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lizzybeth1986 · 9 months ago

Text

A Child of Babel

Book: The Royal Romance

Characters: Kiara-centric. Hints of Drake x Kiara (unrequited) and Hana x Kiara.

Word Count: 3, 484 words

Summary: The five times Kiara uttered the proverb of a language under her breath, and the two times she did it to someone's face.

A/N: I really wanted to try out a 5+1 fic format but somehow it became a 6+1 fic instead haha

Tagging @kiaratheronappreciationweek for KTAW Day 3: Languages, @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW, @choicesmaychallenge24 for Hermes: Travel

Wolof

Princesses Lerato and Lesidi will never forget the exact moment they knew Lady Kiara Thorne would become their friend.

At lunch today, it was hard initially to tell if the meal today was to her liking. She'd made all the right noises, said all the right words. Rich. Meaty. What bold flavours. But how does that count? She's the kind of girl who has likely been coached enough in courtly propriety and gastrodiplomacy (at age 11. Eleven!), that you can't quite tell if she genuinely enjoyed the food or just wanted to please her hosts.

The sisters shift uncomfortably in their plush seats at the dining hall of their palace, their eyes barely leaving the young girl's plate. Benachin jollof rice was hardly for the weak of heart (or stomach) but that never stopped the royal family of Orphys from showing pride in this particular dish. It was, after all, the jewel in the crown of their ancestral Senegambian cuisine.

So it would pierce the Orphysian soul to its core, in very specific ways, if one didn't like their jollof. Probably just as much as it would shatter a Cordonian's spirit, if you told them you thought their Cordonian Rubies tasted vile.

"Ohhh," Lady Kiara mumbled, visibly relaxed at last. "Xifuma wante samay bët suruñuuuuu". The final word comes out elongated by a leisurely moan of satisfaction. I’m not hungry but my eyes aren’t full.

For a moment, the two girls are stunned to stillness in their chairs.

Little Kiara - Lerato is beginning to recognise - is trying to utter an old Wollof proverb about the joys of their ancestral cuisine. It's said so softly you can barely hear her, and both she and her sister can hazard a guess as to why.

Of the five words said, she pronounced three wrong. Kiara knew that, and felt ashamed.

The sisters pass each other a look of knowing affection. Not many in Europe, outside of Orphys, know this proverb that well. It is indeed the kind of phrase you will chance upon only if you've been consistently trying to learn.

She had to have been learning for over a year to get to this point.

Terrible pronunciation be damned. Next time they meet Kiara again, Lerato and Lesidi sure as hell know they're gifting her the recipe.

French

"Dammit," Kiara hisses at...well...no one in particular, and especially not to the retreating figure of her longtime (and forever clueless) crush. Now that he's gone, the urge to kick herself is becoming increasingly more difficult to suppress.

Drake Walker's loose overshirt flaps against his back as he walks out of the stable, in quick, sure, decisive footsteps. There has always been some sense of purpose in his movements whenever he leaves someplace, even if - to Kiara's knowledge - he hasn't exactly had a job as such ever since that stint he took at the stables the summer she turned fifteen.

It's almost as if that is the only thing he's certain he wants to do here. Leaving.

Kiara presses her head against the door of the stable, his fists balled up so she can resist the unnecessarily dramatic urge to bang it against the wood. She's done everything - everything her admittedly-gauche, relatively-inexperienced 18 year old brain could think of - to catch his attention.

Educate herself on horses (for obvious reasons).

Read up on woodworking (Olivia had mentioned once in passing that he adored good carpentry - nothing much was said about whether he liked practicing. Still, not a bad idea for a conversation starter)

Tried to enjoy whiskey. (Didn't get past half a mug, unfortunately. It was...interesting. She treated herself to her favourite bottle of Tempranillo later).

Came to the stables today for what she tried to pass off as a friendly chat about the winning stakes at the upcoming Derby. (She could have been talking to a haystack for all it mattered. He just looked up from his saddle tack set, took off his disgustingly well-disguised earphones, raised his eyebrows and said, "You were saying something??" before leaving without an answer)

(She'd worked so fucking hard to sound like she knew what she was talking about)

Kiara groans again against the door, weakly punching it one final time before she opens it, muttering furiously underneath her breath.

"Just give it up, Kiki," she scolds herself, hands jammed into the pockets of her coat. "C'est comme pisser dans un violon."

"Eww," a high-pitched, rather sweet voice says behind her, "That sounds like an...uncomfortably specific preference for a place to piss."

Kiara tries - and fails - to hide her grimace. On any other day, she'd be proud of Savannah for coming this far in just a few months. She's certain that her dear friend's rather successful attempt at translation is more a miracle of guesswork. A combination of remembering the few words she has been taught so far, and figuring out the ones that sound closer to their English counterparts.

(And that is how it must be. That is how Kiara knows that Savannah is serious about learning this language)

On any other day she'd praise her. But today... today she just wants to erase the last ten minutes from her brain. The last person she wants to know about her deep, tragic humiliation is the sister of the man who had crushed her umpteenth attempt to impress him to dust. With his fucking headphones.

"Forget you ever heard that," Kiara mumbles, "come, let's go see what snacks they have for tea. I'm starving."

Darija

On the day Prince Leo and his fiancée, Countess Madeleine, visit Castelserraillan after their engagement tour, there are only two members of the Thorne family waiting to receive the entourage. Kiara, and her father.

Ezekiel is barely - if ever - noticed and he would rather leave it that way. But Maman...they had to create a story for her.

The official excuse is that she'll be hosting an immensely important international art fair around the same time - one that heralded the work of Cordonia's local artisans. One that was time-sensitive and couldn't possibly be shifted around, Crown Prince or no.

In reality, her mind had been made up, the moment Lady Kaouther - the young woman her parents had sponsored for the social season this year - returned to the province in tears, swearing to never set foot in the Capitol again, reluctant to even tell Maman and Baba what had gone so wrong.

But Maman had found out anyway. The press was loath to criticize the countess' treatment of her ladies-in-waiting, drooling like sick horses over every scrap of charm and quotable quote she threw their way.

But when Ana de Luca is close enough to you to have your number of speed dial, there's no end to the tea that'll be willingly spilled at your table.

Poor Kaouther was still getting threats and harassment from afar. Mostly to keep her mouth shut about her former employer's exploits. Both midly annoying and deeply sadistic. Both sober and rum-fuelled. Some may be impressed at how Countess Madeleine managed to maintain such secrecy, from even the royal family she is marrying into.

Maman cursed and swore she would never entertain a viper like that in her presence, and who could blame her?

Kiara swallows as she sees the entourage approached. Baba knew his relationship with the royal family was already hanging by a frighteningly precarious balance. He couldn't afford any further damage, and he hardly wanted to expose Madeleine's misdeeds without Kaouther's consent either.

So yes. They were going to go through the motions of greeting the royal entourage. They were going to be perfect hosts. But Madeleine would know. Madeleine would hear their words - cascading in waves of poisoned honey - and know. And be unable to tell anyone anything. That will be Kiara's unsaid, unheard promise to Kaouther, and to herself.

The Countess is stopped by the press before she walked over to their manor, her smile perfectly in place and her hand on a rather diffident Prince Leo's arm as she answers their questions. Yes, we are in love. Yes, our economy is strong. Yes, my aim is to build strong relationships with my people wherever I go. To let them know I do it all for them, and them alone. To be the Queen that Cordonia needs, that my subjects can trust.

Kiara has never heard so much horseshit spill out of a courtier's mouth, and she's been part of enough royal courts to see the worst.

"Shakuwn daha fik alhurirat 'aw albalbulat nahar aleid!" Kiara says roughly in Darija as the entourage - led by the Crown Prince and his future consort - approach. She thinks she's so special, but really she's only about as special as a plain harrira soup served at an Eid-ul-Fitr banquet.

Hakim gently nudges his daughter's shoulder with his own. "But ya Babba," he teases, probably to lighten her mood a little before the group arrives, "I thought you liked harrira soup."

Kiara gives Madeleine one last glare before schooling her face to a more neutral expression.

Her next words are going to be quite nasty by Castelserraillan standards, but for all the sacrifices they are making today her father can surely afford her this one luxury. "Not if it wears a face as sour as her's."

Greek

Just a five minute break, Penelope had promised, thirty minutes ago.

Kiara has only herself to blame for believing that nonsense, after being in close quarters with her for an entire month - but there's something about that woman that makes most people want to keep giving her the benefit of the doubt.

('Me,' Kiara wants to say, 'I'm people')

The beam she is carrying for the barn-raising is small, but heavy enough that you'd get tired out quickly if you didn't take help. By ten minutes Kiara has to will herself to move ahead. By fifteen her thighs begin to cramp, and by twenty her head is swimming and she has a brief spiteful thought about making Penelope carry twenty beams as a belated apology. Though knowing her (and it pains Kiara to admit this; she likes Penelope too much) she would find some way to make herself the victim.

Thirty minutes have passed now, and the only energy she has left is wasted in gritting her teeth and groaning "Just...a few more...steps...till I can drop this...stupid plank...Mon Dieu!!!"

Kiara's mind goes blank for several seconds as she feels the weight of the beam falling on her, a dull pain already throbbing on her ankle.

"Ohhh thée mou," she hears a rough, gravelly, rather disgruntled voice above her, its sound causing her heartbeats to pound violently in her chest and its owner already using his strong, strong hands to save her...

"Ópios den théli na zimósi," she whispers, completely drained, "déka méres koskinízi."

It's a proverb Kiara has often heard in the Capitol - specifically for procrastinators - and she has now lost count of the number of times Penelope has left something she doesn't like to do "for later"...often leading Kiara to finish the job alone.

Drake stares back at her, confused. Mentally, she kicks herself. Again.

Of course. She should've known. Drake Walker is familiar enough with Greek that he'll maybe cuss or blurt out a phrase he'd learned from his childhood in the palace, but clearly he has no patience for metaphors, allegories, idioms or proverbs.

"Oh, uh...merci beaucoup," she backtracks, awkwardly.

Drake shakes his head - his eyes, amused, still on her face - and throws the beam away. It doesn't mean much, but that ten-second glance is fuel enough at this point for a month's worth of dreams.

Almost as if from a great distance, she thinks she can hear Esther's voice, low and concerned. "Kiara? Are you okay??"

Kiara locks eyes with Drake, and for once he meets her gaze. Doesn't say anything, doesn't even show a reaction - but at least he isn't looking away like she doesn't matter.

She smiles brightly. "I am now."

Gujarati/Mandarin

Married as they have been for six months now, Kiara can tell by several small, subtle signs when Hana is nervous.

Not that Hana makes observing a very hard task, not at all. She has an immensely expressive face.

Kiara massages the soft parts of her palm - just the way she likes it - while Hana takes several deep breaths.

"This is the first Parsi wedding I'll be attending, ever," Hana says slowly. "The bride is my cousin. This is supposed to be my family, and yet all of this feels as alien as if I never had a mother from this community." She closes her eyes then opens them again, gazing at the wedding sign on the gate. Delnaaz weds Zubin. "What if I mess this up?"

"You won't," Kiara takes both Hana's hands in hers. "And even if you do make a sliver of a mistake, Delnaaz is not going to judge you. And she's the bride; she's the one who matters. She's nothing like your mother or your uncle Cyrus."

Hana lets out a shaky laugh. "God I hope not." Her finger strokes lightly against Kiara's cheek. "One last kiss? For luck?"

Kiara presses her forehead against Hana's after they're done, sighing gently. Mon Dieu, how I love this woman.

"Remember that saying you hear from practically all the nice people in Bethulia," Kiara winds her arms around Hana's waist. "It's so prolific they should start painting it on their coat-of-arms. In Gujarati."

"Khavanu, pivanu, majja ni life." They both laugh gently as they whisper the phrase, hugging each other tighter. Eat, drink and be merry, indeed.

Hana seems to take that advice to heart once they go in, and most of the family (whether enthusiastically, or under duress - the latter perhaps a result of Delnaaz having a stern talking-to with relatives who had rejected Hana earlier) openly welcomes Hana into the fold.

The wedding goes terrifically: Delnaaz appears resplendent in a gorgeous white silk-and-lace Parsi Gara sari (that, Hana informs her, has been the family heirloom for five generations now), her (now) husband looking very distinguished in his white dagli and a black fetah atop his head. Once she finds herself comfortable among people who should treat her like family, Hana practically shines in her interactions - scintillating at conversations, singing and dancing and joking with the rest when she can.

Her Gujarati is a little shaky still, but that's hardly a problem. After all, this is the first language we're going to learn together, ma moitié, Kiara had reassured her once.

A few hours later, when the party started winding down, Hana and Kiara shifted to a smaller, more secluded alcove within the wedding venue. Dinyar - another of Hana's Bethulian cousins - pointed it out to Kiara, whispering conspiratorily that very few in the wedding party noticed this place at all and they could have all the privacy they wanted. Hana made sure they carried a sweet along.

And so here they are, now, inside a romantic little gazebo, sitting together - Hana taking a spoonful of Lagan nu Custard and raising it to Kiara's lips. They close their eyes as they savour. Silky. Creamy. Decadent.

"Look at us, playing hooky at an event when you were so worried about behaving right just yesterday. Yet won't you say this little moment by ourselves was the best one?"

Hana winks. "You know me so well."

"Only as well as you do, darling," she says, cupping Hana's cheek, "My soulmate."

When they kiss, Kiara can taste hints of cardamom and nutmeg on Hana's tongue. She laughs into their kiss.

"Zài tiān yuàn zuò bǐ yì niǎo..." Kiara says, the grin hardly leaving her face when they part.

"...zài dì yuàn zuò lián lǐ zhī!" Hana wipes the last bit of custard on the tip of Kiara's nose, then uses that as an excuse to gently bite it off her.

They tighten their arms around each other. That saying has always been a favourite with both of them.

In heaven let us be two birds flying ever together, and on earth two trees with branches interlocked forever.

Bonus: English (with a tiny side serving of Cajun French)

Queen Esther seems almost transformed when their entourage sets foot in Louisiana. In some ways, she seems even more at home here than she had ever seemed even in New York. And to think, everyone thought that place was her home!

"It is," she'd explained once, when Kiara had asked her, "but NOLA was where I was born. I spent my entire childhood here. A part of me will always remain here."

She takes them to an old favourite of her parents', a mom-and-pop shop that's still miraculously standing and - according to Esther - that still possesses the same incredible flavours. Hana is already all praise for the gumbo and the bananas foster.

"Try the beignets, Hana," Esther suggests, her eyes sparkling at her open joy. "Dip them in the hot chocolate. Best that way!"

She does...and next thing they know, Hana's best friend and wife are treated to a happy dance on a chair.

Kiara's eyes are set on what seems to be a more humble (but moist, glistening, crisp on the outside!) preparation. A croquette of some sort?

"Boulettes de chevrette," the server replies, closely watching her face.

"...shrimp?" Kiara says, after a pause too significant for Esther to miss. The server nods.

"You certainly took a little extra time to mentally translate that," she says. "Is it called something else in French?"

"Yes," Kiara replies, "We call it crevette. But that's not the part I find interesting."

Intrigued, Esther raises an eyebrow, nodding at her companion to continue.

She clears her throat. "I'm beginning to find that certain words in your French have retained their original form from older versions of our language. And with others, they've evolved over time into different words, while in our language that word remained the way it was. Chevrette was what we used to call shrimp before we started using the Norman regional variant, crevette."

"Oh wow," Esther says, amazed, "I had no clue."

Kiara smiles. "Now you do."

Later that evening, the queen confides in her.

"You know...I used to be nervous speaking French in front of you."

Kiara's eyebrows are knit together in confusion. "Pourquoi?? You spoke very well."

Esther sighs. "It's silly."

"Tell me all the same."

Esther laughs, almost as if at the foolishness of her younger self. "I thought you'd make fun of me for "speaking French all wrong". That you'd look down on me."

Kiara's heart sinks to her stomach. "Did I really sound that snotty back then?"

"Oh no. No," Esther reassures her. "Especially not with languages."

Kiara is familiar enough with Esther now to teasingly nudge her arm a little with her elbow. "At least not unless you're asking me to sleep with you. You can't imagine how many people would just say voulez vouz coucher avec moi ce soir to my face, and think they could get away with it. And this was even before Hana introduced me to Lady Marmalade!"

Esther rolls her eyes, chuckling ruefully. "I introduced her to that one."

The laughter doesn't last very long. Lines of humour then dissolve into lines of tension on Esther's face. She isn't quite done explaining yet. "I guess I was just...feeling a little out of place. So I may have projected a little back then."

Kiara nodded. She did remember how hard that season, and the subsequent engagement tour (which she often things of with a little regret), had been on Esther. And she'd never allowed those fears and insecurities to show on her face. "That makes sense," she says, "but you know there's this saying I read a while ago..."

"What?" Esther asks, her curiosity now piqued.

"'We should learn languages because language is the only thing worth knowing even poorly.' It's a quote by a Hungarian translator mamed Kató Lomb."

Esther seems to open her mouth to protest the appropriateness of the quote, when Kiara stops her. "For the record, it doesn't correctly apply to your use of Cajun French. That is a dialect. It has its own rules. En vrai, I'd love to learn more."

The Queen relaxes, even smiling at the casual reference to her - something she knows Kiara will only use when she's sure they are friends.

"I'm just saying that even if you did get phrases in a language wrong, that wouldn't be reason enough for me to scoff at you. I'd be a hypocrite if I did that. After all, I wouldn't be this good at ten languages if I weren't constantly making mistakes."

As she often does since that eventful first meeting in Orphys, she remembers the kindness Lerato and Lesidi showed her, despite her terrible, terrible attempt at saying something in Wolof. The recipe for Senegambian-style jollof, that they gave her the next time she had visited their kingdom, still holds pride of place in her personal collection of precious things.

"I think what I'm saying is," she says, taking a deep breath, "when you make mistakes but the result is that I'm hearing a new language come out of your mouth, it's a wonderful thing. To me, it means you want to learn. And everyone's pace is different, so I'm no one to judge if you take more time to learn it than on someone else. There is never anything wrong with that."

Esther smiles again, softer this time, and more admiringly. "Noted," she says softly. "And we should definitely pack some fried alligator and remoulade sauce from here to snack on later."

Kiara grins. Her mouth is already watering. "We certainly will."

Translations:

Xifuma wante samay bët suruñu (Wolof) - I’m not hungry but my eyes aren’t full (basically the food is really really delicious). Source: Grace in Senegal

C'est comme pisser dans un violon! (French) - It's like pissing inside a violin! (Used to describe something useless and ineffective, or to complain about not being listened to after asking somebody to do something. Pissing in a violin is ineffective, it won't make a sound.) Source: Untranslatable

شكون داها فيك الحريرة (أو البلبولة) نهار العي

(Darija)

Describing someone who is incredibly pleased with themselves, but in actuality they are like Harrira on Eid al Fitr. Used to criticize someone who thinks very highly of themselves but has no justifiable reason to do so. Kind of like saying "you think you're hot shit in a champagne glass when you are really cold diarrhea in a Dixie cup". To explain the cultural context a little, Harrira is the soup Moroccans eat every day during Ramadan. On Eid, it stays in the fridge and people eat a lot of sweets. Source: Arabic Easy Language blog

Όποιος δεν θέλει να ζυμώσει, δέκα μέρες κοσκινίζει (Greek) - "Whoever does not want to knead, sifts for ten days". It is used to describe a procrastinator who finds every reason not to engage with their assigned task. Source: GreekPod 101.

Khavanu, pivanu, majja ni life (Gujarati) - khavanu refers to eating, pivanu refers to drinking, majja ni life means life is fun/amazing or to enjoy life. So it's basically "eat, drink and make merry". It's a popular Gujarati saying, I think, but it's associated most with the Parsi community.

在天愿作比翼鸟，在地愿为连理枝。(Mandarin) - In heaven as two birds flying together, On earth as two trees with branches interlocked forever. Basically a romantic proverb about soulmates. Source: China Plus

Notes:

The full quote from Kató Lomb goes like this:

"We should learn languages because language is the only thing worth knowing even poorly. If someone knows how to play the violin only a little, he will find that the painful minutes he causes are not in proportion to the possible joy he gains from his playing. The amateur chemist spares himself ridicule only as long as he doesn’t aspire for professional laurels. The man somewhat skilled in medicine will not go far, and if he tries to trade on his knowledge without certification, he will be locked up as a quack doctor.

Solely in the world of languages is the amateur of value. Well-intentioned sentences full of mistakes can still build bridges between people. Asking in broken Italian which train we are supposed to board at the Venice railway station is far from useless. Indeed, it is better to do that than to remain uncertain and silent and end up back in Budapest rather than in Milan."

The line about chevrette/crevette is something I read from the LSU website, from their Department of French Studies. This is what it says:

"Change is inevitable for living languages. It would be unreasonable, however, to expect change to happen in the same way in places remote from each other. In some cases, Cajun French has maintained words, structures and pronunciations which the French have long ago abandoned. For example, Cajuns have maintained the original chevrette to refer to shrimp, while the French adopted the Norman regional variant crevette as their standard word. In other cases, Cajun words or pronunciations have evolved while the French word remained stable. The French recevoir, for example, has become reçoir in Cajun French."

Source: LSU Department of French Studies

#kiara theron #the royal romance #the royal heir #the royal finale #kiaratheronappreciationweek #KTAW #KTAW 2024 #KTAW Day 3 #KTAW Day 3: Languages #content: fanfic #lizzybeth1986

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mountain-in-springtime · 2 years ago

Text

in a song

pairing: jake x reader | word count: ~3.3k | warnings: kissing??? | my masterlist

summary: jake and the reader have been best friends for years, but when they realize that their feelings may go beyond that, will they confess their love, or will the fear of losing their friendship get in the way?

author’s note: okay so i’ve been having the idea for this fic in my mind for at least a year or two so i’m thrilled to finally have it written out and share it with you guys. i’m overall really proud of how it came out, and i hope you guys really enjoy it! <3 also it's based off of the song "i'll have to say i love you in a song" by jim croce, which i have linked below.

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

You and Jake became best friends in middle school. Your family had just moved to Frankenmuth, and it was hard for you to meet new people. Sure, you had talked to a few kids between classes, but it was nothing that went beyond a couple of questions about where you were from or what’s for homework. It wasn’t that your classmates ignored you or weren’t interested or anything, you were just a really shy kid who had a hard time adjusting. Until you met Jake.

You remember it like it was yesterday. You were bored out of your mind, listening to your math teacher drone on through problem after problem when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see your soon-to-be best friend leaning over his desk, staring up at you with big brown eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I really like your button.” He pointed at the small image of Jimi Hendrix pinned to your bookbag. You quickly glanced down at it, and then looked back at him.

“Oh, thanks.” You replied with a smile. You began to turn back towards the front of the class when his hand shot out to your shoulder again.

“Me and my brothers are gonna listen to a bunch of my dad’s old records after school. You wanna come?” He looked up at you, waiting for an answer. When you looked a bit indecisive, he quickly added, “we have some Hendrix records. And some Zeppelin and Beatles ones too if you listen to that.”

You thought it over for a moment. You didn’t know the boy, but then again, you didn’t really know anybody yet. He seemed nice enough, and you needed to make friends at some point, so why not now? You shrugged and finally answered. “Sure. Where do you guys live?”

“Just meet me out in front of the school after the last bell. We can walk there together,” he responded. You nodded and went to turn around again but were stopped when the boy held out his hand. “I’m Jake, by the way. The dork sitting behind Carly over there is my twin brother Josh. You’ll get to meet him after school.” You took his hand, shaking it and telling him your name. Jake smiled and gave you a quick, “Cool. See you after class,” before leaning back in his desk and scribbling down the answers from the board.

From that day on, you and Jake were attached at the hip. You spent all of your free time hanging out with him and his brothers, and they quickly became a second family to you. They were part of all of your favorite memories just as you were a part of theirs. And as you grew together, so did your friendship. Jake got to see you come out of your shell, and you got to see him chase his dreams with his brothers at his side. You could be seen at the front row of every gig, singing along and supporting your friends. You were their number one fan.

Things inevitably changed a bit when their careers really started to take off, though. It was great to see your boys making a name for themselves, but it was hard to be away from them so often. It was especially difficult to not have Jake around. You made the most of it though, traveling to see him whenever you could and going to whatever shows you could make it to. Still, nothing beat having your best friend at home, especially when it became an increasingly rare occurrence. That’s why you were so happy when he told you that he would be back in Frankenmuth for the next two months. The band had wrapped up their tour, and their newest album was finally finished, so they were headed home for a well-deserved break. You could hardly wait to see them.

You had gone with Jake’s family to pick him and the boys up at the airport. The minute you two locked eyes, you sprinted over, pulling him into a hug so strong it nearly knocked him to the ground. You wordlessly held him for a few moments until he let go and looked at you, a huge smile plastered across his face. “So I guess you missed me, huh?” he joked.

“Eh, maybe a little bit,” you answered with a shrug and roll of your eyes. The two of you burst into a fit of laughter, which was soon interrupted by Josh slinging his arm over your shoulder.

“Geez, and what am I, chopped liver?” he said with feigned jealousy.

You giggled, throwing your arms around him. “Of course not, Joshy. I missed all of you guys.”

He hugged you back. “Good, because we missed you, too. Besides, you can’t go around giving Jakey all of the attention. It goes to his head, you know,” he lowered his voice to a loud whisper, “I think this rockstar lifestyle is starting to change him.”

You smiled softly and turned to see Jake hugging his parents, clearly thrilled to see them again. “Nah,” you responded, “he’s always the same Jake.”

Josh simply nodded in agreement and gave you one last hug before joining his twin. Sam and Danny soon arrived, and you greeted them with an embrace that more closely resembled a tackle, telling them how much you missed them. They returned the sentiment and after a bit of catching up, everyone piled into Karen’s vehicle, ready to go home. The boys entertained you with stories from the tour and recording studio the whole car ride, and everyone was still talking and laughing as you poured out of the car and into the Kiszka home.

After the three Kiszka boys unpacked their suitcases, you made a quick stop at the Wagners’, allowing Danny to drop off his bags and greet his family. Once that was all done, you headed down to a local diner for lunch. The conversation seemed to flow between you in a never-ending stream as the boys tried to share every detail of their time away with you and you tried to catch them up on everything they had missed in Frankenmuth.

