and insults leave your lips. You can't even control it, you spill everything: how you hate growing the emptiness inside you for someone, who never needed it, how tired are you of fighting yourself, how useless you feel, when you spend days resisting every your single urge.

By the time your tirade dries up, you've already forgotten how it started. You both are surrounded by deafening noises, and you can hardly shout it over.

“... I can’t deal with this problem. No matter how far I go from you, no matter how I bury myself in work, my problem catches up with me time after time! I can't do it, I can't!"

An explosion hoots muffledly somewhere deep in the building and Ghost instinctively covers your head with his hands. And only at that moment, you begin to realize what happened. He did not even think to kill you - on the contrary, he protected you, played for time and distracted your enemies from the reinforcements that arrived to help you. By knocking you to the floor, he only covered you from random shots.

At first, pure delight floods your mind. This is why Ghost is on another level: he controls the situation to the very end. But then you notice something: his eyes changed. There is no more cold distance in his gaze. Maybe you hit your head well, but you can swear, you see something under his mask - not the skull one, but his familiar demeanor. There is dismay, even panic there. The surrounding noise gradually subsides. Ghost looks around, and then his eyes meet yours again.

"I'm sorry." He says so quietly, you are not sure, you didn't imagine it.

On the way back, you feel his hand somewhere around constantly. Comforting, reassuring, guiding.

It's only in medbay where you lose his touch, as your mind drifts to sleep.

When you wake up - it's still dark outside. You blindly fumble your hand across the bedside table, hoping to stumble upon a glass of water. But you grope for something unusual - an envelope. Inside is a small sheet of thick paper with two phrases. With incredible difficulty, you find the angle at which the dim moonlight breaking through your window illuminates the leaf.

Familiar handwriting.

"It is not a problem. And never was."

[mooodyblue]

Here's another potential little!E request idea; you giving him either a pacifier or a pair of adult sized footed pajamas to help him regress? Thanks!

i could have waited to drop this tomorrow but it'll be one less thing i have to do so here's another little e! fic to make up for the short one from earlier hahahaha ty for the request!!! <3 hope u don't mind i took ur rq and made it into something probably way more than u were expecting LOL

for you. | little!elvis x cg!reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: little space, age regression, use of mommy

masterlist | send a request or say hi :)

it was a rough week for elvis. between recording and planning another tour, not to mention being pestered all week by various members of his crew for something. he needed a break desperately and you could see it in his eyes, in the way he spoke to you and his body language. elvis was just tired. but that wasn't going to stop him from working hard. he never really knew how to stop, so many people depended on him for different things and he needed to get it all done.

you were going to take matters in to your own hands. calling everyone he was supposed to meet with the following day to say elvis couldn't make it or that he wasn't feeling well. you being elvis's girlfriend and elvis being extremely overprotective of you, nobody was going to argue with you when you asked for everyone to leave him alone for just a day, maybe a couple days even. later when you both settled in for the night, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, squeezing him slightly. "you have the day off tomorrow." you murmured.

he creeped over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. "what did you do?"

"i'm dating elvis presley, nobody wants to argue with me." you joked, burrying your face in his shoulder. "now go to sleep."

you let him sleep in the next morning, allowing yourself some time to plan out your day with elvis. you wanted him to relax, get him back into a good mindset. you realized it had been awhile since he regressed. it was only a few months ago when he first brought it up to you yet he'd only been little just a few times in your relationship, he was still shy about the whole thing but you didn't mind at all. of course, you didn't want to exactly, force him to regress but you knew it was something he needed. you had everything on hand; his bottle was sat in the cupboard, his favorite plushie sitting in a chair in the living room, a paci you recently bought was even shoved somewhere in the couch for elvis to mysteriously' find. the paci would be new for him, hopefully you weren't going too far by buying it for him.

elvis wandered down the stairs to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of you making him breakfast. "what's the occasion?" he asked, voice startling you from behind.

"oh christ, you scared me!" you jumped. "no occasion, just thought i'd spoil you a little."

he walked up behind you, muttering an apology and kissing the tip of your ear. "thank you, baby." he sat back at the table, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. as much as he loved that you asked for everyone to leave you alone today, he was now burdened with thoughts of all the work and favors he'd have to catch up on tomorrow. he wouldn't admit that to you though, never.

you made his usual eggs and bacon, less burnt than usual and giving him a glass of orange juice instead of his usual black coffee. he looked up at you, confused. "y'know, i love you and i love when you cook for me. but-"

"switching it up today." you interrupted, sitting close to him before picking up a fork and stabbing at the eggs with it. "open up!" you brought the fork up to his mouth, only to receive a concerned look from elvis in return. you let out a sigh. "c'mon, you love when i feed you."

"but-"

"enough buts! eat for me." you exclaimed, bringing the fork back to his mouth. he finally obliged, letting you feed the eggs to him.

after breakfast, you sent him back upstairs to wash up and meet you in the living room, where you'll begin operation get elvis to finally relax. you were disappointed to see elvis in the living room in regular clothing, not in his pajamas or anything. you looked at him, hands on your hips. "alright, now what am i doin' wrong? ain't this supposed to be my day?"

you shook your head. "why are you dressed like you're about to head out for the day? it's just me and you here, relax baby! put something more comfortable on."

he gave you another confused look, sinking into the couch with his arms crossed till he felt something nudge against his back. he turned around, eyes widening as he noticed the red pacifier in between the couch pillows. he picked it up, staring at it for a minute before shaking his head and setting it on the coffee table. you must have bought that for him at some point, maybe it was supposed to be a surprise for him but no, he won't slip, nope. absolutely not.

"elvis."

as he moved his eyes to you, he noticed his favorite brown bear sitting up in the chair across from him, propped up and staring right at him. that bear was supposed to be stored in his closet, hiding away from everyone for nobody to find. he felt bad for the stuffie sometimes, it must get scary sometimes with it being all dark and cold in there. he looked so lonely sitting on the chair. almost begging for elvis to come pick him up and hold him tightly. his eyes drifted back to the red pacifier sitting on the coffee table, staring at it and anxiously bouncing his leg up and down.

you sat next to him, wishing you could see what was on his mind. you didn't know he was fighting with the own thoughts in his head, refusing to slip right then and there. he didn't understand why he was so nervous to regress around you, he loved and trusted you more than anyone in his life. you had no issue taking care of him, playing the role as his mommy or his caregiver was never an issue for you even if you played that role only a few times. but you bought him a pacifier. he couldn't believe you would do that for him.

resting a hand on his knee, you squeezed it softly. "elvis." he turned his head to you, looking at you with glassy eyes as if something switched in his brain. "it's okay, baby." you reassured. he began to tear up, throwing his head against your shoulder and releasing sad, tired sobs. "oh my poor little prince, i know you're tired." you kissed the top of his head. "let's get your jammies on and sit for awhile, that sound good?"

he followed you up the stairs, hand in hand. you took him to the bedroom, where he sat on the bed waiting for you to bring out his clothes. "i did buy you something yesterday. if you don't want to wear it, that's okay." from the closet, you pulled out a pair of footie pajamas that were a bright shade of red with little stars decorated all over.

that was what did it for him, he was so lucky to have you. "for me?"

"for you, hon."

you helped him put them on, grinning at the overjoyed expression on his face as he began to settle into his headspace. "you didn't have to do this for me...."

"but i wanted to." you crouched down, taking his hands and looking up at him. "i wanted to because i love you and i want you to be happy. and do you know the other reason?"

"c-cos' 'm your baby." he replied, shyly.

you smiled at him. "that's right, cause you're my baby." you stood back up, taking his hand. "now, let's go relax."

once back downstairs, the two of you sat together. he rested his head in your lap, eyes focused on the tv with his teddy by his side. he subconsciously brought his thumb to his mouth, which you noticed immediately. "you want your paci, sweetie?" he nodded in response. you got it from the table, placing it in his mouth then going back to running your fingers through his hair gently. "thank you...mommy." he said softly against the pacifier.

"anything for you, my prince."

tags: (twice in one day, my bad yall) @aconflagrationofmyown @butlersluvbot @arianatheangel-girl @steph-speaks

want to be added to my taglist?

[gaoau]

Chapter Twenty-Two

Raison d'Être warnings — none. word count — 1.2k

prev. — next.

One day off work was not exactly acceptable, yet very much needed. Not only Chika but her entire team had been more than glad to cover for her and manage some of the work piling up on her cubicle, wanting to at least lessen a weight off her shoulders after she called in sick.

But [Name] wasn't sick—she was over-exaggerating, wallowing in self-pity, letting her thoughts consume her brain the same way she had allowed larvae to eat at Ai's flesh. She was wasting her time around her apartment, waiting restlessly for the moment her phone would ring and someone, anyone, would tell her she could go pick Ai up, as good as new. She had fucked up big time. She'd had Chifuyu's trust for free when he said Ai would appreciate her more than she could ever guess. But was the poor, terrified puppy appreciating the pain in his ears? Of course not.

Admittedly, two days off work was criminally more than she could afford. The moment the clock marked twenty-four hours had passed by, [Name] finally found the energy to rip her eyes away from the white ceiling. It was doing her more harm than good to stare into the jarring, disturbing white. That was the same white that had made her reality fail.

Speaking of, as she poured herself a glass of water, she found her eyes glaring at the abandoned canvas and its sixty-third Winter landscape she never completed. But her attention strayed and fluttered down to the bowl of dog food still full to the brim.

Chifuyu was everything but expecting [Name] to walk through the door of his shop. These were working hours for her. He couldn't exactly keep his eyes on her as she scanned the shelves for that brand of dog food she had bought less than a week before. Kazutora—who he'd filled in about Ai's ear issues—purposely bumped into her to engage in small talk. [Name] offered him a smile and grabbed another dog toy she didn't need.

By the time she approached Chifuyu at the cash register, he had to plaster a comforting grin on his face to pretend all was okay and her dog wasn't getting operated on. She smiled back at him on pure instinct. It didn't reach her eyes, blocked by the darkening bags underneath them. "How are you doing, [Name]-san?"

"Could be worse." Could she be worse? Her shoulders jumped in a shrug.

Chifuyu wasn't sure what to say when he couldn't read her. His eyes weren't as sharp as hers. "He'll be fine."

[Name] blinked, lips pursed, quiet. "I know." She did. She knew Chifuyu would never lie to her.

One day was somewhat acceptable—not really. Two days was pushing it. However, three days off work? Was she insane?

Now, Chifuyu didn't want to criticize her as she pushed through this new development in the life of a dog mother, but she'd been skipping work for three days. There she was again, buying not the usual brand of food she took home, but an even more expensive one that Ai had never tasted in his eight months of existence. She had bought food the day before. This was no way of coping.

So when [Name] was just about to add another dog toy to her basket, Chifuyu decided it would be best to intervene. He left Kazutora to handle the customers he'd been attending to and made a beeline for [Name]. His fingers looped around her wrist before she could pull the synthetic bone from its hanger. She snapped her wide gaze towards him, sharp and invasive, boring through him. He didn't know a thing about contrast, but the darkness underneath her eyes contrasted wildly with the pristine white of her sclera; pristine white even when he'd expected them to be red.

He was undeniably worried and he cared about her. She'd been so fragile when she brought in a dying puppy in her arms, drenched from head to toe from the rain. She'd been abandoned just like Ai. The same way she didn't let those insects eat at her dog any longer, Chifuyu wasn't going to let her own mind eat at her either. "You've been eating your meals, right?" He didn't even bother with a greeting.

Her arm went limp in his hold. "It's been two days."

"Not what I asked, [Name]-san."

"Of course I have," she sighed.

"Sleeping?"

"Kind of." She felt his stare pinned onto the very prominent bags she expected would give her away. Her eyes averted. "It's not something I can control."

"And that's why I'm telling you he'll be fine."

"I know, Chifuyu-san, I know. I'm just worried. This has never happened to me before."

He let go of her arm and it fell lifelessly by her side. His palm landed on her shoulder, feeling her posture loosen up under the comforting squeeze he gave her. "You should try going back to work. I don't think Ai'll like it if he comes home and sees you like this." He was right. He was awfully right. Chifuyu could think; he could think all she couldn't. He shared the coherence that [Name] lacked to keep her afloat.

Her fingers tightened on the bag of food. "Yeah, I guess you—"

"Or at least, you should stop buying more dog food," he chuckled as he removed the bag from her. She looked so defeated while puffing a faint peal of laughter of her own, allowing a gentle smile to settle on her lips. It was certainly not enough to put her mind at ease, but Chifuyu was content with having made her laugh.

[Name] returned to her office the following day, not at all rested and not at all in the right mindset to work. Chika did her utmost best to cheer her up when she noticed how exhausted she was. By the end of the week, she had showered her in vanilla cookies, impressive amounts of coffee cups, and so many adorable origami frogs that actually jumped. It wasn't enough, though, despite her team's attempts to get her mind off whatever was weighing on her.

She had to turn them down when they offered to go out for drinks. And maybe she shouldn't have. It was a late Saturday night when she got home late to a silent apartment for the fifth time that week. It'd been a long day of staying overtime for the sake of distraction. Upon entering her living room, a sharp ache in her wrists compelled her to destroy the canvas and all her progress so far.

She didn't. She stood there, right in front of it, glowering at her own obsessive ideas.

At first, she didn't feel them, but it didn't take her long to realize there were tears dripping onto the floor. There was a gap in her distress that Ai fit perfectly in, so now that he wasn't here, she didn't know how to fill it.

[angryschnauzer]

He’s A Keeper

Summary: Working as an artist hired by Durrell Zoo, you spend your days sketching the day to day life of the animals and the keepers. One keeper in particular catches your eye.

Pairing: AU Zookeeper Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Fandom: Henry Cavill

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Safe Sex/Use of Condoms, Realistic Sex/Relationship discussion, Vaginal Sex.

Typo’s are allowed to run wild and free, only the finest organic free range fuck ups for me.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit ‘notifications’, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new. Back catalogue/masterlist can be found there and also on AO3

He’s A Keeper

Working the pencils over the sketchpad you quietly captured the beauty of the animals the zookeepers had nursed back to full health, the Ruffed Lemur currently hanging off the keepers arm as he spoke through the headset to the group of excited school children watching through the glass. 

You’d been hired by the zoo to capture day to day life at the zoo throughout the summer season, drawing the animals and the humans, however there was one particular human you had found yourself drawn to numerous times, and that was the rather tasty zookeeper by the name of Henry. He also had one of the sexiest voices you’d ever had the pleasure to listen to, so as he explained about the Lemur’s your mind wandered, as did your gaze;

“... originally from Madagascar, and have been part of Durrell zoo since 1982 where they have been essential to the breeding program…”

Your mind fell even further into the gutter at the word ‘breeding’, your eyes raking down Henry’s body, taking in how the branded t-shirt clung to his chest before tapering down to a narrow waist where it was neatly tucked into cargo pants that did little to hide how thick his thighs were and a pert arse you could bounce a satsuma off of. Biting the end of the pencil you had all but given up drawing, only realising that the talk was over when the group of school children were being herded onto the next exhibit by their tour guide and teachers.

When the kids had disappeared you finally got back to drawing, watching as Henry finished up feeding the Lemur’s before he met your gaze and smiled at you. Tapping your pencil on the glass he frowned and shook his head, before smiling and pointing to the sign in the corner of the window that said ‘do not tap the glass’, getting closer you tried to mouth your words to him, but was surprised when his eyes went wide in almost shock, before looking down and realising you had pressed your chest to the glass, your low cut cami top helping to accentuate your cleavage. When you looked up again he was gone and you let out a sigh of disappointment, before he appeared through a door to the side of the viewing area;

“Hi” he had a smile that could charm the panties off a nun; “Did you want me?”

“God yes…” Oh fuck, did you say that out loud?; “Sorry, i mean, you’ve dropped the foam bit off your headset...”

He glanced into the enclosure just at the moment one of the larger Lemur’s picked up the small round piece of foam and staring straight at Henry, proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces.

“Furry little fucker…” he cursed under his breath before turning back to you, but before he could say anything a group of other keepers came walking in and soon you were hanging onto the periphery of their conversation where they were discussing going for drinks after work. Moving to pack your stuff up as you presumed they weren’t including you, but a call of your nickname drew your attention;

“Hey Da Vinci, you up for a few beers after work?”

You hesitated to answer, glancing at Henry who had a smile across his face and a hopeful look in his eye;

“We’re all going…”

“Ok, yeah sure, that’d be great” you agreed. 

-

An hour later you were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance waiting for the rest of the keepers to finish their shifts, smiling as you saw them coming out of the doors, and the ensuing 10 minutes that followed as people sorted out who was driving and how many people could fit into just a couple of small cars. As spaces were allocated Henry laughed and shook his head;

“I am NOT riding five up in a Renault Clio, i’m too tall, i’ll have to fold myself in half! Where are we going anyway, i can take my bike and just walk home after”

Waiting as everyone discussed location and finished off seat allocation, they’d finally decided when Henry turned to you;

“Hey, i think the last seats are in the stoner wagon…”

“Oh…” you didn’t have anything against anyone smoking pot, but didn’t fancy being in a car you could barely see out of the windows of.

“But you can ride with me on my bike?”

Looking to where Henry was pointing, you saw a fairly large trails bike, the kind that could go 50mph over rough land and through forests;

“I… I don’t have a helmet…”

“Wait here, let me run into the locker room and grab the spare i keep here”

Everyone else pulled away as Henry ran into the zoo, and you glanced at the bike. You’d never been on a motorbike before, so this would be a first. Stowing everything loose in your backpack, you hooked it over both shoulders just as Henry reemerged from the building, swinging his keys from one finger as he came to stand in front of you;

“Hey, thanks for waiting”

“No worries! So, where are we going again?”

“The pub in Rozel does good food and pulls a great pint” he nodded to his left and you saw a row of motorbikes; “You ever ridden?”

Shaking your head you laughed; “No, never”

He carefully helped you put the helmet on, his nimble fingers helping to secure the strap beneath your chin before putting his own on and climbing onto the bike, pushing it off the kick stand and nodding for you to climb on. You tried to sit back, but he wrapped his arm behind his back and pulled you flush to his body;

“Gotta hold on tight, otherwise you’ll throw the balance off. Lean when i lean and just squeeze a bit harder if you’re scared, the ride won’t take long” he shouted over the thrum of the noisy engine idling.

The ride down to the small village of Rozel had been exhilarating, from the vibration of the motorbike between your legs to the way you were able to wrap your arms around Henry’s waist and cling to him as he hurtled around the country roads at what seemed like warp speed, when in fact it was little more than 30mph. By the time you arrived in the small fishing cove your heart was racing and you actually let out a reluctant moan at the thought of removing your arms from around Henry’s waist.

“C’mon” he grinned as he helped you off the bike; “I’ll buy you a vodka and coke to calm your nerves”

“It wasn’t nerves” you muttered to yourself, smirking as you know he heard you.

-

The group had managed to find a cluster of small tables chairs and benches in the corner of the pub beer garden, and as the sun had set behind the hills to the rear of the pub, the cold Atlantic sea had glowed in pale blues and pinks. You were squashed into a bench with Henry on one side and another enormous hulk of a keeper on the other, and as the temperature had dropped you’d found yourself thankful that Henry had casually rested his arm behind you so you could leech some of his warmth, but it didn’t stop a violent shiver involuntarily running up your spine.

“Cold?” Henry asked quietly, before gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close; “Any better?”

You nodded and let out a very quiet whine as you smiled at him, completely surrounded by his scent and warmth. It made your stomach do a flip and you clenched your thighs together, something that didn’t get past Henry as your leg twitched against his thigh. Before either of you could say anything an enormous bowl of cheesy fries was set down between you, your stomach growling at the aroma’s that wafted around you as it turned out someone had ordered sharing bowls for the whole table.

With the meal mostly devoured as you’d sat side by side on a small wooden bench in the pub garden, laughing as you fed each other and strings of cheese hung from your fingers. As the giggles of a joke faded away you glanced at Henry’s almost finished pint;

“Hey, you aren’t planning on riding that bike home are you?”

“Nah, i’d never drive after a pint, let alone three… my place is just behind The Navigator restaurant…” he paused; “Oh god, where are you staying, do i need to call you a taxi?”

“No no, i’m renting a studio up the hill, on the hairpin bend”

“Oh…” 

It wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ and there was definitely something loaded in the subtext, so when people had started to leave and arrange ride’s back to St Helier and St Johns it felt natural for Henry to stand with his arm around your shoulders as you both waved everyone off.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise, and you nodded as he slid his hand into yours, leading you along the low coast road that skirted the harbour.

-

You hadn’t gotten far before the evening turned even better, a brief suggestion of a walk along the beach as the tide was out soon had your feet in soft sand as you were pressed to the weathered stone of the sea wall, Henry’s lips on your neck as your fingers dug into his back, his teeth nipping and biting at whatever exposed flesh he could find. You hadn’t even realised he was going lower until he was on his knees in front of you, those sea blue irises staring up at you as he pressed kisses to your legs where your shorts ended. His fingers softly rested on the button and he finally spoke, his voice low and thick with lust;

“May i?”

Nodding fervently you bit your lip as you watched him slowly unbutton you, pulling the garment down your legs until you were able to step out. Never breaking eye contact he lifted your leg and gently rested it on his shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until his face was pressed against your panties and his wide tongue worked against the soaked cotton and lace. His finger crooked beneath them and tugged the scrap of fabric to the side, seeking out your clit before tracing down to your cunt and tenderly teasing the entrance.

“Henry… please…” you whined, desperate for more

“Don’t you worry, i’m gonna make you see stars…”

Pushing his head forwards his lips caught your clit as he slowly slid two fingers into your soaked channel. You let out a long groan at the feel of his lips and fingers finding the right spot immediately, his other hand cupping the back of your thigh before he ran it around your hip and caught your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he quickly drove you closer and closer to the edge with that added touch of intimacy. Suddenly he hummed against your clit and the world exploded, making you cum so hard you truly did see stars as a white heat bloomed in your belly and you rode Henry’s fingers until you were spent.

As you rested against the wall behind you he carefully withdrew his fingers, licking them clean as he tugged your shorts up your legs. You couldn’t help but to notice the obscene bulge in the front of his cargo pants, your hand rubbing over the smooth curve of it;

“You keep doing that and i’ll cum in my boxers… “ he panted out, his lips inches from yours; “What’s your room like?”

“Its a little summer cabin studio right at the end of the garden, away from the other holiday rentals and the main house… what about you…”

“Shared flat with two other guys from the zoo. They’re probably drinking in the lounge right now… so, your place?”

-

Unlocking the door you stepped inside and turned on a small lamp, standing aside so Henry could come into your small summer living space.

“Mmm nice” he nodded and looked around; “Wanna give me the tour?”

You snorted out a laugh at the formality, and held your arm out;

“Well this is the kitchen area, right next door we have the smallest shower room in Jersey, and here’s the bed” you didn’t need to take a single step for the ‘tour’, the room seeming even smaller as Henry took a single stride and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you flush with his chest. Never breaking eye contact he gently trailed a single finger over your cheek, his thumb brushing your plump bottom lip;

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your legs almost buckled at the deep baritone of his voice, igniting something within you that you hadn’t even known existed, eagerly nodding;

“Yes Sir”

Lowering his lips to yours he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips as he took control, walking the pair of you back until your legs hit the bed and you fell back onto the soft unmade covers. Covering your body with his, he quickly stripped you of your clothing, his mouth trailing behind his hands so every inch of you was gifted with a kiss. 

Standing between your legs he pulled his t-shirt over his head and you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of his body; toned and just the right amount of hair on his chest and a treasure trail on his abdomen that surely led to untold riches. Quickly sitting up your hands joined his on his button to his cargo pants;

“May i?”

Henry released his hands and nodded, watching as you carefully plucked the button before lowering the zipper painfully slowly, his boxers tented obscenely and you couldn’t help but to cup him in your palm, the searing heat of his engorged cock a welcome feel in your hands, the wide mushroom head clearly visible through the stretched fabric. Unceremoniously tugging the rest of his clothing down, you felt yourself getting wetter as his beautiful cock was finally revealed; big, thick and uncut, you had to taste him and quickly ducked your head forwards, swallowing his head between your lips as his hands flew to your hair to steady himself.

Now it was your turn to drive him crazy with your mouth, taking him as deep as you could even though it was barely half of his length, you wrapped both hands around what was left, the thick root of his shaft filling both palms. A few more pumps and he pulled his hips back with a gasp, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his bulbous tip;

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna cum far too soon…” he said, his voice shaking; “Lay back and let me treat you right…”

Scooting up the bed you settled against the pillows as you watched Henry shed himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots and socks hooked off, cargo pants and underwear all left in a messy pile at the side of the bed, before he crawled up the mattress like a Panther stalking its prey.

Capturing your lips for another searing kiss, you felt his hot shaft against your belly, burning against your skin and you so desperately wanted to feel him inside you. Pulling away just slightly you were already breathless;

“Just a second…” reaching for the small drawer at side of the bed you pulled out an unopened box of condoms, Henry sitting back on his knees as you ripped the box’s cellophane open with your teeth and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open before smoothing the latex over Henry’s shaft. Looking up to his face he wore a rather sheepish smile;

“Sorry, shoulda’ thought of that”

“S’ok, a girl’s gotta keep sharp these days…”

“Right…” he met your gaze; “But you know, if you had gotten pregnant, i would have stood by you”

“Umm thanks? But its for STD’s. I’m on the pill”

“Oh… good thinking…”

A tense pause hung over the pair of you, before you reached up and rested your hand on his chest;

“Shall we continue?”

At your words the tension in the room suddenly dissipated, Henry kissing you as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could position himself at your entrance, groaning as he pushed in slowly breaching your body. Your tight channel hugged him tight, unfamiliar with such a size splitting your walls so he paused, pressing light kisses to your face as your body grew accustomed with his size and the heavy weight of his dick in your pillowy soft embrace. Finally you moaned out his name;

“Henry… please…”

“What do you need?”

“Move… please move. Fuck me, please”

Pushing up on his forearms he started to fluidly move his hips, slow and steady, each thrust was gentle but firm, your body yielding to him as he started to increase the pace, the sound of hot bodies meeting filling the small wooden cabin as the gentle sounds of the sea not far away filled the rest of the night. Soft moans spilled from your lips at the feel of his body playing yours like a delicate instrument, waiting for the chorus and the inevitable crescendo. But he was going to play the entire symphony first, knowing how to get you to sing the high notes as the thrum of your bodies were in tune with each other completely.

With the stretch of his girth and the way the curve of it meant he was able to find your g-spot with every thrust you were fast approaching your orgasm, your body trembling as your lips found a life of their own;

“Henry… please, so good… keep doing that… oh god, i’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, my good girl, cum on my cock, let me feel you squeezing me so tight… feel so amazing right now… that’s it, you can do it…”

With a cry you came, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him deep whilst your body shook with a fierce orgasm, triggering his own as he pumped a heavy load into the condom.

Finally spent, Henry settled on top of you, his weight a heavy comfort as your sweaty bodies lay skin to skin, the gentle roughness of his chest hair against your naked breasts a tender reminder of his virility. When he started to soften he finally shifted, holding the condom at the base as he pulled out and staggered the few steps to your small bathroom;

“I’ll be back in a second, gotta sort this out…”

The door closed and you shifted on the bed, pulling the duvet back and sliding between the sheets, listening as you heard the tell tale sound of a man urinating and the high pitched, double barrelled squeak of a fart. The flush of the toilet and water running soon after meant you knew the second he would reappear, a flannel in his hand and he stopped dead, his cheeks suddenly bright crimson;

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“It's a small wooden cabin… yes i did”

“Sorry” he approached the bed and with a warm flannel he carefully cleaned between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did. When finished he sat on the side of the bed; “Can i stay the night, or did you want me to go?”

“Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Please, stay”

He quickly threw the flannel into the sink in the bathroom, before with a giggle climbed under the duvet and pulled you into his arms;

“So, how many more condom’s you got?”

-

The morning light broke softly through the trees that surrounded your cabin, your body sore but sated, knowing every bruise and ache came from soft lips, sharp teeth, or skilled fingers, apart from that one ache deep inside that you knew exactly what had caused that delicious soreness, and the owner and cause of all of it still softly slept in your bed. Climbing out you quickly used the bathroom, and as you came back into the room the artist in you couldn’t help but to admire how the dappled morning light cascaded over Henry’s body. Slipping his work t-shirt over your head you pulled your sketchbook from your backpack and settled onto the only chair in the room, quietly working carbon to paper.

Henry woke 45 minutes later, the gentle scratching of your art making him squint at the bright daylight, before laying back on the pillows with his arms spread;

“Still life class?”

Setting your sketchbook down you padded across the room and climbed onto the bed;

“Sorry, i couldn’t help myself… the way the sun was hitting the muscles of your back and shoulders, you were like an anatomy masterpiece”

With a laugh and moving much quicker than you thought he was possible of, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you, his body atop of yours;

“Well that’s enough of that, i would like to become better acquainted with your anatomy… and as we’ve both got the day off i suggest we make the most of it”

Laughing you fell into his embrace, sighing with happiness. Henry really was a keeper, as you were for sure not going to let him go. 

[hanemiso]

Operation: Dairy For Dazai

>>>a dazai osamu x reader<<<

request: "omg i love your post about Dazai and his possibility of having lactose intolerance hahaha, i wish you could do a fanfic out from that"

a/n: um this is such a great idea??? this was so much fun to write omg i hope y'all like it! also i know dazai doesn't necessarily drink coffee with milk and sugar/creamer, but for the sake of the story he does! also sorry if the gif looks weird, i couldn't find his weird little run anywhere else.

synopsis: no one has seen dazai drink milk or consume dairy of any kind...it's up to the agency to figure out if dazai is lactose intoleralnt or not!

warnings: one swear word, dazai not being able to handle dairy

"hey atsushi, you ever notice that dazai doesn't consume dairy?"

"what do you mean, y/n?" atsushi asks, glancing up at you from the computer.

"think about it. have you ever seen dazai drink milk? eat cheese? buy ice cream?" you press on, raising your brows.

atsushi takes a second to think before responding with, "now that you mention it, no i haven't...why are you asking anyway?"

"i think dazai is lactose intolerant."

you now have atsushi's full attention as he rolls closer to your desk and furrows his brows. he looks around the room for the brunette you're talking about before turning back to you, "you think so? i don't know...maybe it's like a dietary thing."

you deadpan, "you really think the man who goes out of his way to try new attempts at committing suicide--the one who came into the office with a hallucinogenic mushroom from a random mountain--is concerned with his own nutrition?"

atsushi goes silent and nods his head in agreement.

"come on, atsushi. i mean, why would that be the one thing out of his entire diet that he'd choose to cut out?"

"that's true, i've seen the kinds of things he eats...but why is this something you're interested in?"

"because, atsushi, the thought of THE dazai osamu even having one slight weakness--and the fact that it very well may be dairy, of all things-- is amusing. you don't find it interesting? that he can survive things like bullet wounds and getting kidnapped without any problem, but a glass of milk could completely ruin him?"

atsushi was beginning to take interest in what you were talking about. you had a point, he couldn't deny that. they don't know much about dazai and his life as it is. just as it began clicking in his brain, kunikida walks over to your desk to tell you both to get back to work. at the sound of his footsteps, you turn towards him and before he can say anything at all, you ask him the same question as atsushi. kunikida has a smiliar reaction and response to atsushi, which just adds to the curiosity of dazai's possible dairy problem.

"i don't pay attention to that idiot's diet anyway, nor do i care." he says matter-of-factly.

anyone could tell that kunikida was slightly interested, just by the way he was continuing to linger by your desk as you continued talking about it with atsushi. soon enough, tanizaki had joined the conversation; then ranpo and kenji, and soon everyone in the agency other than fukuzawa. everyone was huddled around your desk, sharing memories of dazai's lack of dairy consumption. it was then decided that this theory of dazai being lactose intolerant would be put to the test when dazai returned to the office.

ranpo had come up with the idea, it wasn't too elaborate but a simple plan that could trick even the likes of dazai into drinking a glass of milk. during the discussion of dazai's dietary habits, it was also brought to everyone's attention by kunikida that it seems dazai doesn't have a high spice tolerance either. with that in mind, the plan was for the agency to have a joint dinner tonight, with curry on the menu tonight; spicy curry to be exact. dazai always flirts with you in the office, so it was your job to distract him by indulging in his pick-up lines and such. once he takes a bite and realizes it's too spicy for him, he'd try to find water to alleviate the pain, but coincidentally there is no water in sight. because of this, he'd be forced to drink the glass of milk you hand him. of course, if this didn't work, for dessert you'd give him a cup of coffee with milk and sugar (he uses non-dairy creamer in his coffee anyway).

you and kyouka set up a table to put the bowls of curry on, while atsushi and kunikida began bringing in the curry. tanizaki, naomi, and ranpo were in charge of getting the desserts to really sell the image of a nice gathering. kenji and yosano were in charge of tinkering with the water pipes to close off any possibility of access to water. this task was treated with such care, as any mission brought into the agency would be. each and every one of you were interested in learning about this side of dazai; are you going the extra mile for such a minuscule detail of someone's life? yes, but will it be amusing to find out the truth? also yes.

soon enough, dazai is spotted out the window. the truth is about to be revealed, and you are all nervous but excited.

"remember guys, act natural! operation: dairy for dazai starts now!" you exclaim quietly.

you can hear everyone take a deep breath and begin "talking" amongst themselves as dazai walks in. he stops in his tracks as he eyes the table holding all the bowls of curry and widens his eyes in surprise.

"oh? what's this?" he asks, gesturing to the table.

"y/n suggested having dinner in the agency tonight, so we got some curry and desserts." atsushi explains.

"have a bowl, dazai-kun." you smile at him as you hand him the bowl of spicy curry.

"ah, you're too nice, my belladonna!" he exclaims and grabs the bowl.

so far so good, you think.

you can feel the tension in the room as everyone waits for dazai to take a bite. the conversations carry on amongst people, but no one was truly paying attention to what was being said. the gazes of each member of the agency shifted to dazai as he raised the spoon up to his mouth. you could hear the sound of everyone in the room holding their breaths, even kunikida was sweating.

once the spoon had been placed in his mouth, everyone froze in place. you and atsushi tried to pretend to not be paying much attention to dazai, but it was so hard not to when all of a sudden he stopped chewing. you both slowly turn your head towards him and see his eyes go wide once again. he hurries to the nearest trashcan and spits out the spoonful, quickly turning and looking for a cup of water on the table.

"w-what's wrong, dazai-san?" atsushi asks, also sweating.

"h-hot! spicy curry! atsushi-kun, i need water! please!" dazai exclaims.

you run to the table and pretend to look for a cup of water before grabbing the glass of milk and hurrying towards dazai.

"sorry dazai-kun, i couldn't find any water, but i heard milk helps with the pain!" you hold out the glass of milk.

it feels like time stops as dazai sits there, breathing shallows breaths in attempts to stop the fire in his mouth, and contemplating whether he wants to try his luck with continuing to gasp for air or drinking the milk. he hates suffering, after all. in his mind, all that matters at this moment is extinguishing the flames dancing on his tongue. he grabs the glass, just as planned, and drinks a couple big gulps. everyone is now turned to him, asking if he's okay.

"i'm...fine." he says between pants.

now it was only a matter of time. the dinner continued as normal, but dazai wasn't as social as usual. he sat down with you and atsushi as you continued to talk about different missions.

"oh yeah, dazai-kun, do you remember--" you turn to look at him but realize he's staring at the ground intently as sweat beads on his face, "dazai?"

he blinks once and tries regaining his composure as he looks up at you with his usual smile, "yes, belladonna?"

"are you feeling alright?" you ask with concern laced in your voice.

"of course i am!" dazai tries to reply cheerily, but his bright tone is cut off by a rumbling in his stomach that makes his face twist.

he tries replacing his expression with a smile again, but it looks more pained as another low rumble emits from his body. at this point, everyone in the office is stealing glances. he looks back at the ground as his eyes widen yet again, and only two words are uttered before he takes off running to the bathroom:

"oh shit."

everyone stares at the door, processing what just happened. it was so silent, the only sound you could hear was dazai's rapid footsteps echoing down the hall.

"i knew it." you smirk a bit to yourself.

but your feeling of victory is brief as the horrid smell invades your nostrils. your poor co-workers get assaulted by the same stench, and you all are forced to evacuate.

operation: dairy for dazai was a success, but at what cost?

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

BONUS: how chuuya found out about dazai's lactose intolerance

chuuya was the only person who knew of dazai's problem with dairy, but the way he found out was purely accidental and scarred him.

the event took place when they were 17, and they were both stopping for a drink at a local cafe after a mission. the mission wasn't too bad, but it was early in the morning and chuuya wanted coffee. dazai told him it would stunt his already lacking growth, so chuuya wasn't in the greatest mood; he never was around dazai.

"i wanna sit down so you can order for me!" dazai claps his hands together.

"hey! i don't wan-" chuuya begins to protest but dazai cuts him off while walking away.

"you know what i like!"

chuuya grumbles in annoyance as he heads to the counter and orders two drinks. in his fit of anger, he accidentally ordered two coffees with milk and sugar, but failed to notice as he brought the cups to the table dazai sat at. he narrows his eyes as he sets the cup down in front of dazai and sits across from him. chuuya stares out the window to try and tune out dazai when he hears dazai ask him something quietly.

"is there...milk in this?"

chuuya scoffs and replies, "what's wrong, can't handle a bit of milk?"

he was obviously joking, but the sound that emits from dazai's body in response makes him realize it was no joke. dazai quickly stands and runs to the bathroom while chuuya sits there in disbelief, but with the hope that the rest of the day won't be ruined because of it.

that was wishful thinking though, as they frequently had to stop at public restrooms on their way home and chuuya had to deal with the rancid odor that followed dazai as closely as his own shadow.

taglist: @justmycupoftea93 @loveliestmolly @darlingimawitch @b-i-t-t-i-e-s @browneyespinkhair @silverstar22x @stupidfrogfreak @anotakugardener @jhopesstickeredcarrier @joyfulartisanstudentlamp @spacedoutcoffeebeans @puddingowo66 @kaeyapng @beomluvrr @imobsessedwithskkanditshows

[nightingaelic]

Fnv Companions react to Fem Courier being trans girl (sorry feel abit of self projection today hahah)

Don't feel sorry for wanting to see yourself reflected in the world around you, we all want to know that we belong.

The Forecaster frowned, and his eyes moved rapidly from left to right as if scanning some hidden radar. "Your face does the thinking... two to the skull, yet one gets up," he said.

The courier who stood before the boy nodded and touched her fingers to her temple, almost reflexively. "That's me."

"Odds are against you," the Forecaster went on, squinting. "But they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You've changed suits once, clubs to diamonds, and now you're playing the hand you've been dealt."

At this, the courier stiffened suddenly. "Um..."

The Forecaster went on, unaware of his customer's discomfort. "But you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble... a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

"Um... thanks." The courier counted out the caps and handed them over to the boy, then beat a hasty retreat from beneath the overpass.

Once back atop Highway 95, she took her traveling companion aside. "Before you think I worked for some Mojave faction and deserted, that thing he said about changing suits... I didn't think he'd... what he meant was... I wasn't always..."

She sighed and ran a hand over her head. "Hell, it's about time I told you anyway. I'm trans."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stopped her before she could stumble into an over-explanation. "It's, uh, it's okay. I... may have already known."

"You..." The courier's eyes widened. "You did? But who told you?"

"I, um..." Arcade straightened his glasses and looked up at the sky, avoiding eye contact. "Oh boy. Doctor Usanagi..."

Immediately, the courier's eyes narrowed. "... doesn't betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was in one of her medical clinics that day you came in for the NEMEAN sub-dermal armor," Arcade finished hastily. "She, uh, asked me and a couple of the others to help her close you up."

"Oh." The courier relaxed her stance a bit. "Oh yeah, I remember. I mean, I don't remember you, but I do remember signing the form that said I was okay with med student assistance. Why didn't you say anything, when I first asked you to tag along?"

Arcade shrugged. "I don't betray doctor-patient confidentiality either. Usanagi hammers that into you pretty hard on day one. Besides, something like that doesn't matter much outside of a doctor's office."

Craig Boone: Boone shrugged. "Okay."

The courier's eyes darted around his countenance, looking for some kind of stronger reaction. "Nothing? Not even a 'congratulations' or a disapproving grimace? Who are you, Boone?"

"Unconcerned," he shot back testily. "Unless it affects your aim somehow, it's not a problem. If that's what you're asking."

The courier sighed. "No, it's... you're fine. I guess I'm still pretty defensive about it. Especially around NCR types."

Boone nodded. "There were a few officers that Manny and I operated under who weren't the open-minded sort. They didn't last long."

Lily Bowen: Lily looked positively stormy. "Did that young man just air your personal business for the whole trading post to hear without a care in the world?" she thundered, with all her grandmotherly might. "Let's go back, dearie, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

"Lily, no," the courier protested, grabbing the nightkin's arm before she could stomp off toward the overpass again. "He probably doesn't even know what he said, it's just part of his gift. And no one's going to put two and two together unless I tell them outright, like I did you."

"If you say so, pumpkin." Lily smiled and settled herself. "But I can always ask Leo for a little help if anyone has cross words for you about this."

The courier sighed and patted her companion's arm. "No need for that, Lily. That reminds me, you should take your medication today."

Lily wrapped her up in a hug. "You take such good care of Grandma, my sweet girl."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Mija." Raul smiled. "How long you been holding onto that for?"

The courier let out the breath she'd taken, and her shoulders sank back to a normal level. "Well not everyone takes news like that too well. I didn't know if you would... mind."

"Mind?" Raul shook his head. "Oye. I've lived a long time, out here in the desert. It's a lonely place, even if you're surrounded by a crowd on the Strip. You can lose yourself pretty easily, lose sight of what you want, what you are. I'd know better than most. If you held onto who you want to be, then that's a victory, in the Mojave."

"Um..." The courier's eyes were shiny with tears, but before Raul could comment or pull out a handkerchief, she'd enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thanks, viejo."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well, I'll be a gecko's uncle." Cass grinned. "You're serious? All this time on the road together, and you didn't think you could tell me that? I'm wounded, Six."

"Hey now, you were slow to trust me, too," the courier pointed out with a growing smirk. "I was gonna tell you after the Silver Rush situation, if we made it out alive, but then we did and you were riding so high at the Atomic Wrangler that I didn't want to dampen your memory of that day."

"Dampen my..." Cass chuckled and clapped the courier on the shoulder. "Better fix your metaphor there, Six. Rain in the desert is a good thing. And trust between friends would never dampen my day."

She held up a hand before the courier could protest. "I know, I know what you were worried about. Trust me, I'm not the type to froth at the mouth over propriety or 'family values.' Thought you'd've picked up on that, with my smart mouth and wanderin' eyes."

"Wandering..." The courier ducked out from under her arm and danced away, laughing. "Uh-uh. I helped you with your vendetta, now you help me with mine. Then we'll buy a drink at the Tops and talk, whiskey rose."

Veronica Santangelo: "You..." Veronica's eyes went as wide as the Mojave's full moon. "Oh. Oh."

Slowly, the Scribe sank into a sitting position on the cracked asphalt. "That explains a few things, I suppose."

The courier sat down next to her. "Like what?"

Veronica started ticking things off on her fingers. "Both that guy in Primm and the bartender in Goodsprings called you by a different name, but they were the same name and it sounded kind of like yours so I wrote it off as a coincidence. Benny didn't recognize you right away, even though he shot you in the head. And Arcade locked us all out of your room that time you took some shrapnel to the torso and were laid up in the Lucky 38 until you weren't covered in bandages."

"Oh yeah." The courier grinned. "Surprised you didn't piece it together sooner, then."