You eventually left the diner, and everyone began to figure out their plans for the afternoon. Danny was going to head to his parents’ house so that he could spend some time with his family. Josh and Sam were both going to hang out with some old friends before coming back to dinner at their house. That meant you and Jake had the next few hours to yourself, which you were equally excited for and nervous about, in all honesty.

It wasn’t that you felt uncomfortable around Jake. That probably isn’t even possible at this point. You felt so comfortable with Jake. You knew him better than you knew yourself, and he knew you better than anyone else. But as you both got older, you noticed a change in how you felt toward Jake. Where he used to just be your awkward best friend who made you laugh and shared his music with you, he now became a cool, confident guitarist who was setting the world on fire with his talent. He was the same sweet, lovable guy you always knew, but now he was a ridiculously handsome rockstar to boot. He’s practically perfect. How could you not fall in love with him? And that was the problem. You were desperately trying to not fall in love with Jake, and it was proving impossible.

It was easier when the other guys were around. All the noise and chaos that they brought along with them could keep you distracted from how Jake’s eyes were enough to make you weak in the knees or how his smile could make you swoon at the drop of a hat. But when you and Jake were alone, there were fewer distractions. Actually, there were none at all.

So here you are, sitting on the Kiszkas’ couch, watching a movie with your best friend, and trying your hardest not to think about how close he is or how much you love the way his nose crinkles when he laughs or any of the other things that made him absolutely irresistible.

After a while, you started to get more invested in the movie, finally letting your feelings for Jake slip your mind, at least for a little while. You subconsciously sank deeper into the couch, getting more comfortable as the film went on, and as the credits rolled, you realized that you were securely nestled into Jake’s side. Your head was resting on his chest, and his arm was slung across your shoulders. You felt your cheeks heat up as you slowly turned your head to look at him. To your surprise, he was already looking at you, a lazy smile painted across his features. Too afraid to break the silence, you didn’t say a word, opting to just hold his gaze and attempt a weak smile. It was then that Jake finally spoke up.

“Hey,” he said in a near-whisper, “I really missed you.”

Your smile grew as you answered, “I missed you too.”

Jake continued to look at you, his eyes roaming your face and seemingly scanning every feature as if he were committing them to memory. “Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” he finally asked, a hint of shyness in his voice.

You slowly shook your head in response and felt yourself lean in closer, and you could almost swear Jake was doing the same. But just before you could close the gap between you, the door opened, making the two of you jump apart. Josh and Sam came into the room, too caught up in laughing at whatever conversation they were having to notice how close you and Jake were mere seconds ago. You mentally thanked them for that.

“Hey, guys!” Sam said, walking over and plopping down on the couch between you and Jake. You both mumbled quiet greetings, making Sam raise an eyebrow. “Wait did we interrupt something? Because I’m getting a weird vibe right now.” You and Jake quickly answered in the negative, but Sam still seemed skeptical. “You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, we were just trying to decide if we wanted to watch another movie,” you replied, hoping that your explanation was convincing enough. It must have been, because Sam changed the subject, filling you and Jake in on the events of his afternoon. Josh was soon chiming in, sharing how he spent the last few hours and cracking his usual cheesy jokes. The four of you fell into comfortable conversation, and you were honestly glad to have the extra company. The tension between you and Jake had felt thicker than ever earlier, and it terrified you. Tension that thick had the potential to turn into something that could change your friendship forever, and that was too special to lose.

As these thoughts took over your mind, you were soon brought back to reality by Jake’s voice paired with his hand waving in front of your face. “Hello?” he called, “anybody home?” You gave your head a quick shake before meeting his eyes. He let out a small chuckle. “There you are. C’mon, dinner’s ready,” he told you, beckoning for you to follow him into the dining room.

You joined Jake and his family at the table, which was filled with plates of the boys’ favorite foods. It was all delicious, and you could tell that Karen had worked hard to make a special meal for her sons. The dinner table was silent, a rare occurrence for the Kiszka home, as everyone was too busy scarfing down their food to attempt a real conversation. After everyone had finished eating, you and Jake helped clean up, washing the dishes and saving up any leftovers that remained. You mostly worked in silence, simply content to be in each other’s company. Occasionally, you would make eye contact and share a small smile or crack a joke and give in to a small fit of giggles. As you were finishing up the dishes, Jake tapped your shoulder. “Do you want me to drive you home?” he asked, reaching for his keys.

You nodded, drying your hands, “Sure, just let me say goodbye to everyone.” He gave you a thumbs up, and you made your way around the house, hugging everybody and promising to come over for breakfast in the morning. You waved one last goodbye before walking out the door, Jake following close behind.

You let out a contented sigh as you began the ride home, and a comfortable silence fell between you for a few moments until Jake cleared his throat and began to speak. “Hey, uh, about what happened after the movie today-”

“It’s fine, Jake,” you cut him off, “I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well, wait, I just wanted to tell you-” he tried to start, but you stopped him again.

“Jake, I’m serious. I’d rather not talk about it, okay?”

“Okay,” he resigned, looking a bit defeated, “I’m sorry I brought it up.” He turned the vehicle into your driveway.

“It’s okay,” you said, opening up the door and hopping out of the car, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good” He nodded and gave you a weak smile as you shut the door. You walked to your front door and gave him one last wave goodbye before going inside. You felt terrible. Why’d you have to be so dismissive? He clearly wanted to talk to you, and you didn’t even hear him out. But then again, what good would it have done? Unless what he had to say was along the lines of, “I’m madly in love with you. Let’s be together forever,” your friendship would never be the same, and you definitely didn’t want that. You didn’t know what to do. It was like a million voices and thoughts were flying around your mind in a million different directions. All you could think to do was try your hardest to not think about it at all. You tried to do just about everything you could to distract yourself. You scrolled on your phone, listened to music, and even tried to start reading a new book. But no matter what you did, all of your thoughts traveled back to Jake. You couldn’t shake him even if you wanted to. Admitting your defeat, you decided to just go to bed and hope to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Thankfully, your prayers were answered, and your eyes drifted closed not long after your head hit the pillow.

After only a couple of hours of rest, you were woken up by a light tapping noise. You sat up, looking for the source of the sound. It repeated, this time louder, and you whipped your head in its direction. It seemed to be coming from your window. You reluctantly climbed out of bed and went to investigate. Once you had reached the glass, you immediately saw what was making the noise. Standing there at your window, at nearly midnight, was your best friend. He shot you a small wave as you came to open the window.

“Jake, it’s almost midnight; what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still raspy with sleep.

“I had to come see you,” he replied, “I have something to show you.” He raised his arm to reveal the acoustic guitar he had brought with him.

You let out a sigh. “Jake, I’m glad that you want to share your songs with me, but I’d rather you show me what you’ve been writing in the morning, okay?” you said in a slightly frustrated tone.

“This isn’t one of my new songs,” he corrected, “It’s something different. Just please let me in. I have to show you.”

You stood there for a moment and then moved to the side, letting him climb in through the window. “I do have a front door, y’know. You don’t have to climb in here like a teenager,” you quipped.

He grabbed his guitar and sat at the edge of your bed before replying, “Oh please, I’m bringing a sense of youthful adventure to your life.”

“Yeah,” you retorted, “like that’s something I need. Now what’s this big important thing you had to show me, mister?” You plopped onto your bed and looked at Jake expectantly.

You couldn’t be sure in the dark, but you could swear his cheeks reddened. “Oh,” he started, “it’s, um, it’s a song. It’s not one that I wrote, but I just need to show it to you. So, uh, here goes I guess.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat before beginning to strum. As annoyed as you were to be woken up in the middle of the night, you had to admit that you loved hearing Jake play. He was so talented, and it always put you at peace to hear him gently plucking away at the strings. After a few bars, Jake began to sing, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach and tears form in your eyes.

Well, I know it’s kinda late

I hope I didn’t wake you

But what I got to say can’t wait

I know you’d understand

‘Cause every time I tried to tell you

The words just came out wrong

So I’ll have to say “I love you” in a song

It was one of your favorite songs, and coming from Jake it sounded infinitely beautiful and more true and alive than ever before. He played with his eyes closed, almost as if he were scared to open them. His hands moved across the guitar, and his voice filled your room until the song was over. Then he slowly opened his eyes to see your reaction.

Completely overcome, all you could muster was a teary, “Oh, Jake.”

He quickly averted his eyes and began to get up. “That was weird, right?” he asked. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have-” But before he could continue you grabbed his shirt, pulling him into you and connecting your lips with his. Your hands moved up to comb through his hair as his travelled to the small of your back, pulling you close to him with all the desperation in his being. The two of you slowly moved to lay against your bed, continuing to trace your hands across each other as you finally unleashed the love you had been holding back for so many years. When you came up for air, you rested your foreheads together, giddy smiles spread across your faces. Jake passed his thumb across your cheek, wiping away your remaining tears. Then he breathed out the words you’d been waiting to hear your entire life: “I love you.” You could hardly believe it. Jake, your Jake, your handsome, perfect Jake, loved you. He really loved you.

You let out a soft giggle, “I love you, too. I think I always have.”

His smile grew even wider as he pulled you in for another quick, but no less meaningful kiss. “Me too,” he said in a near-whisper, “Ever since we first met. You’ve always been the one for me.”

Your face broke into the biggest smile as you threw your arms around him and buried your face into his chest, letting out a muffled, “I’m so glad you’re back, Jakey.”

He let out a chuckle, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let out a contented hum, nuzzling your head into his chest and eventually falling asleep. Jake wasn’t far behind, whispering another “I love you,” before drifting off to sleep with the love of his life in his arms. Finally.

tags: @bowievanfleet (anyone who wants to be tagged in future fics, please let me know!)

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #jake x y/n #jake gvf #jake <3 #gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #Spotify #mal writes

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strangesoulmates · 2 years ago

Text

tagged by @polarnacht1 and @lastlymatt

Snippet comes to us from a fic where Yassen and Alex in-body time travel back to the start of tv canon and Ian is very, VERY confused

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"What the fuck is going on?" Martin asked from behind him, and Alex turned to look at him, genuinely surprised.

"Sorry, who are you?" Alex asked.

"That is Martin Wilby," Yassen answered, and Ian watched in something between interest and horror as Yassen's eyes sharpened into something much more familiar. "You remember when I said that Ian trusted the people he worked with?"

Alex's face shifted into an expression that had Ian's blood freezing in his veins. It was an expression he had seen countless times before, though never on Alex's face. no, this expression was all John. John at his most ruthless, most calculating. It was an expression that never should have been on Alex's face.

"Why are you here, Ian?" Alex asked at last, eyes still fixed on an increasingly panicked looking Martin.

"Martin lured him here," Yassen answered.

"No surveillance," Alex mused aloud, the same voice he used when he was working through a difficult homework problem. "This is his test, isn't it?"

Alex looked away from Martin long enough to meet Yassen's gaze and the assassin dipped his head once in answer.

Ian might not know exactly what was going on, but he knew enough that, if true, the pieces Yassen and Alex were giving him were enough to put together at least this corner of the puzzle.

Martin was Scorpia. Martin was Scorpia, and he had brought Ian here to be killed.

Ian turned to face him, and found his answer in Martin's expression. Panicked, yes, but not confused. And that panic was quickly translating into action.

Because Martin still had his gun up. A gun whose aim was quickly shifting from Ian to the figure beside him. Aiming directly at Alex.

"Someone tell me what's going on," Martin said. "Or I shoot him."

Alex gave an exaggerated wince at that, but didn't look frightened in the least.

"Ooh, bad call," he said.

Ian agreed. In a single move, Martin had sealed his fate. Before this, Ian might have done his best to try and bring Martin in, to interrogate him to get some answers, or see if perhaps he could be flipped again, for all that he would never be trusted.

But Ian had lost his brother. Had lost his sister in law. He was not going to lose his child. John's child. the last family he had left.

He fired, unhesitating, freezing for a moment when he heard another shot a fraction of a second before his own. A quick glance at Martin's gun revealed that he hadn't been the one to fire it, and in that moment that was all Ian cared about. Alex was safe. If Yassen shot him, so be it. Alex was what mattered, and Yassen had been more friendly with him than anyone else.

Alex was John's son. That would be enough to buy his freedom, Ian hoped. To buy his life, at the very least.

But there was no flash of pain, no familiar line of fire across any part of his body, nor the cold wash of adrenaline that might hide an injury.

Instead Martin Wilby fell to the ground, a red stain blossoming over his shirt where Ian had shot him and a hole in the center of his forehead, answering the question of where the second shot had gone.

Ian spun as soon as Martin began to fall, gun brought to bare on Yassen only to freeze when he saw that Alex had stepped directly between the two of them. He was staring at Ian in something like shock.

"You shot him," Alex said. He didn't look upset, just surprised.

"He was going to shoot you," Ian said simply. "And I'm not the only one," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but Yassen shoots people all the time," Alex said. "That was the....forth? Forth person I've watched him kill. It's kind of worn off at this point," Alex said with a shrug.

Ian stared at him, horrified, but well trained enough that he couldn't help but catch the way Yassen tilted his head slightly to the side in consideration before nodding once in confirmation. Counting, Ian realized. Double-checking Alex's maths, of all things. How had this happened? More importantly, how had this happened without him noticing after working so hard to keep even whispers of Alex's existence from reaching the rest of the world. Yassen especially.

He was an intelligence agent operating on [alarmingly] little intelligence. Something that could be deadly in this field. But Ian was good at his job. There was a reason he was still alive all these years later, even as active in the field as he had been.

Martin was Scorpia. Had lured him here to die. Specifically to be killed by Yassen, cementing his loyalty to the organization by giving them the ammunition they would need to ruin him should he ever get cold feet about his new allegiance.

Yassen was willing to kill Ian. The moment it was ordered, he would not hesitate. Would regret it, perhaps, but would carry out the order regardless.

But Alex...the second Martin had threatened Alex, Yassen had shot to kill, not caring about the asset that Scorpia might be losing.

"And how many of those people were pointing guns at you at the time?" Ian asked.

"Are we counting Wilby or not?" Alex answered, and that was all the confirmation that Ian needed. Yassen had killed to protect Alex before.

"Dealer's choice," Ian answered.

"Two others," Alex said. "But I'm not sure one of them should count. I mean, the guy shot Yassen first."

Yassen looked almost offended at that. As if the thought that Alex might doubt that he shot the man because of Alex was hurtful.

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tagging @corolune and anyone else who wants to play! I think everyone else I would have tagged already has been

#polarnacht1 #lastlymatt #snippet game #yalex #alex rider #fanfic snippet

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captains-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Carol Danvers ~ Put On A Show

(This isn't what she looks like in this fic but it is the ✨I'm gonna make you see the stars vibe✨)

Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut

Word Count: 3,569

Includes: lil bit of public teasing, thigh grinding, edging, gagging on fingers, praise, strap on, overstimulation and oral

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Being an Avenger taught you to handle a lot of difficult situations.

You knew how to take down a state of the art quinjet in a minute. You could survive on an unknown planet. You had played a significant part in tracking down and rounding up the last Hydra agents.

And yet no one had ever prepared you to be stuck in a room with a hundred arrogant business men who were desperately trying to impress you with what they thought was power.

You were certain you could have better conversations with a caveman.

You weren't a superspy like Natasha. You couldn't fake interest, put on a realistic smile and pretend to enjoy yourself like she could.

You weren't Tony who genuinely enjoyed himself at those kind of parties and thrived at being the center of attention.

And you weren't Carol who didn't need either of those things. If she didn't want to talk to someone, she wouldn't. It only took one of her looks to make any of the leaches hurry away. She didn't have to worry about the repercussions of doing so because there weren't any. Non of the guests would ever be willing to admit they were intimidated by a woman.

Not that you were jealous of what Carol had. Carol wasn't the kind of person you wanted to be, but she sure as hell was the kind of person you wanted to be with. And that woman was one of a kind.

The distraction of the Captain was definetly not helping you keep your cool. She wore a tight fitting dark blue suit that you had been struggling to stop yourself staring at ever since you had first seen it. Her hair was hanging loose at her shoulders and had become messy from the amount of times she had run her slim hand through it. That alone had your mind reeling of what other ways you could get it to look like that.

You had been lucky so far, everytime you stole a glance at the Captain and her attire she happened to be in convosation with someone else. Although that meant you two hadn't exchanged a single word that night.

Thankfully, you had soon learnt that half of the guests never actually noticed if you zoned out, perfectly content to continue rambling about themselves. While others could zone out themselves as they talked...while they stared at your chest and feuling your urge to smack them.

You were in a dress that you hadn't bought and were far from comfortable in around these people. A thin glass of champagne was clutched firmly in your hand and you predicted it would shatter by the end of the night. You had lost count of how many you had downed with your back turned, stopping once you felt lightheaded.

You had regretted it at first, but you became internally grateful you had saved your heightened senses when you felt a familiar hand rest on your lower back.

Training almost everyday with the blonde Captain had familiarised you with her firm grip and reassuring touch. It was the only kind of contact you had gotten from her until that moment and you treasured it greatly, praying Carol hadn't noticed your slight faulted at the knees.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal this one." Carol stated in a very unafraid tone as her hand pressed into you more. You wanted to melt into her touch.

The man you had been not-really-listening to (because you could not for the life of you remember anyone's name) opened his mouth to speak and probably try to get Carol to stay, was ignored by the blonde who was already guiding you away with her hand.

Of course you didn't protest, throwing a party over it in your head while the butterflies in your stomach danced along to the music. You didn't even realise Carol was leading you to the bar, too focused on the fact her hand never left your back as she walked beside you without a word.

You did however, realise when you almost walked into the bar stall before gracefully (that's what you told yourself) sliding onto the stool. Carol sat down next to you and said something to the bartender you didn't hear or really care about.

When she did look back at you her gaze was piecing along with her usual confident aura. Anyone who pulled off a suit the way Carol did had every right to some arrogance, especially as it somehow made her even more attractive.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before." Carol said with a knowing smile.

"I don't think you'll be seeing me in one ever again." You respond as you glance anywhere but Carol, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"I'll have to treasure the memory even more then. You look beautiful." Carol compliments and watches you blush.

"You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Captain."

You don't fail to notice the way her jaw tightens slightly at the title, but she's quick to pass it off when the bartender places two bottles down on the counter.

You realise you're still holding your champagne so you put it on the side to swap it with small bottle of beer, already taking a sip to have something to do instead of figiting under Carol's gaze.

"I didn't need you to say it, you know? You undressing me with your eyes was telling enough." You choked slightly on your drink the moment those words left her lips, embarrassment shooting down every last butterfly in your stomach.

"I-I wasn't- it was an accident- I mean! I- um..." Carol watched you ramble with an amused grin and took a sip of her beer herself.

You could feel your cheeks heating up and your fight or flight instincts kicking in.

"I was enjoying the attention." Carol smirked as she moved closer to you so the faint smell of her expensive perfume overtook your senses.

You had been so sure the whole night that Carol hadn't noticed what you were doing. You thought you had gotten away with it all. Natasha's tips on concealing emotions and thoughts were clearly paying off on Carol more than you.

"And its not like it's the first time." Carol almost whispered as her voice dropped in a way that went straight to your core.

The Captain placed a gentle but firm hand on your bare knee as she studied you. Her brown eyes flickered across your face while your own y/e/c eyes stayed fixed on hers.

"Is this a test?" You whispered under your breath.

"Perhaps." She whispered back as her fingers stroked your bare skin slowly. "I'm sure I could test you some other ways though." Her hand was along your thigh now. You desperetly wanted to grab it and pull it up further but you had to remember you were in a room full of very important people.

Carol noticed you glance around the room and must have known what you were thinking because she smirked slightly before withdrawing her hand and standing up from the stall.

"Come." She ordered. You felt goosebumps across your whole body and hoped it wouldn't be the last time you heard her say that tonight.

You restrained yourself to waiting a few seconds before following Carol in the most subtle way you could manage when you wanted to sprint over to her side.

You weren't really aware of where Carol was leading you, but once you rounded the corner away from the party you sped up to close the distance between you both.

After rounding a few corners of the complicated hallway you realised you had lost sight of the Captain. Just as you were about to risk calling out her name a strong hand gripped your forearm and pulled you out of the corridor and into Carol's arms.

Her lips were on yours instantly. She had you backed into a wall before you could comprehend any of what was happened but her kiss was so eager you returned it without any thought.

The blonde's lips were unbelievably soft. They felt perfect against your own as you tried to match her pace.

Her hands were cupping your face with surprising gentleness so you wrapped your hands around her neck to pull her impossibly closer, accidently pulling on a few strands and earning a low groan from her.

She bit down on your lip harshly, making you moan audibly until you were muffled by her tongue invading your mouth.

You could taste the beer both of you had barely started and something else that was strikingly Carol. It was intoxicating and you didn't want it to end.

The friction Carol sparked when she pressed one of her muscular thighs between your bare legs was sinfully blissful. You moaned into Carol's mouth when you felt her very deliberately press against your heat and apply a teasing amount of pressure to your throbbing clit.

"Carol." You whispered her name like a chant. She smirked against you as she turned her attention to you jaw then neck, nipping and sucking at the skin exposed to her. You arched your neck to give her more access and felt your breathing become laboured.

This probably wasn't helped by Carol's hand on your bare thigh, gripping the skin in a much firmer way than she had at the bar and venturing further up.

Her hand disappeared beneath your dress in no time, massaging every inch of skin she came across.

You couldn't help it. Her warm lips, her strong hands and invasive thigh made you feel lightheaded and you couldn't stop your instincts of grinding yourself on Carol's thigh.

You desperatly sought more friction that your Captain's thigh could produce. What started as small rotations of your hips soon turned into full on desperate grinding. Your thin panties were soaked and clung to your skin, you were sure you were going to leave patches on Carol's expensive suit trousers but both of you were far from caring.

You could feel Carol continue to smirk into your neck with each mewl that left your lips. She grabbed your hands and pinned them against the wall above your head and that somehow made you needier.

The beautiful friction against your clit was one that had you moaning Carol's name continuously. It didn't take long for the familiar coil to tighten in your power abdomen and making your movements increasingly erratic.

You bucked against your Captain as you sought you sweet release only to have it pulled away from you.

Carol stepped away with a shit eating grin as she watched you struggle to hold yourself against the wall and give her a confused look.

"Why?" Was all you could manage, embarrassingly out of breath.

"Because I can." She smirked. "Did you want to cum, baby? Do you want to feel your release?"

"Please." You said shamelessly as you gave her a pleading look from your vulnerable position.

"Then be a good girl and bend over that desk for me."

You hadn't even noticed you were in an office, too busy trying to get yourself off on Carol's thigh than take in your surroundings. You didn't hesitate to place your hands on the far side of the desk and bend yourself over it so your ass was out for Carol. You glanced behind you to see Carol smirking as she took in your appearance in the new position.

She stalked towards you and placed a hand on the back of your thigh while the other pushed your back down further into the table. Her hand trailed up under your dress before she ran her fingers over the material covering your ass. Her movements were slow and teasing, trying to enhance your desperation to a place you wouldn't come back from that night.

Her slim fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties and gradually pulled them down, subsequently allowing her fingers to brush over your ass.

Once the thin material dropped to your feet Carol had you spread your legs for her as far as you could while she lifted your dress over your hips.

You guessed she really did like the dress.

Your pussy pulled around nothing as it was exposed to the cold air of the room and Carol's teasing fingers ghosting over your skin.

"Eyes front." She said as she stood back. It was hard to resist the urge to turn around and look when you could hear Carol undoing her belt buckle.

You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan when the blonde brushed the silicone against your folds. You were both shocked and aroused at the discovery that the Captain had been packing all night. You wanted her more at the thought that she had planned this.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt two slim fingers against your lips. You opened your mouth to allow Carol to slip her fingers in and tried not to moan around them at the heated gesture.

You sucked eagerly on Carol's fingers in an attempt to please her and hope it would give you some preparation for the girthy strap. It wouldn't.

You were caught off guard again when Carol continued to push her fingers forward, further than you were expecting at first then more than you could take. You gagged around her fingers and heard a chuckle from your sadistic Captain.

"Good girl." She whispered against your ear before biting down softly.

You were so caught up in the praise you almost forgot about the strap until Carol nudged it between your lips. You tried to grip onto the table more as she slowly pushed the head into your soaking pussy and moaned around her fingers still tickling the back of your throat.

You were extremely unprepared to take something that size, but that only spurred Carol on more and added to your arousal that had your lower lips slick for the strap to ease into you.

Once Carol was half way she paused when you started breathing heavily through your nose as you continued to suck her fingers. But the break was short and without any warning, the Captain thrust the rest of the girthy toy into your cunt.

You moaned around her fingers and pressed your head further into the desk. Carol barely gave you a chance to adjust to the filling of being so full. You're reminded of her impatient nature when she pulls the silicone toy out to the hilt before snapping her hips back against you and causing the strap to burry itself deep inside you again.

You knew Carol was strong and you had seen her doing hip thrusts in the gym before, but you had never imagined the force she would be able to muster when slamming the fake cock into you over and over.

Carol eventually took her fingers away from your mouth and wiped your saliva along the side of your neck before gripping it in her hands, threatening to cut off your breathing and blood flow.

Her pace never faulted. It brought you an intense amount of pleasure everytime that had you stumbling over your words.

'Carol...please...it's- I...so good." Was all you were able to say.

Her name fell from your lips over and over as your cunt clenched around the invading toy. It never failed to hit the hilt of your pussy and brushes against your most pleasurable spot, every movement made it brush some incredible nerve.

You moaned louder as you tried to fuck yourself back on her strap. You were so close to your orgasm and it had already been set up to be the best fuck you ever had so you were so desperate to finally reach it.

"Are you gonna cum for your Captain?" Carol asked as her thighs continued to slap against your own.

"Yes Captain! Please...I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me." She husks as she brings you over the edge and flying through your orgasm. You completely slump against the desk and Carol fucks you through your high.

White blanks appear in your vision but you're too out of it to care.

You're moaning, almost screaming, in the pleasure that's overwhelming you and you don't realise how sensitive you are until Carol continues to pound the strap into you.

"Carol..." You whine at her perfect pace. She's still going so hard, so fast, and fuck she's so deep inside you.

The vigor of her first fucking already had your pussy overworked and sensitive, and yet you can't stop yourself from incoherently begging her not to stop.

"Please Captain! Don...don't stop...so good- so good!" You cry out as another orgasm crashes over you.

You're shuddering now but still swimming in pleasure. You can't stop yourself from bucking yourself back against her.