"I sometimes forget that's something people can do," Veronica admitted. "Remember when I said that some in the Brotherhood don't look too kindly on those who choose relationships that don't produce new children? Well, ditto and worse for those who want to transition. Most of the ones brave enough to do it anyway don't stay Brotherhood for long."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped in mock surprise, then whizzed around the courier three times playing triumphant music. She giggled and swatted the bot away playfully. "Go on then. I have no idea how you could've known, but there it is."

ED-E beeped quizzically once it came to a stop.

"Why hide it?" the courier responded. "Well, unlike robots, some people think it's strange to change your... parts. Or even just your classification. Honestly, it's old-world thinking, no clue."

The eyebot beeped long and low, almost like a coo of affection and reassurance.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side. The courier knelt down to his level and scratched his ears, inspecting his new brain and cybernetic limbs as she did.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she murmured, increasing her attentions as Rex leaned into her. "You probably already knew, with that amazing nose of yours. I think your owner knows, otherwise why keep spouting that line of his whenever I come around?"

Rex whined, and the courier smiled. "You know. 'Do what's right for you, so long as it don't hurt no one.' Got that seared into my brain as surely as that bullet, thanks to him. I bet that king he's worshipping never even said that."

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin. 

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had. 

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard. 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian. 

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain. 

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting. 

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know. 

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again. 

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death. 

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman. 

My father is an arms-dealer. 

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy. 

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t. 

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty. 

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people. 

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly. 

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer. 

“Starik,” I tease. Old man. 

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York. 

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise. 

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase. 

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital. 

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait. 

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details. 

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé. 

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored. 

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him. 

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option. 

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room. 

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature. 

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more. 

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest. 

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name. 

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now. 

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected. 

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello. 

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield. 

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello. 

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction. 

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave. 

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck. 

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys. 

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official. 

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual. 

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

sealing a deal

pairing: Sharon Carter x reader 

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight spoilers for TFATWS

word count: ~1,400

a/n: requested by @penparkz . thank you so much for your request! I’ve never done Sharon Carter before, but I hope you like it :) 

summary: newly arrived in madripoor, sharon attempts to strike a business deal with the reader. (set sometime between civil war and infinity war)

The club was dimly lit. Shadows moved in the colourful neon lights, bodies dancing to the sound of the newest bass-filled techno song. It was impossible to move around without jostling at least a couple of party-goers. They didn’t seem to mind either way, too drunk or high to really notice their surroundings. So, Sharon pushed on, gradually making her way to the bar. Subtly she attracted the barkeeper's attention, muttering the code word she had been given beforehand. With a nod, the burly man put two drinks down in front of her and told her to stay put. He disappeared without another word.  

While she waited, Sharon eyed the bottle in front of her. Its transparent glass revealed a strangely coloured liquid that seemed to change its hue depending on how the club lights hit it. Letters of a foreign language adorned the label, the paper of which was soaked from the condensed water that slowly ran down the side of the cold bottle.  

„It's an expensive drink. Very hard to acquire, “a voice quietly spoke up beside her. The blonde turned her head slightly to face its owner, eyeing the newcomer as they sat down.  

You continued, unfazed by her scrutiny.  

„In fact, I have to import it myself. It’s very costly, so I tend to reserve it for special occasions. “  

She cocked her head to the side, face not betraying any emotions.  

„And you think this will be such an occasion? “  

You simply smiled in answer, picking up the second bottle and holding it out to her.  

„I sure hope so. “  

Taking your cue, the blonde clinked her own bottle to yours, waiting for you to take the first sip before trying the liquid herself. The drink felt smooth in her mouth, tasting both fruity and bitter-sweet, with slight hints of alcohol underneath. You looked at her expectantly, and she nods, setting the bottle back down.  

„Not bad. Not sure if I'd go through all that trouble for this drink. But not bad,” she delivered her assessment with a polite smile.     

„Your honesty is appreciated. I can get you something to drink that’s more to your taste if you like,” you raised your hand to wave down the barkeeper, but the blonde stopped you, with a hand on your arm.

“That’s very kind of you but unnecessary. I'd rather just get down to business,” she told you, releasing your arm again. 

Slowly, you lowered your hand, regarding her with a calculating gaze. There wasn't much you could read from her expression as she kept her professional mask. Typical ex-government agents. You had run-ins with your fair share of them. They usually weren't much fun. Usually weren't as pretty as her either. Suppressing a sigh, you shrugged and took a swig from your drink.  

“Fine," you let out breathily, nodding at her, "I was told you had a business proposal for me. So go ahead. Propose.”  

The other woman wasted no time. Sharon launched into her explanation, going over the plans she had come up with. You listened patiently, letting her talk uninterrupted. She laid out her idea for a high-scale art heist. Nothing you hadn’t done before, definitely doable. She took out a tablet, showing you the piece in question. It was a portrait of a woman, sitting under a tree and looking out to a distant mountain, surrounded by fields of flowers. You were familiar with the work. Very beautiful. Very expensive.  

“The painting will be a part of a special exhibition in Tokyo this week, " Carter explained, swiping on her device to pull up a satellite picture, "Security will be tight, but less so than it would be in the museum. I know a guy who can get us the plans of the exhibition hall and details on the protocols. You would provide the forgery, of course. We’ll quickly swap out the portraits and transport the real one back to Madripoor. I already have a handful of potential buyers willing to pay astronomical prices for this piece. We’ll split our winnings 50-50.”  

You traced the grain of the wooden counter as you thought her plan over with a hum.

“That's a pretty tight schedule. My forgeries take some time,” you pointed out. The blonde remained unimpressed.  

“I've heard stories of you painting a Van Gogh, a Monet, or even a Botticelli in two days. This will be nothing compared to that.”  

“I see, you've done your research," you said with the slightest hint of approval, "Then you'll also know that I don’t usually work with newbies. It’s risky and I have a reputation to uphold.”  

You paused to let your words settle in, taking another sip of your colourful drink. You could feel Sharon’s gaze on you, as you pretended to carelessly look around the club.  

“I have a counteroffer," you went on, keeping your tone light, "You'll handle circumventing the security and selling the portrait. I’ll provide the fake and organize transportation. I get 80 percent of the money as compensation for the risks I'm taking for trusting new blood. In return, if this goes well, we can do more business together in the future and I’ll make sure to recommend you to a couple of my associates. Really get your business going.”  

You couldn’t hide your smile, as you saw her mask slip, a discontent frown settling on her face.  

“So, I'll only get 20 percent despite being the one doing most of the dirty work? I might as well be doing this whole thing on my own-"  

You held up a finger, stopping whatever else she was going to say.  

“Oh, but you can’t. Because your whole operation depends on me making that forgery for you,” you smirk. You saw the way her jaw set in irritation. She knew you were right. You were invaluable to her plan. Didn’t mean she had to like it. Fidgeting with the cold drink in front of her, she made up her mind.  

“45-55 split, and you get to choose the next target should we cooperate again.”  

“I thought that was a given," you dismissed her offer casually, "I can offer you 30 percent.”  

“Absolutely not. 40-60, or I'll look for someone else to help me.”  

You let out a laugh, shaking your head in genuine amusement.  

“Good luck finding someone. There’s no one even close to being as good as I am. If there were, that’s where you’d be,” you leaned back in your chair, “Besides, I'm being generous for even considering working with you. Folks around here aren’t overly fond of newcomers, especially ones that still smell of big government.”  

The two of you held each other's gaze for a moment. Her face was set in determination, eyebrows drawn together as she thought about her rebuttal. You had to admit you admired her stubbornness and resolution. Undoubtedly something she had learned from that great-aunt of hers. Your little staring also contest gave you time to reassess your offer.  

After all, you had done your research on her as well. And you weren't stupid. You knew working with her wouldn't be as great a risk as you made it out to be. She might be new, but she was skilled, and she obviously knew her stuff. Her previous training certainly came in handy too. All she needed were the right connections, and you were sure it was only a matter of time until she made a name for herself here in Madripoor. When that time came, you wanted her to be an ally. Or, possibly, even something more. You never could resist a pretty face.

Mind made up, you set down your drink and held out your hand to the blonde who eyed it with caution.  

“Here’s my last offer. I'll agree to your terms. You get 40 percent of the money. I'll guarantee to do business with you in the future and put in a good word for you, so you can establish yourself around here," you listed off with a grin, never breaking eye contact, “In return, you'll buy me another drink and let me take you out some time.”  

“Take me out?” Sharon repeated with a raised eyebrow. Resting her chin on the knuckles of her hand, she regarded you with interest. For a moment, you admired the way the neon lights danced across her face.

“On a date,” you clarified, “Unless you don’t want to. It's not a deal-breaker. I'd also settle for two drinks instead.”  

The blonde smiled in intrigue, leaning forward to take your hand in hers. Her grip was firm as you shook on your deal.  

“One drink and a date, it is.”  

___________________________________________

taglist: @fireflyglass @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[justmypartner]

Make it Work: Chapter 6

Summary: When offered a permanent position with the FBI, Hailey agrees to take it under one condition: Jay comes too. As their personal lives and work lives begin to change, the two partners find it increasingly difficult to navigate their complex relationship and manage their feelings for one another.

Writer’s Note: How’s everyone feeling after last night’s finale?? I’ve been feeling so many things, and this chapter did not help lol but it was super fun to write and I hope you can forgive me for the angst! As always, thank you so much for reading!

Tagging: @angelsjedi , @brookerz122493 , @cpdfan2014 , @the–carousel , @maya-asturias , @itsdesiree86​ , @tvshowsaremyhappyplace 

Read on AO3 or below

Several days had passed since the veteran’s convention case. Jay woke up out of breath, drenched in sweat with his heart racing several nights in a row following the case. His normal techniques weren’t working, so he met virtually with his therapist back in Chicago a few afternoons after work. He put in the work and before he knew it, he was back to sleeping through the night, nightmare free. He had kept his distance from Hailey during it all, not wanting her to know he was dealing with residual effects from the case. At first, she pushed against his distance, but she eventually granted him the space he needed. After three full nights of sleep, he was finally feeling himself again. He got up earlier than usual, stopping by his and Hailey’s new favorite coffee shop before heading into the office. She was already at her desk by the time he arrived, so he made his way over and dropped the cup on her desk with a light smile.

“Thank you,” she said, a twitch in her voice as if she were surprised by the gesture. “Finally feeling social again?” She asked as he dropped his coffee on his desk and pulled his chair out.

“I am. I just want to say thank you for giving me the space I needed… and for not asking why,” he told her. She smiled at him, looking down at the cup before bringing her eyes back up to his.

“Of course. Glad you got everything sorted out,” she returned with a warm smile.

That moment was the last time that day either of them felt anything resembling joy because they spent the next 13 hours working the hardest case they had taken on since they arrived in New York. About an hour or so after they had gotten into work, Drake received a call from an undercover agent who had been in deep with one of the major drug distributors in the city. The agent had gotten in close with the daughter of the crime lord, learning she had valuable information about his operations that she was willing to share if they could help her get away from him. Drake sent Walker and Daisy to pick her up, leaving Hailey and Jay to question her. They learned the dark reasons behind why she was so eager to get away and flip on him. Seven years ago, when she was just 14 years old, her dad began pimping her out to his associates, forcing her into a life of prostitution and drugs for the sake of his business. She felt trapped by the power her father had over her and the entire city, and it was only when she developed a close bond with the undercover agent that she felt like she had a real chance to break free from the abuse.

As they listened to the girl’s story, Jay could see Hailey slipping deeper and deeper into a dark place. Cases like this always prodded at her, touching that raw part of her that easily made her lose focus. He stuck close throughout the day but remained quiet knowing the last thing she’d want to do was talk about it. It was the silent support they were always able to give each other that he knew she needed. They gathered all of the information they could from the girl, setting up teams to take down the man’s stash houses and bring him in before he could get a chance to try and figure out who flipped.

Through the young girl’s intel, they were able to seize all of his product and shut down all of his operations, but he was on the run, desperately trying to get out of the city. Unfortunately for him, Hailey was desperate too. She insisted she and Jay worked out of the car, keeping in contact with every available law enforcement resource in the city to track him down. They were out and ready so that the second somebody had a lead on his whereabouts, they could be the ones to take him down. The sun was beginning to set when they got a call about security footage picking his town car up on the George Washington Bridge. Analysts were able to quickly find out that the target kept a jet in a hanger in Jersey, and the second the information was relayed back to Jay and Hailey, they were darting through traffic to cross the Hudson and catch him before he could get in the air.

It was one of those dramatic scenarios that felt straight out of a movie. The plane was rolling down the runway and Jay had his foot pressed to the gas, challenging the pilot head-on. The space between the car and the plane was closing in, and Jay’s heart rate picked up as he held steady in his speed, certain the pilot wasn’t stupid enough to keep the challenge going long enough to see how it would end. Sure enough, the plane began to slow, and he pulled around the side of the motionless plane, right up to the door with the angle and space needed if the two of them had to take cover.

“FBI come out with your hands up,” Hailey called out, positioning herself in the space of the open door, resting her elbows on the top of the car and door. Jay recognized a harshness in her voice that she seemed to only reserve for guys like him. The ruthless ones with no regard for children, more specifically their own children.

The door opened and the pilot came out with his hands raised high, their target and his guards followed close behind with guns and hands raised in the air. Hailey came out from her cover, way quicker than Jay would have liked, but he backed her, following with his gun raised out in front of him as she made her way to the three offenders. Jay took the guards as Hailey approached the target. From the corner of his eye, Jay noticed her gun still pointed at the man as he cuffed the guards. She brought it close to his chest, standing off with him as they eyed each other.

“Give me a reason,” Jay heard her say through gritted teeth.

“Hailey,” he called out to her, sending a disapproving look. Her gaze remained on the man, and she went around him kicking the back of his legs and sending him to his knees. Jay watched as she pressed her muzzle to the middle of the man’s back. He took a deep breath, staying quiet but watching her intently. He knew she never would kill him right there in cold blood, but he also knew she was hovering a fine line. One he had put himself on numerous times before in situations that would have ended much differently if she hadn’t pulled him away from it.

“Hail,” he called out once more, this time much quieter as if it were just the two of them standing there on the tarmac. With this, her eyes drifted over to Jay and met his look of concern. She brought her gun to her holster and firmly brought the man’s hands around his back. Jay let out a sigh of relief as he called for additional units to transport the men.

“You’re not worth it anyway,” he heard her say close to the man’s ear as she tightened the cuffs around his wrists.

When they got back to the bullpen to complete their paperwork for the day, Hailey worked quietly, deliberately avoiding Jay’s concerned gaze by burying her head into the files. She finished before him and headed out without a word to anyone. Jay knew the case had stirred up something in her, but he wasn’t sure how to address it or even if he should.

He finished his paperwork and headed home, spending the entire walk debating whether or not to show up at her door. A few blocks away he stopped in his tracks when he eyed a liquor store on the corner. It’s what she would do, he thought when he found himself entering the store and buying a bottle of tequila. It was a habit of theirs to force their company on the other when a case hit a little too close to home. They’d done it countless times before, but for some reason, on that night, Jay had a sinking feeling in his chest. He felt almost nervous, but he pushed through it as he pressed the buzzer to her apartment.

“Yeah?” Her quiet voice echoed through the speaker.

“It’s me… bearing tequila,” he said, leading to a loud buzz as the door to the lobby unlocked. He made it to her door, leaving three rhythmic knocks on the wood before taking a small step back. When she opened the door, he took in the sight of her probably less discretely than he would have liked. She wore an oversized shirt and a pair of running shorts that barely peeked out from the bottom hem of her shirt. The shirt was a light blue color that complimented her eyes so well, and it was so big the sleeves covered her hands. It made her look smaller than usual, and he couldn’t help but think about how adorable she was. He diverted his eyes quickly to the bottle in his hands to break the lingering stare.

“Figured you could use this after today… and some company,” he said timorously. She flashed him a fake smile before stepping aside and letting him in.

He stepped in, taking off his jacket and resting it on the back of the barstool in her kitchen before grabbing a pair of glasses and making his way to her couch. They sipped on their first glass in a comfortable silence, a low hum of music radiated from her stereo in the corner, and Jay could feel himself loosening up with every drop of alcohol that entered his system. By the third glass, they were both well loosened up, talking about anything and everything but the case for almost an hour.

“Are you okay after today?” Jay finally asked, the liquor giving him enough courage to try and push through that wall Hailey had put up much earlier that day.

“I don’t know,” she breathed out with a shake of her head. “I just don’t know how a parent could do that to their child,” she said, staring blankly in front of her before letting out an amused snicker. “Not that I have room to talk really, my father wasn’t exactly parent of the year.”

Jay looked over at her, thinking about her father for a moment. He knew only the few things she had revealed about him, but he had a clear picture of what type of man he was. This made him realize why the case got to her so much. The cases involving fathers and abused kids always did, and for good reason. It also made him think about his own father. Neither of them had any luck in the dad department, something they both became well aware of through the years.

“You already know, but my father and I had anything but a healthy relationship. I mean, he was nothing like that guy today or even yours, but he made me realize what kind of dad I don’t want to be,” he said before taking a swig from his glass. She looked over at him with a concentrated frown, like she was thinking deeply about something. Her eyes had a slight glaze. Jay convinced himself it was from the booze, but it could have also been because of the touchy subject they had just entered into. Her bright blue orbs held steady with his like she was looking right into his soul.

“Do you think you’ll want kids someday?” She finally muttered, holding steady in her gaze.

“Yeah… someday. You?” He said simply, a flutter building up in his stomach at the way she was looking at him.

“I used to be against it. I’ve always loved kids, but when I was younger I told myself I would never be like my father… or my mother even, and I figured the only way to avoid it was to just skip parenthood altogether. But, as I got older and started working cases that involved kids, I realized it was possible to be a decent parent even after going through what I went through. Sort of like you said I can use what I was given as a guideline of what not to be. I can give a kid everything I never had while also knowing exactly how to protect them from everything I did,” she said quietly. It was such an idyllic thing to say, and she put into words how he had felt about parenthood his whole life. Suddenly, he was imagining a world where they could each give that to a kid together. A kid that was the perfect blend of the two of them.

“You’d make a great mom,” he whispered, the words slipping right out of his mouth. Any other time, the statement would have created a weirdness between them. The entire conversation strayed from that of a normal conversation between partners, but for them, in that moment, it felt normal. She didn’t smile, she didn’t look nervous, she didn’t even try to protest, she just peered over at him from her side of the couch with a deep look, almost like his face was covered in a code she was trying to solve.  

“You’d make a great father,” she finally muttered after a few seconds of silence, maintaining the gaze between them. They were both still, trapped in a mesmeric gaze as the low hum of the music from her stereo filled the silence that fell upon them. Before he could say anything back, she stood and positioned herself back on the couch only inches away from him. Jay’s knee was tucked in, as his other leg hung over the couch and his chest rose and fell quickly at her new proximity to him. They were facing one another, close enough he could feel her breath against his face, and her knee came to rest on his, sending his heart racing even more in his chest. She brought a hand up and delicately began to trace her fingers on his skin from his brow, down the side of his face, and finally finding rest at his jaw.

“You’re a good man, Jay,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes as his breath shuddered with her touch. The alcohol in his system combined with the intoxication of her touch made him lose all inhibition. The part of him that always pushed down his feelings for her was gone, and all he wanted in that moment was to tell her how he felt. Show her that she was so much more to him than just his partner.

“Hailey,” he began, his breath coming out in irregular puffs as her hand remained on his face.

For a moment, he could have sworn he noticed her eyes drift from his eyes to his lips. But the tequila had created a fuzz in his brain that prevented him from trusting himself. He closed his eyes once again, ready to lay everything out and take a leap that could change their relationship forever, but suddenly he became hyper-aware of the alcohol coursing through both of their systems. This isn’t the way I want this to go down, he thought to himself. He opened his eyes, letting out a deep sigh before grabbing her hand from his face and holding it in his.

“We’ve had a lot to drink, I should go,” he said, standing as she wrapped her hand around his, grasping it tightly as he increased the space between them. It was like she was trying to pull him back to her, but more importantly, pull him back to that moment he was trying so hard to flee from.  

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, almost with dread. She nodded lightly, her eyes falling to the floor as his hand slowly pulled away from hers. She had a look of disappointment on her face, and he knew that even though he didn’t say a word she knew exactly what he was about to say before the sliver of inhibition he still had left pulled him back to reality.

He pulled his jacket on and made his way to her door. He paused and looked back at her, her stare still transfixed on the floor.

“Goodnight, Hailey,” he told her. Causing her eyes to raise from the floor and meet his from across the room.

“Goodnight, Jay,” she said sadly with a knowing look.

As he walked home that night, he dwelled on what almost was. He was seconds away from laying all of his cards on the table, from finally knowing what her lips felt like against his, but he was ultimately relieved that there was a part of him that was still sober enough to recognize that they deserved a moment so much better than a drunken kiss or confession. When the time came, he wanted their moment to be something that happened with a sound state of mind, not something that only happened because of a bottle of tequila. With that relief also came a looming sense of dread. If they both woke up the next morning with a clear memory of the almost moment, he knew there was bound to be a shift in their relationship. One that came with awkward interactions and avoiding one another. Part of him went to bed that night hoping there was enough alcohol in both of their systems to just forget about it entirely.

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟑𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬

AN: Massive thank you to my dearest @fromyourstrulyh​ who helped me sm with this chapter! Love you tons, Jess 🐚✨

Monday, 15 June

Fore Street wasn’t particularly busy this early in the morning. People were driving to work, and others were strolling by near the road, leaving the main shopping street of St Ives almost deserted. The bright yellow early morning sun peeked over the rooftops of the stone cottages, casting some of the street in a tad too chilly shadow and the other half in cool sunshine. Having just had breakfast with Bessie, Y/N was strolling along the cobblestoned street, relishing in the calmness at the start of the week.

Wearing her satin pleated forest green midi skirt, a white tee shirt and white Vans, Y/N was a little cold, but her walk wasn’t a long one. She walked by Vintage Divine a few times, but never gone inside, today that was going to change. With her tote bag at the ready in her purse, Y/N entered the vintage shop, quickly noticing she was the second customer there. She strolled on over to what looked to be a rack of dresses and long skirts. She had absolutely nothing else to do all day so she could spend all of it in here, she didn’t care. She’d most likely enjoy her time there very much.