Carol holds your hips down firmly as she thrusts the strap into your overworked cunt. They're less coordinated this time, more about establishing the control Carol has over you.

You can't form any words this time. The only sounds in the room is Carol's thighs slapping against yours, your whorish moans and the thick strap fucking your leaking pussy. You were vaguely aware of the audible sounds of your pussy before you break into your third earth shattering orgasm.

You're completly limp against the desk and trying your best to breathe normally.

Your pussy is throbbing and pulsing around the strap that Carol very slowly eases out of you and leaves you feeling extremly empty and sore. You know you're gonna be feeling it the next day.

"I don't think I can stand." You finally muttered weakly, not trusting your legs to even attempt to let go of the desk beneath you.

"You don't need to. Get on your knees." Carol ordered from behind you. You shivered at her words and tried to take a moment to compose yourself but the blonde was apparently growing impatient...again.

She held your hips with an iron grip and flipped you onto your back to see her towering over you. You used your arms to help you into a sitting position on the edge of the table before falling down onto you knees infront of your Captain.

Your knees ached from landing on the hard floor but you were much more focused on the smirk playing on Carol's soft lips.

"So obedient, such a good girl for me." Carol cooed as she ran her fingers through your hair and pulled you towards her now strapless core. You could see her pink folds glistening in arousal and you wanted nothing more than to taste her.

"Use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum, baby." Carol instructed.

You wasted no time. You licked an eager strip through the blonde's folds and moaned against her as you collected her wetness on your tongue. She was so sweet and you were instantly addicted.

You did this a few more times, pushing your tongue further between her folds everytime until you couldn't hold off anymore.

You gripped the back of Carol's thighs and sunk your tongue between her folds. The moan she gave in response made your stomach flip and swell with pride. It was like discovering a new song you wanted to listen to on repeat.

You retracted your tongue and began sucking softly on Carol's wet folds to taste as much of her wetness as your could. You then switched your attention to her throbbing clit and sucked it harshly into your mouth.

"Fuck so good! You've got such a good mouth." Carol praised continuously as you pulled out all of your tricks in hopes of pleasing her.

You kept alternating between fucking her with your tongue as deeply as you could to taking her neglected bud in your mouth. Your efforts soon paid off.

Carol grinded herself against your mouth as she cursed and praised you amongst moans. She was gripping your hair so tightly you couldn't help but moan into her, aiding her pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck!" She gasped out as you sucked as harshly as you could on her clit.

Her bundle of nerves pulsed in your mouth and you could feel her cunt clenching around nothing as she came with a cry of your name.

She sounded so good when she came. You wanted to hear it again, to see her. But once Carol had finished her high and you had lapped up every last bit of her white liquid she pushed you back gently.

She sat back on the dest as she regained her steady breathing and tapped her lap as she smiled at you.

You had just about enough strength mustered in your legs to allow you to stand up from your position and sit on Carol's lap.

She wrapped an arm around your waist and cupped your cheek with her hand to pull you in for a kiss. She smiled against you as she tasted herself on your lips and kissed you longingly.

"You were everything I dreamed you would be, baby. You did so good for me." You blushed under her praise and buried your head in the crook of her neck in exhaustion but mainly comfort.

Neither of you had any intentions to return to the party after that.

#brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel smut #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers smut #carol danvers x reader #marvel #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel imagine

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owlswritingcafe · 3 years ago

Text

Mango Yogurt Bingsu (Summertime Saddness Collab)

Warnings: MINORS AND AGELESS DNI. TIMESKIP KENMA IS USED IN THE FIC, HE IS 25 AND NOT IN HIGH SCHOOL.

Reader: Gender Neutral + AFAB Switch Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: Smut, Oneshot

Content Warning + Trigger Warnings: Slight neglect (at the start), Daddy kink, exactly one (1) spank, unprotected sex, Oral sex (male receiving) while playing video games, public sex (but empty beach), cowgirl position, reader is called baby, Character might be too ooc

Summary: His face was practically a centimeter away from the screen, you were more surprised the man didn’t need any glasses because of the way he plays. Or maybe he does and has been in denial for a couple years. Either way, his eyes should be on you right now, not that damn game. Currently, you two were under the beach umbrella. The familiar voice of a certain Italian plumber accompanied by the Delfino Plaza music snuck into your ears.

Are you serious right now?

This is my Kenma contribute to the “Summertime Saddness” Collab hosted by @mitsuyaa ! The Souya/Angry fic will be posted soon after! I am honored to be a part of this collab!

After copious amounts of begging, you managed to convince your lazy boyfriend to come with you to the beach. The only condition being you driving there instead of him and honestly you would have done anything to go to the beach at the time.

You got the idea when you dropped off his usual snacks during his stream and saw his character on the beach. Even though it was all polygons and code on screen, it really did make you wish you were there too. After your boyfriend’s stream, you asked him if he wanted to go to the beach and not just virtually.

He said ‘no’.

But, that didn’t stop you from begging and bothering him for the next couple days until he finally caved in. He can only resist your big doe eyes for so long. Soon after, you bought yourself the cutest swimsuit you could find. You couldn’t wait to show Kenma and surprise him once you’re there, and while you were at it, you could collect some seashells and rocks. You could barely sleep a wink last night, you were too excited!

After all, it’s been quite a while since the two of you have been on a date. Alone at least. Yeah, you two going to conventions together would technically count as a date. But you’ve been wanting to go somewhere where it’s really just the two of you. Plus, you hated when the larger groups of people asked for a picture with your boyfriend. Yeah, it’s expected but it doesn’t make you any less annoyed when it happens.

Driving by the (surprisingly empty) beach side, the sight of it all only made you more ecstatic. You two could gather shells together, get something sweet to share, or maybe you two can go for a little swim (it is a beach after all).

But the biggest thing that’s stopping you right now…

Is your boyfriend with his nose deep in his switch.

His face was practically a centimeter away from the screen, you were more surprised the man didn’t need any glasses because of the way he plays. Or maybe he does and has been in denial for a couple years. Either way, his eyes should be on you right now, not that damn game. Currently, you two were under the beach umbrella.

The familiar voice of a certain italian plumber accompanied by the Delfino Plaza music snuck into your ears.

…

Is he being serious right now?

He is literally playing a summer beachy game while at the beach. Not only that, but he hasn’t spared you even a single glance since you two got out of the car. You had to hold his arm and guide him so he didn’t get hit by a car or something on the way from the parking lot.

“So, uh, did you wanna take a dip in the water or somethin’, kit kat?” Kenma only gave you a dismissive noise, way too focused on his game to properly answer you.

God, this was irritating you too much.

Since you’re here, you can at least get one thing off this trip’s to-do list and collect some seashells.

Coming back, you’ve managed to find quite the haul of pretty things (while also making sure none of them was something’s home). Plus, it’s been an hour, Kenma might be done playing his switch and is ready to join you!

Maybe.

…

Okay, very unlikely. But, you’d never know! There could even be the smallest chance your boyfriend finally isn’t looking at his game and-

He is still playing the game.

The same game at that. Is he mocking you at this point?

Judging by the music coming from the handheld game, he’s on one of the jet pack-less stages and the increasingly irritated expression on his face means he’s been on that stage for a while. You put the pile of shells and rocks to the side, next to the large beach towel so it won’t be in the way

“Hey, kit-kat, do you wanna go in the water now? Or maybe we can grab something sweet?” Like before, you only got a dismissive grunt in response. Albeit, a bit more grumpy sounding. You pouted, this trip was supposed to be just the two of you and now you’re a third wheel to that damn game. You can’t fully blame him when it’s at a party or something (you’ve done that before after all) but it’s just the two of you, he could at least take a break for a few hours just to spend with you!

Suddenly, the most perfect idea popped into your head. Luckily for the two of you, the beach was almost empty and you two were basically secluded from everyone. The last thing you want is for the police to arrest you two on your date for indecency…

Kenma let out a little squeak as he felt you pull down his swim trunks. For the first time since the car ride, he looked away from the game to look at what you were doing.

“Hey, wait a sec-” You cut your boyfriend off by placing a finger in his lips to shut him up and give him the most irritating smile he’s ever seen on you.

“Ken-ken, let’s play a game. If you win this stage and hold back then you can keep playing that game, but if you cum or get a game over, you need to put that away for the rest of the day ‘till we’re back home, kay?” Kenma gave you a puffed up pout in response to your sweet tone.

“Dummy, I can’t concentrate on anything, let alone the game!”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a command.

Your fake smile quickly disappeared. Only a blank expression was left on your face that practically tore into his soul. Honestly, that expression was worse than if you were just yelling at him. It’s been quite a while since you’ve gotten this irritated with him that he’s forgotten who was actually in charge in the relationship.

Kenma gulped as he restarted the stage. This was his last life. He managed to get enough just before it, but this damn stage ate through them all like it was a snack! The man shivered as he felt the air touch his dick. When was the last time he actually jacked off? He’s been with you so long that he doesn’t really do that anymore. Plus, he isn’t some hormonal teen anymore, so getting horny wasn’t something he felt often.

Well, not as often as before.

You didn’t really prepare much for this aspect of the trip, but it should be fine. You spat a hefty amount of spit onto your hand and started to gently but firmly grasp Kenma’s cock. Right now, you’re gunna focus on getting your boyfriend hard.

Unfortunately for him, that’s not going to be difficult for you. The stage just started and he’s already at full attention with just a few pumps. He doesn’t have the longest dick compared to the other boys but the girth sure as hell makes up for it. Kenma was doing his best to not just close his eyes and relish the feeling of your hand on his dick. God, has it been that long since the last time you two have done it? Looks like he’s as sensitive as his younger self, it’s like the first time you two have done the deed again.

A gasp fell from his lips as he felt the warmth of your mouth surrounding his cock. It was so wet and warm around him, he almost fell off a platform in the game. That was a close one… A second later and he would have gotten a game over. The lewd sounds you made along with the wet noises that accompanied you almost made him cum on the spot though…

Kenma can just barely make out the way you were slowly bobbing your head up and down his cock, the switch was covering most of the view for him. He would love to put it down, but knowing you, you would add another rule that he can’t watch you and force him to look at only the game.

Kenma continued through the game slowly, trying to be as cautious as possible through the stage. Honestly, he looked even more focused than any of his streams, you were worried he was going to pop a blood vessel. Or even bite his lips too hard since he’s been biting it after trying to hide that first gasp. You bobbed your head a bit faster, you could already tell he was getting closer. Kenma started to breathe faster as your pace quickened. At this rate he was going to cum soon!

In the midst of the chaos, a familiar white and green mushroom caught his eye.

Yeah! You never said how many chances he had, only if he got a game over or cums then he loses. Unfortunately for him, it requires a bit of maneuvering. If he jumps just right, he might be able to get through this.

Sike.

Kenma forgot how good you were on your end of the deal. The moment you made a little hum in your throat while sucking him off, he almost fell off the damn stage trying to get the 1-up. He’s better off not taking any detours if he wanted to actually win this game. He can practically feel the sadistic smirk you gave, you could tell by watching him that he couldn’t get something he needed.

But, he just needs to push through a bit longer. Just a few more platforms then he’ll finally beat this damn stage!

He was so close to beating it.

He was almost to the final platform to get that sunsprite, just then you started to suck his sensitive tip as your wet hand moved up and down the rest of his shaft. Your boyfriend’s last straw finally broke. His thick cum practically overflowed from your mouth and the accompanied game over music didn’t help him feel any better.

Ugh, he lost to both conditions.

Taking your mouth off with a ‘pop!’ you giggled at your boyfriend’s defeated look. Kenma only looked up at you with a glare (Catching you swallow his cum, it was hot but he was too irritated to admit that right now).

“Aw, soo scawy.” The baby talking you’d do whenever he lost to your game was major fucking salt to his wounds. You sat up, finally giving him a proper view of the swimwear you chose for him, making him flush more.

He should have looked up at you the first time you asked. You looked drop dead gorgeous. Granted, you do all the time but the swimwear only accentuates your features more.

He gulped.

“So, that means you lost, kit-kat.” Oh right, the game.

“We’re not done yet.” You tilted your head in confusion at his statement.

“You don’t have anymore lives left in the game, and it would take you a little while to get it back u-” You yelped as Kenma quickly shut you up by pulling you on his lap, his switch now forgotten and thrown to the side (a non sandy side, those things are way too expensive to get sand in). You felt Kenma’s calloused fingers play with your clit through your swimsuit, making you let out a little gasp. You place your hands on your boyfriend’s shoulders for stability, he placed his free hand on your ass. Also for stability.

…

Maybe.

Kenma’s fingers continued its ministrations on your clit through the thin fabric. You were getting more and more wet as he expertly played with your sensitive bud, the hand that started to shamelessly grope and knead at your ass certainly wasn’t helping either.

“Was my baby lonely?” His question caught you off guard. You could barely answer him from the stimulation he was giving you, you only nodded your head as you bit your lip.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Daddy’s sorry he hasn’t been able to give you the attention you need.” You flushed at his words. It’s been a hot minute since he’s called himself that. You shivered as your boyfriend moved the bottoms of the swimwear to the side and moved his middle and ring finger up and down the lips of your pussy.

“Look, you're even crying down here…” He raised his hand to show you how drenched his fingers already were. You felt embarrassment and shame getting wet so easily. That’s probably how Ken-ken felt earlier when you got him hard. You felt his wet fingers touch your lips, you looked at him in confusion.

“Open your mouth baby. Has it been so long that you’ve already forgotten?” Before you could open your mouth yourself, he gave your ass a harsh slap, causing you to gasp letting him shove his pussy drenched fingers in that warm mouth of yours. Your plush, soft lips closed around them and started to suck. He hasn’t even done much yet you already feel so light headed.

“Good, at least you remember that part.” Kenma continued to knead your ass reassuringly as you sucked off all the juices off his fingers. He started to pump his fingers in and out of your mouth, relishing the wet warmth and the feeling of your soft lips.

Kenma took out his fingers from your mouth with only a string of spit connecting you two.

“That’s a good baby.” Kenma held his dick with his wet hand, moving so the tip teases your clit. You shivered each time the tip of his cock flicked your little clit before he finally pushed the tip inside you. Your boyfriend moved his hands so that both hands properly gripped your waist and pushed you down the rest of his shaft.

You almost screamed that time. Only sobs left your throat from the pleasure you felt of finally being full after so long. You placed your head in the crook of his neck as he held you.

“There there baby, daddy’s finally giving you the attention you wanted.” You felt the man’s hands snake back down your ass. Slowly rocking you on his thick cock. Your sobs continued as your nails started to scrape against his back, the harsh feeling of your nails in his back contrasting with your tight, wet pussy was driving him insane.

A sudden harsh thrust from his hip caused you to let out a yelp. His pace only got faster, fueled by the cute little noises you made and the expressions you made, looking like a dick drunk mess as he started to hit the sweet bundle of nerves you couldn’t quite hit the same by yourself.

“K-Kenma! I’m so closeee, pleasee! Harder!” You were bouncing on his cock like you were his fuck toy. Honestly, with how he uses you, you might as well be.

“I know baby, I’m almost there too.” Your boyfriend’s fingers snaked their way back to your little clit, teasing the little bud as he bounced you up and down his cock.

As you finally creamed around his cock, the way your pussy tightened around him was his last straw, he painted your insides white with his cum. But he continued to thrust even while cumming, fucking his cum inside you until he was milked dry.

You two laid in silence, basking in the afterglow of it all.

With how rough you two went, you were more surprised there wasn’t more sand on the beach towel you two were on.

Your boyfriend slowly moved you off his cock, moving your bottom swimwear back to normal so not a drop of his cum escaped before he ticked himself back in his swim trunks.

The two of you decided to get some mango shaved ice to cool off.

But the silence between you two was a bit agonizing. The sound of the jumping plumber no longer occupying the empty space.

Kenma was the first to break the silence between you two.

“Since the trip isn’t over yet… We can take a quick dip in the water,” he lazily ate the shaved ice before looking back at you with a familiar look in his eyes, continuing the sentence. “We can continue where we left off in the car, before we leave.” You flushed at the thought.

Kenma finally has a taste of you after so long and he was addicted once more. Your body was far more fun than any game he can get his hands on, and he was ready to re-explore all of your body like it was his first time again.

#Hardies #My writing #kenma x reader #kenma x y/n #kenma smut #haikyu x reader #hq smut #kozume kenma #hq kozume #haikyuu oneshot #collab #haikyuu time skip #kenma x you

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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an artist’s eye // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was an artist, even if his inspiration had no idea of what he feels.

A/N: I promise to slow down with the fics! I go back to work in a couple of days anyway so I’ll definitely slow down. I hope you all like! It’s shorter than my last few fics so I’m sorry for that!! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on it, let me know and I am considering opening my requests for Bridgerton fics... considering.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, pining, mutual pining, sketching, art, drawing (I am not an artist, I cannot draw a stick man so I apologise in advance), kissing.

Word count: 1.8k

The graphite point sits heavy in his hand as Benedict struggles to remember the lines he needs. With only his memory to aid him, Benedict struggled more with the portraits he preferred to draw than the landscapes that were growing increasingly popular among the highest of London society.

Sighing, Benedict presses his fingers to his eyes as if it will help jumpstart his memory to bring forward the correct image he needs. He regrets the action as quick as he had done it when he thinks of the mixture of graphite and charcoal coating his fingers.

Rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he feels a moment of pity for the servants who would no doubt grumble and complain at the state of it. However, as he glances down at the sketch – the arch of his subject’s smile, the depths of their eyes – he cannot bring himself to care too much.

It wouldn’t see the light of day. Once complete, the sketchbook would be tucked away in the drawer in his desk. If it was to fall into the wrong hands, then as much as he is confident of his artistic talent, he would not recover from the fallout. Benedict worries for the day that the look in your eyes changes; once you realise the extent of his feelings for you.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with you, but he had. There were a lot of things in Benedict’s life that he hadn’t meant to do and has regretted completing such an action once done. However, he cannot find it in himself to feel bad about falling in love with you even when he had not meant to.

As much as he puts on airs and graces, he would not approach you with his feelings. He wasn’t ready though you made his heart sing like no other.

One day, he tells himself as he finally remembers the swoop of your neckline. One day he will tell you as he picks up his graphite point and charcoal once more.

Not yet, however.

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

The drawing room remains quiet as Benedict silently adds to his sketch collection. His mother sits across the room, content with a stitching pattern for the arrival of Daphne’s new baby. Eloise lounges on the couch, a book in her hand and a box of chocolates on her stomach, eyes pouring over the pages hungrily.

The only sound in the room is the roughness of his pencil on the paper. It didn’t matter what angle he approached this drawing at, he could not get it to look right. It was going to vex him until he had bested it.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has arrived,” The Butler announces to which Benedict suddenly sits up straighter, closing his sketchbook, leaving it on the table.

“Wonderful,” Violet Bridgerton smiles, “Show them up, please.”

“I didn’t know (Y/N) was calling today,” Benedict comments lightly as the Butler disappears from the room, trying to sound as if his heart isn’t currently pounding in his chest.

“(Y/N) always calls on a Thursday,” Eloise states, voice puzzled. She shares a look of confusion with her mother when Benedict suddenly stands, announcing to them both, “I shall clean myself up a bit, make myself look presentable for our guest.”

The look of confusion soon turns into one of understanding as both women watch their son and brother dash from the room. As if at the same time, a smile crosses both their faces when they realise that their beloved son and brother has fallen in love and with a dear friend of the family too.

They do not get to discuss the topic, however, for you are shown to the drawing room, greeting both women with a large smile and buoyant conversation.

“Help yourself to tea and biscuits, dear,” Violet invites, gesturing to the tea service now being laid on the table. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the biscuits, unable to turn down the buttery goodness.

“Thank you,” You reply, taking a seat at the table, reaching for a biscuit and the teapot.

It’s then that you see it. A leatherbound book left on the other side of the table, barely hidden by the cake stand of treats.

Curiosity being your besetting sin, you reach for the leatherbound book on the table and begin to flick through the pages. A sketch of a pair of hands at the beginning; they hold a single flower – a rose, though what colour is impossible to tell since the sketch remains firmly in shades of greys and blacks. Enraptured, you turn the page to find a detailed image of a parasol, still sketched in the same greys and blacks as the previous picture. The artist has captured the lace trimming perfectly. The longer you stare at it, you come to realise that the parasol is being held by someone, but it isn’t clear who.

It isn’t until you reach a sketch of your side portrait that you come to realise that the previous sketches – the hands, the parasol with just a hint of a shadow under it – they’re of you.

They’re all of you. Each stunning sketch is of you.

Your breath quickens in your chest when you see who the sketchbook belongs to; when you spy the initials written on the inside sleeve of the front cover. ‘B.B.’ written in his elegant script – an artist in every aspect of his life. Whilst you had observed that Benedict sometimes appeared with smudges to his fingers and paint stains on the cuffs of his tailored white shirt, you had never seen a sketch or a painting until now. He truly had a gift; a talent worthy of being displayed in Somerset House.

You hadn’t been aware of his feelings for you though, but you would not be the first to admit that you found yourself attracted to the Bridgerton. Taught at a young age, you knew it was not wise to share such feelings with others. Instead, you dampened them down, hiding them away where they grew unattended – they rooted in your heart, making it very difficult to find another love worthy.

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you hide your smile, not wanting to give too much away to ever observant Bridgerton matriarch. You turn page after page, letting yourself fall deeper into your feelings for Benedict now that you find there is hope of them being requited.

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

Benedict’s breath leaves his body in one fell swoop when he returns to the drawing room and he realises exactly what you hold in your hand. He hadn’t moved it upon your announcement; he thought he had, but instead, like a fool, he left it sitting there on the table.

A fool. He was a fool. How quick, Benedict thinks to himself, how quick a life can change – mere minutes he had been gone and now he was to have his love for you outed.

You haven’t noticed his presence yet, and for that Benedict is thankful. It gives him time to come up with something – anything – to explain the numerous sketches of you. His mind is running too fast; he cannot come up with a thought good enough to excuse the sketches in his book. His heart continues to pound in his chest; it had not slowed down since your announcement though at this point it reminds him that is, indeed, alive and not suffering from a night terror.

As if finally sensing the extra person in the room, you glance up. Your eyes meeting the deep blue of Benedict’s, and you freeze in your spot. Violet and Eloise glance between the two of you. Violet, not one to usually ignore tradition, hurries her daughter from the room – knowing the conversation that was about to take place.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper at the click of the door shutting. You close the sketchbook, placing it on the table as far away from you as possible to keep your temptation at bay.

“I think I should be the one apologising,” Benedict confesses, taking one more step into the room. He tucks his hands behind his back, ever the picture of grace and elegance as he thinks of how long he has left without before your opinion of him changes forever – artistic talent or not.

“I knew you were an artist; I had seen the smudges on your hands, but I didn’t think…”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you were drawing me.”

“Surely you know?” He asks, voice loud in the quiet room. When you remain silent, he continues, “Surely you know of my feelings for you?”

You shake your head, eyes glancing between the taller Bridgerton and the leatherbound sketchbook lying on the table. “I didn’t know,” You whisper, voice breaking as you take in the distraught look on his face.

“Well,” Benedict murmurs, clearing his throat, “You know of them now.”

“I do,” You murmur,

“I hope I haven’t offended you,” Benedict remarks, “Those sketches were not meant to be seen by anyone else.”

“Only if I haven’t offended you by looking through them.”

Benedict shakes his head, “You could never offend me.”

“Then I am not offended either. I’m quite flattered, you’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” Benedict says graciously, nodding his head slightly.

“You need to know that your feelings are returned, Benedict,” You declare suddenly and plainly, displaying your feelings for all to see.

“They are?” Benedict asks, voice awed as if he didn’t take into account this reaction.

“They are,” You state firmly, meeting his gaze proudly as if you could ever be ashamed of your feelings for the brunette.

Benedict stalks across the room; tradition and etiquette be damned as he reaches for your hand to pull you from your chair. His hands settle on your waist as you tilt your head back to look at him. A silent question reflects in his eyes to which you answer with a nod of your head.

His hands move from your waist to cradle your face as he dips down, pressing his lips to yours. It isn’t hurried; it’s perfect as Benedict takes control of the kiss, groaning softly at the feel of your mouth and your body pressed against him. You smile into the kiss as your arms wrap around Benedict’s neck, pulling him ever closer to you.

Benedict’s mouth brushes against yours as he asks, “Would you like to accompany me to Lady Danbury’s ball next week?”

“As in you would court me?”

Benedict chuckles softly, “Yes. I would like to court you, is that okay?”

“More than okay,” You smile before pressing a kiss to the corner of Benedict’s mouth and stepping away.

Turning back to the sketchbook, you open it to image that had kickstarted your heart into an irregular rhythm. Benedict stands by your side as your eyes pour over his sketch; each line and angle, each section of shading. “You truly have an artist’s eye,” You say quietly, tangling your hands together.

“Thank you,” Benedict whispers, bringing your entwined hands up to his mouth whereupon he lays a gentle kiss to the back of your gloved hand.

“Will you show me more?” You ask, turning to face the man that had turned you into a work of art.

“Darling, I’ll show you them all.”

***********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

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farfromharry · 4 years ago

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Brightside | CEO!Dad!Tom fic

summary: a sudden and unexpected turn of events with your little boy, leaves him in the hospital with an unknown diagnosis. tom has to fly home and the two of you have to face each other, properly and civilly, for the first time since your breakup. will this negative experience turn into a positive one, in more ways than one?

word count - 10.3k

warnings - warnings - language, hospitals, needles, fainting, mentions of seizures, mentions of blood

a/n - angst for once, but obviously ending in fluff because i can’t hurt myself like that🥰 also i’m super nervous to post this so lets see how this goes :)

A loud, irritating noise filled the kitchen as your phone began to ring. You groaned, annoyed. The once calm silence was now filled with your curses of panic as you tried to wipe off your messy hands as quickly as possible. You found an unused cloth on your kitchen side and decided on just using that, wiping off the remnants of the food you’d been making. You grabbed your phone from off of the counter, pressing the green accept button, lifting the device up to your ear.

“Hello?” you asked. Having not bothered to look at the contact name, you had absolutely no idea who you were even talking to right now.

“Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N?”

You mumbled a quick ‘yes.’ You wedged the phone between your ear and your shoulder, picking up the knife you’d been using a few minutes prior to continue cutting up the vegetable in front of you.