Capital was being played over the speaker, and though Y/N wasn’t sure that was the kind of vibe a vintage shop had, she loved it regardless. It had been so long since she’d been in a vintage shop, and never had she had the privilege of buying something without having people inspect her finds when she got home. She was sure she walked around for an hour, maybe even a bit longer, before she recognised the voice talking behind the till.

Looking over, she saw Florence, one of the ladies in Bessie’s little knitting circle. She picked up the red and pink headband she’d been looking at before making her way toward her. When their eyes met, Y/N gave Florence a wide grin that she returned, waving Y/N over.

“Would you look at that? Speak of the devil, ey, Camila?” Florence said, gesturing at Y/N. A woman around the same age glanced at Y/N over the rim of her glasses, raising her eyebrows as she studied her.

“This is her?”

“Sure is.”

“Oh, my word, what an absolute beauty. Why Harry kept you away for so long is a mystery.”

“Aww,” Y/N chuckled. “Thanks. More to do with privacy than anything else, I suppose.”

“You know,” Florence said as she started scanning the items Y/N wanted to buy. “We were just saying, the person who most needs a partner right now is Harry.”

“Yeah, that lad’s been stuck in that lighthouse ever since his father died. It’s very sad,” Camila went on, making a point of looking at both Y/N and Florence over her glasses to see them clearly. “Maybe you can break him out of his shell a bit. Think having someone like you who can take him out will be good for him.”

“Harry likes being on his own.”

“That’s right,” Florence went on after Y/N, looking at Camila. “Y/N is living at the Crab Inn. At Bessie’s.”

Camila gasped. “He won’t even let her stay at his house?”

Y/N didn’t know why the two women were talking about her like she wasn’t there. Clearing her throat some, she said, “We don’t want to overwhelm each other. We haven’t stayed together for more than a few days before.”

“But don’t new couples bunny out in the first phase of their relationship?” Camila was as blunt as she was almost blind, Y/N thought.

This took Y/N off guard and she forced a breathy chuckle out, bringing a few quid out to pay Florence. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Camila looked to Florence and Florence only shrugged, Y/N didn’t know if that meant Florence agreed with Y/N or Camila.

“Harry’s a handsome bloke, there’s no reason-“

“Have you at least been to the lighthouse?” Florence asked to speak over Camila, giving Y/N a friendly smile. Y/N appreciated Florence stepping in when she sensed Camila taking it a bit too far.

Y/N nodded, probably a bit too frantically. “Yes, quite a few times.”

“Harry won’t let anyone to the top, says it breaks some rule or something,” Florence said.

“Think it’s just him and his family being a bit selfish, if you ask me,” Camila went on.

“Oh, now you’re being proper arsey, Camila.” Florence only sighed before turning her attention back on Y/N. “Been to the top yet?”

“First place he took me.”

“Of course,” Florence smiled. “See you around, darling.”

“Bye, Florence. Bye, Camila.” Y/N waved at the both of them, walking on out of Vintage Divine and on her way back to the Inn. She felt her heart racing quickly with the lies she’d just told. How could she be fake dating the lighthouse keeper and not have been to the lighthouse yet? Though she hated to lie like that, she reminded herself that the reason she was doing it was to get people off Harry’s back. He seemed like such a genuine lad; she’d do anything to help him. But lying about something she could so quickly change by just taking a walk to the lighthouse seemed silly.

Wednesday, 17 June

Y/N had never been this close to a lighthouse. She’d watched them from afar, never really given them any proper thought. They were an essential part of navigation at sea, but she had no idea how they worked, and until a few days ago, she hadn’t given thought to how they were operated either. She didn’t think lighthouse keepers were a thing anymore, let alone that they even lived in the lighthouse still. Maybe they lived in town and occasionally spent time in the lighthouse, but surely, they didn’t live there.

However, as Y/N walked along the gravel road leading up to Clodgy Lighthouse, that seemed to be the case. It was an elegant white building. Strangely the lighthouse looked like it hadn’t endured a single storm in the decades Y/N knew it had stood there. That therefore made her draw the conclusion that Harry was the one keeping this lighthouse under pristine and incredible conditions. It shone in the sunbeams shining down on it. At the very top, surrounding the beacon at the top of the lighthouse, there was black fencing, so Y/N guessed one could sit out there and get a pretty grand view of the St Ives Bay. Well, not all of it, but a pretty good 360 shot regardless.

Beside the tall white building, stood a one-storey hut. It was white as well, matching transparent embroidered curtains hanging from all the windows Y/N could see from her vantage-point on the gravel road. They were neatly tucked to the side, letting natural daylight stream in through the windows and in on what she assumed to be Harry’s house. It was rectangular, with a dark blue door in the middle of one of the shorter lengths of the house. In front of what looked to be a pebbled driveway sat an old yellow Ford Econoline, a very out-there car for someone who was so incredibly shy.

She did a 360, looking about the open moor that surrounded her. It was completely empty, with no one living near the lighthouse, and St Ives a 40-minute walk from here. It must be equally liberating and lonely, Y/N thought, not sure if she could muster living all by herself like this. But Harry seemed to be just the guy for this job.

Different coloured flowers were strewn around the lighthouse and Harry’s cottage, wild and untamed. It didn’t seem like Harry bothered cutting the grass around his house either, just mainly around the lighthouse, probably for better access, Y/N had no idea. However, upon closer inspection, all types of insects flew to and from all the flowers and plants, zooming away once Y/N hunched down and picked two flowers she didn’t know the name of. She liked the fact that the bees could roam around the little field without problem. They were welcomed and encouraged to stay. Y/N didn’t know if this was Harry’s intention, but she liked to think it was. She’d always wanted to get into gardening, but she’d never had the time.

The door to the cottage opened and Harry came to view, taking a few steps outside to see what Y/N was doing by the ground. She stood, smiling and waving as she made her way over to him. He wore a pair of tapered retro black jeans, cuffed at the ankles, along with a loose fitted white, orange and blue shirt, one part of the front tucked into his jeans. His feet were bare, and his hair was a mess. It looked like she’d caught him off guard.

“Hiya,” Y/N smiled, walking closer. “Good morning.”

“Ehm…” Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair. While doing so it was as if he remembered he hadn’t styled it this morning, hurriedly trying to make it look somewhat decent without the help of a mirror. “Morning.”

“Did I startle you?”

“What? Oh! No, no, I…” He trailed off, pointing through the door with his thumb but letting his hand fall to his thigh, hitting it lightly. “Just drinking me morning cuppa reading the  paper.”

“I’ve been up since 7, so I haven’t really done much besides eat and then walk here.”

Harry nodded, and for a few seconds, the two were left in silence as they just looked at one another. Neither knew what to say, or even what to talk about. They didn’t know what they had in common, or if they had anything in common at all. Y/N just knew she wanted to get to know the   man she was supposed to be in a relationship with this summer. Coming to visit his lighthouse and home seemed like a good thing to do. She didn’t know what Harry was thinking, but by the blank look he was giving her, she was starting to regret coming here at all.

However, that was not going to stop her. If they wanted to make this work, she didn’t want to make it awkward for them by not knowing how to act around Harry when they were around people.

“So,” she started, walking past Harry and his van. “This is the tall, pointy house you were referring to the other day.”

Harry followed her towards the lighthouse, unbothered by the gravel under his bare feet. “Yeah, it draws attention, doesn’t it?”

Y/N giggled. “How much time do you spend keeping it clean? It doesn’t look weather-beaten at all. Would’ve thought lighthouses to be in much worse conditions.”

“Trinity House comes and does a thorough clean about once a year, but I do most of the work myself. As long as the sailors can tell this is Clodgy Lighthouse, then it’s fine.”

She paused. “Trinity House?”

“The official authority of lighthouses in the UK.”

“Ahh!” She nodded. “And how do sailors know this is Clodgy?”

Harry pointed at it, referring to the entire thing with a sweeping up and down hand motion. “From the sea, a lighthouse may be identified by the distinctive shape or colour of its structure, by the colour or flash pattern of its light, or by the coded pattern of its radio signal,” he explained and the more he talked, the more Y/N could detect a northern accent. “When ships pass here, they’ll know it’s Clodgy by the pattern of the beacon, as well as the fact it’s completely white. Others may be other colours, for example white and red stripes. But Clodgy’s always been white, I couldn’t really change it if I wanted to. Not that I do.”

That was the most she’d ever heard Harry speak, from what she knew about him so far he wasn’t much of a talker. Too nervous and shy by nature, it seemed.

“I didn’t think of that before.”

“You also didn’t think they were operated by lightkeepers anymore.”

Y/N gasped, smiling at Harry as he tore his eyes away from her, his dimples showing as he glanced to the ground again. “He’s got bants.”

Harry chuckled. “Career in stand-up comedy next.”

She laughed, walking around the lighthouse and looking about the cliffs. They were steep, looking right down on big rocks that made up most of the Clodgy Point where the lighthouse was positioned. Harry was standing a fair distance away, leaning against the white building with his hands in his jean pockets. Because of the constant wind, Y/N walked closer and leaned against the lighthouse as well, studying the landscape and the ocean before them.

“I’ve mostly seen masonry and brick lighthouses, this is concrete,” she said, not wanting their conversation to die out this early. She’d just gotten here. Maybe lighthouses weren’t their main concern seeing as they needed to establish their relationship before facing other people, but it seemed to be what Harry was most comfortable speaking about and she wanted him to feel comfortable around her.

“Concrete and steel are the most widely used materials,” he said. “Concrete especially makes for an aesthetically pleasing design for shore-based lighthouses.”

“Shore-based? There are different kinds. I mean, I always thought lighthouses would be out on islands rather than on land.”

“Yeah, there are-“ He stopped himself, looking at her to his right and meeting her eyes for a few seconds. “I won’t bore you with lighthouse facts.”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t wanna know.”

He bit his lips together, turning to face the sea again. “Right.”

She continued to watch him, waiting patiently for him to find the right words to speak again.

He cleared his throat and went on. “There are two types of lighthouses, yeah? Those located on land and those located offshore. A land lighthouse like this one-“ Harry knocked on the concrete wall behind him. “-Its job is to aid navigation over land rather than water. They’re usually constructed in areas of flatland where the featureless landscape and prevailing weather conditions might cause travellers to get disoriented or lost. A tower like this is therefore visible for miles.”

“Makes sense.” Y/N nodded, glancing up at the house as Harry continued.

“Offshore lighthouses are the ones you seem to think of, they’re far from land. Reasons for them being built in that specific area can be ‘cause of a shoal, a reed, or a submerged island several miles from land. They’re there to warn sailors they’re close to dangerous territory, basically.”

“You know so much about this stuff.”

“It’s my job.”

Y/N laughed, maybe a little too loudly but she found it funny, so she didn’t see a reason to be embarrassed or excuse her loud exclamation of joy. “That explains your obsession.”

He smiled, meeting her eyes for a second before glancing at his bare feet. “What’s yours?”

“My job?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” Now it was her turn to not want to meet his eyes. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, it was just that her answer was so boring. Maybe even a little unusual, especially for someone who should’ve been in the middle of finishing uni right about now. “I don’t have one.”

“You doing uni then?”

“Nope.”

That got Harry to shut up. It was clear he didn’t know what other questions to ask after that. What did you ask someone who didn’t have a job and didn’t go to uni without sounding disrespectful or degrading? He glanced away, pursing his lips as he fell silent again.

“My Mum was a stay-at-home Mum, so I was kind of expected to end up the same way. Trained for it my whole life and all.”

“You don’t want to do that?”

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “I mean, it would be perfect in a sense ‘cause I could read all the time, but I don’t want to spend eternity reading, you know what I mean?”

“Know exactly what you mean.”

She smiled at him. “You don’t like reading?”

“It’s not something I do very often, no.”

“Boring.”

Harry chuckled.

“It’s fun,” Y/N said, trying to sound convincing, but she was sure that if some people didn’t like to read, she wasn’t about to force them to buy a book and read it. “Anyway, I got this one dream a few years back, but it’s silly, really.”

Just then, the same ringing tone she’d heard from Harry’s phone before sounded from his pocket again. He cursed under his breath and brought his phone up, looking at the screen for a few seconds as if reading something before shoving it into his pockets again.

“I…” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“No, if you have to take that, it’s no big deal.”

“It’s nothing, no one’s calling me-“ But he was interrupted by the ringing sounding again. He brought his phone out and brought it up to his upper right arm before checking it again, sighing before looking at Y/N. He gave her an apologetic smile before motioning back to the house. “Gotta get back in there.”

“That’s fine,” she said, really meaning it.

Harry nodded, biting at his bottom lip as the two of them walked back in silence. The wind was still harsh, but Y/N guessed that was because of the flat landscape and the ocean being right there. She was used to wind, but not as constant as this.

“Listen,” Harry said as they reached his front door that he’d left open. “I’m so sorry about the whole fake relationship thing. I feel like I pushed it on you, and you don’t really wanna do it. You don’t have to do it-“

“-I genuinely don’t have anything else to do all summer. I think it’d be fun.”

Harry nodded, running a hand through his hair. She could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Right, yeah.”

“We good?”

“Yeah, I just want to make it clear that we can break this off whenever. If it hadn’t been for me and my lie, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s honestly fine. It’ll keep my otherwise dull summer eventful and it’ll help you out. Think it works out fine, we just have to establish our relationship a bit so we don’t go around telling stories that contradict one another.”

His smile grew some. “Smart. We should definitely just sit down and figure it out.”

“What’s your number?” she asked, walking over to him with her phone in her hand. He reached for it, meeting her eyes to ask if it was fine that he grabbed for it. She gave him a little smile; he took it and typed his number into her phone. “Just so we can get a hold of one another and figure everything out. I’ll send you a text so you get mine.”

He kissed his teeth for a second or two and gave her phone back to her before saying so quickly Y/N barely understood what he was getting at, “Would you mind coming to Gracie’s birthday party on Saturday?”

Y/N remembered Jessa and Grace inviting her when she met them a few days prior, but she hadn’t thought about it till now. Harry’s brows were knitted together, something that resembled worry on his face as if he expected her to turn him down.

“Yes, of course! When? Oh!” Y/N jumped a little, suddenly experiencing a jolt of excitement rolling through her. “Has she got a list of things she wants for her birthday? I should get her a present.”

“You really don’t have to,” Harry said, but he was smiling.

“I think I do, and I love shopping.”

Harry’s smile widened and he looked at the pebbles under Y/N’s feet. “I’ll pick you up at 2pm on Saturday, then. It’s on the family farm, just a five-minute drive from town.”

“That sounds so lovely.”

“It’s the best place on earth,” Harry agreed, staying quiet for a couple more seconds before he seemed to remember why the two had walked back to his house in the first place. He shook his head quickly, clearing his throat and taking a step closer to the door. “Right, I’m sorry I can’t hang out more today. I got to… work.”

“That’s completely fine, I’ll talk to you later. You know where to find me.” She deliberately used that last sentence as he’d used it when they last parted ways, and it seemed Harry recognised that as well. He met her eyes as she started walking backward, giving her a genuine smile, one of his dimples showing. She waved her bouquet of two wildflowers, hearing Harry’s phone ring again as she turned around to walk off, and then his front door shutting quickly after.

Saturday, 20 June

Two different massive books lay on the desk in front of Y/N, one a little bigger than the other. She wasn’t sure which one was better to get her started, she hadn’t researched that before buying them at the Waterstones at home in Hampshire. All she knew was that they would both help make her achieve the same thing: master the UCAT exam. She hadn’t signed up for it yet, didn’t know when the next one was, but she knew that before she did that, she had to study first. But which one of the massive books was she supposed to open first?

The University Clinical Aptitude Test was used by most UK Universities on top of general applications, and academic qualifications, for their medical and dental programs. It aimed to help Universities select applicants with the most appropriate skills and attributes required to be a successful doctor or dentist. It was a test that Y/N, who was usually good at not stressing herself out, was sure would make her very nervous.

Her parents had never been interested in her achievements at school. They were sure she’d end up like her mother, and quite liked the fact she’d picked up reading and that she read as she did. It was an intellectual and quiet hobby they thought suited her well. Though Y/N loved to read, she didn’t want to study it in school. She didn’t want to taint something she found so much peace in with sleepless nights and forced readings. No, she had always wanted to keep that part of her life in a separate box from her academic one.

In school, she’d always thought science subjects to be fascinating. She ended up studying chemistry, biology, and maths for A-levels, she realised she did well in them because she thoroughly enjoyed her time there. Though it was hard, she liked how it opened her up to everything she wanted. Her parents hadn’t cared much for what she studied in A-levels, but it seemed to have shocked them that she did so well in subjects that juxtaposed with everything they thought Y/N was interested in. A little part of her was proud of herself for startling her parents like that; for doing the unthinkable in their eyes.

However, that was years ago now. Y/N hadn’t touched an academic book since. She was 25 and hadn’t gone to University like her friends from school. She hadn’t pursued her dreams. In her strict, rich family, she didn’t have to work a single hour for the rest of her life because her Dad had all the money they’d ever need. Plus, she hadn’t helped herself when she started going out with Dominic, another man who studied Business Management at University and someone whom Y/N’s Dad very much approved of. Y/N had been set. That was her life.

But she didn’t want that. She’d never wanted that. When she told her parents and Dominic this, they agreed it could get a bit tedious sitting around doing nothing but house chores all day. Y/N and her Mum had therefore volunteered at the hospital in town a few days a week, and some other days Y/N spent volunteering at a dentist. That was when she realised, she wanted to be a dentist. She didn’t really know why, had never really harboured a proper explanation for her interest, but she knew she wanted to be one. When Y/N told her Mum this, she just shook her head and took Y/N’s hand.

“What’d I do if you went away to uni, darling?” she asked, something that immediately sent a jolt of sadness and guilt through Y/N. Her Mum was right, she couldn’t just leave her. Y/N was the only child her parents had; she couldn’t disappoint them.

Y/N ran her hands over her face and then through her hair, forcing back the tears that were threatening to spill over. She wasn’t going to cry. She just wasn’t. Why would she cry? She’d escaped the life she hated back in Winchester, the two UCAT practice books she’d bought in secret at Waterstones were right before her, waiting to be opened and devoured. Why was she thinking about her life before this?

Y/N jumped up from her seat, looking at herself in the mirror beside the dresser. She quickly wiped away the tears on her cheek, as if doing it fast enough would hide the fact she was crying. She refused to cry.

Walking downstairs, she helped herself to a cup of tea in the kitchen, saying a quick hi to Bessie and her ladies before walking back upstairs. Putting her cuppa down on the desk, she gave her cheeks a little slap each, then sat down.

“Concentrate,” she hissed at herself, opening the window in front of the desk to let in some fresh air and seagull song.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the bigger of the two books, tapping her fingers against the blue cover as if bracing herself for what she’d find on the inside. Opening the   book and starting to read it was a commitment. That was a big if, because so far she had a ton of money on her credit card, but she didn’t have enough to pay for University tuition or rent.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to not think about anything but the contents of the book before her. If she wanted to do this, she’d have to do it with her whole heart, she couldn’t let anything distract her when she wanted to read for the UCAT. Inhaling slowly, she opened the book, reading the table of contents before the introduction..

She could do this, she believed in herself. She told herself that over and over again the next three hours, not losing sight of what she wanted and deserved. At the end of the day, if she didn’t tell herself those things, who else would?

“You look lovely,” Bessie said as Y/N stood in the lobby of the Inn, grinning from ear to ear. “Heading somewhere special, dear?”

Y/N looked down at her baby blue mini smock dress, small daisies printed and sporadically littered all over it. She smiled at Bessie, nodding her head a little. “It’s Harry’s little sister’s birthday.”

Bessie raised her eyebrows a tad, a knowing smile on her lips. She looked Y/N up and down again. “You’re going to that are you?”

“Yes, is this inappropriate?”

“No, no!” Bessie laughed. “I’m just happy to see you and Harry hanging out. He’s such a sweet lad.”

“He is, yeah.” Y/N was unsure if she should thank Bessie for the other day, or if it had been so long now that it would be weird. The innkeeper had never brought it up again, never talked about Harry until today, but judging by the raised eyebrows and smile on her face, Y/N was sure Bessie knew more than she was supposed to. However, seeing as she’d lied with Harry and Y/N, Y/N trusted Bessie to not tell people. It’d break Jessa’s heart for sure, and Y/N had a hunch that if that woman’s heart was broken, the entire town’s would be as well.

The mellow yellow Ford van Y/N had seen a few days earlier at Harry’s pulled up in front of the Inn’s open entrance. A pair of orange pilot sunglasses were perched on his nose, almost matching the exterior of the car. He reached down rolling the window down manually, giving Y/N a smile when their eyes met, and then Bessie the same one when he noticed her standing by the reception desk.

“You alright?” he asked just as the window got a bit stuck. He yanked the handle a bit to get it all the way around and stopped when the window was fully open. Clearing his throat, he reached to rest his arm where the window was no more, bumping his elbow and top of his head in the process. Bessie chuckled some behind Y/N, but Y/N held her giggles back. Opting for a smile instead once Harry met her gaze again.

“Get yourself a proper car, Harry,” Bessie said.

“This one works just fine, Bess.” Harry pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose as they slid down some when he bumped his head. “Besides, it’s massive.”

“Why do you need a massive car?”

“Massive car for a massive hunk.” He glanced at Y/N again as both women laughed at his remark. “You ready?

“Tell you-“ Y/N said as she stepped outside, on her way around the front of the car when she stopped herself, waving at Bessie. “Bye, Bessie!”

“Bye, dear! Have fun!”

Y/N opened the passenger side door and jumped a little to get inside the van, sitting down in the seat and putting her seatbelt on as she talked. “Tell you what, you got bants.”

“What happens when you grow up overweight,” Harry said, a smile on his face so she’d know he was making light of the situation.

“Oh?” Y/N asked, rolling down her window as well when Harry motioned for her to do so.