“This is about your son, Theo,” she said, “I work in the reception at the school.” You rolled your eyes, assuming that your angel of a four year old had somehow gotten into some trouble that you were now going to have to deal with.

The lady proceeded to explain to you quite the opposite of what you’d originally thought. She’d told you how Theo had thrown up in class, prompting him to be sent to the nurse where he then fainted, almost escalating to a seizure.

“What?” you asked. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling beginning to bubble in your throat. The knife had carelessly slipped from your fingers, making a loud clattering noise as it hit the counter. You gave the woman your undivided attention, listening to every word she spoke to you. She confirmed again what you’d thought you’d heard, your heart starting to beat out of your chest.

“We’re taking him to the hospital just in case,” she said, “Can you meet us there?”

You were panicking, her words barely even registering in your head until she called your name again. You muttered a quick yes in response. Your hands were beginning to shake and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep hold of your phone.

“I’ll be right there.”

You looked around at the mess, scrolling through the contacts on your phone and calling your mother. She picked up quickly, happily greeting you on the other end of the line. You quickly explained to her the situation and asked nicely if she could clean up what you’d been doing while you’re gone.

She thankfully said yes, promising everything would be fine. You were in such a rush after that, that you didn’t take anything with you except your phone. You slipped your shoes on as quick as you could, grabbing your car keys out of the small wooden bowl on the side and rushing out of the front door.

It was a miracle that you somehow didn’t crash your car on the way to the hospital. There were tears welling up in your eyes and it was impossible to properly see clearly. Your hands were still shaking as they gripped the wheel with so much strength you were scared it could break. Your head was a mess and you could barely process which direction you were going, you knew you shouldn’t have been driving like this.

It was almost a daze when you thought about how you got from your home to the hospital, your brain couldn’t piece together being in the car.

As soon as you’d parker, you were rushing inside, probably looking insane to others as you frantically turned your head in any direction, trying to find where you could ask for help.

You were clearly distressed and people were beginning to notice, one of those people being the lady that had called you earlier.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Your head whipped around to where the voice came from, spotting her standing a few metres away. You made your way over, seeing her motion to the room where you could see your little boy laying inside.

Your heart broke even more at the sight of him. There were wires connected to him, ones that you didn’t understand, and it scared you to the core.

You frowned, stroking your hand through his messy curls, trying to tame the wild hair as best you could. It was one of the many things he’d inherited from his dad.

“Do you have anyone else you can call?” she asked, politely, “I just don’t want to leave you here alone.”

You smiled at her in thanks, nodding your head and forcing yourself to move away from your baby boy.

“I should probably call his dad,” you stated.

You heard a quiet groan from your side, turning your body to see Theo’s eyes fluttering awake, his body shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh thank god, you’re awake,” you gushed. You kissed his head over and over, wrapping your arms around him tightly. You heard the boy whine about you almost suffocating him and letting out a relieved giggle, you loosened your grip.

You still held him to your chest, just long enough to calm your racing heart.

“I’ll leave you both,” she spoke, reminding you she was still in the room.

You nodded your head, flashing her a genuinely thankful smile.

“Thank you for helping him,” you whispered. You gave her a friendly hug, telling your son to wave goodbye before she left. You sighed deeply, taking a moment to let everything sink in to not overwhelm yourself.

You heard the four year old calling for you, prompting you to turn around to see what he needed.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” He jutted his bottom lip out, looked absolutely adorable as he started up at you with those soft, honey, brown eyes.

“I’m bored,” he whined. You pouted for him, eyes scanning around the small room for anything he could possibly amuse himself with.

“Do you want me to go ask for a colouring book or something?” you asked him. He rapidly nodded his head, a smile breaking out on your face for the first time within the hour, since the school had called you.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a second.”

Before you walked out of the door, you turned back to him and pointed your finger at him accusingly. “Don’t get into any trouble, mister,” you warned, a hint of playfulness in your tone. He giggled loudly, making your heart melt at the adorable sound.

“I promise.”

Being on a children's ward meant that the front desk always had things like these at hand. The ladies were more than happy to give you one of the books they had left, not having many options to choose from though.

They handed you some crayons and other colouring items. You thanked them profusely, knowing that you now wouldn’t have to deal with a cranky little Holland boy, because you knew how they could get.

You made your way back to the room quickly, having your doubts about leaving the toddler alone in an unknown place for any longer than necessary.

“Here you go, little man.”

You handed him the book with the wide variety of colouring items. You had to explain to him that the only books they had left were animals and flowers and you thought the animal ones looked much more fun.

“I’m expecting to see a rainbow frog,” you told him. He giggled, shaking his head.

“You can’t have a rainbow frog, mummy.” You gasped, furrowing your eyebrows teasingly.

“Why not, mister?” you asked. You saw him huff, trying to hide your giggle.

“They’re not real,” he said, like it was just so obvious.

This time you couldn’t hide your giggle as you watched his tiny brows furrow in annoyance at you. You leaned forward and placed a kiss to the tiny crease in the middle of his eyebrows. Once again something he got from his dad when he pulled the same face.

“I was just teasing bub.” He rolled his eyes at you, making you gasp and poke his belly teasingly. He giggled loudly, the noise echoing around the room as he tried to get you to stop tickling him.

You had considerably calmed down from when you arrived at the hospital to now, feeling your heart beating at a much slower pace, one that was at least calm.

“Will you colour with me?” he asked.

Originally, you were going to take this time to call Tom, but seeing the boy’s puppy dog eyes, you absolutely couldn’t resist.

You stayed and coloured in the animals with him for a while, just enjoying bonding with your bub.

You’d help him stay in the lines of the drawing, helping him out where he needed helping, while also working on your own animal, surprisingly enjoying yourself.

Noticing the time on the clock, you made the decision that you had to call Tom, it had already been long enough, it couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’m just going to go call daddy, okay?” He nodded his head, content with going back to his colouring book. You sighed, leaving the room and finding a quiet space in the corridor.

You pulled up Tom’s contact on your phone, one you’d contemplated deleting probably a hundred times, hovering over the call button hesitantly.

As soon as it started ringing your heart ached, you weren’t even sure if he’d pick up, possibly too busy with work once again.

You gasped when you heard the phone connect, almost shocked that he’d take the time to answer you.

“Hi, Tom, um-“ He cut you off before you could even finish, something that irritated you beyond belief.

“Look Y/N, now’s really not a good time, can this wait?” he asked, telling someone on the other side of the phone that he’d be two minutes.

“Tom, I had to take Theo to the hospital,” you cried, finally letting out the sob you’d been holding in all day. You didn’t mean to cry or guilt him, it was just bad timing. You’d been trying to be strong for your little boy, knowing he was already scared out of his mind, he didn’t need to know his mum was scared too.

“Woah, hey, calm down, breathe Y/N.” You listened to his smooth voice, taking deep breaths until you were able to talk again.

“What do you mean you had to take him to the hospital,” he said, “What happened?”

A sense of overwhelming panic beginning to overtake his entire body. He was across the ocean, there was nothing he could do.

You explained everything that had happened up until now, Tom listening intently to every word.

“Shit, do they know what’s wrong?” he asked, nervously. You could hear the worry in his voice.

“No, we’re waiting for them to come and do some tests,” you said, glancing back at your boy through the window in his room. Just to check that he was okay.

“Is he okay right now?” he questioned. His brain was a mess, there were so many possibilities of things that could be wrong running through his head and he hoped to God that none of them were true.

“Yeah, I think so, he’s just colouring at the minute.”

Tom sighed. “Okay, well um-“ He tried to organize his thoughts, listening to you telling him to take a minute. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. You suddenly felt awful, knowing he was halfway across the world. The last thing you wanted was to guilt trip him into dropping everything, especially if he didn’t want to. Your tears had come to a stand still, trying to explain to him that it was okay and you had this under control.

“You don’t have to, I know you’re busy and-“ He cut you off again.

“Nothing’s more important to me than him, I’ll be there, I promise.”

After going through the later years of your relationship, you knew not to trust Tom’s promises, and you also knew how stubborn he was. His promises were often broken and just ended up hurting people in the end, and you didn’t want that to be you all over again.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” he asked, after not receiving a response from you.

“Yeah, I heard you, I’ll see you soon,” you said. You said your goodbyes, hanging up the phone and heading back inside the hospital room to see your boy.

“Change of plans, cancel the meeting,” Tom demanded, taking his coat from behind his chair and throwing it on his body in a haste. The women and men sitting around the table stared at him in shock, gasping at how unprofessional the CEO seemed to be.

“Mr Holland, this meeting is important, we can’t just cancel,” she tried to reason. He waved her off, shaking his head and dialling another number on his phone, the one of his personal assistant.

“Harrison, hi, I need you to book me on the next flight to London, asap.”

She apologised to them on his behalf, but the woman refused to give up, following Tom out of the meeting room and all the way to the set of lifts at the end of the floor. Tom was rapidly pressing the button to call the lift, hoping it could come quicker than it was. He hung up the phone with Harrison after confirming all the details of the flight.

“London?” she gasped, “You can’t go to London, we’re in the middle of one of the biggest deals of your career Tom.”

Tom rolled his eyes, almost up to his limits with everything. He didn’t know what was going to cause him to break down first, the woman or the fact that the lift still wasn’t here. He knew it was silly to get so worked up over something so small, but his concern for his child was above anything else.

“I don’t care about the deal, Y/N just called, Theo’s in the hospital,” he said. She frowned, an apology already on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, referencing the meeting with the big investors that was due to happen any moment.

“Whatever you think is best, but please don’t tell them about Theo, I don’t want this getting out.” She nodded, heading back towards the office to explain what was happening with the meeting, unfortunately having to come up with something on the spot.

While Tom was being driven to the airport, you were trying to convince Theo to get in bed and go to sleep. It was late for him, almost eleven, and he’d had a very long day.

“Please, it’s already past your normal bedtime.” He pouted, making grabby hands at you.

“But this bed isn’t comfy and-“ You rolled your eyes, gently squeezing his cheeks together to get him to stop making excuses.

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” you asked, seeing him nod his head. You smiled softly, climbing under the covers and seeing what he meant when he said it was uncomfortable. You let him curl into you, resting his small head on your chest, his arms clinging to you.

“Mummy?” he whispered. You hummed, running your fingers through his curly hair, something that you usually did when he was scared, because it always calmed him down. He shifted in your arms, pushing himself up on the small bed so that he could lay his head next to yours on the soft pillow.

“Do you still love daddy?” he asked, looking up at you with his big brown eyes that perfectly resembled Toms. Your heart ached. In all honesty, you didn’t know what to say to the boy, because you didn’t know yourself. You thought it over in your head quietly.

On the one hand you hated how obsessed and committed he was to his work, but on the other, he was an amazing dad to Theo, and he always treated you like a princess. Your eyes flickered over your baby’s face, admiring all the parts of his features that he got from his daddy.

You realised in that moment, looking at those tiny features, the ones that resembled the ones you studied for hours on end once upon a time, you truly did hold a soft spot for Tom, even now. You sighed, stroking your boy’s cheek, ready to give him his answer.

“Of course I do.” you admitted. You saw the corner of his lips twitch up as he tried to bite back a smile.

“Then why don’t you live together,” he asked, “Everyone else at school’s parents live together.” You frowned, not having the heart to tell him about your break up properly, even after all this time. You simply pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arms around his tiny body and kissing the top of his head.

“We needed some time apart, to focus on what needed our attention,” you said, “We couldn’t do everything at once.”

You saw him staring up at you with his wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest even thinking about what happened with Tom. You weren’t quite sure Theo understood what you meant, because he still looked a little confused.

“So, your daddy had to focus on his company, making sure everything was going well and I had to focus on my little rugrat,” you said, poking his belly to tickle him. He giggled, trying to squirm away from your hands.

“Is it like-like in Captain America, when Steve has to leave Peggy to save the world.” You raised your eyebrows, thinking it over. You were a little bit shocked by his surprisingly good analogy.

“And then Peggy has to focus on Shield,” you added, “It’s exactly like that Theo.” He nodded his head, understanding where you were coming from.

You saw his big eyes begin to blink more, but also slower, a tell-tale sign that he was going to knock out any minute.

“Mummy?” he asked again. You smiled.

“Yes Theo?” you said, brushing his overgrown curls out of the way of his eyes.

“Are you more like Steve or Peggy?” he asked. You giggled, amused by the idea of him relating yours and Tom’s relationship to a fictional, superhero one.

“Well you see, I’m more like Steve, because I had to sacrifice everything for my world, just like he did.” You kissed his head when you said ‘my world,’ clearly referring to your boy.

“Wow,” he mumbled, letting his eyes finally flutter shut. “My mummy’s a superhero.”

Your eyes began to water happily, cradling his head to your chest as he finally fell asleep. You took deep breaths, trying to bite back the heart wrenching cry that was threatening to come out.

After a while of laying in the silence of the hospital room, you gave in and closed your eyes, letting your son’s rhythmic breaths ease you to sleep.

You were completely unaware that Tom had gotten the first flight out to London after he ended your phone call. You assumed he would have arrived in a few days time, at least, probably having left over business to finish up first.

[His heart] was racing the entire journey, feeling utterly useless from halfway across the world and he couldn’t stand it.

Harrison had tried to calm him down as he helped him pack for his flight on the private jet, telling him he needed to be positive about this. Tom had snapped at him, asking him how that was even possible while he wasn’t with his own child.

Tom felt bad but Harrison made it clear that he didn’t take it to heart, knowing he was stressed and there was nothing he could really do to help.

He offered to go with his boss, thinking it’d be better if he wasn’t doing this all alone, but Tom refused with minimal explanation. He knew you wouldn’t want a stranger lingering around the hospital room if anything went badly.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Tom?” he asked, standing on the runway at the entrance to the private jet, ready to go with him to England if he just so much as asked.

“I’m okay, really,” he promised, ascending the steps of the plane with his luggage.

The plane ride was gruelling. Tom didn’t know what to expect when he arrived, and he certainly didn’t know how it was going to go between the two of you while he was there. The flight was long and he tried to get as much sleep as he could, barely managing a couple hours with the worry bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

Everything seemed to be going so slowly, right from landing to getting through the airport.

It felt like he was waiting for a taxi for days, tapping his thumb on his arm anxiously, his eyes focused solely on the ground, trying to control the thoughts in his head.

The ride from the airport to the children’s hospital was agony for the young father. Tom’s leg was bouncing nervously, his hands shaking and his eyes glancing down at his watch or his phone every few seconds. He hadn’t gotten any updates from you recently, assuming you’d fallen asleep because of the time.

He knew that with it being this late he’d have to see you and Theo tomorrow morning. Before he left he didn’t really consider the time difference.

When the taxi stopped he was quick to toss the man the right amount of money, practically sprinting out of the car to grab his luggage.

It was as if he ran into the hospital, looking around frantically in search of the reception area, just like you had done hours prior. When he spotted it, it was like his feet were working before his brain. They led him to the woman before he even had time to process that he was moving.

“Hi, I’m here for Theodore Holland,” he announced. The woman at the front desk clearly didn’t notice the sense of urgency in Tom’s voice.

“Sir, I’m sorry, visiting hours are over,” she said, “They start again tomorrow at nine,” she explained calmly. Tom shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the hundredth time today. He was sure that by now it looked a complete mess, a contrast from his normally styled and gelled hair.

“I can’t wait, I have to see him,” he whined pitifully, “Please,” he begged.

She took pity on the young man, nodding her head and waving the rules in his time of need.

“And who are you?” she asked, typing the little boy’s name into the computer to search for his files, so slowly, like they had all the time in the world.

“I’m his dad,” he stated, looking around the hospital ward in a panic. She nodded, looking at the details for Theo on her computer.

“Can you just confirm his birthday?” she asked. Tom recited the little boy’s birthday to her with ease, the six digits being the password to his phone for the last four years and the day also being the best moment of his life.

“Alright, Mr Holland, you want to go right down that hall, turn left and then it’s the first door on your right, room 106,” she instructed. Tom thanked her, taking long, quick strides down the hallway, carrying his bag with his belongings in his hand.

After finding the plaque with the correct door number, he noticed the lights were off. He carefully opened the door and creeped in, closing it quietly behind him, to not disturb either of you. He noticed two figures on the bed instead of one, his heart melting at the sight of your four year old curled up into your chest like an infant again.

He let out a quiet sigh, placing his bag on the floor, taking a seat next to Theo’s side of the bed. He could now clearly see your face as you slept, still as beautiful as he remembered.

Yours and Tom’s breakup was messy. Breakups always are when there’s a child involved.

You simply hated how much Tom was working, barely ever home to see you both, leaving, what felt like, all the responsibility to you. You were both still young, only twenty-two at the time and you were struggling. One more missed dinner and crying baby finally tipped you over the edge, to where you couldn’t take it anymore.

When Tom finally came home that night you confronted him about it all. You didn’t mean to start a fight but that was evidently what happened anyway. You thought it could’ve been a civilised discussion that would be solved within the hour.

Tom left the house that night to go and stay with his brothers, hoping he could give you time to cool off and then everything would be back to normal when he next saw you.

However, what he didn’t expect, was for you to tell him you were really done, just like you’d said in the argument. He seemingly couldn’t choose between his job and his girlfriend and child, so, you chose for him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He didn’t realise how much he was focused on work instead of the people that mattered to him, and he pretty much lost everything within a night.

The next week, Tom was off doing more and more business deals to distract himself from his loss, his family claiming he was overworking himself. He never listened to them though, and that’s how he ended up in the states, far away from you and far away from his son.

From next to the bed Tom saw his baby begin to stir, shuffling over closer to his side of the bed and smiling down at the beautiful boy.

“Daddy?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his tiny fists.

“Hi precious.” Tom stroked his cheek softly. This was the first time he’d been able to see his son in months, and he’d almost forgotten how amazing it was to see him in person. Yes, he’d seen him on facetime frequently, but there was something much more heart-warming about seeing him in the flesh and being able to hold him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked rather loudly, Tom shushing him and pointing to you.

“We don’t want to wake mummy,” he said, seeing Theo nod his head. He extended his arms out for his dad, wanting him to pick him up. Tom carefully scooped him out of bed, trying his hardest not to wake you from your peaceful sleep.

Theo wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck in one of his hugs, giving Tom a chance to look over his shoulder and finally admire your sleeping figure. Just you this time, no toddler cuddled up to you obscuring part of his view.

He admired all the things he used to- well, still does love about you. The way your eyelashes rested just above your cheeks, the way your lips parted just making him want to constantly kiss you. The way the sun shining through the window perfectly illuminated your face, making you look like a perfect angel. He took a few steps closer, just enough to brush some hair out of your face that looked like it was bothering you. Even the simple touch had you nuzzling your cheek, subconsciously, into the warmth of his hand, having missed his touch, even if you’d refuse to admit it when you were awake.

“Daddy?” Theo whispered, taking his note of trying not to wake you up.

“What’s up, bug?” he asked, turning his head to look at him. He always felt it was like looking into a time machine. You were convinced right from the day he was born that he didn’t get any of your features, looking like a clone of Tom when he was a toddler. But Tom was always adamant that Theo got your personality and mannerisms.

“I’m hungry,” he pouted, resting his tired head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go find you something to eat,” he said, following the hospital signs that pointed in the direction of the café.

Tom, stupidly, didn’t think to leave you a note to tell you that he’d arrived, or that he’d just taken Theo for food.

You didn’t really remember falling asleep in the uncomfortable hospital bed, nor did you remember Tom pulling a blanket over you and Theo in the middle of the night, or Tom even arriving for that matter.

You opened your eyes, groaning quietly as you were pulled out of your sleep. You turned your head to see if your son was awake, which you had no doubts he would be, but you frowned when you noticed he was no longer even in the bed, the sheets now cold on his side.

You sat up, looking around the room to find you were completely alone, except there was now an unfamiliar bag sitting next to the door. Your motherly instincts kicked in and you began to panic not knowing the whereabouts of your baby.

You were about to call for a nurse, asking if she’d seen him when Tom walked through the door with your son perched on his hip, laughing loudly as he nibbled on a sandwich.

“Oh thank god,” you said, taking Theo from Tom’s arms into your own. You kissed his head, running your hands over his hair.

“I didn’t know where you were,” you whined, glancing up at Tom. Theo nuzzled closer to you, his silent way of telling you he was here.

“That was my fault, sorry, he was hungry so I-“ This time you were the one to cut Tom off before he could finish his sentence.

“It’s okay, just scared me s’all.” Theo tucked his head into your neck, his small hand still clinging on to his food. After a few minutes, your heart had calmed down, reminding you that he still hadn’t eaten.

“Okay, go and eat buddy.” You let him down, watching him scurry off back to his bed where he had a little table he could eat on. You watched him for a couple seconds, making sure he was okay before turning back around to face Tom.

“Hi.” He said, staring right at you, that oh so familiar face looking as perfect and handsome as he had the first time you met.

“Hi Tom,” you said back. There was a painfully awkward tension between you both, one that could’ve been cut with a knife. Neither of you really knew what to speak about, both of you trying to start a conversation at exactly the same time, something that only made it even more awkward.

“You go first,” he said, trying to be polite.

“When did you get here?” you asked. You noticed the bags under his eyes, feeling yourself start to worry about him, but part of you told you to stop.

“Just after four, they almost didn’t let me in,” he explained. You nodded your head, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt.

“Well, he seems pretty glad that you’re here Tom,” you said, flashing him a nervous smile.

“H-how do you feel?” he asked, “About me being here?” It was silent for a few minutes. Tom was nervous, immediately regretting even asking as soon as the question came out of his mouth.

“I’m happy you’re here too.” His eyes widened in shock, taken aback by that answer. He smiled, his heart beginning to beat slightly faster.

Neither of you said anything more as you entered Theo's room, choosing to make small conversation with the boy about anything and everything, rather than with each other.

At some point in the afternoon Theo had grown sleepy, crawling under the blanket to take a nap. It was now just you and Tom sitting in yet another awkward silence. You were sitting in the chair next to his bed, making sure you were there if he needed you for anything. Tom was sitting across from you in another chair, watching you interact with your son. He noticed you visibly shiver in your thin, short sleeved shirt, rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself up.

“Are you cold?” Tom asked, almost rhetorically as he pulled off his own jacket and wrapped the material around your shivering frame.

“Thank you, I-I was in such a rush when I left, that I guess I forgot.” He nodded, flashing you a tight lipped, awkward smile. The tension in the air was uncomfortable, neither of you really daring to speak up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said, his eyes filled with regret. You tried to tell him it was fine, but you could feel your emotions rising in your throat, making it harder to keep them down.

He could see you breaking down inside just through your eyes, and he didn’t know how long you’d been holding this in. You took a glance at Theo to make sure he was asleep before looking back to your ex-lover.

“Fuck Tom, I was a mess, I-I had to call my mum and ask her to sort the house for me,” you cried, burying your head in your hands. His heart broke, a mental debate going on in his head about whether he should go over there to comfort you or stay sitting in his chair across from you.

He definitely didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his presence but he also hated seeing you cry like this.

He eventually decided to help, coming over and wrapping his arms around you timidly. He was shocked when you curled into his chest, tightening his hold on you and running his hand over your hair. To make it easier for you both, you switched places. Tom letting you curl up into his lap on the chair.

“Shh, it’s okay, he’s okay,” he said. He didn’t know if he was convincing you or himself though. His voice was calming to you, somehow bringing your tears to a slow stop as he whispered sweet words to you. Just being like this with him reminded you of all the times you’d spent together dating, normally in more positive circumstances than this.

“Why don’t I call my mum or someone, have her come here and watch him, and I’ll take you home for a little bit.” You nodded your head gratefully, tucking your face into his neck as he pulled out his phone.

The phone call between Nikki and her son was rather quick, the woman agreeing to come and watch Theo with no hesitation, especially after Tom had explained the whole hospital situation that only made you tear up again.

“Thank you,” you whimpered quietly. He nodded his head, kissing your temple lightly.

“Of course.”

You were still sitting in his lap with Tom rubbing his hand up and down your back when Nikki walked in, not even half an hour later.

“Hello,” she greeted, trying to hide her grin at the scene in front of her. If you weren’t going to fall back in love like she’d hoped, at least you were on talking terms.

“Thank you for doing this,” you said, getting up to wrap her in a tight hug. She told you that it was no problem, ushering you both out, making a playful comment that you smelled bad. You scoffed, feigning offense, even if you knew she was partially right.

Tom drove you home in your car, back to the home the two of you once shared together. It was silent on the way there, not even the radio turned on for just some form of noise. It was quite emotional for Tom walking back inside the house, looking around and seeing everything was pretty much identical to how it was when he left. His mind replaying all the memories you both shared in different places all over the house.

“Do you want anything?” you asked. He simply asked for a glass of water and you nodded, heading over to the kitchen. It made you frown slightly, remembering what had happened here only the day before. You quickly filled up the glass and then headed back to where Tom was standing, admiring the living room with a tiny grin.

“Why are you smiling?” you asked. He turned his head in your direction, not even realising he had been smiling, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“I don’t really know, i-it just hasn’t changed,” he said. You could still see traces of a grin as you handed him a glass of water, telling him you were going to take a quick shower.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, heading up the stairs to finally have a moment to yourself for the first time in two days.

You didn’t take very long. Taking a quick shower like you said and then drying your hair so you didn’t catch a cold in the winter weather. You got Theo’s stuffed bear that he sleeps with, his blanket and then some new pyjamas for him and you were ready to head back.

“Got everything?” he asked. You nodded, handing him the bear and taking the car keys from him.

“I want to drive,” you stated. You didn’t really know why, but a part of you just wanted to. Tom didn’t argue with you, following you out to the car and climbing into the passenger side.

There was a brief conversation this time around, however still not much, the silence filled with more awkward tension.

“Is this the bear I got him when he was born?” he asked, playing with the small piece of ribbon that was tied around its neck.

“Yeah, he loves it,” you told him. You noticed him wipe away a stray tear that ran down his cheek, making your heart pang in your chest. You reached over the console of the car with your hand, lacing your fingers with his while keeping your eyes on the road. His eyes widened and he stared at you, heart filled with hope, your eyes never glancing over in his direction.

It felt like Deja-vu arriving back at the hospital, except this time you knew where you were going. You entered the room to Nikki sitting quietly beside your still sleeping son, a smile spreading across her face, the woman noting how much better you looked already.

“I should start heading home.” She gave you another tight hug, Tom offering to walk her out because of the now darkened night sky. You bid her a simple goodbye, waiting until they were out of your sight to head over to your boy.

So while Tom went to take his mum to her car, you planned on giving Theo his bear, gently cooing to wake him up.

“Mummy?” he asked groggily. You smiled, handing him his bear and kissing his head.

“You can go back to sleep now, bub.” He hummed, nuzzling his head into the soft fur of the stuffed animal. You also placed the soft blanket over top of him, knowing the thin hospital sheet did little to keep him warm.

“Thank you.” He whispered, adding a quiet goodnight that made your heart swell.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

<<<>>>

The next morning, you were informed by his nurse that Theo needed blood tests and some other evaluations to check everything was okay. You knew it was going to be a long day for the four year old so you tried your best to plan out in your head where he could take quick naps in between his check-ups to keep him energized enough.

He didn’t seem fazed by the information when you told him, having no negative experience to relate to having any kind of needle; at least not that he can remember.

Unfortunately for him though, the blood tests were first, meaning he was going to have to deal with a sore arm all day.

The three of you were guided by a nurse to a small office, one with all different kinds of confusing machines that you didn’t know about.

You helped Theo up onto the examination table, still standing close by.

“Mummy?” he asked, his big brown eyes staring up at you nervously.

“Yeah, bub?” you asked, kneeling down so you were just a bit lower than him sitting on the table.

“Can I sit in your lap?” he asked, nervously fidgeting with his hands..

After checking with the nurse, you nodded your head. “Of course you can, come here.” You helped him climb into your lap, sitting with his back against your chest and your arms around his stomach. Tom stayed near the door, ready to leave if it got too much for him; he never was very good with needles, or seeing Theo cry.

The woman explained to Theo that she was just taking blood for them to examine and find out what was wrong. He nodded his head enthusiastically, ready to let her do what she needed.

She prepared what she needed while Tom nervously bit at his nails, seeing the reassuring smile you sent his way.

“This is going to hurt a little bit buddy,” she said, finally pressing the needle to the vein in his skin. Tom winced even before Theo did. The boy clearly hated the feeling, beginning to cry softly from the pain of the syringe in his arm.

You saw Tom struggling in the corner, tears welling up in his own eyes as he watched his son squirm in pain.

“You’re okay, bub,” you whispered reassuringly, kissing his head and his cheek, trying to calm him down enough for the woman to take the blood safely. When she’d gotten what she needed she took the needle out, cleaning up his skin and letting him choose a themed plaster.

“Which one would you like?” she asked, showing him his options. His eyes widened and any trace of sadness was gone, pointing straight to the blue and red masked figure.

“Can I have a Spiderman one, please?” he asked. You giggled, seeing her nod her head. She gently flattened it over his skin, making sure it was properly stuck down.

“You can go back to your room, we’ll run some tests and then we’ll be with you as soon as we can.” She informed you both. You nodded your head, helping him off your lap and letting him take Tom’s still sweaty hand.

“Hey, Theo,” you cooed, bending down to his height. He looked at you with a small smile, letting you wipe the drying tears from his face. “That wasn’t so bad was it?” you asked. He shook his head, showing you his plaster again.

“ ‘Cause I’m a big boy, mummy.” You smiled, nodding your head.

“And, you’re just as strong as Spider-Man,”

you whispered.

“And Hulk?” he asked in a tiny voice.

“Even stronger than Hulk,” you confirmed. He giggled, letting go of his dad’s hand to wrap his arms around your neck, being careful of his sore one. You rubbed his back, continuing to praise him for how good he was. You didn’t notice how Tom was staring at you with complete adoration. His heart was melting seeing you interact with your son like this, having gone without witnessing it in person for a while.

He ran back to Tom, gripping his hand and showing off his Spider-Man band aid to his dad proudly. You smiled, shaking your head, following behind them as they walked back to his room.

He was already used to the routine by now, running to his bed when you all entered the room.

“Okay bud, we’ve got a couple hours until they do some more testing, d ’you wanna take a nap or watch a film with me and daddy?” He sat quietly as he thought about it, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration so he could make the right choice.

“Can we watch Iron man?” he asked. You nodded your head, knowing that was one of Tom’s favourites as well and he’d be more than happy to agree. He jumped down, clinging to you while Tom set up the film on his computer.

You grabbed the fluffy blanket you’d brought the day prior, throwing it over your laps to help you get comfortable enough to watch the two hour film. He cheered quietly when it started, being scooped up into Tom’s lap so the two could quietly talk about it, something that had always annoyed you.

You knew it was going to happen, barely even halfway through the movie Theo had started to fall asleep in Tom’s lap, his head resting on his chest. His head kept falling, making him snap his eyes awake and pretend as if he was still watching the film playing on the laptop.

You giggled, trying to tame his messy hair with your fingers.

Tom eventually placed his large hand on Theo’s head, basically smushing his cheek against his chest, softly stroking his bedhead, helping to keep him in place so he could fall asleep. His other arm was around his back, making sure he didn’t fall backwards off his leg.

“He’s missed you.” you said after a while, catching Tom’s attention, forcing him to move his eyes off his sleeping son to look at you. He smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“I missed him too,” he admitted. You and Tom watched as much as you could of the film, checking the time every so often.

Fifteen minutes before his next set of tests were due to start, Tom gently cooed the boy awake, with soft whispers and kisses to his head. He whined, trying to hide his face and fall back to sleep.

“No, no, you’ve got to wake up bub,” he said. Theo begrudgingly opened his eyes, lifting his hand to rub the sleep from them and look at his surroundings.

“ ‘m tired.” You pouted at him, leaning forward to try and tame his messy curls.

“I know, but you can take another nap later.”

The rest of the day dragged on for the boy. He was practically a zombie by the time he was finally able to go to bed, even with the frequent naps.

You had once again taken the seat beside his bed, running your fingers through his messy hair to try and soothe him to sleep quicker.

He was out like a light in minutes, cuddling even deeper into the pillow.

You let out a sigh, slowly moving away from him to lean back in the chair, realising just how uncomfortable you were. Your constant shifting caught Tom’s attention, his gaze burning holes through you, making your face flush.

You noticed Tom trying to keep his eyes open, looking like a little puppy every time he’d slowly shake his head, trying to shake away the impending sleep.

“Hey.” you whispered, catching his attention, again. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

He shook his head, assuring you he was fine. You rolled your eyes at his blatant stubbornness, remembering this is how he’d always been.

“Why are you so stubborn?” you asked, not meaning for it to come out of your mouth sounding so vicious.

“I wanna stay and talk to you.” You were convinced your heart had stopped beating. You cocked your head in confusion.

“You do?” you asked. He nodded his head, a small smile on his lips as he watched you get over the initial shock you were in.

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” His smile faded, worry forming in the pit of your stomach.

“C-can we talk about us?” he asked, his voice sounding just as unconvincing as his body language looked. You took pity on him, slipping your hand into his, the one that was resting in his lap.

“I guess, but what is there to talk about?” Tom seemed defeated already by your unenthusiastic answer, it sounded to him like you didn’t want this, but after seeing you again yesterday, he was determined to win you back.

“I never really apologized for everything I did,” he said. “I was a dick, and then I just left you both.” You’d spent months hating Tom for him just leaving you with a toddler, but looking at his face now, you could tell he felt awful.

“I want to do better, be a better dad-“ You cut him off, shaking your head.

“You’re an amazing dad.” You saw the hint of a smile when your words registered in his head.

“I want to be better to you, Y/N.” You froze, staring into those brown eyes, trying to see if he meant it. “I’m so, so, sorry, for everything I did,” he whispered.

Over the course of his apology he had managed to shuffle closer to you. Your knees now touched, preventing him from coming any further forward.

“Do you ever think you could give me another chance?” he asked, almost scared to know the answer. You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand.

“Only if you can promise me one thing.” You explained. Tom’s eyes widened, his heart beginning to race.

“Anything,” he mumbled, fully prepared to dedicate himself to you and your child.

“Please come home.” It wasn’t a difficult decision for time this time around like it was the first time. As soon as he saw your puppy dog eyes, he was sold. He rapidly nodded his head, making a mental note to deal with work later.

He reached his hand up, cupping your cheek, seeing you nuzzle your face closer to his touch. You placed your own hand on top of his, turning your head to place a quick kiss on his palm.

“I know i fucked up, big time,” he reiterated, emphasising the big time and pausing for a minute, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. You watched him intently, the thing that was probably making him most nervous.

“But, do you think we could try again?” Your silence scared him. He didn’t know if he’d ever been this worried to hear an answer from someone.

“Yeah, I think we could give it a go.” Tom grinned, his cheeks flushing a light pink shade. He couldn’t wait a second longer, leaning in to press his lips onto yours. The kiss was perfect. Slow, passionate, everything you’d missed since you’d broken up. “But you’re going to have to prove you’re sorry,” you said.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised. “I’m really glad to have you back,” he whispered, his forehead leaning on yours and his hand massaging the back of your head. Part of you was screaming that you shouldn’t have taken him back that quickly, but the other part of you had been waiting for him for two years, and you were so happy to have him back.

“Me too.” The moment wasn’t very long lived

after you heard the blankets on the hospital bed rustle, turning your head to see Theo pushing himself into a sitting position. “I think someone else will be too.”

The little boy stared at you both in confusion, not understanding what you were referring to, or why you were suddenly so close again.

“C’mere buddy,” Tom said, motioning for Theo to climb into his arms. The boy climbed down from the bed with minimal struggle, running towards Tom and colliding with him with a loud giggle. Tom made a grunting noise, whining about how strong Theo was and how that hurt.

The boy just laughed at his dad, telling him to stop being silly.

“Do you want to tell him?” Tom asked. You shook your head, flashing him a smile.

“You got this,” you said. Theo looked between you both confused, having no idea what you were talking about, but the nosey part of him really wanted to know. Tom grabbed the boy’s full attention.

“So, daddy’s going to be coming home, is that okay with you?” His eyes widened, his head whipping in your direction, silently asking if it was true. You nodded, your heart melting as tears welled up in his brown eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Tom cooed, rubbing his back as he buried his head in his dad’s chest. He glanced at you, unsure what to do in this situation.

“He’s just happy.” Theo nodded, agreeing with what you said.

“Things are finally going to go back to normal.” You chose not to mention anything about a possible diagnosis with Theo, something that would be far from normal, instead just choosing to soak up the moment, rather than burst your bubble and ruin it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, watching as Tom’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“For what?” You smiled, kissing his cheek and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“For coming home.” He chuckled, kissing his son’s head and then yours.

“You two are my home, no matter where I am.”

<<<>>>

The morning that the doctors announced they had Theo’s results were nerve wracking to say the least. You were panicking almost all day, knee bouncing, driving Tom insane, your hands shaking out of fear. Tom tried to calm you down to the best of his ability, telling you to take deep breaths, holding you or just your hands and constantly trying to reassure you that you needed to be positive. If not for your own sake, at least for Theo’s.

The boy himself had no idea what was happening, he was just happy to be in his mother’s arms more than he usually was, purely because you refused to let go of him.

“Y/N, you have to put him down,” Tom said, trying to pry the boy from your arms. You pouted, scowling at Tom as he took Theo away from you.

“I’m only taking him to the bathroom, we’ll be right back,” he promised, softly kissing your lips before taking him out of the room. You sat down on the hospital bed with a sigh, picking up his teddy and beginning to fiddle with the ribbon tied into a bow around its neck.

You were too in your own head, thinking, to notice Tom come back. You jumped when his hands slid onto your shoulders, turning your head to see his sympathetic expression.

“I know this is hard, but please, just for him,” you nodded, trying your best to put on a brave face for him.

You spent the next few hours watching one of Theo’s favourite cartoons, one you’d seen a million times before, the time seeming to pass by ridiculously slowly for you. Tom was laughing along to the children’s show, making you roll your eyes and cuddle closer to him. It wasn’t until halfway through, possibly the thousandth episode, that the nurse finally entered the room, saving you the torture of having to watch another episode of the cartoon again.

“We’re ready for you,” she smiled. Tom instructed you to take a few deep breaths.

They led the three of you to an office to discuss, letting you take a seat and having Theo sitting comfortably in his dad’s lap.

It felt like you were in there for hours. You knew you should’ve been listening to what they were saying but you couldn’t concentrate at all.

You were pretty sure the woman had started by explaining the reason Theo had fainted and reacted like he did a few days prior. Everything was falling on deaf ears to you, just sounding like muffled noise coming from another room.

Tom was nodding along with what she was saying, asking the occasional question that let you know that at least he was listening. Your four year old was playing with the loose strings of Tom’s hoodie, wrapping them around his fingers and trying to make them curl. It was unfortunately the only thing he had to amuse him right now. Tom hadn’t noticed you weren’t listening, or that your eyes were focusing on your baby boy.

Theo noticed though, turning to you and flashing you a gappy smile that in return made you smile.

It felt like your heart was pounding but simultaneously wasn’t even beating, in this moment you were too scared to.

They’d obviously brought up something about the test results, Tom suddenly reaching over to take a hold of your hand, kissing the top of Theo’s head for comfort.

Tom’s sweaty hand was gripping yours like a vice, you were glad that he was here and he’d flown in, because if it was bad news, you don’t think you could do it alone.

Your mind went blank, not registering any medical words she said until you recognised the two words that made your heart begin to beat again.

“He’s okay.”

You let out a breath of relief, turning to Tom with a grin. He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a quick hug before showering the little boy in kisses.

You carefully lifted him from Tom’s lap, taking him in your arms to give him the tightest hug you could muster. The doctor explained that you were then free to go, letting you go back to collect your baby's stuff and tell him the good news.

“I hope we never have to do this again,” you mumbled, laying your head on Tom’s chest. His hand came up to run over the back of your head, placing a gentle kiss on your crown.

“Me too, but look on the Brightside,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, “We got our family back.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head against his chest. “Yeah, I guess we did.” You and Tom both turned your heads to look at your energetic baby boy, happy to finally be allowed to take him home again.

“Are you ready to go home, bub?” you asked. You saw his eyes light up, his head nodding rapidly as he clutched your hand. He grabbed his teddy bear, leaving you and Tom grabbed the rest of his stuff.

The three of you left the hospital for what was hopefully the last time. Theo practically skipped to the car, telling you both how excited he was to sleep in his own bed again. Your heart was warm as you looked at your little family, completely over the moon to have them back.

The first thing Theo did when he got home was rush upstairs to his room, telling you he was going to take a nap in his own bed. You shook your head with a smile, feeling Tom’s arms wrap around you. He guided you to the couch, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He started to look around again like he had the other day, taking it all in.

“It feels really good to be home.” You grinned at him, practically attacking him with a sweet kiss. He laughed, letting you pin him down on the couch playfully. “I still can’t believe I gave this up, he said, pushing a few strands of loose hair behind your ears.

“Don’t think about it now, okay?” He nodded, straining his neck to kiss you again.

“Mummy, daddy?” Your head perked up at the sound of the little voice, turning your head to see him coming down the stairs. You climbed off of Tom, giving him the opportunity to sit up.

“I thought you were taking a nap bub?” He pouted, clutching his bear to his chest.

“Will you come with me, just until I fall asleep?” You nodded your head, not giving Tom a chance to answer before you were tugging him with you. Tom scooped him up, carrying the tired baby in his arms.

“Why don’t we get in Mummy and Daddy’s bed,” you said. Tom tried to conceal his smile at what you’d called it, happy you were so ready for things to go back to how they were.

Theo climbed in your bed first, laying right in the middle with a sleepy grin. You got in after, watching Tom stop to take in how much the room had changed.

“I pretty much got rid of everything that reminded me of you,” you explained. He frowned, nodding his head and climbing under the covers of the bed. “ ‘m sorry,” you said.

He shook his head, grabbed your hand to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“I deserved it,” you giggled, nodding your head. Your eyes were locked on each other.

“You kind of did.” Theo made a sound of disapproval between you both, trying to get you attention to be on him.

“Sorry bub, were we not paying attention to you?” He shook his head, laying it on your chest just under your chin. You smiled, your heart melting at his affection.

“Goodnight angel,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. He curled deeper into your chest, a smile spreading across your face.

“Goodnight, little man.” Tom gently ran his hand over the back of Theo’s head, earning a hum in response from the boy.

“You know,” you started, keeping your voice quiet so the boy could sleep, “I’m pretty tired too.” You yawned. Tom threw his arm over you both, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, keeping Theo tucked securely between you two.

He chuckled at your sudden sleepiness, lifting his hand to run through your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep.” You tried to bite back your smile, feeling him shrug his shoulders playfully.

“S’okay, go to sleep.” He smiled, nuzzling his nose into the top of your head.

“Will you be here when we wake up?” you asked, sounding like a scared child.

“I’ll always be here, now and forever baby.”

tom holland taglist - @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @drie-the-derp @bvttercupbby @call-me-baby-gir1 @fallinfortom @iwearheadphones @kerrswriting @geminiparkers @blossomparkers @siriuslyslyslytherin @musicalkeys @itstaskeen @icyhollands @tpwk-grande @zspideyy @chrisosterfield @starkweasley @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #ceo!tom #dad!tom #tom holland angst

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary: You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817 because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

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today-only-happens-once · 4 years ago

Text

out of focus

title: out of focus

word count: 3955

summary:

The actions of a Fire Nation admiral during a meeting causes some problems for Sokka. The words of that admiral causes some problems for Zuko. They try to take care of each other.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Zuko freezes, the rag half-out of the bowl and his other hand still bracing Sokka’s (not quite holding it… far too gentle to be holding it). “What—uh. I, uh.” Zuko stops. Takes a breath. Tries again. He still doesn’t look up at Sokka. “When I was younger, I spoke out at a meeting.”

Warnings: burns (description of), violence, threats of violence, discussion of canonical child abuse, characters curse but no curse words are written, character is non-permanently injured, yelling/arguing, trauma

A/N: me? writing a zukka AtLA fic and posting it an hour short of midnight? Apparently, it’s more likely that you’d think.

Read on AO3

Zuko has the patience of a saint, Sokka thinks to himself.

It’s an unusual thought, he realizes. A year ago, if you’d told Sokka that he’d come to think of the Banished Prince as ‘patient’, he’d probably have thrown his boomerang at you. A year ago, Zuko was one of the most short-tempered people he knew. A year ago, Zuko was the face of the enemy.

A lot changes in a year.

Sokka barely stifles a frustrated sigh. The attempt does not seem to go unnoticed by Zuko, who glances at him quickly before the corner of his mouth twitches with something like amusement. The meeting had been going on for hours, and Sokka can’t help but feel that very little progress on the treaty had been made. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Sokka knows, but war leaves messy problems in its wake. He knows that both the literal and metaphorical shrapnel left behind by a century of conflict can’t be swept away in a night or a week or a month.

It doesn’t make these meetings any easier to sit through.

“I want immediate release of all prisoners of war,” an Earth Kingdom ambassador demands.

“I second that,” Sokka hears his father--sitting across the table from him--add, a bit more calmly but no less firm. “I have men in those prisons that haven’t seen their family in a decade.”

“Of course,” Zuko replies at the same time a Fire Nation soldier snaps, “absolutely not.”

Zuko levels a hard look at him. “Admiral, people who were arrested as prisoners of war have no need to remain so after the war has ended.” He looks to Hakoda, then to the Earth Kingdom ambassador. “I’ll draft that mandate tonight and will ensure it’s circulation as soon as possible.”

“This is an outrage!” The slam of a fist against the table makes Sokka’s hand fly to the boomerang strapped to his hip instinctively. The admiral is on his feet.

“Admiral,” Zuko says, his voice steely as he rises from his own chair. The Fire Nation soldier cuts him off.

“Where is the justice for the Fire Nation families whose sons and daughters were slaughtered by those criminals?”

“Admiral--”

“I remember a time when you cared about Fire Nation soldiers! And it’s hard to believe you’ve forgotten, seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror--”

“Enough!” Zuko snaps. “You will watch your tongue or you will be escorted out. You approach insubordination.”

“You are a child,” the admiral sneers. “Though one that ought to know a thing or two about insubordination, given your father’s attempts to brand you with a permanent reminder of its consequences--”

“Warriors!”

“Then again, he always was twice the leader you will never be. Long live the Phoenix King!”

Sokka sees the warning signs—the slight shift of weight, the clench of the man’s fists—and leaps to his feet. “Zuko--!”

“Sokka!”

There’s a blinding light and scorching heat. Sokka feels something slam onto his shoulder and he dives instinctively for cover as the familiar roar of a fireball explodes in front of him. The flames are bright and lick around him, and Sokka throws a hand up to protect his face. He blinks the spots from his vision as he yanks his boomerang out of his belt.

Zuko is standing beside him, his stance ready and his hand outstretched, having evidently dispelled the fireball that had been launched at him. Sokka leaps back up to his feet and hurls the boomerang in his hands towards the Admiral, hitting his hand right as he moves to launch another attack and forcing it to go wide. A burst of flames slam against the wall to the left.

The room is in chaos.

Sokka barely hears the shouts of alarm and curses over the roar of dying flames. He sees his father, already on his feet, diving underneath a bolt of red fire. Across the room, the Earth Kingdom ambassador jerks their hand. There’s a rumble in the ground before it rises and anchors around the Admiral’s feet, holding him in place.

Sokka sees the admiral’s gaze meet his own and narrow. The Fire Nation soldier bares his teeth in a snarl, his fist shooting out. Before Sokka can blink, Zuko steps in front of him, dispelling the flames just as the door ricochets open. Two Kyoshi Warriors flood in and in a series of quick strikes, the admiral drops. Awake, but limp.

Sokka thinks idly that he’s grateful that Ty Lee taught them how to block chi.

“Your father should have killed you that day!” the admiral shouts as he’s dragged through the doors. “He showed mercy on your pathetic, worthless—” the door slamming shut cuts him off.

The silence that follows makes Sokka’s ears ring. He can still feel stale adrenaline coursing through him, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. For a moment, nobody moves. Zuko awkwardly clears his throat.

“Apologies for the, uh, disruption. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Firelord Zuko,” Hakoda assures him, but there’s something odd in his father’s expression when he looks at Zuko that Sokka doesn’t understand.

Zuko says something in response, but Sokka doesn’t catch it. As the adrenaline bleeds out of him, his muscles relaxing, Sokka realizes that his fists are still clenched. Sokka forces them to relax, and hisses as it sends a jolt of hot pain through his left hand. When he looks down, he realizes that the skin on the top of part of his hand near his knuckles is a blistering, angry red.

Sokka’s hiss doesn’t go unnoticed. Zuko looks at him over his shoulder, his brows drawn together in confusion before his eyes fall to Sokka’s hand. Then, they go wide.

Zuko turns back around suddenly to address the room, his back straighter. “We will adjourn the meeting for the afternoon. We will reconvene tomorrow.”

“Firelord Zuko—” an ambassador from the Northern Water Tribe protests, but Hakoda interrupts him.

“I think we could all use a breather, Kovrik. Coming back tomorrow with a clear head is a good decision.”

“Yes… yes, I suppose that’s fair.”

Sokka is finding it increasingly difficult to follow the conversation. His hand hurts, and it’s taking every last drop of his willpower and pride to grit his teeth and swallow back the whimper that wants to push up his throat. It’s not until Zuko’s face is taking up his entire field of vision that Sokka realizes everyone but the two of them and his father have left the room.

“Let me see,” Zuko says quietly, then curses under his breath when he looks at Sokka’s hand. “Where’s Katara when you need her.”

“Do you have anything that can help?” Hakoda asks from behind Zuko.

“Yes, sir,” Zuko replies, his brows still furrowed in concentration. “Though it’s not quite as immediate as waterbending healers. But it should help with the pain, and prevent infection. Follow me.”

Sokka feels Zuko take his elbow and guide him out the door of the meeting room and down the hall. He’s distantly aware that Zuko is moving quickly—not quite a jog, but only barely shy of it—through a network of corridors. His hand feels like it might still be on fire, and Sokka looks down at it again just to be sure that’s not actually the case. He tells himself that he’s endured injuries more painful than this. The broken leg was worse, he thinks, though it does little to actually help with the burning sensation in his hand.

He’s vaguely aware that Zuko says something quickly to two guards that are flanking a set of doors before he rushes in. Sokka looks up and realizes it’s Zuko’s chambers. He’d only been in here a couple of times before, largely while Zuko was still recovering from Azula’s lightning strike in the weeks following the end of the war.

“Wait here,” Zuko tells him before disappearing through another door on the far side of the room.

“You had good reflexes in there,” Sokka hears his father’s low, soothing voice speak up. He’d had almost forgotten he was there. Hakoda moves the chair that had been beside the bed closer to Sokka in a clear direction to sit down.

“Lots of practice,” Sokka replies as he sits. He hisses a little again as his hand flares and grits out a swear behind clenched teeth.

“Easy,” Hakoda says softly. He places a bracing, comforting hand between Sokka’s shoulder blades. It’s grounding, and he’s grateful.

“Wish Katara was here,” Sokka tells him, echoing Zuko’s comment from earlier.

“I know. Unfortunately, I don’t think she’s coming to Caldera for a while. She’s still in Ba Sing Se with Aang.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Her magic water comes in handy though.” Sokka gives his father a tight smile. “Get it? Hand-y?”

Hakoda snorts just as the door opens again. Zuko has his arms full of a large bowl, his hands fisting a few vials and some bandages. There’s something pinched about Zuko’s expression, and the way he doesn’t meet Sokka’s eyes as he kneels in front of him feels odd. The bowl is full of water, Sokka realizes, as he sets it on the ground and begins to empty the vials into it.

“Can I see your hand?” Zuko asks, and the question—for some reason—catches him off guard.

Sokka blinks. “Yeah. Sure.” He grimaces as he places his hand in Zuko’s, but the excessive gentleness surprises him so much that Sokka almost forgets that his hand hurts.

Zuko was many things, but Sokka can’t remember a time—even after he started to get along with the Fire Prince—that he would have described Zuko as gentle. But his grip on Sokka’s hand is careful. Almost excessively so.

Zuko hums in the back of his throat as he inspects the burns. “I don’t think it’ll have permanent damage,” he says quietly. “But I still need to treat it so it doesn’t get infected. It… might hurt, a little. But then it should feel better.”

“No permanent damage. That’s good,” Sokka says. He swallows, and nods. “Okay.”

For a long moment, the only sounds that fills the room is the quiet splash of water in the bowl as Zuko submerges the cloth rag again and wrings it out. Sokka lets his gaze float around the room.