“The AC’s a bit fucked,” he explained, giving Bessie one last wave before driving off down the Terrace. Wind blew in on them, nice contrast to the scorching sun outside, though it was a bit loud, but Harry just talked over it. “But yeah, you got to be the cracking bloke who always tells jokes and makes everyone laugh. Why else would they want you in their circle?” There was a slight pause. “Actually, forget I said that. That’s an incredibly depressing place to start our day together, I-“

Y/N just laughed, finding the way Harry’s cheekbones turned all red and how he scratched at his neck in embarrassment, adorable.

“Sorry,” he said.

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, it’s completely fine.” She opened her purse, rummaging through it. “I got Grace this.” She held a headband out. Pink silk with red along the edges and red roses to match, Y/N had absolutely adored it when she saw it in Vintage Divine a few days before and she thought it’d look good in Gracie’s dark hair. “Dunno if she likes this kind of stuff, but if she doesn’t then Jessa’s free to take it.”

“If you give her something that nice, she’s going to cherish it and wear it every day. Mark my words.”

Y/N giggled. “Alright, I will mark them.”

Harry smiled a bit at that, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. When he didn’t notice her staring, Y/N took a few seconds to just study him and what he was wearing. A green and white tee shirt tucked into dark blue denim jeans, a pair of worn-down white Vans on his feet. He looked good, and the orange sunglasses made the whole outfit. She glanced away, not wanting to seem like a creep or like she was checking him out, because she was not.

“Who is coming to this birthday then?” she asked, putting the headband down in her purse again.

“Family. Maybe some of Gracie’s friends, but I think they’re having two separate birthday parties. Jessa and Gracie love a good social convention.”

Y/N smiled. “And you don’t?”

“I live by myself in a lighthouse.”

She laughed. “You don’t like people?”

“Nah, it’s not that,” Harry explained. “More the fact that I want to choose when to be around them, you know what I mean? I need a bit of breathing space, being around someone all the time makes me feel a bit claustrophobic.”

“Gotcha.”

Harry was silent for a few moments as he put on his turning signalled and then turned. “What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you like people?”

Y/N sat back in her seat properly, thinking about that question for a little bit. “Depends.”

“Okay.”

“If I don’t particularly like spending time with them, I don’t want to be around them.”

“Understandable.”

“But if I don’t know them very well yet or if I like them, then I don’t mind. I don’t like feeling lonely.”

“But if you don’t know the people you’re around, that’s just as lonely as being alone, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but if you don’t know someone, that’s potential to get to know them and make a friend,” she explained, watching as the town centre of St Ives started disappearing around them.

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, waving at someone out his window. “Can see that.”

Y/N smiled. “You seem popular, though.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, everyone seems to know who you are.”

“The former lighthouse keeper’s son, and now current lighthouse keeper. Think that’s why.”

Y/N shrugged, not wanting to press the subject as she didn’t want to force an image of him that she’d created in her head onto him before getting to know him. She had to trust what he was saying and make her own observations. “What’re you giving Grace for her birthday then?”

“Trip to St Austell next Friday,” he said, stepping down on the gas a bit once they were on a more deserted country road. “About an hour north from here. There’s gonna be a street market there and she loves going on trips with me. She gets to decide the music, what shops we go to, and I always buy her two ice creams even though Jessa has a strict ‘only one ice cream per trip’ policy. We usually don’t give one about that.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It kind of is, yeah.”

“Is there something special about St Austell, then?”

Harry turned his lips downward for a second. “Not really. Just know from a mate who travels there a lot that there’s gonna be a street market on their high street.”

“Every fortnight, there would be a market in the town centre at home. Anyone could put up a stall and sell their homemade stuff. There was always this cheese and this fish booth standing right next to one another, and they smelled absolutely rank.”

Harry smiled. “You don’t like the smell of cheese and fish?”

“I’ve never been a fan of cheese, and though fish isn’t bad smelling, it… right okay, doesn’t smell good, does it?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno, I’ve lived here most of my life, so I’ve gotten quite used to the smell of fish over the years. Doesn’t really faze me now.”

“Lucky you, then.”

“And cheese is amazing.”

“That’s a blatant untruth. How dare you?”

Harry laughed, scrunching up his nose some before putting his turning signal on and then driving off the concrete road and onto a gravel one. They drove in silence the last part up to the farm. Forest rose up around them, but not thick enough so that you couldn’t make out distant houses or driveways leading up to other farms or neighbourhoods. It didn’t take long till Harry drove down a wider driveway, a thin line of trees along the edge of the estate that Y/N assumed was the Styles family’s.

A brick house along with a smaller brick house stood at the end of the small drive. Stone fencing surrounded the house, but the field outside of it was lush, green, and huge. Cars were parked there and people were hanging out inside the stone fence, sitting on tables or standing chatting. Different coloured flowers grew in front of the fence and by the looks of it, Jessa was growing a lot of vegetables on the other side. There were a few trees behind the house and inside what seemed to be the main area of the lot, so Y/N assumed they were trees that grew fruits as well. She couldn’t seem to remove her eyes from the little country oasis before her. It looked so tranquil that she almost wanted to live on a farm herself.

Harry parked his car on the grass outside the fence along with the rest of the guests. The second Grace noticed the mellow yellow van, she ran out to greet her older brother. Harry smiled at the sight of her and stopped the car, quickly turning to Y/N as he took his seatbelt off and started manually rolling up his window.

“I won’t leave your side, yeah? This can be a bit overwhelming, and you’ve never met my family before-“

“-And I won’t leave yours,” Y/N assured him, nodding as she took off her seatbelt as well. “Harry, we need to discuss our backstory-“

“-Harry!” Grace shouted, banging on the door and trying to get it open.

“One second, Gracie, I’m rolling the window up.” He turned his attention to Y/N. “Just keep yours down, it’ll get hot in here ‘cause of the sun.” He made sure his was shut before he paused for a moment, blinking once. “Fuck, we haven’t-“

“-Harry!” Grace knocked on the door again, jiggling the handle. “You haven’t said happy birthday to me yet!”

He sighed, giving Y/N a look before turning toward his door. “Step away, Grace. If I open the door now, I’ll mow you over.”

Y/N stepped outside as well, for the first time then paying attention to the noise of the farm. She thought she heard hens somewhere in between the chatter of the party guests, the smell of the open nature around her offering something besides the salt ocean and fish of St Ives. On the other side of the car, Harry pretended to struggle picking Grace up, something that had his little sister laughing. He walked over to the other side to Y/N, Grace grinning from ear to ear when she finally saw who’d come with Harry.

“You came!” Grace exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“Couldn’t miss your birthday, could I?” Y/N grinned, opening her purse. “My birthday present isn’t as good as your brother’s, but here you go.”

She handed Grace the headband and as Harry gasped, Grace gasped with him. He put her down, letting her study her birthday present.

“It’s so pretty,” Grace said. “I think I like it more than Harry’s.”

“Oi!” Harry frowned down at her. “Hurting my feelings now, mate.”

Grace only giggled, giving Y/N a smile. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”

“There’s food!” Grace pointed at the house and started making her way there, expecting the two to follow. Harry made sure Y/N was tagging along before the two strolled after his little sister.

“How old is she now?”

“Seven.”

“Oh.” Y/N blinked a few times. “Thought she was ten when I met her.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh. “That’s weird.”

“Hey now. I don’t know what seven-year-olds look like.” Y/N nudged his arm with her shoulder. It only made him laugh again.

“Oh, uhm…” He swallowed, glancing between the farm and Y/N. “You don’t have to do this, but with my grandpa – or step-grandpa, I usually call him lolo, which is Tagalog for grandpa – the pamilya and lolo would really appreciate if you did the mano po.”

“Mano po?”

“It’s a gesture of respect for the elders, basically. You take their hand-“ Harry pretended as if there was a hand before him. “And you take their knuckles or their hand and touch it to your forehead. Instead of a handshake, you do that. We don’t really do it to anyone else here as we don’t have that much Filipino family in Cornwall, but lolo is big on it. It’s dying out a bit, not a lot are doing it anymore, but lolo wants to keep the tradition going, and it’s not really asking for much, is it? Plus, it’s very nice.”

Y/N smiled. “How lovely.”

“It’s performed with the right hand.” Harry waved his right hand in the air in such a way that had a few of their family members waving back at him, he played it off as if that was his intent, clearing his throat as he turned back to Y/N. “You say ‘mano po’ to him to kind of ask permission to do it. I don’t do that anymore ‘cause he knows me and expects me to do it, but I think he’d appreciate you asking first.”

“Okay, nice to know.”

“It’s very important for Filipino children to do this as it shows respect to the elders, but they continue to do it to their elders even when they grow up. They’re kind of asking for a blessing from the elder, it’s usually done when entering their house or seeing them.”

“Oh, so… this is a bit of a big deal?”

Harry huffed, shrugging his shoulders. There was silence for a moment before a quick, “Yes.”

“Grand.”

“Also might want to do it to nanay.”

“Jessa?”

“She once grounded Grace for not doing the mano po when she came home from school.” Harry opened the small gate leading into the farm. “I don’t think she expects you to do it, but I usually do when I see her.”

Y/N took a big breath, for the first time since coming to the farm feeling nervous. “I shook her hand when I first met her. Was that wrong of me?”

“Again,” Harry said, trying to give Y/N a reassuring smile. “She didn’t expect you to do the mano, but I think she’ll appreciate you doing it.”

“Harry!” Jessa called from across the lawn, waving them both over. Beside her sat a very old man in a chair by a table, surrounded by others that Y/N guessed also were family members.

“Hiya,” Harry said as they got closer, taking Jessa’s hand and bringing it to his forehead, touching her so tenderly and with so much respect it took Y/N’s breath away. She now understood why it was such a big deal to Jessa, Harry’s lolo, Harry, and their entire family, not just their Filipino part. As Harry removed her hand from his forehead, she grinned up at him, giving his hand a quick kiss before turning to Y/N.

“When Harry told us you were actually coming I started crying,” Jessa said, beaming so genuinely and widely her eyes were mere slits of pure happiness on her face. “Welcome to the farm!”

“Thank you so much,” Y/N smiled back, offering her hand and before Jessa could reach forward and shake it, Y/N said a soft, “Mano po?”

Jessa didn’t hide her surprise, but she was quick to wipe it off her face and nod once at Y/N. Jessa’s hand was warm and rough, reflecting the many years she’d lived on this earth and the hardships she must’ve gone through. Gently and with as much care as she could muster, Y/N brought Jessa’s knuckles to her forehead and held them there for a moment before lowering it. She understood why it was such an important tradition to their family now; it was respect. Doing so told the elders how much the youngers admired them, Y/N really liked it. Jessa squeezed her hand, gesturing with a pout of her lips to the right where lolo was sitting.

Harry was already taking his lolo’s hand, holding it to his forehead before lowering his lolo’s hand again. Harry gestured behind him, saying something Y/N didn’t catch. She smiled at Harry’s grandpa, offering to take the lolo’s hand and saying another “Mano po” to ask permission first. The lolo held his hand out for Y/N and she took it carefully, pressing the knuckles gently to her forehead for three seconds before lowering it again. The lolo didn’t give Y/N as much of a smile as Jessa had, but Harry had again explained how important this was to him. He’d most likely expected her to do it upon arrival. They shared a look and he blinked once, and for some reason, Y/N understood that was him telling her he appreciated her effort.

“Y/N, you have to try some of the food!” Grace took Y/N’s hand, dragging her away from everyone to get something to eat.

“Sorry, I’ll come over in a bit,” Y/N said to the little group, feeling relieved when Harry followed her and his sister. They entered the house, taking the first open door to the left to the dining room. The walls were a relaxing white, filled with pictures and lamps and art clearly made by kids. In the middle of the room stood the table, filled with food and drinks. And in the middle of it, taking up most of the space and hard not to have your eyes immediately fall to it, laid a pig.

“This,” Grace said, giving Y/N a plate before pointing at the first casserole of food. “This is shanghai lumpia, it’s one of my favourites. It’s egg rolls with sweet chilli sauce. This is sausage rolls, and scotch eggs, and this is palabok-“

“-Gracie,” Harry interrupted, standing on the opposite side of the table from them with a plate in his hand as well, helping himself to some shanghai lumpia. “Take it easy. Let Y/N have a look herself.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll let you look,” Grace said, making Y/N laugh.

“And what’s that?” she asked, pointing to the pig on the table that Grace had forgot to mention.

“Oh! Lechon!” Grace grinned from ear to ear. “It’s my favourite.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a whole roasted pig,” Grace explained. “It’s been cooked over charcoal for 6 hours. The entrails are removed and after seasoning, nanay skews the entire pig on a large bamboo stick and places it over the charcoal. You gotta be super patient to do it, which is why nay is so good at it.”

“The slow process makes the skin of the pig become very crispy and the meat’s always very tasty,” Harry chimed in, smiling at Grace as she nodded enthusiastically.

“A Filipino party is never complete without one. You know it’s a special occasion when nanay serves lechon.”

“So it’s served on special occasions?” Y/N asked, watching as Grace asked Harry to help her to a serving of it. He did, putting it on her plate as an excited squeal erupted from the seven-year-olds mouth. Y/N could see parts of Jessa in the small human before her and it made her very happy.

“Graduations, marriages, birthdays, Christmas, New Year’s, you name it,” Harry said.

“It’s my favourite part of special occasions.” Grace reached for a fork.

“While this all sounds lovely,” Y/N started, looking at the table packed with food. “I’m vegetarian.”

Grace looked to Harry. “Nay is gonna be mad with you.”

“Uhm, I…” He looked at Y/N, mouth opening and closing as he tried to come with an explanation. “I-I… There’s gonna be a brutal murder at noon.”

Grace laughed, finding Harry’s helplessness entertaining. Y/N was aware she should’ve told him before this, but it had completely slipped her mind. The last week had been incredibly interesting trying to convert into vegetarianism. It had been hard, and she’d slipped up a few times, but she really wanted to make an effort. She noticed Harry looking down the table frantically, eyes moving between the different dishes.

“I mean, if there’s no vegetarian food, I’ll just eat-“

“-Tarte!”

All of them fell quiet, watching as Harry blinked a few times, realising he’d just shouted that out loud. Biting his bottom lip and running a hand through his hair, he gestured at the pan nonchalantly.

“The root vegetable tarte,” he said, a little more calmly.

“Oh?”

Grace pointed at it at the other end of the table and Y/N walked over. “Nay makes the best root vegetable tarte. You’ll love it,” Grace smiled, watching as Y/N helped herself to a serving.

“Thank you, Grace.”

Someone shouted something from the front garden, Y/N recognised the voice as Jessa’s and supposed other guests had arrived. She was probably calling for Grace to come say hi.

“Don’t tell your Mum,” Harry hissed as Grace started making her way out.

“She’ll find out eventually.”

“Not from you.”

Grace walked outside and Harry sighed, gesturing for Y/N to follow him into the living room where they could sit and eat in peace. There were some friends of the family in there, but Harry only said a quiet hello before sitting down, shielding Y/N a bit from view. She supposed he did it more so she wouldn’t be bombarded with questions than anything else, she really appreciated that.

The living room faced the back garden; big and open, a few trees every here and there along with a greenhouse. A fireplace stood by the far wall, one sofa placed beside it and a telly before the sofa. There was another sofa opposite the dining room entrance, Harry had made the two of them sit in that one, clearly so they wouldn’t have to chat with the small group huddled behind the television. Again, in the living room as well, pictures of Harry, Grace, and the family were everywhere. Y/N had never seen this many frames on a wall before, or in a house even.

They started eating in silence, but Harry had barely managed to eat one lumpia before someone came over. He put the plate away, smiling up at the two women in their late 30’s it seemed.

“Y/N, my aunts Rachel and Abby. Aunties, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Y/N sat up a bit straighter as Rachel and Abby started talking over one another, high-pitched voices that showed of unapologetic excitement. They reached for her hand to shake it.

“Jessa has told us so much about you,” Abby said.

“Well, not much, anyway, but she’s talked about you. She’s obsessed,” Rachel went on.

“We’re Harry’s Dad’s sisters, by the way.”

“But Harry’s never told us where you’re from! Where are you from?”

“And how did you meet?!”

“Harry hasn’t talked much about you, he likes to be a bit mysterious, don’t you, Haz?” Rachel pinched Harry’s cheek, laughing a little at his grimace.

“No, but seriously, how did you meet? Where was your first date?”

“You’ve kept her a secret for so long, we need to know everything.”

“Auntie Abby, Rachel,” Harry said, chuckling a little as he sighed. “You’re gonna overwhelm her if you keep going.”

“It seems unlikely that a lad that quiet has a loud family, doesn’t it?” Abby asked, nodding in the direction of Harry, but asking Y/N the question. Y/N was about to say something when Rachel interrupted her.

“You look proper posh. Don’t reckon you’ve ever made a flowerbed, have you? Harry,” Rachel said, looking at Harry. “Did you get yourself one of them posh girls from London?”

“Alright.” Harry stood from the sofa. “We’re escaping.” He turned around, offering Y/N his hand. Him doing that took her a bit off guard. They’d never touched each other, and they were just going to start holding hands? She hadn’t felt a jolt of panic till then, she didn’t know why. Gently, she placed her hand in his. It was soft, rough as if he was used to handling mechanics and doing manual labour, but the skin was soft regardless. She didn’t know how he managed the combination.

He helped her up into a standing position, letting go of her hand when she stood right beside him. They left their plates behind as Harry manoeuvred his way around his aunties, making sure Y/N was following him as he made his way up the stairs in the foyer.

“It was nice meeting you,” Y/N called over her shoulder, smiling at them. She hoped it came across as genuine. Harry walked up the stairs and down the corridor to his right, entering the room on the left. He held the door open for her, closing it once they were inside.

He let go of a small groan. “Masters of doing my head in.”

“They were very chatty.”

“One way of putting it.” Harry sat on a single bed and it was then that she noticed they were in a bedroom. The walls were a bright green colour, posters of different Manchester United players and other football things. Y/N didn’t know enough about the sport to say anything definitely, but she knew the Manchester United logo when she saw it. The room was fairly small, only a wardrobe pushed up against the same wall the bed was and a tiny desk under the window. Judging by the picture of a man and a boy on the nightstand, Y/N concluded this had to be Harry’s childhood room. That picture was of him and his father. They looked so much alike it warmed her heart. She wouldn’t pry, but she continued to look around, letting Harry sit in silence on the bed for a minute or two.

“Wondered why you had a bit of a northern accent,” she said, gesturing at the posters. “You’re from Manchester?”

“Mancunian at heart, yeah.”

“Why’d you move down here? Don’t northerners hate the south and southerners?”

Harry smiled a little at that, looking at her. “Depends on what kind of southerner you’re talking about.”

Y/N chuckled, glancing at the posters again. “The posh ones.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Only those from London.”

Y/N kept her eyes on the posters. “So, why’d you move? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Hmm,” Harry said, looking out the window at the party going on outside. “Dad wanted us to move. He got the position as a lightkeeper since his Dad died, so we moved down here and on vacation in the Philippines a few years later, he met Jasmine.”

Y/N smiled. “I love that.”

“Yeah.” Harry let that word hang in the air between them for a few seconds. She looked down at him. “Anyway,” Harry got up from the bed, running his hands through his hair. “We need to figure out what we should do. When did we meet?”

A little taken aback by his sudden urge for them to establish their relationship, Y/N stood just glancing at him for a moment. Though she had no idea where to start, she thought nailing down location could be key first. “Have you been to Hampshire?”

“No.”

“Then, to keep some truth in there, we say we met in Newquay since it’s in Cornwall, ‘cause I’ve been there with my family a few years back. We met…” She narrowed her eyes, trying to think of an appropriate time.

“Last summer?” Harry suggested.

“And we’ve been talking on and off since.”

He nodded. “Didn’t get serious till April, since then we’ve kind of been seeing each other.”

Seeing how eager they were at building their backstory, Y/N smiled a little. She remembered something he’d mentioned earlier. “It wasn’t till the Exeter trip in May that we made it official,” she went on. “Did you actually go to Exeter? Do you have the hotel you stayed in?”

“I did and yes.”

“Right, we’ll use that if people ask us about where we stayed while there.” She brought her hand to her chin, looking out the window as she thought for a moment. “What did we do on our trip to Exeter? What kind of activities would two adults in a relationship be doing in Exeter?”

The room fell quiet. Harry cleared his throat. When Y/N turned around, he was scratching at his neck again, looking at the ground. “I mean…” There was a pause. “They do… Do…” Another pause. “New sightseeing.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, dragging it out as she put her hands on her hips. “I suppose they do. What kind of sightseeing would we be doing?”

He seemed to be caught off guard by that, swallowing thickly. Y/N noticed a slight flare to his cheeks. “Dunno… Depends o-on what you’d wanna do.”

“What you mean?”

“What you’d be up for that early in the relationship.”

“Oh, I would be up for anything.”

Harry looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Any… anything?”

“Yeah, I want to experience everything.”

A whispered, “Everything,” left Harry’s lips.

“Think we’d spend a lot of time sightseeing, especially if we were in a town where there’s loads of places to do it.”

Harry just looked at her.

“Okay,” Y/N smiled, leaning against the desk. “So, we met in Newquay last summer. Where?”

“Oh, uhm-“ Harry’s voice broke towards the end, he cleared his throat quickly. “The beach.”

“Classic. Were we with friends?”

“No.”

“Even better.”

“Neither family knew till around the Exeter trip that we were together?”

“You play off what you’ve told Jessa and Gracie, I’ll say my family knows, but I didn’t tell them till I left just now for St Ives.”

“Why not?”

She waved it off. “Overprotective parents.”

“Okay, uhm…” He looked out the window behind her as he thought for a bit. “How did we start talking on that beach in Newquay?”

Y/N cocked her head to the side, allowing herself time to come up with something good. “I could’ve come up to you and just asked your name, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“I mean this in the least disrespectful way possible, but you seem very shy, no idea if that’s your kind of move.”

He smiled a little. “Shy or not, don’t think I would’ve had the courage to walk up and ask for your name and number.”

She narrowed her eyes a little at him, unsure how to interpret that. But Harry didn’t let her dwell on it for long.