Zuko has left it mostly bare. There’s a portrait of Iroh and a woman that Sokka remembers being the Fire Lady—Zuko’s mother—hanging on the wall near the headboard of the bed. On the dresser beside it is a drawing that Sokka did of the group of them months ago. He sees a pile of papers on the desk across the room. He thinks one of them has Aang’s signature at the bottom, but it’s too far away for him to know for sure.

Bright, painful heat searing his hand slams his attention back to Zuko in front of him and Sokka yelps, yanking his hand away. Zuko grimaces, retracing his own hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding more earnest than Sokka expects. “This part is painful, but it’ll stop hurting in a minute.”

Sokka fights to pull his breathing back under his control. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “Right,” he manages, his voice tight. “Right, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know it hurts.”

Something about that line—and about the fact that Zuko still hasn’t met his eyes since returning from the other room—drags Sokka’s thoughts back to the conversation in the treaty meeting. There were several things that the admiral had said to Zuko that Sokka didn’t quite understand. He could only remember pieces of things said, but they repeat in Sokka’s head like disjointed pieces of a puzzle that he can’t quite make fit together.

seeing as you ought to be reminded every time you look in the mirror… insubordination… your father’s attempts to brand you… consequences…

Sokka’s gaze falls back to Zuko, dutifully bowed in front of him. There had long been pieces about Zuko that Sokka had found puzzling. Things about him that didn’t quite fit together. Sokka considers himself a person pretty good at figuring out how things worked together, and that extended (with less success) to figuring out how parts of people make up the sum of their whole.

Zuko, though… Zuko had always been something of a mystery. But as the words of the admiral ricochet in his mind, there’s a picture beginning to come together that is still just a little too hazy, a little too out of focus, to fill in the spaces that Sokka felt were missing.

“What did the admiral mean,” Sokka blurts out without really thinking about it, “when he talked about insubordination?”

Sokka’s brow furrows as Zuko presses the rag to the back of his hand again. Sokka realizes that his hand has stopped hurting, but he’s too preoccupied with what Zuko said to pay it much mind. “After the stuff at Ba Sing Se? When you went home?”

“No, I, uh.” Zuko clears his throat. “Before that. Before… yeah. Earlier.”

Your father’s attempts to brand you…

“What happened?” Sokka asks. The way Zuko’s shoulders seem to tense doesn’t escape his attention, and there’s a part of him that wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. But it also feels like a question that once asked, is too late to take back.

Zuko pats Sokka’s hand dry with another towel and begins to gingerly wrap a bandage around it. He keeps his gold gaze steady on the work. Sokka keeps his gaze steady on Zuko.

“My uncle allowed me to attend a war meeting where they were talking about some battle strategies to use against an Earth Kingdom battalion. There was a general that wanted our newest fleet to serve as a distraction while we mounted an attack from the rear,” Zuko begins. There’s something off about his voice, though. Something detached and careful. He keeps wrapping the bandage. Around and around and around.

Sokka frowns. “That’s not fair,” he says. “Your newest recruits? They’d be slaughtered by an experienced battalion like that.”

Zuko sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Exactly,” he says in a low voice. “And that’s what I told them. I wasn’t thinking. I just… yelled at him.” Sokka opens his mouth to disagree—it sounds like Zuko was thinking, unlike anybody else at that meeting—but Zuko cuts him off as he secures the end of the bandage to Sokka’s palm. “My father didn’t… take it well. I was challenged to an Agni Kai, and I thought I would be facing the general in it, so I accepted.”

Zuko gathers the bowl and empty vials as he stands, crossing the room to set them on the edge of his desk. Sokka stands up slowly as Zuko does so. The pieces that had been out of focus for so long are starting to come together, and Sokka feels his stomach rolling with a leaden weight against what he can sense is coming.

“No…”

“It wasn’t the general,” Zuko continues, his voice so quiet that Sokka is sure he would have missed it if it hadn’t been dead silence around them. “It was my father.”

“You faced your father in an Agni Kai?”

“Not exactly. I…” Zuko stares down into the bowl of water beside him, his gaze distant. “I couldn’t fight my own father. Instead, I begged him for forgiveness. I was met with a fistful of flames.”

Zuko gestures vaguely at his face, and Sokka’s blood turns to ice.

“He…” Sokka’s throat closes, cutting off the rest of that sentence. All this time being chased by Zuko—all this time being friends with him—and he’d always assumed that the scar was the result of a training accident, or a fight with a firebender he lost. Sokka thinks bitterly and viciously that the second assumption wasn’t far off but his own father—

“I was banished after that,” Zuko says, and his voice is hollow and empty and wrong. And he finally, finally, meets Sokka’s gaze. “I was told to bring the Avatar back and all would be forgiven, or to not come back at all. That was before you and your sister woke Aang up from the iceberg.”

Sokka stands very, very still. He glances down and realizes his hands are trembling. He curls the non-bandaged one into a fist to get the shaking to stop. “How old were you?” he asks, and he doesn’t know why—of everything he could say—that’s the question that tumbles past his lips, but he feels like it matters.

“Thirteen.”

“Thir—” Sokka cuts himself off, scrubbing a hand across his mouth and swallowing hard. “Thirteen. Tui and La, when I was thirteen—”

Sokka breaks off again, his throat closing, his gaze falling to his father. When Sokka was thirteen, his father had left to go fight in the war and told Sokka he couldn’t come along. He’d protected Sokka, and though Sokka had found his way into fighting in the war regardless a few years later, he knows his father had only been trying to keep him safe. The idea of his own father striking him—let alone with a fist full of flames to his face—was incomprehensible.

Hakoda doesn’t look back at Sokka. His gaze is trained on Zuko, and there’s something in his eyes that Sokka doesn’t quite understand. But he’s seen it before. It was the same look Hakoda wears when he hears other water tribe soldiers recount war stories. The late-night ones. The ones where their voices betray the weight on their shoulders and tremble with the generations of nightmares on their backs.

Sokka takes a sudden, faltering step forward, and Zuko instinctively tenses. Sokka freezes. “Zuko…”

Zuko shakes his head. He coughs a little, as if trying to clear his throat. “Anyway. That’s—that’s what the admiral was talking about.”

“You…” Sokka tries again, his voice carrying just the barest hints of hysteria. “You were his kid.”

“Yeah, well.” Zuko’s gaze meets Sokka’s again. “He spent most of my life wishing I wasn’t.”

“Zuko,” Hakoda speaks up, his voice a low, soothing rumble to Sokka’s trembling nerves. “I… hope you understand that you didn’t deserve that.”

“I know, sir,” he replies, sounding steadier than Sokka feels. Sokka feels a little like the ground has shifted beneath his feet as he stares at his friend across the room. Zuko continues, frustratingly calm. “It… I didn’t at first. It took me a long time to understand that it was wrong of my father to do that. But I know now.”

“Where is he?” Sokka demands, flushing with a sudden and intense fury.

Zuko blinks, looking taken aback by the vehemence charged through Sokka’s voice like a steel rod. “Where’s who?”

“Ozai.”

“Sokka, what are you gonna do? Fight him? He already lost.”

“Against Aang, not against—did Aang even know?”

Zuko’s brow furrows and he rubs the back of his neck. “Um. I guess I don’t know. I never told him. I… never told any of you.”

“Yeah—and what’s that about, huh?” Sokka demands. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Sokka,” Hakoda warns, but Sokka’s words are already bubbling up throat and spilling past his lips, hot and bitter and angry.

“What, did you think we wouldn’t care? That it wouldn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Zuko waves a hand towards the window that overlooks the courtyard. “My father already lost to the Avatar, Sokka. The war is over. The fighting is over. Aang took his bending. And that—I don’t know about you, but that’s the best, most justified end to his legacy I can think of.”

Sokka is still shaking. He can’t explain why. He knows, logically, that Zuko is right. He’s right. But Sokka can still feel his hands shaking, can still feel his heart hammering in his ribs with the urge to run something through with sword, can still feel the way his eyes sting with tears he won’t let fall. Sokka clenches his jaw and rips his gaze away from Zuko out towards the window, where he can see the sun setting on the horizon and painting the palace courtyard in an orange light.

“Wherever he is, I hope he rots,” Sokka says finally, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough. “He deserves worse.”

Sokka looks back at Zuko, whose gaze is a little wide. He looks… taken aback. Sokka cocks an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you disagree—"

“No,” Zuko replies, shaking his head. “I just… Nothing.” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in the barest hint of a smile. Sokka doesn’t understand why, just like he doesn’t understand why it uncoils the tight knot of burning anger in his chest.

Sokka takes a deep breath. Wills himself to relax. It helps… a little. There’s a beat, and then Sokka hears his father take a step forward. “Thank you for helping Sokka’s hand, Firelord Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, and Sokka swears his cheeks take a faint pink tint as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh. Uh, of course, sir. And… just Zuko is fine.”

Sokka glances over and sees Hakoda smile, inclining his head. “Understood.” He looks to Sokka. “I should draft a letter to Bato tonight to update him on the treaty. Will you be okay without me?”

Sokka rolls his eyes teasingly. “Yeah, dad. I think I can manage.”

Hakoda squeezes his shoulder, nods to Zuko again, and quietly slips out of the room. The silence afterward seems to stretch, and Sokka feels the lingering tension bleeding out of him as he looks at Zuko, who quietly shuffles through the papers on his desk. Sokka watches him for a beat, his gaze lingering a little on the scarred tissue across his face. Sokka swallows.

There are other questions Sokka thinks he could ask. Like why—after doing that—Zuko was still so bent on returning home to his father. But there’s a part of Sokka that thinks he maybe understands.

Spirits know that he understood what it was like to crave the approval of your father.

“Hey,” he says, and Zuko’s gaze snaps over to him. “I… thank you for telling me. I… know that wasn’t easy, and… it means a lot that you trust me with that.”

“It… it wasn’t a question of trust, you know,” Zuko replies quietly, averting his gaze. “Not telling you, I mean. It was just—”

“I know,” Sokka says, and means it. “But I also know what it’s like to have things you don’t necessarily… want to relive. So it means a lot that you told me.”

The corner of Zuko’s mouth twitches again. He takes a deep, slow breath. “Thank you for listening,” he says.

“I like to think I’m a pretty good listener,” Sokka teases, shrugging.

“You are,” Zuko says, with far more sincerity than Sokka felt was warranted for what he’d meant to be a joke. Sokka blinks at him, and Zuko clears his throat, ducking his head a little. “I was thinking of getting some tea. There’s a place just outside the palace. It’s not as good as Uncle’s, but um. Did you want to come?”

“Yeah,” Sokka replies with a small smile. “I could use a cup of tea.”

#avatar the last airbender #zukka #zukka fanfiction #zuko fanfiction #zuko #sokka #not ts #we interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast to give you this fic for an unrelated fandom woops

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otonymous · 4 years ago

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Fever Dreams (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: Gavin lets you in on the contents of his wet dreams… Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Potential trigger warnings: mentions of IV lines, hospitals, minor injuries, brief mentions of trauma, Eli’s sense of impending doom, vaginal intercourse, profanity, masturbation Word Count: ~3K words (~15 mins of sweet, sweet hospital lovemaking 🤣) Author’s Notes: Close your eyes. Imagine that Gavin is by your side — muscles flexed and lips so close they practically brush against the shell of your ear when he whispers the following:

“I hope you enjoy this fic, which was based on and inspired by Gavin’s Whispers/Biting The Ear (咬耳) ASMR from the CN server, beautifully translated by the incredibly talented and gracious @cheri-translates.” 🤣

In all seriousness, I’m extending a massive THANK YOU to the sweet @cheri-translates for providing me with the awesome goods that literally left me breathless! This fic would not have been possible without you! 💕 With that being said, hope you all enjoy it and happy reading! 🥰

👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

It was easy to forget at times; that Gavin was made of flesh and bone like everyone else.

That lionhearted though he was, the man wasn’t invincible, no matter what he would have you believe: hiding winces behind smiles and brushing off bruises blooming blue like they were nothing at all.

It was little wonder then that when the phone rang that night, it was Eli’s voice on the other line. And as you stood before the bathroom mirror, wrapped in nothing but a towel and watching the colour drain from your face, the stilted manner of his speech made it increasingly clear he was unused to delivering bad news.

“I’m gonna kill him when I see him,” Gavin swears under his breath, the hand with the IV drip attached pulling into a tight fist by his side.

Now you understood why.

“They’re making a fuss over nothing, keeping me in hospital for observation. It’s just a few scratches.”

Amber eyes train in your direction, the earnestness in their tender depths melting the edge of the anger you felt at always being the last to know anytime your lover got hurt. And when he tries to smile despite the bulky bandage plastered on his left cheek, your resistance falters.

“ ‘They’re making a fuss over nothing.’ I bet you’d say that even if you were missing a limb, Gavin Bai.”

Suddenly exhausted by the anxiety that made you rush to the Special Task Force hospital upon receiving Eli’s call, you slump into the chair at his bedside, still annoyed but relived to find that he was well enough to laugh at your sarcasm.

“Hmm, I must be in a lot of trouble if you’re calling me by name like that.”

Smirk spreading on that handsome face, his eyes take on a mischievous twinkle that makes him altogether impossible to resist. You couldn’t help but think of that rough and tumble high school senior who threw furtive glances in your direction every time he walked past in the halls, lip cut and face bruised.

“Come. It’s too late to go home now and you can’t sleep on the chair like that. Join me on the bed.”

Voice breaking through your reverie, Gavin holds out the hand that wasn’t hooked to the drip — large, strong and inviting. You hesitate, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you look towards the door.

“I-I really shouldn’t. We’re in a hospital and there won’t be enough room for the two of us. You, especially, need a good night’s sleep, being injured—”

Three dull pats sound in quick succession to interrupt you. Turning your head, you see Gavin scooting to one side of the bed, hand beckoning towards the newly vacated space. “The beds here are larger than the ones in your average hospital. STF perk, I guess. But if you insist on refusing then…I guess I’ll just have to accompany you in sleeping sitting up—”

Relenting with a click of the tongue, you snatch the pillow from his grasp just as he begins propping it up behind his back, sliding it beneath his head as you gingerly crawl in next to him.

“That’s my girl.”

Gavin’s whisper is electric in your ear, low and seductive in a way that made you question the innocence of his motives, wondering if he was already aware of the sensations his body pressed to the side of yours was eliciting. His lips curve in a smile on your forehead, breath dancing hot across skin. And when he reaches for you, the sight mesmerizes: long, tapered fingers smoothing slow along the strands of your hair.

“Eli must’ve called while you were still in the shower. You didn’t even have time to dry your hair, did you? Look at how wet it is.”

And though you were on the verge of telling him that it wasn’t only your hair that was wet, you thought better of it. There was a heaviness in his tone, weighed down by the concern that inevitably arose every time Gavin thought you weren’t taking care of yourself: encouraging you with bites of the BBQ pork rice he brought in takeout containers whenever you skipped meals during late nights at the office, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you shook from the cold — having decided on form over function in a lightweight but pretty new dress worn especially to impress on date nights.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost dry anyway.”

“Hmm.” Faint displeasure taints his acknowledgment, but you close your eyes to the furrow in his brows, unable to focus on anything other than the touch of his fingers on your skin — calloused tips tracing the line of your jaw to traipse over the chin until finally coming to rest on your lower lip. He is so close you can feel the tail end of your exhalation being drawn into Gavin’s next breath when he says:

“I know I really scared you this time. I’m sorry. I was careless, but it won’t happen again. Please don’t be mad, okay?”

Eyes opening to the sight of his, you study the specks of gold embossed in amber, beautifully familiar. See your reflection in the dark pupils holding your face in loving regard. Felt your heart chill at the thought of Gavin one day not returning home. And when the sting of tears arrives to redden the tip of your nose, you turn away, unwilling to add to his burdens with your own.

“All I ask…is that you be open with me. I know you want to protect me, Gavin. You don’t want me to worry. But it’s much worse to have to guess about whether or not you’re lying just to be kind. I’m a grown woman and your partner, so please don’t handle me with kid gloves. Let me take care of you too, sometimes.”

Staring at the patterns on the curtain drawn around the bed, you listen for the rhythm of his breath — slow and even in the ensuing silence and punctuated only by the intermittent beeps of machinery, the weight of your concerns slowly sinking in before he finally relents.

“Okay. I won’t keep anything from you anymore. I promise. So please…could you let me just…”

A hand wraps around your waist, grip firm yet gentle as he pulls you close beneath the thin sheet. You feel his mouth on the nape of your neck, Gavin’s kisses falling hot and insistent between muffled words.

“…hold you, like this?”

Nodding, you bite your lip, barely suppressing a moan to feel his fingers crawl beneath your shirt; warming themselves on the soft skin of your belly, tracing circles about the navel.

“Seven days. It’s been…hmm…seven days since I’ve last held you. It’s too long.”

The last statement is breathed into the curve of your neck and shoulder, your boyfriend inhaling deeply as he buries his face into the space, the embrace around you tightening as if touch alone could communicate all the longing he wasn’t quite able to put into words.

“It was a difficult mission. I couldn’t sleep. And anytime I did, I would dream of you. Always of you. Want to know what we did?”

Cotton-mouthed, you resort to nodding again.

“Then be a good girl and turn around first. I want…need to see you…that’s good. In my dreams, we’d be together, just like this. I’d have you in my arms, so close I could feel every inch of your body…how hot it is…just like now. No, don’t move away. I like it. I’ve got a fever, but I’m also feeling chilled. I want your heat.”

Those amber eyes are dark now, half-lidded and veiled with lust — proof that Gavin’s increasingly shallow breathing was not an exaggeration. It was a look you recognized; the expression his handsome face wore the moment he saw you again after a mission had kept him away for too long. It typically resulted in entire weekends spent in bed, limbs entwined as Gavin made love to you over and over again.

Until you were boneless and spent.

Until your lover was satisfied that he was thoroughly reacquainted with every curve of your body.

You reach for him: trembling fingers tracing the line of his brow, thumb circling the apple of his cheek. Gavin closes his eyes, exhalation shaky as he nuzzles into your palm to lay a kiss on that, too.

“Your touch feels cool on my skin.”

“Oh! I’m sorry—”

“No. Don’t be.” Fingers curling about the wrist that pulled back, Gavin gently guides your hand towards his forehead. “It’s nice. I like it. But…my back is warm too. Do you think you could help me lower the temperature there?”

Swallowing, you start to inch your hands towards the open back of his hospital gown. Gavin softly groans to feel your fingers running along the ridge of his shoulder blades, caressing defined muscles and faded scars you had committed to memory long ago.

“Is this all right?”

Now his turn to nod, Gavin’s head drops back, accentuating the bob of his prominent Adam’s apple in that strong, thick neck.

“I’m...ah…also feeling hot here.”

Large palms fall over the back of your hands, guiding them over his rib cage until they find themselves on the hard muscles of Gavin’s abdomen. Thighs pressing together beneath your skirt, you trace that defined V-line — touch featherlight in a way that draws out a shudder, goosebumps blooming across the expanse of Gavin’s skin.

Suddenly, you freeze to hear footsteps approaching in the hallway beyond the door. And just when you start to pull away, Gavin stops you with a whisper:

“Don’t worry. The nurse has already been in to check on me tonight. They won’t be back again, unless…unless they see that my heart rate has become unusually high.”

He winks.

“Besides, if they find you here, I’ll just say that, um…I’m afraid of sleeping by myself in the dark.”

That smirk again. You wonder at what point your boyfriend had become so cheeky, knowing just the right things to say to get his way.

“Could you help me? I’m burning up…right here.”

Lower and lower, he guides your hands, leaving them to their own devices when they reach the waistband of his boxers. Barely breathing, you watch as the expression on his face transforms from anticipation to euphoria the moment you slip past the elastic, fingers circling his hardened length with a loose grip.

“Officer, you weren’t lying!”

Gaze already heavy with want, the chuckle Gavin lets out in response has never sounded so sexy. “It’s because I’m running a fever. Or perhaps…it’s because I’m thinking of you. Do you think we should…make it even hotter?”

You wet your lips, feeling Gavin twitch in your hand at the sight; feel the vein pulsing on the underside of that thick shaft as he continues to swell in size. Firming up your grip, you begin to stroke in earnest, trying to maintain your rhythm despite the distraction of your own throbbing pussy, despite the way you grew increasingly wet to envision him sliding into your depths, satin panties clinging to the lines of your folds.

Smoothing your thumb over the liquid arousal beading at the tip of his cock, you draw wide, slick circles over velvet skin — paying especial attention to the ridge just below the swollen head because you loved how Gavin sounded when caught in the throes of ecstasy. It pleased you to pleasure him — the man who never thought twice about putting you before himself.

Always so strong, always fearless, you loved to watch him fall apart. Over you. Beneath you. In you. Held in the palm of your hand or folded to your embrace. You could feel the tension leaving his body — worn out and battered — each time he returned to your side from a mission, the trauma of all the things he couldn’t talk about seeping from every pore as you sought to show him love with the swing of your hips, the kisses you showered upon his sweat-soaked face. With the normalcy only the simplicity of a home-cooked meal could restore. “I love you,” he’d smile and say, amber eyes blinking once, twice…as if Gavin couldn’t quite believe you were real. “I really do.”

“This is the first time someone has stayed with me in the hospital, let alone shared my hospital bed.” Gavin’s voice is low, thick with emotion in between shuddering gasps elicited by each tug along his length. “Who would’ve thought that...even at a time like this…I’d be lucky enough not to be alone.”

“I’d never let you be lonely,” you say with a sudden vehemence that surprises even you. “Never again.”

He smiles, gentle eyes glistening when his large hand approaches to cup your face. Gavin touches you as if holding something of infinite importance, “Angel” falling from his lips in a soft utterance.

“I don’t think I can sleep tonight. I don’t want to. What about you? Will you…stay up with me?…Help my fever break—”

You kiss him deeply, swallowing his words even as your tongue pushes past teeth to meet Gavin’s in reunion. You had missed him; missed the way he tasted, the hint of mint that lingered in the breath you shared, as if your very lives were as entwined as your bodies in embrace.

To lose him was to lose yourself.

And so, you give yourself over to the man who gave so much and asked for so little in return.

“Then I won’t sleep either. I want to stay with you.”

Throwing one last glance at the door, you rise to your knees, skirt bunching at the waist as you straddle his hips. Eyes wide, Gavin starts to move before you stop him, saying “Let me” as you push him back onto the bed before the IV line could pull taut.

You loved how Gavin looked at you, the artless way he wore his heart on his sleeve — showing in the pink of his cheeks, the blush creeping all the way to the tips of pierced ears. It was a side of him only you were privy to; unguarded and unfiltered. He watched you now, those amber eyes lit with a dark hunger to follow the motions of your hands: one pulling dampened panties aside as the other spreads glistening lips, guiding his cock along the length of your slit before you ease yourself onto his hard heat.

Unable to stop the moan that escapes, you slide…lower and lower…until the flesh of your buttocks meets the muscular plane of his pelvis. But the sensation continues — electricity spreading towards the very pit of the stomach to curl your spine, chest opening to receive all of his love.

Breathing barely controlled, Gavin bites hard on his lip in a bid to stay quiet, unwilling to attract the attention of curious staff. “God, you feel so good. I just…just want to move.”

“No, let me…let me be the one to take care of you this time. Please.”

For the second time that night, Gavin relents, yielding to your exquisite torture even as he fought to leash the animal impulse that spurred him to rip free of the machinery and fuck you until the bed collapsed. Hands clenching tight around the bedsheet, his knuckles grow white, as if the flimsy fabric were a lifeline keeping him from being swept away each time you lifted and lowered yourself onto him.

For everything about you drove him mad, from the tight, grinding circles you drew with your hips whenever he was fully sheathed, to the clenching embrace of your arousal-slicked walls that held him like no other, as if the entirety of you were created with him in mind. Or, at least, it was a fantasy he harboured; to think that fate had a hand in ordaining you his sole queen, and him, forever your humble servant.

“Ahh, Gavin!…I…you’re so deep, I’m com—”

You don’t get to finish before your mind blanks. All you could focus on was the sudden grip of Gavin’s hands on your hips and the shift of your weight forwards when his knees draw up, giving your lover the proper leverage to pound hard and fast into you from below until your arousal pools to drench those six-pack abs.

It nearly overwhelms you; the orgasm that makes you collapse onto Gavin’s chest, the contractions that hit like tidal waves moving through your body. They spur him on, continuing to fuck you so hard the bed shook, each and every thrust hitting just the right, swollen spot to keep you elevated on that high. And when you whisper

“I love you”

before your tongue extends to suck the lobe of his ear into your mouth, the tension building in the taut muscles of that perfect body breaks.

You hear your name leave his lips in a deep moan, feel him leave a part of himself in the secret space between your legs. Taste the salt of his sweat on kisses laid upon the pulse of his neck. Waited for his racing heart to slow before telling yours it was okay to do the same.

And when his arms wrap tightly around your body, “I love you, too” returned with palpable affection, you let yourself fall into slumber…knowing that even in dreams, Gavin would meet you there.

Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love dream date #evol x love #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc gavin smut #mlqc smut #my writing #fanfiction #mlqc ASMR

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bevioletskies · 3 years ago

Text

love will never do (without you)

summary: Despite his increasingly frequent social visits to Baker Street, none of its inhabitants have been able to convince Kazuma to stay for dinner. Ryunosuke is determined to finally change his mind.

word count: 6.7k | read on ao3

a/n: For @asoryuu-week, day three of seven (prompt: "family"). This fic takes place post-Resolve; mild spoiler warning for Adventures and Resolve, where events may be alluded to but not described in detail. All names and honorifics are taken from the official localization, with the exception of Haori, Sherlock, and Iris.

Fic title is from the song Love Will Never Do (Without You) by Janet Jackson.

“Are you sure you won’t stay, Kazuma? I promise Iris won’t be making roast chicken this time.”

Kazuma chuckled, drawing his coat a little tighter around his midsection as he buttoned himself up, though to Ryunosuke, it mostly seemed as if he were trying to avoid Ryunosuke’s pleading gaze. “I’m happy to hear that, but I’m afraid I can’t. Lord van Zieks and I are getting on a train first thing in the morning to attend that conference I told you about, remember?”

“You seem to spend more time with him than with us,” Ryunosuke said, frowning somewhat. “Though if it’s work-related, I suppose it can’t be helped. Next time, then?”

“No promises,” Kazuma said, offering him a regretful smile. “Enjoy your not-roast chicken dinner without me, won’t you? I’ll come by for tea sometime next week, and that’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Ryunosuke nodded. “Have a safe trip, Kazuma.”

“Have a good evening, Ryunosuke,” Kazuma replied, bowing his head slightly before disappearing into the carriage that awaited him. Sighing, Ryunosuke lingered on the sidewalk for a moment, watching him go, then turned and headed back inside, back to where the others were waiting for him with hungry bellies and questioning gazes. When they noticed Ryunosuke had returned to the table alone, their curiosity was quickly replaced with disappointment.

“It wasn’t meant to be, it seems,” Sherlock commented blithely. “What a shame; I’d been hoping to continue our conversation on Japanese martial arts. I would’ve loved to hear his opinion on my boxing technique.”

“Oh, I wish he’d stayed,” Iris sighed, slumping in her seat. “I even made all of his favorites! Surely, that should’ve been enough.”

“Unfortunately, Kazuma-sama is a very busy man,” Susato said, patting Iris’s hand in sympathy. “Well, there’s no point in dwelling on it at the moment. I’m sure he’ll stay for dinner someday, just not today. Shall we eat?”

As much as Ryunosuke loved Iris’s cooking, this time, it was hard for him to enjoy even a single bite. Over the last several weeks, Kazuma had inexplicably been coming by Baker Street more and more often despite having spent the last several months politely but firmly rejecting Ryunosuke and Susato’s invitations. Usually, he only stopped by if someone was sick and he wanted to pass on his well wishes, or if they’d had a particularly difficult case together and he wanted to decompress. Both of them had resigned themselves to Kazuma’s apparent desire to keep them at arm’s length, only to be surprised when he showed up one day for afternoon tea. It had become something of a regular appointment ever since. Still, none of them had been able to convince him to stay long enough for dinner.

“Naruhodo-san?”

Ryunosuke startled; he barely remembered finishing dinner and returning to his desk in the attic, only to shuffle mindlessly through his paperwork without reading any of it. “Ah - sorry, Susato-san, were you saying something just now?”

“No, I’ve only just come back up,” Susato replied, looking at him curiously. “You seem...distracted. Is it because of Kazuma-sama?”

“I just...don’t understand what’s going on with him,” Ryunosuke admitted, rubbing his aching temples. “I can’t help but worry he’s caught up in something again. He spent months keeping his distance, and now, he comes round twice a week, only to leave after an hour or two of conversation. It’s...it’s strange, is what it is.” He then sat up, his eyes wide. “Do you think he’s spying on us for someone?”

Susato tilted her head, looking at him worryingly. “...oh dear, I hope not. And I don’t think all of Kazuma-sama’s secrets are wrapped up in conspiracy, Naruhodo-san. As I said, he’s a busy man, so we should be grateful that we get to see him as often as we do. And I’m glad that he’s been so happy and healthy these days.”

“Yes, of course,” Ryunosuke agreed. Kazuma was definitely smiling more, talking more, laughing more, and that was never a bad thing. It didn’t stop him from worrying, though. “I hope he’ll stay for dinner eventually, especially for Iris’s sake. She went to all that trouble tonight, after all.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to guilt him into it,” Susato said with a mischievous giggle. “If Iris were to cry and bat her eyelashes at him, he’s sure to come around!”

“...I’d like to try less underhanded tactics first, Susato-san,” Ryunosuke replied, sighing.

_____

Of course, that wasn’t to say Ryunosuke had any tactics in mind to begin with, short of cornering Kazuma and asking him outright. Every single time, without fail, Kazuma had somewhere to be or someone to see, even when he knew he was coming to Baker Street well in advance. Every single time, Ryunosuke went to see him off while asking him to stay, and every single time, Kazuma seemed to be avoiding his eyes while telling him he had to leave. Then, days later, the same thing would happen all over again.

They’d tried a few different things in the beginning, naturally. Sherlock had offered to spar with Kazuma, and when that hadn’t worked, offered to discuss literature and politics with him instead. Iris had bribed him with tea, then sweets, then science; unsurprisingly, Kazuma only had a polite interest in hearing about Iris’s smoke bombs. Ryunosuke and Susato tried to persuade him with the promise of stories from their brief return to Japan, what with Ryunosuke finishing his formal law education and Susato taking a few turns in the Supreme Court as the elusive Ryutaro. Frustratingly, even that failed to work, and everyone was at a loss as to why.

“Your head appears to be in the clouds today, Ryunosuke. What’s on your mind?”

“I - oh!” Ryunosuke coughed, blushing. “Sorry, Kazuma, I seem to be drifting off quite a bit these days. What did you say?”

Chuckling, Kazuma moved in closer, the side of his hip pressing into Ryunosuke’s. He lifted a hand to affectionately rap his knuckles against Ryunosuke’s forehead. “I said you seem distracted. Is something bothering you?”

Ryunosuke cast a worried glance around the courthouse library, hoping no one could see the strangely intimate stance they were suddenly in, then turned back to meet Kazuma’s intense, albeit slightly concerned gaze; he swallowed. “Are you free this evening, for dinner?”

Kazuma’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Dinner?”

“At Baker Street, with the others,” Ryunosuke clarified. “I think Iris is making beef stew and freshly baked bread, so…”

“Ah.” Kazuma cleared his throat, taking a few measured steps back before turning back to the bookshelf he’d been perusing. “No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it.” When Ryunosuke motioned for him to continue, he frowned. “What?”

“I was waiting to hear what excuse you had to offer this time,” Ryunosuke replied, his tone harsher than he’d intended; Kazuma looked just as taken aback as Ryunosuke felt.

“Excuse? You think I’ve been making excuses?” Kauma said coldly, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know you thought so little of me, Ryunosuke. Do you really believe that I’m making things up just to get out of joining you for dinner?”

“I’m not sure what to believe,” Ryunosuke said, more resignedly now. “You’ve been coming over so often these days, but you never stay longer than a couple of hours, and never for dinner. I can only assume that you’ve been told to visit us but not to stay too long, or...or, I don’t know, that you think Iris will poison your food or something.”

Kazuma scoffed, looking away so he could yank a volume off the shelf rather violently. “Don’t be ridiculous, Ryunosuke. It’s convoluted thoughts like that that keep us in court longer than we need to be.”

Ryunosuke flinched, hurt. “There’s no need to be so short with me. All I wanted to know is why my best friend has been so distant, but...if you continue to act like this, I’m not sure I care to find out.”

Now it was Kazuma’s turn to appear wounded; he let out a lengthy sigh. “I...I’m sorry, that was unnecessary of me. And…” He inhaled sharply. “You’re right, I have nowhere to be. But I won’t be coming all the same.”

“But why?” Ryunosuke whisper-shouted, frustrated, mindful of the other library patrons who were watching them curiously from a few shelves away. “I understand not wanting to accept every single invitation, and I understand that you’re busy, but you haven’t even stayed once, so...I can only assume that something must be wrong.”

Kazuma visibly swallowed, tucking his books underneath one arm, folding the other defensively across his stomach. “Have a good day, Ryunosuke.” And with that, he swept past Ryunosuke rather hurriedly, disappearing out of sight before Ryunosuke could even fathom what had happened. Groaning, he slumped against the shelf he’d been standing beside; his head was starting to hurt again. He barely even looked up at the sound of Susato’s footsteps.

“I’m afraid they didn’t have the records we were looking for, Naru - Naruhodo-san? Are you alright?” She placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I thought you were with Kazuma-sama.”

“I was, but...I really don’t know what’s happening, Susato-san,” Ryunosuke sighed. “I asked him if he’d be able to join us for dinner, and this time, he didn’t even give me an excuse. Simply told me he had nowhere to be, but he wouldn’t be coming, anyway. I mean, what are we supposed to think at this point?”

Susato’s face fell. “Oh. I...I see.”

“Is it…” Ryunosuke hesitated. “Is it strange to miss someone, even when they’re standing right in front of you?”

“I don’t think so,” Susato murmured, offering him a sad smile. “Because I feel it, too.”

Dinner was a somber affair; the moment Ryunosuke and Susato arrived home, Sherlock and Iris could instantly tell that something was wrong. They seemed resigned, too, especially given that Kazuma hadn’t bothered interacting with them much prior to Ryunosuke and Susato’s return to London. Even Sherlock confessed he wasn’t sure where to begin when it came to deducing Kazuma’s reasons, or worse, his potential ulterior motive.

“And I was so looking forward to having another big brother around,” Iris said, chewing rather despondently on her piece of freshly baked bread. “Do you think he might be mad at us for some reason? I can’t think of anything we’ve done to offend him, but…”

“If he were upset, I don’t think he’d be visiting us at all,” Susato reassured her, though she didn’t sound very sure herself.

Finally, things seemed to come to a head one drizzly morning when Ryunosuke managed to acquit his client rather quickly, ending the trial sooner than expected. As he and Susato finished packing their things so they could join their client in the defendants’ antechamber, Kazuma approached them with a broad smile.

“Well done, Ryunosuke. That last deduction of yours was ingenious,” he said, extending a hand. “I was thinking, instead of visiting Baker Street, we could go all go out for tea sometime and - ”

“No.” Ryunosuke had said it so quickly, so immediately, that all three of them looked surprised; Susato only just managed to stop herself from gasping out loud. “No, I - I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Naruhodo-san,” Susato whispered, aghast.

Kazuma’s hand dropped unceremoniously to his side. His mouth was set in a hard line, his jaw taut. “Ryunosuke…”

“I really don’t know what’s going on with you, Kazuma, and...and maybe I’m simply overthinking it, but…” Ryunosuke shook his head, fists clenched. “It just feels as if you don’t care about us anymore. That you only come round for tea to keep up appearances, and not because you actually want to spend time with us. It even seems as if...as if you can’t wait to get away when the time comes.”

“That’s not true, I - ” Kazuma’s lip curled, but even he couldn’t seem to find the words to speak. “I want to, but I...I can’t.”

“Are you in trouble, Kazuma-sama?” Susato said urgently, stepping forward. “If there’s something we can do to help, anything at all…”

Kazuma turned abruptly, his head bowed, shoulders trembling. For a moment, Ryunosuke wondered, panicked, if he was about to cry. Yet, when he turned back to look at them, his eyes were sharp, determined. “...fine. Let’s have dinner, then. Is tonight too soon?”

Ryunosuke and Susato exchanged confused glances. “I’m...sure Iris would be happy to cook for you,” Susato said slowly, uncertainly. “Do you really mean it, Kazuma-sama? You’ll be having dinner with us tonight, just like that?”

“Just like that. I’ll be there, I swear,” Kazuma promised. As much as Ryunosuke didn’t want to believe him, something about the look on Kazuma’s face told him that he could trust him, despite mounting evidence to the contrary. Swallowing thickly, Ryunosuke held out his hand. Kazuma instantly accepted, giving it a firm shake. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Ryunosuke echoed numbly.

_____

Hours later, Ryunosuke still felt uncertain as he was getting dressed for dinner. He’d believed Kazuma at the time, but now, he expected to see nothing but yet another empty place setting at the table. And, of course, Ryunosuke couldn’t forget the haunted look in Kazuma’s eyes when he’d accused him of not caring about them - did I go too far? Ryunosuke wondered, chewing his bottom lip worriedly. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, I shouldn’t have pushed it -

“Naruhodo-san!” He startled at the sound of Susato’s voice, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. “Naruhodo-san, Kazuma-sama is here!”

“Wait, really?” Ryunosuke stepped out of his bedroom and promptly almost fell over - again - at the sight of Kazuma, standing at the bottom of the attic stairs, wearing a casual outfit and a radiant smile that actually seemed to reach his eyes. For a moment, Ryunosuke felt his heart stop. “Kazuma, you - you really are here!”

“And I’ve brought a gift for everyone,” Kazuma added, motioning towards the box tucked underneath his arm. He looked cheerful, amicable, nothing like the cornered, wounded animal he’d appeared to be just hours ago. “Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid, but I hope it will please everyone all the same.”

“I’m sure it will,” Susato said, beaming. “Shall we head to Mr Holmes’s suite, then?”

“We shall,” Kazuma agreed, holding out his hand for her to take. When she accepted with a giggle and an exaggerated bow, Kazuma then turned to extend his other hand to Ryunosuke with a wink for good measure. “Ready?”

“I…” Ryunosuke’s cheeks warmed; he quickly made his way down the stairs and pushed past them, nearly knocking his shoulder into Kazuma’s. “I-I should see if Iris needs help setting the table.”

By the time everyone was seated, Ryunosuke’s stomach was tossing and turning like nothing else. It wasn’t unusual, he supposed, for Kazuma to act like this; he remembered getting a little too drunk with him in their university days, only to find Kazuma’s face a little too close to his, looking him up and down in a way that made Ryunosuke wonder. It had only ever been wondering, though, with nothing ever coming to fruition. Now, despite his current frustration with Kazuma’s erratic behavior, Ryunosuke still thought about it every now and then, about his meaningful glances and his sly, almost suggestive remarks.

“So how’ve you been, Kazzy?” Iris chirruped brightly. “The last time you were here, you were telling us about some of the work you were doing with Susie’s daddy.”

“Yes, Professor Mikotoba invited me to spend some time with him in his new laboratory so I can familiarize myself with the latest in forensics,” Kazuma replied, smiling gratefully when she handed him a generously-filled bowl of soup. “I’m assuming he’s done the same for you, Mr Holmes?”

“Indubitably,” Sherlock said, nodding. “It’s also given me the opportunity to see the wonderful Miss Haori at work as well.” He then turned in his seat, beaming in Susato’s direction. “Of course, I already knew she was perfectly lovely, Miss Susato, but now I’ve seen first-hand just how whip-smart and delightfully curious she is. I can see why you’re so taken with her.”

“O-oh,” Susato managed to say, blushing. “I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear you say that, Mr Holmes.”

“Already knew?” Kazuma echoed, looking at Sherlock curiously. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with her.”

“Oh, Haori stops by for tea and a chat all the time!” Iris said, beaming. “She’s always curious about the different concoctions and inventions Holmesie and I have been working on, you see. She even brings some incredible ideas of her own!...none that have worked out, mind you, but I’m sure that someday, we’ll create the perfect invention together.”

“I...I see.” Kazuma cleared his throat, taking his first spoonful of soup.

Sherlock and Iris exchanged dubious looks across the table; Ryunosuke could only hope that Kazuma wouldn’t notice. “Well, what else have you been up to?” Iris asked as she began to eat as well. “Surely you’re not spending all your time working, Kazzy. Do you have any hobbies? Ooh, or a secret lover, perhaps?”

“Iris,” Sherlock said, frowning somewhat, but she didn’t seem to be deterred at all.

“Susie and Haori are so sweet together,” Iris continued, idly stirring her soup with a dreamy sigh. “And we’ve even had a few of Holmesie’s clients take interest in Ryu, can you believe it? Just the other day, there was this young woman who stopped in, worried about her brother’s dubious business dealings. Ryu happened to be home, so he offered to keep her company while she waited for Holmesie to return. She was so charmed, I think there were literal stars in her eyes - ”

“Iris,” Sherlock repeated, firmer this time. Ryunosuke wasn’t sure his face could get any hotter; he didn’t dare look up to see how Kazuma had reacted. “Now might not be the time for that sort of talk. After all, Mr Naruhodo made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her.”

“He did?” Kazuma’s voice was strangely affected, almost hollow.

“I think I remember her,” Susato said with a rueful smile. “She was quite forward, asking Mr Naruhodo if he’d like to have dinner sometime. Once he understood what she meant, he told her he was flattered, but that he already had someone.”

“A gentleman’s rejection, if I do say so myself,” Sherlock added unhelpfully. “Seeing as Mr Naruhodo has precisely no one.”

“...a kind reminder, Mr Holmes,” Ryunosuke said, sighing. It was only then that he noticed the severe pull of Kazuma’s mouth, almost as if he were clenching his teeth to stop himself from speaking. “Anyway, er, Kazuma, didn’t you want to tell Mr Holmes and Iris about that odd contraption you saw when you accompanied Lord van Zieks to that crime scene in the countryside?”

Kazuma’s expression quickly shifted into a friendlier one, though he still seemed more guarded than ever. “Yes, thank you for reminding me. I wish I’d had a camera on me, it was the strangest thing…”

An hour or so later, after their somewhat awkward dinner had ended, Sherlock elected to put on a record rather than provide the musical entertainment himself, a lilting sort of waltz that had everyone swaying in their seats while they sipped their tea and continued to chat. Susato was in the middle of recounting the plot of the latest novel she’d been reading when Sherlock suddenly pulled Iris to her feet, humming along all the while.

“Quickly, Iris! Here, stand on my feet,” he instructed, grinning brightly.

“Are you sure?” Iris asked doubtfully. “Won’t that hurt?”

“Not at all, not at all,” Sherlock insisted. “You mustn't dawdle, either, for the best part is about to begin!”

Ryunosuke and Susato couldn’t help but burst into raucous laughter, watching Sherlock clumsily guide Iris around the room as the music began to pick up in speed, the heels of Iris’s shoes constantly slipping from the toes of Sherlock’s, her fingers clutching at the back of Sherlock’s waistcoat as she held on for dear life.

“I already know how to dance, Holmesie!” Iris exclaimed through her own fit of giggles. “You hardly need to teach me.”

“Ah, but isn’t it so much more enjoyable this way?” Sherlock beamed. “Naturally, this doesn’t work with everyone - imagine me doing this with Mikotoba, for instance - ”

“And you know perfectly well that Father already knows how to dance,” Susato interjected, still laughing.

“ - but you, Iris, are the perfect size!” Sherlock declared, scooping her into his arms. Iris squealed at the sensation of suddenly being lifted up in the air, giggling hysterically as he spun her around. Ryunosuke and Susato continued to clap and cheer them on, applauding happily as the song came to an end. Sherlock finally set Iris back down onto her own two feet, looking understandably winded. He let out a quiet groan, bringing one hand to cup the small of his back. “We’ll have to do that again sometime, my dear girl. Not immediately, you understand.”

“Oh, perfectly,” Iris replied, glowing. She then collapsed onto the settee, situating herself right between Ryunosuke and Susato, her head dropping to rest on Ryunosuke’s shoulder. “And we must invite Ginny round for it, too. I bet she’d love to join in!”

“And now I simply must see you and Father dance together as well, Mr Holmes,” Susato added, chuckling. “I’m sure the two of you would look positively enchanting!”

Ryunosuke then turned to look in the direction of the armchair. “What about you, Kaz - Kazuma?” But Kazuma wasn’t there; the only indication that he’d been sitting there at all was the saucer on the table beside it. Frowning, Ryunosuke shot to his feet and headed straight to the entryway, ignoring Susato’s startled cry. “Kazuma, are you seriously going to - ” But Kazuma’s boots were still neatly lined up beside his own, his coat still hanging from the coat rack, leaving Ryunosuke to turn and head straight into the kitchen. There, he found Kazuma hunched over the sink, hands gripping the counter a little too tightly. “...Kazuma, are you alright?”

“...I just needed some air, sorry.” Kazuma made a point of not turning around. “My head, it...it still hurts sometimes, and the music was a little too loud. But please, don’t let me spoil your fun.”

“It’s hardly fun when you’re not around,” Ryunosuke said, sidling up beside him. Up close, he could see sweat beginning to form on Kazuma’s brow, his bottom lip clenched between his teeth. “I’m sorry to hear about your head, though; shall I ask Mr Holmes to turn the music off? Do you need water, or - or maybe you should lie down.”

“No, it’s...I’m fine.” Kazuma straightened up, smoothing out the front of his shirt and letting out a labored breath that seemed to rattle from within his chest, though he still refused to look in Ryunosuke’s direction. “I must say, it seems I’ve been learning quite a lot tonight, more than I ever expected to.”

Ryunosuke frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I knew of Professor Mikotoba’s frequent visits to Baker Street, of course, but I didn’t realize Haori-san and Inspector Lestrade came by so often,” Kazuma remarked with a dry laugh. “And to hear that some of Mr Holmes’s clients had a keen romantic interest in you...who would’ve guessed?”

“Hey,” Ryunosuke protested softly, chuckling. “I’ve been told I can be quite charming when I want to be.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing a doting parent would say,” Kazuma teased, finally lifting his head to look at Ryunosuke with a warm, inviting smile. What exactly he was inviting him to do, Ryunosuke couldn’t be sure. “Hardly the words of a potential lover.”

“Well, uh…” Ryunosuke’s gaze softened; he moved closer. “...what would a potential lover say?”

“Passionate, perhaps,” Kazuma mused, taking another sharp inhale, though his breathing didn’t sound quite so painful anymore. “Clever, kind-hearted, loyal…” He then smirked. “Gullible, a little cowardly, overly agreeable - ”

“My apologies for being too agreeable - what a terrible character flaw I’ve got there,” Ryunosuke shot back, elbowing him. Kazuma’s sweet, raspy laughter finally rang out for the first time that evening, like music to Ryunosuke’s ears. Still, a sobering thought quickly cut through the sound. “Speaking of agreeable...Kazuma, why did you finally agree to come to dinner tonight, of all nights?”

Kazuma went quiet again. “...I’d like to hear your thoughts first, actually.”

“I…” Ryunosuke swallowed, silently wishing he hadn’t said anything. Now all he wanted to do was go back to mere seconds before, just so he could hear Kazuma laugh again. “I don’t want to think the worst of you, Kazuma, I really don’t. But I can’t help but feel you only accepted our invitation to prove a point. To prove us wrong.”

Kazuma shook his head, smiling bitterly. “I had a feeling you’d think that. It sounds like something I’d do, doesn’t it? But no, that’s not quite it. It’s more like you...like you helped me see reason, in that I finally saw how I was being entirely unreasonable.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Ryunosuke admitted. “If anything, I felt like I was being unreasonable by accusing you of not caring about us. Without evidence, no less!”

“This isn’t the courtroom, Ryunosuke,” Kazuma replied with a faint laugh. “But if you’d like, I can testify. I’ll even be generous and let you cross-examine me.” Ryunosuke wordlessly motioned for him to continue, unamused. “Yes, er...I really do apologize for making you and Susato-san worry about me, for making you doubt my friendship. I swear, I’m not in any sort of trouble. I’ve simply been...evasive of my own accord, not to mention selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Kazuma,” Ryunosuke insisted, frowning. “Self-important at times, yes. But we know you mean well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Kazuma said hoarsely, slowly lowering himself down onto the kitchen floor with a lofty sigh. “I’ve been terribly selfish, in fact.”

Ryunosuke went to sit beside him, concerned. “How so?”

Kazuma seemed to be staring straight ahead at nothing, evidently lost in thought. When he finally spoke again, he sounded angry, Ryunosuke suspected, at himself. “I was ecstatic when I heard you and Susato-san were coming back to Great Britain,” he began. “I’d spent what felt like a lifetime here alone, talking to almost no one, trusting almost no one. So, I…I started imagining all the things we’d get to do, the memories we’d get to share.”

“Of course,” Ryunosuke agreed. “That’s all we’d been dreaming about since we departed from Japan, too.”

“So…when you returned, I just assumed it would be like old times,” Kazuma continued, smiling ruefully. “Instead, it seemed as if the two of you had made friends with all of London. Between dinners, parties, society events...I never knew you were such a social creature, Ryunosuke. And of course, you have something of a family now, here at Baker Street.”

“Yes, I do. Iris thinks of Susato-san and I as her older siblings,” Ryunosuke replied, nodding. “But...Kazuma, I still don’t understand. No doubt we’ve been busy, yes, but we’ve made plenty of time for you as well. Have you been feeling ignored?”

Kazuma ducked his head. “No, nothing like - you know what? This isn’t...I’m not seeking out your pity, alright? I’m not asking for you to feel sorry for me. I should have never brought it up, so why don’t you rejoin the others before they - ”

“No, I want to hear this,” Ryunosuke insisted, clasping his hand over Kazuma’s knee. Kazuma shuddered, but he didn’t move away. “I want to hear what you have to say. It’s obviously been bothering you for ages, so - please, tell me. Tell me everything.”

“...I wasn’t feeling ignored, exactly.” Kazuma lifted his gaze once more, his eyes suspiciously glossy. “It was more like...I felt as if there was no longer enough room in your life for me. And that you were the one keeping up appearances, being the kind of friend that you are, but...I started to believe you saw me as someone from your past, not someone you wanted in your future. Especially after...well, everything that transpired.”

“I made you feel as if I didn’t care about you?” Ryunosuke asked, his voice small.

“That’s where the selfishness comes in, actually,” Kazuma muttered. “I was too caught up in what I wanted, what I felt like I deserved, that I made everything carry more weight than it actually did. That I made your happiness about me. But…” His smile then softened, bittersweet. “...people have always been inexplicably drawn to you, Ryunosuke. When I first saw you on that stage, giving your speech, I assumed you didn’t have the presence to do it - ”

“...thanks,” Ryunosuke grumbled.

“ - but then I truly saw just how magnetic you really were,” Kazuma continued with a fond chuckle. “So, to bring this back to here and now, I...I wanted to keep seeing you, spending time with you - and with Susato-san, of course - but I didn’t want to stay around long enough to remind myself of how I no longer play a significant role in your life.” He let out a choked sob, dropping his head into his hands. “God, it sounds even more selfish when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, Ryunosuke. Once again, I...I let my feelings cloud my judgment. A terrible habit of mine that seems impossible to break.”

“Kazuma,” Ryunosuke breathed, stunned. “I...I had no idea.” He then moved even closer, reaching over to gently brush Kazuma’s hair out of his eyes. “Kazuma...look at me, please.”

But Kazuma merely got to his feet, knocking Ryunosuke’s hand away from his face. “I really should go before I spoil your night any more than I already have,” he said sharply, suddenly. “Please, give the others my regards.”

“You are not leaving before we finish this conversation,” Ryunosuke insisted, grabbing Kazuma by the wrist before he could disappear into the night. “Not this time.” Kazuma yanked his arm out of Ryunosuke’s grasp, his posture stiff and unyielding, but he didn’t seem poised to run off otherwise. “Kazuma, I - I’m so sorry that I ever made you doubt how much you mean to me. Believe me, I would not be the person I am today without you.”

“Ryunosuke, I really don’t want to make this about me - ”

“You’re my family, too, Kazuma.” Kazuma’s eyes widened. “And I want you here, always. We all do.”