He kneaded his palm with the thumb of his other hand, averted his eyes from hers as he hid his face in the little shadow the room provided. “But yeah, I… I like my own company, I guess.”

“Sorry, daft of me to just put it like that.”

“No, you’re completely right. We’ll go with you coming up to me.” He looked down at his hand. “Why were you in Newquay then? And why was I?”

“I was there with family, but I went to the beach alone that day.”

He nodded a little. “I’ll say it was a lads trip then.”

She smiled at him, feeling herself let out a small sigh of relief. They were getting a pretty good overview of the beginning of their supposed relationship. “And we went on a date in Newquay?”

Harry nodded just as the phone in his pocket started ringing. He sighed, reaching for it with a slight tremor to his hand. He dragged it out and pressed a button before turning back to Y/N.

“Aren’t you gonna answer it?”

“No, no one’s calling.”

“Then-“

She stopped as it rang again. Harry groaned and brought it up to his upper arm before checking it again, sighing as he gestured at the door.

“Need to go do something,” he said.

“Oh.”

He stepped out of the room and disappeared from view, but a second later he poked his head through the doorframe to look back at her.

“You’re not coming?”

That got her moving. She followed him downstairs and back into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, bringing a cartoon of milk out and putting it on the counter before reaching for the cupboard behind Y/N.

A hushed, “Sorry,” left his lips and he was quick to step away from her after retrieving the glass. He poured himself some milk and then chugged the glass. Y/N had just thought it was him getting a sudden urge to have a glass of milk, but as he started pouring himself another glass, she debunked that thought very quickly. She watched him till the second glass was down, not saying a word as she didn’t really know what to say to that. Did he just love milk? And why did they have to stop mid-conversation for him to have two glasses?

He looked at her and when he caught her staring, he let a breathy chuckle leave his lips before glancing at the milk carton again. “Sorry about that. It helps my blood sugar.”

Y/N furrowed her brows some. “Pardon?”

Harry turned his body so his right side was facing her, dragging the arm of his tee shirt up till his shoulders. A white patch was attached to his skin, a bit larger than a fifty pence coin, round and standing in soft contrast to his tanned skin. Y/N stared at it for a few seconds before meeting Harry’s eyes again, not knowing what to make of what he was showing her.

“Diabetic.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Type 1. Had it for…” He trailed off as he thought. “About 12 years now. I think. Time’s a social construct.”

“And milk helps when your blood sugar is low?”

“Yeah, that alarm is to tell me my blood sugar’s getting low or too high. It doesn’t happen all the time, by the way. You’ve just caught me when I haven’t eaten in a bit and my blood sugar’s been low.”

“So, what’s that white thing got to do with you being a diabetic?”

“A needle’s attached to the sensor which constantly checks my blood sugar, and that’s connected to an app on my phone, yeah? So it sends signals when the blood sugar’s extra low or high… Makes sense?”

“Ahh,” Y/N said, nodding. “Got it. I think.”

Harry poured himself another glass before putting the milk back in the fridge. “Suppose I should’ve told you earlier, it’s a pretty big part of my life.” He laughed a bit as if to make light of the situation, but Y/N only shook her head.

“Just ‘cause we’re fake dating doesn’t mean you have to tell me things about yourself that you don’t want strangers to know.”

He held onto his glass of milk, only looking at Y/N for a few seconds as if he was thinking about something. He shook his head a little, bringing his glass to his lips. “I’m not ashamed of it, if that’s what you think.”

“There you are!” Jessa walked through the front door, grinning just as widely as always upon seeing Y/N. She practically skipped into the kitchen and up to the small round table positioned in the middle of it. “Have you introduced her to everyone, Harry?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, people are absolutely dying to meet the woman who has captured our Harry’s heart.” Jessa put a hand over her own heart, looking at Harry with so much love it made Y/N almost tear up a bit. “Everyone’s so happy for the two of you.”

Harry and Y/N looked at one another. Harry’s expression was blank as if he was waiting for her reaction to Jessa’s excited exclamation, so when Y/N scrunched up her nose and smiled at Harry, the dimples in Harry’s cheeks started to show some as well. They didn’t know what else to do or say to Jessa’s statement, but judging by her reaction, it was the correct response. Jessa gave the two an applause no one asked for, but she looked so incredibly happy Y/N didn’t mind.

“Y/N, you have to come to the beach with us on Monday!”

“Nay,” Harry sighed, opening one of the drawers by the counter he was leaning against and pulling out a bar of Dairy Milk. He got himself a row before placing the bar on the counter and then eating his row.

“No, it’ll be amazing. You’re always welcome around here, know that,” Jessa said, that bright beam of hers not once leaving her face once. “Monday we do kamayan on the beach. It’s a summer tradition in the Styles-Flores family!”

Harry looked at Y/N again, swallowing the last of his chocolate. “You don’t… You don’t have to come if you don’t wanna.”

Y/N looked back at him, her smile still present. “Of course I’ll come.”

“Yay!” Jessa clapped again. “I’ll go tell everyone then, they’re going to be ecstatic.” She jogged out the front door then, walking over to a small group of people and saying something that Y/N guessed was the news of Y/N coming along to the beach.

Harry downed the rest of his milk before putting the glass in the dishwasher.

“I almost feel a little bad that we’re going to break up at the end of summer now,” Y/N said, speaking so lowly that only the two of them would hear.

Harry glanced out the window of the kitchen at Jessa. “She’ll be devastated, but I just need to take her on a little road trip and play her some music and she’ll be fine.”

Y/N smiled. “Both Jessa and Gracie love it when you take them on a road trip and they get to listen to music.”

Harry chuckled some. “Guess they do.”

The both of them looked out the window at the garden where both sides of the Flores-Styles family were mingling. Jessa walked up to Harry’s lolo, grinning like always, and Y/N thought she might’ve seen Jessa’s Dad smile back at her. It was hard not to when the woman genuinely glowed and brought happiness with her wherever she went.

Y/N turned back to Harry again, catching him looking into the living room where his aunties were sitting on the sofa he and Y/N had been sitting in earlier. They had his abandoned plate of food between them, eating while they talked about some gossip Y/N couldn’t and wasn’t interested to keep up with.

“Harry,” she said, voice low. He looked back at her. “About… About the diabetes, I-“

“-No, I…” He averted his eyes to the tiled floor of the kitchen, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “Let’s not talk about that right now. My blood sugar will get better in a bit, I’ll stop shaking. We can go outside and chat with some of me family members.”

“You’re shaking?”

He let out what sounded like a short chuckle, holding his hand up so she could see that he was indeed trembling. “Hypoglycaemia. It’s normal.”

“Ahh, yeah, I’ve heard of that.”

“Anyway,” he said. “Let’s not think about that now.”

Y/N inhaled hugely, pushing away from the counter to look at Harry without turning her face. “Shall we mingle like couples do, boyfriend?”

He leaned his head back against the cupboard, running a hand over his face before taking his sunglasses off the top of his head and putting them back on. “We shall, girlfriend.” 

He gestured with his arm for her to walk first and she did, waiting for him to appear beside her once they were outside. He walked her over to where Jessa was standing beside her Dad, saying something to a taller man who stood beside her. His grey hair was slicked back, the shirt and trousers he wore looked worn-down and old, but they looked good on him still.

“Uncle Tom,” Harry said as they approached, a smile on his face as the tall man glanced over. “Hi.”

“Harry! Heard someone say you were here and I saw your car, thought you were hiding from me.” Uncle Tom gave Harry a big hug, patting him on the back a few times before they stepped away from one another. Tom’s eyes settled on Y/N, a smirk on his face as his eyes darted between Harry and her a few times. “So, this is the infamous Y/N.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, waving her hand some as if to dismiss the ‘infamous’ part. “You lot make me feel like a celebrity.”

“Well, when you make our Harry happy, in our eyes you are a celebrity.” Uncle Tom opened his arms, bringing Y/N into a hug she returned quickly, wrapping her arms around him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged someone. “I’m Tom, Harry’s uncle,” Tom said as he pulled away from Y/N. “I’m not really his uncle, just very good friends with his late Dad.”

“I’ve called him Uncle Tom since forever.”

“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Tom,” Y/N said.

“And I hear,” Tom started, pointing at Jessa over his shoulder, who was still chatting to Harry’s lolo. “You’re coming to the beach next week.”

Harry made a noise. Y/N wasn’t sure what it meant. “Jessa forced her.”

“No, no. Don’t listen to him.” Y/N looked at Harry as he looked at her. She gave him a smile before looking back at Tom. “I want to come; it’ll be an honour.”

“Cheers. It’s one of those trips we take around the beginning of summer every year. The entire family comes, we bring food, and we spend most of the day there. It’s not an extravagant tradition, but it’s ours.”

“It sounds so nice.”

Tom smiled. “The way you’re dressed and judging by how polite and well put-together you are-“

“-Uncle-“

“-I would’ve thought a casual beach day with poor folks down south would sound dull?”

The way Tom said it wasn’t degrading, and Y/N could tell by his smile that he wasn’t saying it to challenge her in any way. With one hand dangling at his side and the other placed on Harry’s shoulder, he looked quite relaxed and not at all like he was trying to interrogate or make Y/N feel inferior. No, he was just wondering. Which was fair, because it seemed a lot of the people in Harry’s family and in St Ives had picked up on the fact Y/N had grown up in a very posh household. The question of why her wealth was so important for them to point out was something she didn’t bother thinking about. It didn’t define her any longer.

“Not dull at all. Maybe even a little refreshing. Don’t get to go to the beach much since I don’t live near one.”

Harry nodded. “We, uh… We actually met when the lads and I visited Newquay last summer. On the beach.”

“You mean you met on the beach?” Tom asked and Harry nodded. Tom glanced at Y/N again. “And you like the beach, Y/N?”

“Love it.”

“Maybe you should move here then. From what I’ve heard, Harry’s left the solitude of his lighthouse a few times already to be with you in town.”

“Only twice,” Harry mumbled, but Tom ignored him.

Y/N only laughed. “A bit too early to think about that. We’ve only been seeing each other for two months now.”

“Nah, this family moves fast, darling. If we fall in love, we fall hard, and we fall fast. Why measure love in hours spent together when it could be measured by the quality of that time, instead of the quantity?” Tom said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “Ain’t that right, mate?”

“No comment.”

Tom grinned. “Alright, alright.”

“I’m gonna take Y/N for a stroll so she can meet the rest, just wanted her to meet you first,” Harry said, looking to Y/N for some kind of confirmation, that she was okay with this.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’ll see you two Monday, then,” Tom smiled, giving both a wink. He had the kind of old Dad charm that made you feel warm and safe, Y/N understood why Harry considered him family even though he wasn’t.

“Bye.”

“Good to meet you, Tom.”

“And you, Y/N.”

The rest of the afternoon went by very quickly. Harry introduced her to some other friends and family members, and though they asked them questions about their relationship, the two seemed to have already gotten a pretty good overview of what it was. That little chat in Harry’s childhood room had done wonders to get their head in the game. That, and the fact their relationship was so new meant there wasn’t a lot to tell, so some questions the two simply did not know because it wouldn’t be realistic for them to have experienced or thought about that yet.

At one point, Grace asked Y/N to help with her new headband. She didn’t know how to wear it in her hair, and she needed help. The two sat down on a bench beside the barn – which, by the sound and smell of it, housed hens – and Y/N helped Grace. The red and pink looked gorgeous in her black hair, and when she turned around and looked at Y/N once she was done putting it in, she grinned from ear to ear and asked, “Do I look pretty?” Y/N didn’t even have to hesitate before telling Grace she looked absolutely beautiful. The seven-year-old blushed and ran over to Harry who was walking over to them. He picked her up, throwing her small form in the air before bringing her to his hip again.

“Ready to leave?” Harry asked and Y/N said she was.

They said goodbye to everyone, and Jessa brought Y/N’s hand to her lips, kissing it quickly and giving it a warm pat before she let her walk off. Jessa, Grace, Uncle Tom, and Lolo stood by the white tree gate as Y/N and Harry left, watching the mellow yellow Ford van drive off down the gravel road. The sun was about to set, causing the sky overhead to bathe in a soothing orange and purple colour that promised sunny weather the following day. The drive back to the Inn was short and quiet. The silence lingered somewhere between exhaustion and awkwardness, and though Y/N wanted to say something to erase the tension, she couldn’t bring herself to.

When the town started appearing a bit more around them, she felt the phone in her purse vibrate. First she didn’t know what was happening, but then her heart suddenly dropped. She felt hot all over, the wind from the open window didn’t do anything to cool her down. Swallowing thickly, she tried to ignore it. But it was hard when the purse was in her lap. Harder when it was so loud. Even harder when her heartbeat sounded in her ears. As if the quiet in the car hadn’t been loud enough, the sound of her phone vibrating and her not picking up, was louder. There were only three people it could be. She didn’t want to bring her phone out to see which one it was. The ringing stopped after an excruciating 30 seconds, and Y/N closed her eyes. Just ignore it. Just ignore them. It’ll be fine. Ignore it and it’ll go away.

They arrived a minute later, and Y/N was grateful Harry didn’t ask about the phone incident. She stepped out and around the car, the smell of the sea surrounding them once again.

“The beach thing on Monday,” Harry said as Y/N stood by the entrance to the Inn, his window rolled down and orange sunglasses resting in his messy hair. “It’s on Porthmeor Beach. Send me a text when you start walking from here and I’ll walk in your direction, I’ll meet you, yeah?”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

He shook his head once to dismiss that. “Goodnight, Y/N. Cheers for today.”

“It was fun.” She gave him a little wave. “Goodnight.”

He started his engine as Y/N walked inside. Bessie stood by the reception desk sorting through some documents. When Y/N glanced in her direction and met her eyes, the innkeeper quickly glanced away, but the tiny smile on her face gave her away. Once in her room, Y/N checked who had called. It had been a few minutes now and they wouldn’t care to call again tonight, she thought. The ‘Mum’ on her locked screen made something inside her chest ache. She opened her phone to remove the notification but then closed it again a second later. Her Mum had called. After days of no one reaching out, of no one asking her where she was, of no one caring. Her Mum had called.

Changing out of her dress and removing her make-up, Y/N didn’t allow herself to think about anything. The only thing she allowed herself to focus on was a blackness. If you focused on nothing, nothing would hurt you. She didn’t want hurt. She’d had enough of that.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 16 August, 9PM GMT!

A HUGEEE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​ 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @honeydearly​ 🌊 @summerfeelng​ 🌊 @withallthelove-a​ 🌊 

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #16

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Colombo’s Bookstore

Sri Lanka didn’t have as many bookstores as Japan. It had about three times as many used car shops as in Japan, I believed. But there were few bookstores.

In the first place, be them used car stores or bookstores, the shops were by no means big. This country was a tiny island with a national territory smaller than Japan’s, so lands that had forest reserves of local nature in them and real estate were probably valuable. If anything, I had an affinity for the place. But it was a pity that the bookstores were so few.

I often spent my time alone nowadays, so above all else, I appreciated having anything to read. I wasn’t the bookworm type, but there were just too many book-selling places in Japan. If you were getting off at some notable station in Tokyo, no matter which one it was, there would be at least one bookstore within walking distance. I also had a fresh memory of Saul-san telling me that “Japanese people really like their books”.

A street vendor was selling scissors in front of a bookstore in the sunlit streets of Colombo, the capital of Sri Lanka. Why did he decide to sell scissors by the road? And right before my eyes, a person on a bus riding slowly down the avenue was buying a pair of scissors from him. Did they have some bag that they wanted to cut open no matter what or something? I had no idea, but anyway, this was a world that operated with standards different from Japan’s, in which supply and demand were apparently well-established.

With glass doors, the bookstore had a magnificent structure and felt nice and cold when I stepped in. The study reference books were on the second floor, so I went up the arched stairs that parted to left and right, searching for the shelf that I was aiming for.

There you are.

I took three books from it, and when I went to the checkout, the female clerk, dressed in a sari, asked me, “Is this all?” in English. The official languages ​​of this country were English, Sinhala and Tamil, with English being spoken by both Sinhalese and Tamils. I believed she was Sinhalese. Because the sari was not a Hindu but a Buddhist thing.

“These are volumes 2, 3 and 4. What about volume 1?”

“I bought just volume 1 a while ago. And it was really good, so I also wanted to learn the rest from this book series.”

“So you’re studying Sinhala. That’s rare. Where are you from?”

“I’m Japanese,” I answered.

What I had come to buy was a Sinhala language study reference book. It was a book for people who couldn’t read Sinhala, so it was, of course, written in English. Even so, I had read it a little before traveling. I also found and purchased a Sinhala language study reference book written by a Japanese scholar, which I was able to buy in Japan.

Regardless, it was kind of useless for my range of understanding, so I almost felt like throwing it away before I could learn anything. I told Saul-san about this when asking him for advice, at which he burst into laughter and then bought me a red paperback book.

A Sinhala book written in English.

The letters were very large and there weren’t too many words. As for the quality of the paper, on the bright side, it was straw paper, and on the downside, it was gray and flimsy. But the contents were very easy to understand and the insides were firmly packed.

This reference book taught Sinhala letters first, as well as the meaning and pronunciation of each one. From that point onward, I couldn’t be more thankful for it. Sinhala was a language written with a Sinhalese alphabet, after all. In addition to vowels such as A, I, U, E and O, it jumped on to a variety of consonants and other symbols that stuck one letter to another like joints. It explained each of them carefully so that even people who didn’t know Sinhalese at all could understand them. This book solved a large percentage of the problem that I had stumbled upon, namely “I can’t find the commonalities and differences between letters, so I don’t know how to tell them apart and can’t organize them in my head”. I was grateful for that. There was no need to ask Richard-sensei for a foreign language course via international call all the time anymore.

That being said, there were many letters in Sinhala. Meaning that there were several pronunciations. You’d think that the Japanese syllabary was cute in comparison. Not all of it could be explained in one book, and the lectures were extended over to the second volume, but Saul-san had bought only one book, in case it didn’t suit me. The results were as could be seen. It was the same kind of joy as reading one book from a novel series and then buying all the sequels.

Learning languages was fun. By the looks of it, learning how to link them directly to communication was what worked for me.

“But can’t you live in Sri Lanka while speaking English, even if you don’t understand Sinhala? Are you on a business trip?”

“Something like that, but if possible, I’d like to talk to people using a Sri Lankan language. I’m Japanese, but I’ve had the experience of being a bit happy when someone from a foreign country spoke in Japanese to me, so now I guess it’s my turn.”

“You have so much free time, huh!”

I had no words to reply. The clerk and I burst into laughter without any reserve and finished the checkout. As I went down the arched stairs, I found a space where they were selling festival tools, stationery and picture books. Many of the same books were arranged on two sides.

Or so I thought.

But that was apparently not it. What I thought to be the exact same large-format picture books were the English version and the Sinhala version. You’d miss it if you were distracted because the pictures were the same, but the picture book, which was probably a Sri Lankan version of a “Japanese folktale”-like work, was published in two languages.

“Y’see, the ones who buy these are parents who want their kids to learn English. ‘Cause speaking English comes in handy.”

When I turned around, the clerk who had been at the cash register on the second floor was right behind me. It seemed she had come to see me off. Apparently, the cashier on the first floor called out to her, telling her to go back to work or something like that, to which she replied at length, and the two exchanged laughs. Maybe the people in this bookstore were cheerful, as not all Sri Lankans expressed their emotions so openly.

“This one is the ‘Mean Old Man’. This one is ‘The Perahera Festival’.”

“Can even a small child understand it well?”

“Of course. This book is big so that it’s easy to read to them.”

Indeed, it was a thin picture book of a size larger than A4. In Japan, it wouldn’t be strange for it to have an anime or manga-style art, but the art of this one had an ethnic touch to it, perhaps to match the contents. The colors were rich, the mean old man was drawn in a vile yet comical way, and the blue gradation of the feathers in a bird’s tail looked tasteful.

“Hum, excuse me. Can I buy this too?”

“You’re going to buy it? Do you have children?”

“I’ll read it myself.”

The clerk laughed again, but after a moment, she made a straight face and told me that it certainly might be perfect for studying. I bought the picture book at the cash register on the first floor. Either way, it cost about 500 Sri Lankan rupees, which was about 600 Japanese yen, but in the eyes of this country’s people, that was probably quite a high price. This was a world of 10 rupees for a loaf of bread and 3 rupees for a cup of tea. Thinking like that, I could understand why there weren’t many bookstores and why there were so few people here.

You can’t eat or drink books. They’re not daily necessities either, like clothes, scissors or toothbrushes. Being able to spend money on such things as if it were obvious must be a sign of wealth. My country was all the more disagreeable for having bookstores everywhere. I’d never thought about it that way.

As I took the receipt and said, “Stūtiyi”, which was “thank you” in Sinhala, the black-haired woman smiled, looked at my face and said in Japanese, “Thank you very much. We will be awaiting your return.”

“Amazing!”

“Thanks.”

And so, she told me that her husband had been working with sheet metal in Ibaraki, Japan, for a while. Her pronunciation of the words “Ibaraki” and “sheet metal” was really good. Apparently, her husband had started up a small company with the money he had earned as an immigrant worker and was its president.

With her waving a hand at me and telling me to be careful, I left the store.

Even though it was early spring, the sunlight in Colombo felt like that of midsummer in Japan. But I was growing quite fond of this glare. Everyone walking in the streets was wearing mid-sleeves, and if they were so inclined, beach sandals too, but the humidity wasn’t as high as in Japan, so I could think that, indeed, this was also spring. The white of the temple flowers blooming along the road was refreshing as well. They reminded me just a little bit of cherry blossoms. And from this street, I could clearly see my favorite landmark.

Colombo Tower, a tower that had the lotus flower as its motif.

It was a Tokyo Tower-like landmark, not visible from my base camp, the mountain town of Kandy, and although the shape was grandiose, it was still under construction and nobody could enter it. However, one day – I didn’t know whether that would be while I was still in Sri Lanka or after I had settled somewhere else, but – I definitely wanted to climb that. I would.

May I be a little more proficient in the language of this country than I am now by then, and if possible, may I get to have small talk in the tower.

With a modest goal and a new book, I treaded the way to Saul-san’s office.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 85

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"What can you give me about Hill and her huntresses?" Ironwood asked me as we walked briskly up to his office.

"Fiona has some sort of matter absorption semblance. Evidently she can put a plane in her pocket and walk away. It's Striker ranged and probably limited to non-living things, I'm speculating on that bit. Still, it's supposed to be fairly wicked. May has the invisibility field. It's got a decent radius and it's mobile. It fucked with one of my own operations once. Sabotaged me. Then there's Joanna. She's got super strength, classic Brute," I informed him. "You want me here for this? I've had a run one with them before."

"You'll be with me," he affirmed. He swung the doors open to his office and he sat down at his desk.

I took to a corner by the window. I folded my arms. My sword hilt extended over my head.

"Their weapons?" Ironwood asked me.

"These crossbow staves. Probably modifiable with dust rounds. Except Hill. She's got a crossbow with blades on either side. My man described it as like a fan or an accordian."

"Your man?"

"A union leader down in Mantle. That's how he worked with Hill. You want the details?"

He shook his head. He steepled his hands before him and we waited. Penny came skipping into the room. She saw me, smiled, and waved at me. I grinned back at her and nodded.

"Oh are we acting brooding? I'll do my best." She imitated me by the far side of the long window.

"I don't need to act. I am brooding," I laughed back. "But yeah. A little."

"Hill should be up any minute."

"Good. I was getting tired of looking relaxed."

"I'm glad you two get along," Ironwood mumbled. "It bodes well. For you in particular, Strife."

"Eh, it's mostly Ruby." I kicked my foot around, rolling out my left ankle.

"Don't say that. I thought we were friends."

"We are, Penny. I'm trying to brood, though."

"I see…"

Hill pushed her way into the room with a small smile. She took me and Penny in. She had Fiona with her and another woman I recognized as Joanna Greenleaf from a photo.

Fiona nudged Hill. "That's him. Cloud Strife. The killer mercenary."

Hill glanced at me. "I've heard a bit about you, done some nasty business in my town. What? You working for Ironwood now?"

"For the foreseeable future. Judge ordered. You could probably find out about it. Given your seat," Ironwood returned from behind his steepled fingers.

"You give up the merc life?" She asked. Her question directed at me.

"For now," I answered.

"You're a dangerous man, Strife, I'd be glad to hear you're playing for the good guys. If that's what's going on here."

"It sort of is. You fucked with my operation. Don't think I don't know."

"I did nothing illegal. Nothing anybody could prove at any rate." She showed her teeth. I liked her. "Not like you and Taurus."

"You heard anything about him?" I wondered. "I have a blood score to settle with the bastard."

"Not a peep. He's been laying low. Like I thought you and your illusionist were. Color me surprised to find you standing beside the General. Right beside the protector of Mantle after the shit you pulled."

Maybe this was why Ironwood wanted me here. To divert her focus. I doubted he wanted me for moral support. He wanted me on as a distraction. So I'd be as distracting as possible.

"Those charges were dropped," Penny said.

"You hear that?" I asked. "It's like I never did it."

"But you did do it," Fiona spat. "You killed people."

"Interesting way you phrased that," Hill said with a hand raised at Fiona beside her.

"I only killed other criminals." I shrugged. "And I got time served with a hefty fine."

"Meaningless to someone like you," Hill countered.

"Not meaningless. Just the best I could have hoped for."

"But are you reformed? Do you serve Atlas and Mantle well?" Robyn wondered.

"To the very best of my ability, I protect the people now."

"Will you swear by it?" Hill held out her hand.

"Sure. I'll promise." I took her hand. Purple flowed over my hand as I took hers and it wreathed both of us.  "What do you want me to say?" I asked. Words could be very particular.

"That you serve as a guardian to the people, now."

"I serve as a guardian to the people now." I echoed. I technically did before too. Her aura flashed green. It must have registered as true because she reclined looking satisfied.

"Now that that's settled we can get down to business. When will the new tower be ready for launch?"

"Classified. You shouldn't even know about the tower," Ironwood returned.

"But I do. And this will go smoother if we work together, General. I can vote in your favor or I can vote against you at every turn. I can even raise a vote of no confidence."

The General grimaced. I think that he hoped I'd buy him more time before the nitty-gritty.

Robyn leaned over his desk and spread her palms on it. Hunching over on him.

"What's it gonna be, General? I can do worse besides. I can petition to have your council seat taken away. How long will your precious tower take to get completed then. Work with me. I just want to talk."

"You want to talk for now."

"That's right," Hill returned. "I might change my mind based on what I hear, too." At least she was open and clear about it. The value of her prizing honesty.

"The launch is two months out." Ironwood stated.

He stood up and towered over Hill with her slumping over the desk. She recoiled back and stretched to her full height. It was still nowhere near the General and closer to me though she was tall for a woman.

"All of our attention has been on raising the tower and restoring communications between the kingdoms."

"Even though Mantle suffers," she murmured.

I thought about saying something like 'Mantle always suffers' but I kept my mouth shut. It wasn't the time. Never let be said I couldn't be diplomatic.

"Some sacrifices have had to be made to get things done but we're in the final stretch now. No going back."

"I want things to get better for Mantle, General. And fast."

"I'm working as fast as I can," Ironwood vowed.

"I want you to slow down the launch of it means things can get better for Mantle. Diverting both supplies and huntsmen."

"That isn't practical."

"Practical be damned. Mantle always bears the lion's share of the suffering for Atlas. All for it's floating neighbor. You want me to not vote against you at every turn so this project gets completed? You're going to have to make concessions. That means voting my way on minimum wage increases and miner safety standards. Even if those safety standards set back your little project."

Ironwood sighed. It sounded like she had him in a corner.

"We are so close." He grunted. He sounded frustrated and exasperated. "So close to getting this project done. For everybody's benefit."

"Well it just got further away. One way or another. Not one more miner will die for this or anything else. They matter to me. What's it gonna be, James?"

"Friends call me James. You can call me Ironwood or General."

"Petty," she clicked her tongue. She had him in a vice though. She'd be petty and slow down the project too. She was a woman of her word. No one with a semblance like that wouldn't be.

"It sounds like I've got little choice. Just know that once my project is complete I won't back down so easily anymore."

"I'm counting on it, General," she turned on a clicking heel and left. Her tour de force departed with her.

"Sorry. I tried but she wasn't going to be distracted. Not by me and not by Penny."

Ironwood groaned. "The launch just got set back a month. Minimum. And if I start capitulating now who knows when it will end."

"She's a woman of her word. So you've got that going for you."

"At least it wasn't Jacque Schnee," Penny chipped in brightly. "This election could have gone much worse. She's willing to work with you if you work with her."

My scroll chirped. I pulled it out of my pocket.

"Strife. Who’s this?"

"Aurum. I've got a hit on your lady friend. She's here. She's threatening me. She demanded my information. She was asking the same sort of questions you were. I need to know what that's about now."

"You don't. I'll be there."

"My life is on the line! She immolated my men!"

"Try and hold her there. I'm coming. Let's get lucky and kill her."

"Sorry Cloud but I have got to do what I got to do to protect my business."

"Just hold her. I'm on my way."

I cut the connection.

"Something important?" Ironwood asked.

"I got a hit on Cinder. She's about to burn one of my contacts to death. I need to get there."

Ironwood nodded. "Do you need reinforcements? I'll call Ace Ops."

"Better call Team RWBY too and put them on standby with Qrow. She's at The Den."

"I'm sending Penny with you."

"Let's go Penny." I said with a nod by the door. "You and I will fly there."

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Penny and I swooped down on The Den. "You take her accomplices. Let me worry about Cinder."

"Do you believe that you can defeat her?"

"We're about to find out." Let’s hope that sounded confident.

I bust in the door to find the club empty and quiet. The lack of music and the distant smell of inhalants gave the place a void like feeling. It was strangely empty and lacking.

"Sorry Cloud. It's nothing personal. Just business, you understand." It was Aurum's voice coming from the top floor above me. "She forced me. You get it."

There was the clink of glass heels on the floor above us and Cinder Fall came into view.

"You," she purred. "Jaune Arc was it? I owe you for when last we met." Her one eye glowed like embers.

"It was. Not anymore. It's Cloud now."

"A change in name will mean little to my mistress. You're her son."

"Hardly. She didn't raise me," I shot back. I drew the broadsword from over my shoulder. I gripped the enormous handle beneath the titanic cross guard the shield helped form.

"She has bade me not kill you and your sisters have a certain fury I would dread but whatever happens happens," she sung. She spread her fingers and a flame grew across them. "You would have had me last time if not for my maiden powers. Powers which have doubled. I'm sure you are aware. And you've been spying for me. Through this rabble but you've been on the look out nonetheless."

She made Aurum call me, then. Aurum dashed out the exit, trying to keep his life intact and escaping while we were both distracted. Cinder set a trap for me. Sustrai stepped out from behind Cinder with Black in tow. I watched and my vision faded as Sustrai narrowed her eyes at me. She was trying to use her semblance on me.

I shouted at Penny and I watched a blurring kaleidoscope fly up to them and slash out at Emerald with ten floating blades appendages. My vision snapped back into focus and in perfect time for me to see Cinder descending on me with flames pouring from her feet to aid her assault. As she flew she left fire behind on the glass dance floor. I met a strike from her similarly glass weapons and stuttered back a step on the dance floor.

I activated my semblance and brought my weapon around to match her. I drew an electric crystal from my pocket. I crushed it in my palm and sent a thunderbolt at her. She blocked it by crossing her weapons and her one eye flared at me with the power of the maidens. She gestured and a half dozen fireballs floated into place before her. She blew gently. Like she was blowing a kiss at me, I didn’t catch it, and I was forced to dance out of the way of the fireballs.

I went through them. I rolled and floated towards her through the conflagration. I stabbed my sword downward and tore up glass as I pushed it screeching across the dance floor towards her. She met my strike with both her weapons crossed.

Then she struck out at me in high, low, high fashion, alternating each blade. She twirled with the motion and I was forced on the defensive, blocking each one of her attacks. I never let her truly get close to me with the enormous blade between us.

She waved her palm and a flare shot up inside the tight room towards me. I couldn't be sure how Penny was doing against her two opponents because I was too focused on Cinder.

I blocked her and seesawed my weapon down on her. Sparks flew from her glass weapons from where my Titania edge but down into them.

"I'm going to kill you this time. We'll see how my Mother takes that," I whispered. I spoke softly as I threatened her. As I made my vow.

Lightning ran up her weapons and into my arms. It made me tremble in pain for a moment before she pushed me off of her and kicked me in my exposed chest. Then she flew at me.

"Aren't you quite the little rebel. Doing what makes mommy mad?" She laughed at that.

"Oh I'll piss her right the fuck off. Can't imagine she was happy I didn't bring the relic to her."

She pointed her sword at me and there was a kazzap of lightning. I blocked it on the edge of my weapon but she just swung her weapon around her body again. A trail of fire emanating from it and growing larger until she whipped a lash of red hot blaze right at my head.

I rolled again and came up thrusting at her, forcing her to block. She swung at me with one of her glass weapons but at the far range of my weapon I was too distant and she miscalculated.

She dropped into a crouch and pointed both her weapons at me and there was another mighty kazizzle of electricity.  I jumped over it and brought my weapon down on her head in a move that forced her to block with both of her own. It shattered the dance floor around us for yards and yards. All the way to the edge near the bar.

"You're right of course. She was most displeased. She will punish you for it given the opportunity. I think not, however. You will die here."

She waved her hand and a gale picked up. All the glass from the once smooth and now shattered dance floor flew up from it. She gestured at me and I hunkered behind the wide edge of my weapon and weathered the storm of glass pellets. Some struck into my aura and chipped it away. I held firm against the wind.

Blue light still licked at my body but it seemed like my semblance would not be enough. I couldn't imagine spending it and then being forced to fight her without it. If I spent it, when I spent it, it would have to be for the kill. I could use it for no other purpose. And it would probably have to be the Octa slash. No other attack would do enough damage in a single go to take her down except maybe a Finishing Touch.

I'd hardly touched her. Hadn't touched her, I realized.

When the gale broke down she hit me hard with both flaming feet. Not as hard as Penny had with a similar move but hard enough to send me stumbling back. Next she delivered three lighting fast diagonal slashes to my torso. She ripped away massive chunks of my aura.

Then she thrust forward and I blocked to the side. Her weapon buried in my personal soul based force field to the hilt right next to my head. She still managed to rip away a chunk of blue light from my body.

Things were seriously not good. Her magic was too much for me and her competence with a blade in each hand was nothing to scoff at.

I kicked her back. A move that caught her in the gut. Then I swung my blade towards her head in a massive strike that she caught with both her weapons. Making yet another 'x' shape. It seemed to be her go to in order to block against my titanic sword.

I screamed and flew at her. Closing the little distance between us with a shoulder check that knocked her to the ground.

I danced at her, flowing like water as she caught herself on one hand and tried to cartwheel back but I chased her roll now that she was out of position. Now that she was in serious disadvantage and close to me I made to capitalize on it.

I caught up to her and hit her once vertically diagonally downward and to the right. Then I reversed and came diagonally up and to the left. Then I can back down on her diagonally and from the right once more in a staggering triple hit. The kind I'd seen do twenty-five percent or more of Ruby's aura when I wasn't Limit Broken. When I wasn't Limitless.

I didn't spend the charge on it but I did shout, a scream left my lips as I performed the move with exertion. It flung her back and into one of the bars and into the wall in a shattering of glass and bottles.

She flew out of the hole in the wall and through the crevice her body had left in the bar. A trail of flame coming behind her and at her feet. I flew to meet her and where we struck the ground rippled like it was made of liquid for a moment before elasticity caught up with it and it shattered.

I was taller than her. I was conventionally stronger, too. Especially while Limit Break was active and I slowly lowered my weapon down onto her while her back twisted from trying to match me in the crater on the floor.

She kicked my leg at the hip but I only grunted and took it. I took one hand off my blade and backhanded her hard with my knuckles. Then I slid forward a step and reversed my hand and grabbed her by the throat and picked her up into the air. I pulled her in and kneed her in the stomach hard enough to make spittle fly from her lips.

Then Mercury came flying and kicked me in the back. Then he shot me in the back with both of his boot guns.

I twisted to my feet again on a pocket of air. He was breathing hard. So was Cinder where I'd knocked the wind out of her.

I wasn't much better and now that they were alone Emerald let out a scream where Penny slammed her hard into a wall.

"Ma'am…" Mercury trailed.

"Save Emerald," Cinder hissed.

Then I gambled. I dashed forward like I was going to hit Cinder. Then I spent Limit on a thrust but not at her. I thrust up and into Mercury's aura and then into his chest in a crackle of violet energy.

Blood flew from his lips as I speared him. Penny had done enough work for this to pay off and from the sounds of things she'd defeat Emerald too.

"No," Cinder whispered. The battle was out of her favor.

"Yes!" I roared. The edge was ours now.

I watched as Emerald plucked herself from the wall and fell to her knees. A tear on her face as we all saw Mercury slide onto my six foot blade.

"Emerald! Get us out of here!" Cinder called.

I swung my sword and Mercury flopped off the blade. He was already dead. I flexed and started charging my next semblance. With slow promise I stood and began the charge. Soon.

"Emerald!" Cinder barked. I was assaulted with a massive illusion. Penny was too from the way she stepped back in shock on the second floor. A gigantic image of my Mother rose from the twisted glass and roared.

Cinder burned a hole in the wall and grabbed Emerald's sobbing form and fled. I was too shocked by the cyclopean vision of my Mother to move.

"Cloud!" Penny called to me distantly. I fell to my knees before the image of my Mother and held my hands up like I was expecting an attack, I fumbled my sword with dumb hands. My brain burned and my mind was ajar.

Mother…

I thought. And despite that I knew it was an illusion. Despite the distance between us I heard her answer.

“My son…”

"No…" I whimpered.

“Yes…”  

The voice seethed.

“Yes… you belong to me… I am your mistress…”

I could feel her shadow on the corner of my mind. She twisted into me and trapped me between agonies I knew weren't true.

"Cloud are you alright?"

The massive image of my Mother faded. But she lingered on my brain. A growing pressure. I howled in pain. She raked at my body and I convulsed.

"Cloud, it wasn't real."

"She's in my… my… my…" I stuttered like a broken record player. Then I started to froth at the mouth. I seized on the broken dance floor.

“My son… my precious son…”

"Oh my gods!" I heard Penny cry. "Don't worry, Cloud, help is on the way!"

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[angryschnauzer]

Superior Specimen - Chapter 3

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, 

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving)

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Superior Specimen – Chapter 3

 True to your word, it had been one drink and one drink only; you knew your limits and no matter how handsome the man buying the drink, you stuck to your own rules. Watching as he paid the bill before he slipped his hand around yours and you walked into the late evening;

“Can I give you a ride home?”

 “Mmm a ride would be nice, Sir...” 

 You smirked but your drunken bravado was ruined as you stumbled on a kerbstone. Scrunching your eyes shut you expected the painful crunch as you hit the ground, only for a pair of strong arms to catch you. Looking up into Henry’s eyes you smiled as he lifted you to your feet with ease;

 “I was going to say if you keep calling me Sir you’ll be in trouble, but you seem to be in enough trouble without my help” 

 “I’m fine! I had four drinks!”

 “All doubles?”

 “Yep!” you hiccupped as you stepped, only for your ankle to wobble, and again you found yourself in Henry’s arms.

 “It’s piggyback time”

 “No!”

 “Either its piggyback or I’ll throw you over my shoulder, your choice”

 “Ok… piggyback ride it is then”

 Soon you were standing on a nearby bench, Henry crouched slightly in front of you;

 “I can’t believe I’m doing this” you muttered as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hopped on, his large hands gripping onto your thighs.

 “Princess, I have to admit when I’ve thought about you riding me whilst I grip onto your thighs, this isn’t what I had in mind either…” he grinned over his shoulder.

 Sure you got a few stares as he carried you, but the feeling of being bounced up and down as he held you tight was actually very comforting. As you waited at a traffic light for the pedestrian crossing to go green for him to walk across he quietly spoke;

 “Not far now, I’m parked in the multi-storey over there”

 -

 Henry drove a top of the range Audi SUV, and as he made his way slowly through the hot London night his hand strayed to your knee, gently rubbing the skin on your inner thigh as he casually asked your questions about you, answering yours about him, but as the drive went on your concentration waivered, your body thrumming with lust as his hand had crept higher. Just as his little finger had brushed against the soaked cotton of your underwear, he swung the Audi into the numbered space outside your building;

 “Home Princess”

 With a groan you slumped into your seat, before Henry’s hand gently cupped the back of your head and his mouth was on yours, his kiss deep and powerful before pulling away whilst leaving you wanting more;

 “Do you need help getting to your door?”

 “Umm, I’ll be *hic* fine, you don’t want to…?”

 “Oh I do, but you’re drunk… and I haven’t bought you dinner yet”

 “Gotcha” you drunk winked at him which made him laugh, before you grabbed the door handle and went to exit the car… only it wasn’t the handle, and as you shifted in your seat you bonked your head directly into the window; “Ow FUCK!”

 “Aww come here”

 Henry wrapped his arms around your head, pressing kisses to the top of it before letting you go and stepping out of the car, circling around and opening your door for you;

 “You’re a hazard to your own health, so I shall be escorting you all the way to your front door, M’lady” he laughed kindly.

 When you fucked up the code for the door, you curled into Henry’s chest as you told him and his sober fingers punched the number in, the electronic click of the lock releasing registering in your brain, before he swept you into his arms as you told him your Flat number and carried you up four flights of stairs. Setting you on your feet at your door you swayed as you fished your keys from your bag, getting them caught on all manner of things, before you sighed and muttered that there was a spare key under the pot plant that stood next to your front door. Henry stooped down and got it and again Henry’s sober finger skills came into use as he unlocked your door and helped you inside.

 Closing the door, you leant against the wall as he moved around your kitchen, plucking a glass from the counter and filling it with water, before crossing the room and handing it to you;

 “Drink… you need to rehydrate yourself otherwise your hangover will be awful tomorrow”

 “Yes Sir”

 Sipping the water in front of him you slowly drained the glass before he took it from you and refilled it, before setting it on the counter. Taking you into his arms he smiled;

 “Drink that before you go to bed” he lowered his mouth to yours and kissed you, gentler than before, but his tongue was a work of art and it soon had you pressing yourself against him.

 “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

 “Oh Princess, I want to stay, but I won’t. Not with you this drunk” 

 “Ooow…” you moan like a brat; “But I’m horny, even if I unashamedly beg you to fuck me?”

 He chuckled;

 “Nope, I won’t be fucking you tonight Princess, I can sort the horny out though…”

 You watched with your jaw agape as he fluidly got to his knees in front of you, gently grasping your hips as he pushed you back against the wall of your kitchen and started to slowly edge your skirt up your legs until it was bunched around your waist. Carefully he pulled your soaked underwear down your legs and helped you step out of them, before he grasped one knee and lifted it over his shoulder. Your eyes were trained on his the whole time, pale flashes in the summer twilight as he leant forwards and he swiped his tongue through your folds. He shuffled forwards and you struggled to stand on the tips of your toes on your other leg, and you let out a quiet squeak as he easily lifted your leg until it was over his other shoulder, his hands splayed across your ass to support you as he started to lick and suck at you with earnest. 

 Your fingers found their way to his hair, tangling them in the dark chestnut brown strands as he started to fuck you with his tongue, the long muscle massaging your inner walls as his nose rubbed against your clit. The harder you squirmed the tighter he held you, and soon you could feel your legs start to tremble as you clamped them around his head, your whole body shaking with need as you moaned out his name so beautifully. 

 The room was hot, the air heavy with lust and the sounds of his tongue and mouth working so hard towards orgasm, and when the levy finally broke you cried out his name surrounded by curses, your body shaking so hard you were thankful he could hold you up as otherwise you surely would have tumbled to the floor. When the stimulation was all too much you tugged on his hair and called out his name, your voice hoarse and your throat dry;

 “Henry… please, stop…”

 He let out a chuckle as he gently set your feet on the floor before standing, steadying you as you swayed a little;

 “Do you feel better now?”

 “Yes Sir” you drunkenly muttered, your eyelids heavy and a smile plastered across your face.

 Holding your face gently in his palms he pressed a light kiss to your lips;

 “Have your water then get to bed Princess”

 “Yes Henry”

 You watched as he left, winking as he shut the door behind him, and you did as he told you, minutes later falling face first into bed, still fully clothed apart from your panties that were decorating your kitchen floor.

Chapter 4 >>>

[fijiangecko]

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 6 - Search and Rescue

previous | next

Read it on AO3 here

A/N: school is over (thank god)

~~~~~~

You stood in that doorway for God knows how long. Shivers traveled down your spine when Kuroo slammed that damned door, and slowly the static built over your frozen muscles. How could you let this happen? He’s right, you could’ve just told them and maybe things would’ve been different. If you really did trust them like you claimed, why didn’t you just admit to everyone and ask for guidance? 

Your instincts kicked in. For a long while, you pushed them back and remained the new person you so desperately wanted to keep around. You knew, somewhere deep down, that if you went back to your old self, that would be the only thing they would talk about. That being said, you weren’t going to back down from a challenge or downplay your strengths, but that killer instinct that those bastards drilled into your head needed to take the back burner for a couple of years.

Too bad you pushed your luck and now it was all boiling over.

Your attention was brought back to that pot, and finally when those reactions kick back in your legs carry you across the apartment. Only grab what’s necessary, burn the rest and get the fuck out. Easy enough, considering you always knew something like this might happen. Just like back in the office, you didn’t own much. It was easy to only have a large duffle bag worth of stuff, clothes and sentimental items mostly.

You made a decision when you first left the Port Mafia to keep other things, clues one might say, as to your involvement with them in a separate location. Weapons too; you never knew when you were gonna need some extra firepower.

Anything else in the apartment that you knew could be used for evidence or could lead anyone back to the office you burned with your belongings. Better to be safe than sorry.

It doesn’t matter if he tells them, you think as you hoist the materials into the metal garbage bin in the parking lot. You’d be gone within the hour because either the Mafia is on their way, or Tooru and Hajmie will stop by in the morning. All you wanted was to protect them.

You patched the back windshield up with a bit of duct tape and a trash bag in the meantime. At least it would keep the cops from pulling you over while you headed over to the shop. Glass shards still litter the back seat, but you could care less as you set the duffle in the passenger's seat and start the engine.

With one last glance, you look to your apartment, the nearby trash can as flames lick the edges of the metal. All of your work suits were in there. All the funky ties Bokuto had given to you as jokes every year at the Christmas parties; all of the pens Akaashi and Kenma had lent you; all of the files Oikawa and Iwaizumi had forgotten at your place over the years; all the little sticky notes Kuroo left on your keyboard-

A tear hits your cheek. It’s a shock to your system and it brings you back to the present. You quickly wipe it off and swing the car out of its spot and head off. 

A plan bubbles in the back of your mind. A way to keep everyone out of danger and clear your involvement. You think of the countless possibilities and endings this could have as your drive down the streets. The trees get denser and the sunlight shines through them like ribbons as you speed down the highway, only thinking of how to survive.

The first thing you’d like to do is to fix the damn windshield. Off the top of your head, you can think of a few people that might be able to help you out, just some local shops that still owed you back when you did people “favors” and that sort of thing. Again, not your brightest moments but they were your moments nonetheless.

Memories flood your system of those times. Back when you practically had the whole mafia under you. Every goon, henchmen and officer looked down when you walked down a corridor. Only those on an equal footing or on your personal squad would even bother trying to talk with you.

Not that you were authoritative or anything. Far from it, actually. Out of all of the four executives, you were the most forgiving, the most human. But it was the fact that you were an executive; the shared second in command position for all of the Port Mafia. With a brain and a gift like yours, it was an obvious choice but called for you to make a lot of tough decisions.

“Y/N,” Ushijima greeted you with a bow, and once he stood to his full height he stared directly into your eyes. The vertical distance was pretty large at the time, considering this was almost seven years ago. You remember looking up at him and feeling nothing despite his size and stature. Slightly behind him on the left stood a man, almost equally as tall with bright red hair.

“Hello boys,” a coy smile tugged at the edge of your lips. You used to be so full of yourself, and you roll your eyes at the thought. You were not only the youngest mafia member to become an executive, but also the first female to achieve the position despite who the boss was. Is? Hell if you knew whether that old bat is still kicking it.

Tendou had the tendency to lean over Ushijima’s shoulder and look down on you, almost like you were an animal in a zoo, but you got along with him just fine otherwise. Whenever you guys were in the same room you’d joke around, try and get on Ushi’s nerves but nothing ever seemed to work. On occasion he’d try and get you both to meet up for dinner but you’d always end up busy with meetings.

You saw him as a friend. Someone to kill the time with. Not much else, but you always saw the small shimmer in his eyes when he’d try and make those dinner plans. You felt in your gut that a question might pop up one of those nights if you sat down in a fancy restaurant with him.

“I don’t think Washijo is gonna appreciate you doing all of those construction deals in the southwest.” The redhead sang to you in a tune that was unrecognizable.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s only making us more money and I did it ‘legally’ this time.” Unfazed by his teasing, you continued into the meeting room and took your place on the left side, by the head of the long conference table.

Ushijima followed opposite of you, taking up the chair directly across from you on the right. The spaces next to either of you that follow down the long edge of the hardwood were left empty, and your respective teams filled in the chairs after that point.

Everyone was dressed up, black and white attire. You always opted for a pantsuit rather than a dress or skirt purely because the port brought in the seaside winds and you’d rather not flash anyone. Oikawa, Iwaizumi and two others sit in their suits further down the table, hands folded and placed atop the table. They made small chit chat with the other squads, Oikawa smiled and bantered while Iwa usually just sat and listened. 

They were members of your personal squad almost the entire time you held the title of “executive”.Them and the two others that sat next to them, Matsukawa and Hanamaki. You kept your personal group small since you’d be around them constantly. Those four were always funny together, always made things lighthearted despite the horrid situations you found yourselves in.

“She’s right Tendou,” Ushijima’s voice could’ve rattled the whole building if he spoke louder. “Out of us four she’s pulled in the most territory and revenue over the last quarter.”

“That’s because she's not doing the best in one category Washijo will strip her title, no questions asked.” Oikawa whispered to Iwa, very cautious of who might hear him. From what you can remember, a fair amount of the members weren’t as progressive as you had hoped when you first joined, but it didn’t stop you from climbing the ranks.

Your thumb beats against the steering wheel at the memories. Were you really happy then? Were you really doing what you wanted?

It’s taken you years to find the answer, but you’ve concluded that both are no. You hated working for them. You hated the senseless murder, especially if it was for a bullshit excuse like “it’s all for a better Yokohama”. To hell with it all, you’d tell yourself after spending nights hiding in homes that were starting to fall apart. For half a year you lived as though the modern world didn’t exist, all by yourself. You would only go into town to buy groceries or if it was absolutely necessary. 

It was a sad life, but it was better than living in a high-rise apartment where goons would pretend to be buddy-buddy with you just to up their rank. It was better than pretending to care what that old fool had to say about your operating style and the fact you didn’t do anything “by the book”.

Your thumb stops drumming a while ago and your fists tighten around the wheel, knuckles turning red and white as you press your skin firmly into the rubber. The morning rays dissipated a while ago as well, the sun fully shining her light down on the city. The further you drive, the more recognizable the area becomes. Dreary, dark streets turn into buildings and stores with an even darker past. Your stomach churns with every old memory seeping back into your brain, only the faces of the agency members keep you going as you pull into an all too familiar lot.

~

Iwaizumi’s hands run through his dark hair, gripping the strands and pulling them as he looks at the disaster around him. Chairs broken into pieces, glass shards all across the floors, papers littering every nook and cranny of your apartment. Nothing was salvageable. Anything you had bought was destroyed either by your own hands or someone else's.

Oikawa dug through the cabinets and drawers to find anything that could be an affirmative that this was the Port Mafia’s doing, or at least give them an idea of who it could’ve been. The dumpster fire outside was obviously your doing, either of the boys recognized that in an instant considering it was all of your clothes and it was practically only embers by the time they had gotten there.

Hajime’s heart is pounding heavily in his chest. He was the one who protected the ones he cared about. That was his gift and his duty to you all, and he failed miserably at it since you’re gone and now everything is on fire (literally and figuratively).

“They left the stamp!” Tooru stumbles over bits and pieces of debris as he rushes to show Hajime the small insignia that was left on a scrap of paper. The Port Mafia always left them at raids so either rival gangs or the police knew exactly who beat them to it.

Iwaizumi snaps out of his little trance, the iron grip on his hair loosens enough for his hands to run down the back of his head to the base of his neck. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, but it narrowed down some of their options.

He grasps the small paper and double checks it to make sure every design detail was exactly the same, that this wasn’t a dupe or some imposters work. Tooru watches with careful eyes as Iwa mimics his exact same actions from just moments ago.

Kuroo walks up to the complex, hands in his pockets and head hung low. After being told off by Takeda, he was instructed to go help look for you. Since you’re all still on a case together, and “regardless of personal affairs”, you were all assigned to this case for a reason, or that’s what he said at least.

In his mind, Kuroo is in the right. He has every right to be angry with you. For three years you withheld that one of the greatest crime organizations was a past employer. I must be the biggest fucking joke. 

He knows deep down that this is all just pain coming out as anger. He just lost one of his best friends, one of the few people in his life that he genuinely cares about enough to hang out with on his days off - and one of the only people he’s been interested in years.

Everytime he thinks about your laugh, or your little smile when you finish a stack of paperwork, his heart hurts a little more. The tightness in his chest is something he only experienced when his parents divorced when he was eleven, but it wasn’t even bad compared to now.

How could he not be angry?

Once his feet hit the asphalt of the parking lot, he finally glances up and realizes the chaos around him. The pile of garbage in the bin was merely smoldering at this point. He looks to the apartment and notices the two figures standing in the living room, which he can see through the window. Both seem to be inspecting something in the palm of Iwaizumi’s hand, unaware that Kuroo is standing in the parking lot.

“Guys…?” Kuroo’s voice is soft as he passes through the threshold into your apartment. “What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi and Oikawa turn to face him immediately, not expecting anyone else to be here and they certainly were not expecting it to be Kuroo.

“Y/N’s gone.” Tooru speaks clearly as he glares daggers at the man who dared to speak against you only thirty minutes ago. Iwa crumples the stamped paper in his hand and clenches his jaw.

“Yeah… I can see that.” Kuroo’s eyes shift between all corners of the room, processing every bit of information his eyes came across.

Hajime nudges Tooru with his hand (rather harshly but the anger wasn’t directed at him) and he walks out of the apartment, shoulder checking Kuroo as they pass by. There was nothing more for them there, and now Tooru and himself are going to have to think of a way to find you.

Kuroo remains in his spot as a weight starts to bear down on his body. The couch he crashed on when he was too drunk, the table you guys mulled over paperwork together - the apartment he had made so many memories in was completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but start to think that this might just be his fault. He left you last night in the exact spot he’s standing in right now. Yes, he was upset. What you two had built was entirely based off of trust, and Kuroo hasn’t trusted someone that much in a very long time (Kenma can attest to that). 

You deemed that information as potentially harmful to him, and he told you that you had no right. What kind of idiot am I? As he looks around the space, he realizes now just how dangerous this all really is.

Iwaizumi stomps his way back onto the main roads and keeps a hand clutched around the stamped paper. “Who the hell does he think he is?” The question wasn’t directed at anyone, but Tooru knows this is how he expresses his anger without going to the gym.

“Takeda probably sent him since everyone at the agency still doesn't know what’s going on.” Tooru pulls on his jacket and follows Iwa down the sidewalk.

“Better off just leaving us the hell alone. Ukai and Takeda aren’t stupid and they both know something has always been up with Y/N. As soon as we came into the picture I’m pretty sure they picked up on us being involved with her too. Kuroo shouldn’t be sticking his nose in this,” Iwa huffs, but Oikawa makes the motion to start talking before he is swiftly cut off. “And I don’t give a shit what Y/N told him. The only reason she did so was because she had too after last night. There was no way for her to cover up that encounter with Tendou and you know it.”

“Do you think she would’ve kept it from them forever though?”

“I don’t know. She’s never really told us why she left in the first place, but Y/N was with the Port Mafia for years. Most of her teenage and early adult life was spent with them before she just up and left.” Iwaizumi shoves the paper into his pocket as he talks, also placing his jacket over his shoulders. He guides the pair back to the subway station.

“Guys!” The two stop walking for a moment, each processing whose voice was calling out but once it registers that it’s only Kuroo, they continue down the steps into the station. “Wait up!”

Their pace picks up as they pull out their passes to scan and get through the bars as quickly as possible. Too bad Kuroo’s legs are long and he catches up to them in the nick of time. Just as Tooru swipes his card, Kuroo is hot on his heels as he fumbles around to find his own train pass. “Wait- please.”

Tooru can tell that he’s desperate, but when Iwa glances over his shoulder to check on the situation Tooru can see the anger starting to bubble up again. His own stomach churns at the thought that Kuroo can just switch on a dime if need be. That even though you explained everything to him, it still took seeing all of the damage for him to realize what kind of scenario this really is.

“Please Oikawa,” Kuroo grabs his shoulder once he makes it past the turnstiles. “Let me help you guys find Y/N.”

“And why the hell would we want your help?” Ignoring that he called for Oikawa, Hajime fully turns around and marches over to Kuroo. Although he is shorter than both of them, Hajime has this air about him that says I will kill you here and now depending on how you answer.

Kuroo’s chest pounds against itself. He snapped out of his own thoughts pretty quickly back at the apartment and realized that you could actually be hurt. This wasn’t just something nonchalant, there was a reason you kept this from him. 

After coming to, he figured the only thing he can do in this situation is to find you. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were involved in this somehow. There was a reason they weren’t at your apartment last night having that same discussion. “I know you two are the only ones who are gonna be able to find her-” he pauses to take a few deep breaths “-and I owe her an apology.”

“No shit you owe her an apology after all of the fucking chaos you caused back at the office. You’re lucky I didn’t deck you in your fucking chair.” Iwaizumi steps closer to Kuroo, almost chest to chest, and stares right into his irises. 

Oikawa grabs at Iwa’s bicep and tugs him back. “Let’s just go Hajime.” Iwa snarls and stomps away.

“Please…” Kuroo can’t mess this up, he knows that. This is the only shot he has at finding you is by getting in with these two. “I know I screwed up.”

Oikawa slows his pace, listening to the pleas of someone he once considered more than an acquaintance. His mind is telling him to follow Hajime and find you as quickly as possibly, but he also knows in his heart that Kuroo meant well. You trusted him enough to explain everything to him.

“I don’t know if Y/N’s dead.” Kuroo’s voice cracks as he thinks out loud of what might be. “I- I know I messed up really bad but I need to know if she’s okay.”

“Look,” Oikawa stops fully and turns his head to speak, “most likely she’s not dead since there weren’t any signs of struggle at the apartment. Her car was gone and her personal belongings were either missing or charred in the trash can in the parking lot. The mafia just destroyed her house, but my bet is that she’s still alive.”

Iwaizumi had stopped walking as well, listening to Kuroo’s plight. Although he was full of anger, he heard the crack in his voice. He hears his pleas and Hajime is torn on what is the right decision.

The three are silent as civilians walk past them, hurrying from one train to the next. Hajime takes a deep breath and rubs his eyebrows with the index and thumb of his right hand. “You have a lot of shit to make up for and explain after this morning, especially if you’re gonna help find her.”

Oikawa and Kuroo look at him in shock. “So I can come-”

“We’re still working on a case together and Y/N is a part of this.” Iwa cuts him off with both his words and a glare. “Nothing more. Once we know she’s alive we’re done. We’ll do what we have too, but you don’t get to go any further than that. Y/N wanted to protect you and everyone at the agency, so the least you can do is stay out of all of this. For her sake.”

Wordlessly, Kuroo nods and the pair in front of him start to walk further down the pathways, hopping onto a train and heading into the city. Hajime’s expression is stern, Tooru has an air of uncertainty about him and Kuroo clenches his fists around nothing, wondering where you could be and what’s going to happen now.

“Where are we going?” Kuroo asks once they all press themselves amongst the crowd of people.

“Back to the agency. We left some of our gear there and then we’ll have to stop by Iwaizumi’s house to get some more.” Oikawa looks around the train cautiously.

Kuroo opens to speak again, but then closes his mouth. That just means I’ll have to explain what’s going on to everyone else. 

“Everyone there has had their suspicions about Y/N and the both of us, so it really doesn’t matter if you tell them we’re ex-members as well.” Hajime outright confirms the next thing on Kuroo’s mind. He had the intention of asking, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up in conversation. “I’m getting in and getting out as quickly as I possibly can. I don’t owe these people any explanations as to why I’m choosing to find Y/N, or why this matters to me.”

Respectable is the only word that comes to mind when Kuroo thinks of Iwaizumi. He’s a gentleman, chivalrous and makes good on his word. Although he has a mild temper at times, Kuroo has never known him to say something he does not mean.

“Y/N may have been our boss, but she cared for us more than anyone in that damned organization ever would’ve if we stayed. We owe her a lot, and finding her and helping her can only pay a small portion of that back.” Oikawa pipes up, sprinkling more bits and pieces of information for Kuroo to pick up on. “She’s like a sister to me and it would kill me to know that she might be out there, struggling when I could’ve helped. The same goes for Iwa-chan.”

The rest of the train ride is silent between the three. Kuroo tries his best to wrap his head around everything that has happened in less than twelve hours. Not only was it revealed to him that you were an ex-mafia member, but two of his other co-workers were as well, and you used to be an executive. You ran a portion of the city for years, Iwaizumi and Oikawa working under you until you left for unknown reasons and joined the Armed Detective Agency sometime later.

You were one of the most powerful people in Yokohama, but why did you leave it all? What drove you out? Oikawa didn’t really give a reason as to why they left, but it was related to you in some way.

Walking in the agency doors with a new perspective gave Kuroo an icky feeling. Everyone in the office turns to see who it is, and their eyes go wide when the three figures walk through the door. Oikawa and Iwaizumi beeline it over to their desks and start to rummage through the drawers and shoving things in their pockets. Kuroo stands awkwardly by the door before walking slowly over to his belongings and picking up what he thinks he’ll need.

Bokuto and Akaashi watch him carefully, waiting for an opportunity to ask what was happening. It was Ukai, who walked into the main office right after the front door slammed shut, that broke the deafening silence.

“My office. Now.” The three halt their movements for a moment, knowing the order was directed towards them but each unwilling to actually make their way over. Surprisingly Oikawa moves first, eyes watching the ground as he moves to follow the blonde. Iwaizumi and Kuroo follow shortly after, the other detectives shifting slightly in their seats to try and get a better position to listen in.

Ukai’s private office space only had two guest chairs, so Kuroo was forced to lean against the back wall as they held conversation.

“I’m assuming that under all the circumstances brought up today, Y/N wasn’t at her house and now you’re all back to try and find her.” Ukai’s eyes shift around the room, glaring at each of them individually but lingering on Kuroo’s a split second longer than the others.

“That would be correct.” Tooru confirms. He never feared vocal confrontation since he usually charmed his way out of things, but this was a situation he knew that required a certain level of honesty.

“So she’s not dead, just missing, and your plan is to find her and then what?” The butt of his cigarette package is beaten at the base of his palm before he opens the backing and pulls one out. He lets the question linger in the air for a moment before placing the filter to his lips. A small black lighter that’s usually kept in the desk drawer is rummaged out before flickering to life. Ukai takes a long drag in, and slowly exhales the thick smoke into the cramped room.

A noxious smell enters the senses of every other man in the room, each scowling when they realize that the air conditioner isn’t running and the windows are shut. Ukai’s set on getting his answers, one way or another.

With a light cough, the charmer opens his mouth once more. “Y/N must have a plan if she decided to burn everything and run. Once we find her, Iwaizumi and myself plan on helping her in whatever she decides. Kuroo will be returning to the agency. Depending on what happens with Y/N we may or may not be coming back.”

The end of the cigarette burns bright when Ukai inhales. He’s attentive to every word and weighs the possibilities in his mind, although he knows that two of them have every intention to find you regardless if Ukai wants them too.

“Is her apartment gone?”

“No, just trashed from the Port Mafia.” Oikawa speaks again, knowing that Kuroo is in no position to speak and Iwaizumi would rather be out looking for you.

“You said she burned everything, is that correct?”

“Yes. She burnt her personal belongings and took her car. There was nothing left in her house at the time of arrival but the furniture was smashed to pieces.” Tooru’s mouth dries as he speaks, taking a breath to swallow his spit and think of his next words. “We think that she left her apartment right after she explained everything to Kuroo and the mafia found her address a few hours later.”

Using his better judgement, he thought it would be better to be upfront about everything than only tell Ukai bits. After working with him for so long, Oikawa knows that Ukai isn’t a fool.

A beat of silence passes over them. Ukai takes into consideration all of his options, or what he can control. Kuroo looks down at his hands and remains passive; Iwaizumi doing the same but shaking his leg, hoping that the time would pass quicker so they can get out there and start searching.

“Do you think you can actually find her?” The cigarette is only a butt now, the ashes have been tapped into a tray sitting on the edge of Ukai’s desk, who stares into the stern irises of Iwaizumi. He matches the intensity and responds without hesitation.

“Yes. It might take a couple of nights, but I doubt she left the city.”

Ukai runs his tongue across his upper teeth, lips shut as he looks at this rag-tag team sitting before him. Three men who want to find you desperately, two with the same intent and the third still a mystery to him considering the events from just an hour ago. “I want reports on everything once you get back.” Kuroo’s head snaps up only to find the Ukai is looking between them as he smothers the cig in it’s ashtray. “Go find her.”