Kazuma slowly turned on his heel, his hands dropping to his sides, the fight seemingly leaving his body all at once. “Ryu…”

“Yes, I - I won’t deny the importance of the friends I’ve made in London,” Ryunosuke continued, his voice trembling as he spoke. “And of course, I’ve got friends in Japan, old and new. But...surely you know that you’ve always meant the world to me, that you’ve always been more than just a friend, a-and you always will be. No matter who, what, or where we are, that will never change.”

Time seemed to stop for a moment, a moment that stretched out into what felt like minutes, hours, even, as Ryunosuke and Kazuma just stood there, staring at each other, waiting for someone to make a move. Then, Kazuma stepped forward, sweeping Ryunosuke in for a hug.

“You might not be the most articulate speaker in the world, but you’ve always had a way with words,” he murmured, burying his face into Ryunosuke’s shoulder. This time, he sounded halfway between a euphoric laugh and a relieved sob. “Thank you, Ryunosuke. You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.”

“Then perhaps I should say it more often,” Ryunosuke teased, bringing Kazuma in even closer, his fingers curled into Kazuma’s shirt, refusing to let him go. He was warm, solid, comforting in a way that Ryunosuke had never quite realized until now. “For both our sakes.”

“I’d like that,” Kazuma mumbled; for a split second, it felt as if he’d pressed a kiss to Ryunosuke’s cheek, but he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. “Anyway, we really should go and rejoin the others. It’s a wonder Susato-san hasn’t burst in here already, demanding answers.”

“I suspect she knows more than she let on...as she does,” Ryunosuke added, reluctantly pulling away. “Oh, and I’ve just remembered - would now be a good time to open that gift you brought?”

“Is that what you’re really after?” Kazuma asked, smirking. “But yes, I think so. Once I’ve apologized to the others for my coldness, that is.”

Mere minutes later, Kazuma found himself tackled to the ground by Susato and Iris, who were both crying tears of joy, clinging on to Kazuma like their lives depended on it. Ryunosuke and Sherlock stood back, watching on with bemused smiles as Susato then proceeded to scold him for being so distant, while Iris bounced up and down on her heels, begging him to sleep over so she’d have more time to read him her latest manuscript.

“Ryu always says you have a flair for the dramatic, after all,” Iris said, grinning cheekily. “So I’d like your opinion on whether this one particular passage gets your heart racing!”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay the night,” Kazuma said apologetically, taking a seat on the settee this time; his eyes widened slightly in surprise when Iris plopped right down beside him. “I’ve got an early morning meeting, unfortunately. If I were to sleep over, I think any Friday would be a safe bet.”

“This Friday, then?” Iris suggested. “You could set up in Ryu’s bedroom! I’m sure he’d like that.”

Kazuma raised an eyebrow in Ryunosuke’s direction. “...would he, now?”

“Hey, I - d-don’t - Iris!” Ryunosuke spluttered, his cheeks reddening. “Kazuma, your gift? Now?”

“So demanding,” Kazuma replied, clicking his tongue in disapproval. Still, he went to retrieve the box he’d left in the entryway, then knelt on the floor by the fireplace so he could open it. Iris immediately went to peek, while Sherlock only just managed to hold himself back, mostly because Susato had grabbed him by the arm before he could snatch the box out of Kazuma’s arms. Ryunosuke, on the other hand, went to kneel beside Kazuma, his heart racing with sudden anticipation. “Admittedly, I don’t really have an eye for art, but I was working on a crime scene diorama a month or two ago when I was struck by the idea. So…”

Small gasps filled the room as Kazuma carefully lifted out a mid-sized shadow box frame filled with the most beautiful papercraft any of them had ever seen, depicting 221B Baker Street and its occupants in a domestic scene - Sherlock playing his beloved Stradivarius, Iris pouring a cup of tea, Susato reading in the armchair, and Ryunosuke eating sweets by the fireplace, Wagahai nestled in his lap.

“Kazuma-sama,” Susato whispered, speechless, her eyes shining with tears.

“No eye for art, you say? My dear fellow, this is absolutely beautiful!” Sherlock declared, beaming.

“Oh, I’m not the one who made it,” Kazuma said, shaking his head. “No, I used my connections to find and commission one of the best artisans in the country, and this was the result. I thought it would make for a nice piece for you to hang somewhere - anywhere, really. Do you...do you like it?”

Ryunosuke made a quiet, incoherent noise, having clapped his hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying, too. “Kazuma, it’s...it’s incredible! I only wish we’d spoken earlier so you would’ve thought to include yourself, too.”

Kazuma’s gaze softened; he looked pleased, yet embarrassed. “Yes, well...I don’t live here, so it wouldn’t have been appropriate, anyway.”

“Well, then maybe you should!” Iris piped up. “After all, you’re Susie’s brother and Ryu’s partner, not to mention my newest big brother. Why wouldn’t you live here?” Kazuma opened his mouth, then closed it again, suddenly also at a loss for words. Ryunosuke couldn’t help but silently note that the tips of his ears had gone red.

“I think you might be moving a little fast for the poor man, Iris,” Sherlock said, chuckling good-naturedly. “Let’s start by having him stay the night sometime in the near future first, shall we?”

Susato hastily dried her tears, then straightened up, smoothing out the front of her kimono. “Kazuma-sama, if I may, I’d like for us to find a place to put this up right now before you go. Shall we keep it somewhere in your suite, Mr Holmes, or would you rather we bring it up to the attic?”

“The entryway, Miss Susato, the entryway!” Sherlock was already off before any of the others could blink, in search of a hammer and nails; Iris quickly followed him to ensure he wouldn’t hurt himself in the process. Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato stood stock-still in the middle of the living room, staring after them in disbelief. Then, the three of them couldn’t help but burst into laughter in perfect harmony.

_____

It was pitch black by the time Kazuma readied himself to leave, buckling up his boots and slipping on his coat. He frowned somewhat when he realized he’d already pulled his gloves on, yet had forgotten to button his coat. Before he could remove them, someone else’s hands were on his front, dutifully buttoning him up on his behalf.

“Ryunosuke,” he said, surprised.

“I’m really glad you made it tonight,” Ryunosuke said, doing up the last of Kazuma’s buttons. He then took a step back, offering Kazuma a boyish smile. “As I said, I just wish we’d had that conversation earlier, but...I suppose the most important thing is that we had it in the first place.”

“How surprisingly mature of you,” Kazuma teased, smirking when Ryunosuke’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“We’re back to this again, are we?” Ryunosuke sighed, elbowing him a little harder than necessary. “You never could resist poking fun on my behalf. I’d bet you some of our old classmates are still debating whether you actually liked me or not.”

“It's hardly my fault that no one reacts quite the same way that you do,” Kazuma grinned. Then, he squeezed Ryunosuke’s arm. “Really, though, thank you for hearing me out earlier. I’m not even sure I explained myself properly - honestly, I felt like a complete mess - but you seemed to understand me all the same.”

“I know a thing or two about...what was it? ‘Not being the most articulate speaker in the world’?” Ryunosuke mused, laughing when Kazuma scowled. “Your words, Kazuma, not mine.”

“Yes, well…” Kazuma ducked his head for a moment so he could readjust his gloves. “...Ryunosuke. Earlier, when you said that I’ve always been more than a friend...what did you mean, exactly?”

Ryunosuke’s breath hitched. “Oh, um...well, I-I’d just told you that you were part of my family, too. That you always have a place here, with me, Susato-san, Mr Holmes, and Iris.”

Kazuma nodded, making a noncommittal noise under his breath. “Right, of course. Anyway, I’ll be seeing you on - ” And suddenly, Ryunosuke’s lips were on his, just like that. He barely had enough time to blink before Ryunosuke pulled back, blushing furiously. “...Ryu?”

“Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t - I-I shouldn’t have done that,” Ryunosuke stammered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “You were just about to leave, and - ”

“And if you meant it, you would do it again so I can actually kiss you back,” Kazuma said firmly. It seemed to take Ryunosuke a moment to process, then, he grabbed Kazuma by the coat lapels and pulled him back in for another kiss. Ryunosuke felt Kazuma smirk against his lips, wrapping his arms around Ryunosuke’s waist so he could hold him even closer, the two of them relishing one another’s warmth. “...better. Marginally better.”

“So mean,” Ryunosuke mumbled, sighing as he unceremoniously detached himself from Kazuma’s embrace, though any ill will he felt towards Kazuma and his acerbic nature was quickly quashed when he saw the way Kazuma looked at him - like he finally believed in every word that Ryunosuke had said. “Friday, then?”

“I was going to suggest we meet up for breakfast tomorrow, after my meeting,” Kazuma suggested. “We’ve got more catching up to do, after all. And I was hoping you could get me up to speed on Mr Holmes’ latest exploits before he or Iris starts questioning me the next time I come by.”

Grinning, Ryunosuke gave Kazuma one last kiss before finally letting him go. “...it’s a date.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my third entry for Asoryuu Week 2021! I'm mad at myself for writing this entire Baker Street family fic and somehow completely forgetting to include Wagahai until the very end, especially considering how I include Mikeko in literally every Klapollo fic I possibly can. Anyway, I promise this is the last of my sad Kazuma hours for this week; I know this fic and day one's fic are similar in concept, but the rest of my entries (if I manage to finish them, that is) are established relationship and one modern AU, if that's something you're into!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#asoryuu #asoryuu week 2021 #ace attorney #asoryuu fic #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #dgs spoilers #tgaa spoilers #tgaac spoilers #myfic #long post #last of my sad kazuma hours fics for the week i promise #the rest of my fics are established relationship plus one modern AU

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Text

the impossible replication of desire

Summary: Body sharing fic!

Warnings: panic attacks, their trauma (Alex has a dream of Michael’s exorcism & a dream of Jesse Manes’ abuse, super easy to skip), angst, happy ending

ao3

Alex was tired.

His steps were heavy as he climbed the stairs of his porch, heading towards the front door of the cabin. All the lights were off, but that didn’t mean anything. Michael’s truck was out front. He was home.

Home. Alex nearly flinched at his own thoughts, carefully unlocking the door in slow motion before pressing in the code on the keypad for the third lock. This wasn’t Michael’s home and he wasn’t Michael’s family. He made that clear more than enough times, but Alex’s home was open to him and so was the security of his bunker. It was all Michael’s if he wanted it and therefore here he was.

After not only being taken by his father, but discovering his house practically ransacked, Alex put his house up for sale and moved into the cabin. A chunk of money he got from the sale was spent on security systems. It was more difficult to break into than the White House now.

He knew Michael would be here. He felt safe coming home and knowing he would be there, all of the notifications from his security system and the easy access to his security cameras letting him know long before he could see his truck there for himself. It was nice.

Still, the house was dark as Alex let himself in and then locked the door back behind him, throwing on the chain latch for extra measure. There was light coming from the bunker, but other than that it was just as he left it.

“Did you eat dinner?” Alex called down to the bunker, flicking on the light to the living room to drop his stuff down. He then moved to the kitchen, turning on the light in there and opening the refrigerator. It was basically the same, only restocked with water bottles. He’d thank Michael for that later. “I guess not.”

Alex yawned and pulled out a frozen bag of vegetables from the freezer, turning the oven on to pre-heat. He moved as if on autopilot as he walked past the bunker and towards his bedroom. It was a little weird that Michael hadn’t responded, but maybe he was finishing something up. Alex changed into something more comfortable even while leaving his prosthetic on. He’d take that off later.

“Guerin? Did you fall asleep down there?” Alex asked when he emerged from his room and Michael was still nowhere to be seen. A familiar wave of anxiety shot through his system, his stomach tensing with nausea as he immediately assumed the worst. Which was stupid because he was probably just wearing headphones.

Convincing himself not to worry, Alex put a layer of tinfoil on a pan and then poured the frozen vegetables onto it before putting it in the oven. Then he went and sat on the couch while he waited for it to cook. His phone, however, couldn’t keep his attention as his eyes kept drifting to the bunker. Michael was okay. He was safe in Alex’s bunker. He was just listening to music or too in the zone. There were a billion reasons why we didn’t answer.

“Dinner’s ready!” Alex called when twenty minutes passed and he pulled the food out of the oven. He listened quietly‒no response. “Michael?”

Deciding that he could use the excuse of dinner and it was his house, Alex went to the opening of the bunker. He held on and carefully started climbing down the latter. He hated how many times he would look down to check his foot placement, though he could easily blame the fatigue for his anxiety.

“Michael, what are you‒”

Alex froze as he turned to the work table. Michael stood by it, eyes wide, lips parted, and his hand a new piece of alien tech Alex didn’t recognize. He looked catatonic and Alex could feel his heart thumping in his ears.

“Michael?” he asked, taking a cautious step closer. No reaction, not even a blink or anything. “Hey. Hey, are you alright?”

Alex slowly walked closer and gently touched his shoulder. He didn’t move. Alex swallowed hard, slowly counting down from three mentally to keep himself calm.

“I’m going to take your hands off of this and then I’m going to call Isobel. You’re alright,” Alex said out loud, more for himself than Michael.

He carefully touched Michael’s wrists and he was abnormally cold, colder than even any human should be, and Alex became increasingly aware that he wasn’t sure he was breathing. He had to count down from three again, head spinning and jumping to conclusions he shouldn’t.

“You’re fine. I know you’re fine. You’ll be fine. This is fine,” Alex repeated, panic swarming his brain like a cloud of bees that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times he swatted. He managed to stay relatively calm nonetheless.

And then he accidentally touched the alien tech in the process of peeling his fingers off of it.

A bright light flashed through Alex’s eyes and a piercing white noise flooded his hearing, cutting him off from most of his senses as something body-slammed him and knocked him to the ground. His mind was too fuzzy to construct thoughts. All he could do was breathe and wait for it to pass even as thoughts and memories crowded into his mind too fast to catch. Half of them he was sure weren’t even his own.

And then it all went black.

When Alex came to, his body ached and his head was throbbing.

He sat up slowly, his eyes instantly falling on Michael who hadn’t moved. The sight almost brought Alex to tears‒he felt overwhelmed. He was tired and he hurt and he was overwhelmed. It was like his body was stuffed with emotions that he wasn’t prepared for. Which‒honestly wasn’t that abnormal. Maybe he should go take his anxiety meds before bed…

‘Do I actually look like that?’ Michael asked suddenly. Alex would’ve been relieved by the sound if maybe Michael’s mouth had moved or maybe he’d heard it with his ears rather than inside his own head, alongside his own inner monologue.

“Michael?” Alex asked weakly, still feeling too much.

‘Don’t freak out, okay?’ Michael said, still inside his head. Tears pricked Alex’s eyes and he started breathing heavier. ‘Alex, hey, don’t freak out. It’s okay. I’m here‒literally. And‒oh, fuck, I don’t like that. Do you feel like that all the time or is it just right now? Is it because you’re panicking? Do you feel this way each time you panic? Because your thoughts are too fast for me to even process and you feel like you’re suffocating which would be bad because I’m in you too and that’s gonna be hard to explain on the death certificate, ha. If you are freaking out, maybe‒’

“Do you always think this much because shut the fuck up,” Alex snapped, meaner than he meant to but he couldn’t think. He needed to just think and he couldn’t when Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain and‒

Oh god, Michael’s thoughts were filling his brain.

‘Hey, my thoughts aren’t that bad. But don’t worry, I think I can sort of keep you out of most of them because I can only hear your loud ones‒I think. I’m gonna need you to calm down before I know for sure.’

“Michael,” Alex whispered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “Can you please get out of my head?”

There was silence for a moment and Michael must’ve been right that they could only hear the loud thoughts. But‒Well, he could still feel him. He could feel the way he was struggling. If he was in front of him, he would probably have that cocky little smirk and his head tilted back. He would act like he was chill, like he wasn’t scared, maybe he’d pretend to be angry.

But Alex could feel the fear. It was a cold, quiet, deep dread.

“You don’t know how to get out, do you?” Alex asked carefully.

‘No.’ Michael replied honestly. Which. Fair enough. ‘But I’ll figure it out!’

“Figure it out,” Alex said, “Do… do you even know what happened? How are you in my head? What did you do?”

‘Okay, so, working theory, the alien tech I was messing with was working through my consciousness and when you touched it, it freaked out and put me in the wrong body. So, your body. So my entire consciousness is in you. Kinda kinky if you think about it.’

“No,” Alex whispered, closing his eyes and slowly bowing his head. He didn’t like this. There were a billion ways to feel, but his brain could only say how much he didn’t like this. He didn’t like hearing someone else’s voice in his head.

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, ‘Alex, are you okay?’

“You’re in my fucking head, what do you mean am I okay? Of course I’m not okay, are you okay?” Alex said, heart thudding in his chest and head still swimming. He was tired and he hurt and he needed to eat and he needed Michael out of his head.

‘Let’s go eat the dinner that you made,’ Michael told him, ignoring the question which was answer enough, ‘Then we’ll come see if I can fix it.’

“I don’t like this,” Alex said.

‘I know. Me neither. But you need to eat, I can tell you haven’t eaten all day,’ Michael instructed. Alex swallowed and lifted his head, looking up again.

Michael’s body was still frozen in place, empty of all thought apparently. Leaving him there was just something Alex wasn’t prepared or willing to do. He pushed himself to his feet carefully, ignoring Michael’s ‘whoa’ reaction.

‘You’re tired,’ Michael said. Stating the obvious, loud enough for them both to hear.

“Yeah, I worked all day,” Alex said. Michael didn’t respond. “I’m laying you down.”

Alex walked over to Michael’s body, carefully reaching out and touching his cheek. He was still cold. He moved his thumb to rest under his nose. He wasn’t breathing. Alex gave a shuttered breath.

‘It’s just in stasis, it’s alright, don’t freak out. I’m still alive.’

“Don’t freak out,” Alex repeated with a scoff.

Still, he was careful as ever as he put one hand on the back of Michael’s neck and the other on his waist. He made sure not to even accidentally bump the alien tech just in case that somehow made this horrific situation infinitely worse. He guided his body to the couch they’d placed in there, taking the brunt of his weight and not caring if his body ached in the process. It didn’t matter.

Michael was suspiciously silent through the entire thing, even as Alex brushed his hair back and pulled a blanket over him just in case. What if when he came to, he was still cold? That just wouldn’t do. He wanted to keep him as warm as possible.

“Can you feel hunger right now?” Alex asked after a long stretch of silence. He didn’t want Michael in his head, but he also didn’t really like the feeling of him being too silent for too long. At least while he was in his head, he knew where he was.

‘I can feel yours. It’s basically like I was just stuffed into your body. I bet I could control it if I tried.’ It was said in a rather intrigued tone, that of a scientist and nothing more. But it still shot a pang of panic through Alex’s system. He’d experienced not being in control of his body before and he wasn’t keen on a repeat, this time even more extreme. ‘Sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked carefully, his hand deceptively steady as he scraped off the vegetables onto a plate. They weren’t hot anymore. It was cool enough to touch the pan. “Like you’re trapped in my head?”

‘Well, don’t say it like that.’

“So, yes,” Alex said, bringing the plate to the table. He sat down and held his fork in his hand, staring at it. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

‘Alex. Eat.’

And he tried. Michael was quiet. He could tell he was still there, the buzzing of his thoughts still affecting Alex despite the fact that he was keeping them from overpowering Alex. It was almost impressive how quickly his thoughts were moving, constant unfettered thought process. He was suddenly hit with a memory of Michael, young and pretty and hiding so much from him, saying how loud and chaotic his thoughts were and how music helped quiet it.

The buzzing slowed for a moment.

‘Is that how you saw me?’ Michael’s voice asked him, curiosity in his tone more than anything else. Alex blinked. He was starting to feel a bit numb to the whole thing.

“So we can share memories,” Alex said bluntly, dread building in him and dissipating into his bloodstream. He couldn’t care about that. If he cared, he’d think more about things he didn’t want Michael to see and he would be loud about them.

He leaned into the numbness.

‘I’m going to fix this,’ Michael said with a newfound determination. A bitter smirk found Alex’s face. He wondered, not for the first time, about all the things that Michael didn’t want him to know.

“Okay.”

Alex finished half of the vegetables before putting them in the refrigerator and telling himself he was definitely going to eat them later. Similar to the way he was definitely going to get a water filter since he didn’t trust the water that came to the cabin but he didn’t want to just keep buying water bottles. Eventually, he would, hopefully.

Michael’s thoughts buzzed and Alex dragged himself back to the ladder down to the bunker. He was tired and his body ached and he really didn’t want to be climbing up and down the latter so many times. Couldn’t Michael accidentally discover this horrific thing on a day he didn’t have work?

‘Right, so, this is going to be a little bit weird because I can’t handle the tech myself. You’re just going to have to listen to what I say and try to do them to the best of your ability. Not saying that you aren’t as capable as me, I’d never say that, you’re so smart and good at everything you do. I actually saw your work the other day, that website you were coding for that little mom and pop shop in town and that was really impressive how quickly you can type. I didn’t know you did freelance work like that either, is that for extra money or for a hobby? I wonder how complicated it would be to set up a recording system with all your tech stuff, I can’t imagine it’d be‒

“Michael,” Alex said slowly, a headache already coming on. He suddenly had a new appreciation for Michael Guerin in his own body. It was beginning to feel like a miracle that he didn’t have panic attacks every day over his own overwhelming brain. “Slow down, keep focus.”

‘I’m focused, I am, sorry.’ It was a lie. Maybe that’s why he was good with his hands, he needed something to put his energy into. ‘My point was that it’s hard for me to explain what I’m doing with my hands, so I’m just gonna try and hope for the best.’

“I’ll try.”

‘And I trust you.’ There was a pause, though the buzzing never stopped. It honestly didn’t really stop when he was talking. That alone was a bit scary. Maybe they’d need to work on something to help his brain relax.

“I trust you too,” Alex whispered.

Michael guided him through different ways to handle the tech, correcting him here and there and doing his best not to get frustrated which Alex appreciated. He tried to hold onto it while Michael’s body was still holding it and he focused really hard, trying his damnedest to send Michael back. And Michael was trying to, giving all of his focus, but no matter how long he tried, nothing happened.

‘Try holding it by yourself.’

“What if we both just get sucked in and then we’re both catatonic?”

‘That won’t happen.’ There was a pause. ‘I think.’

Alex took a deep breath and just listened, carefully peeling Michael’s fingers off the tech. It was like taking something from a corpse which was. Unpleasant. And not the first time Alex had done that.

‘Alex.’ Michael’s voice was a warning and it’d be more helpful if Michael knew what he was warning him from. ‘I’m okay. I’m not dead.’

They were friends right now. They weren’t together, but they were friendly and Michael was welcome in his house. Sometimes, they hugged. Alex knew restraint and he knew how to wait for what he wanted. Even with all of that, he couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted and turned at the prospect of never touching him again. It would be endless taunting to have his voice in his head and yet nothing to be tactile with. Nothing to touch, nothing to feed, nothing to hold, nothing to be held by.

“I know,” Alex said, pushing those thoughts down deep and pulled the alien tech into his lap. If Michael heard any of his thoughts, he said nothing.

‘Okay, do you see that thing in the top right that looks like a thumbprint?’ Michael asked. Alex scanned it and then nodded, going to reach for it. ‘No!’

“What? Why not?” Alex asked quietly, but he snatched his hand away.

‘Sorry, sorry. It’ll shock you if you don’t put your left thumb on it, but it has to be kept in the top right corner.’

“How does it know?” Alex asked.

‘Fuck if I know. Okay, put your left thumb on it and then put your right palm in the center.” Alex did as he was told. ‘Close your eyes and picture me being plucked out of your mind, through your arm, and into the piece.’

“What is this, some kind of meditation?”

‘Just bear with me.’

And Alex did. He pictured it over and over, plucking a tiny Michael out of his brain. When the first one didn’t work, he imagined different parts of his brain. Then he imagined the tiny Michael flailing like a Mii. Which really only messed up his focus because he started smiling at the idea.

‘This isn’t working,’ Michael sighed. It was weird that he could sigh in his brain. He wondered how that worked. Could he laugh in his brain? Alex couldn’t. ‘You’re distracted.’

“I’m sorry,” Alex said instantly, his spine straightening up a bit in response. He could feel the buzzing of Michael roar a bit louder.

‘It isn’t your fault. You’re tired‒I’m tired. Maybe we should go to sleep and try again in the morning.’ Michael suggested. Alex gulped softly, staring at the piece.

He wasn’t too keen on sleeping with Michael in his head. When he was awake, he could keep things quiet. He didn’t know what would happen if he went to sleep. Would Michael see his dreams? The idea in particular scared the shit out of him, more than even their current situation.

“What happens tomorrow, then? I have work. Don’t you?” Alex asked.

‘Maybe we could call in. For me, just use my phone to text Sanders. Old man has the font on his phone ridiculously big and can still barely see it, so he just has my ringtone set so he’ll piece it together. It’s not even anything cool, it’s just one of the sparkly ones that come already downloaded into your phone. I do like that I have my own ringtone though. Does that make me weird? Do you think he’d be freaked out if he knew I liked it? Nah, he’s basically like my dad. Don’t tell him that, though, I think that’d make it weird. Well, he did want to adopt me, so maybe not that weird, but‒’

“Michael,” Alex cut in, lips parted a bit as he absorbed the few words that he could, “He wanted to adopt you?”

There was just buzzing for a while and then, ‘I thought I told you.’

“No, I would’ve remembered,” Alex whispered.

‘Oh. Well. Yeah. Sorry.’

Alex swallowed and shifted, looking over to Michael’s body. He was still cold and not breathing and the whole thing was just more and more unsettling by the minute. So Alex took a deep breath and placed the piece on Michael’s stomach before standing up.

“I’ll call my superior in the morning and tell him I can’t make it,” Alex said.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He typically found that as a comfort, as sealing himself in so it was just him. But that didn’t quite work with Michael in his brain. It was just as invasive. As much as he loved Michael with his entire being, it still made his skin crawl in a way he dreaded to admit.

‘In the morning, we’ll figure it out. And if we still are struggling, we’ll call in Liz. Oh! I bet Izzy could help if she could get into the mindscape.’

“No offense, but I barely like having you in my head. If we can avoid bringing your sister in that, that’d be great,” Alex said dryly, making his way to the latter. It looked much more intimidating than usual. God, he was tired.

‘Last resort.’ Michael promised.

Alex sighed and started to drag himself up the ladder. It took way more effort than he would ever willingly admit‒but he couldn’t even keep that to himself because Michael was in his head. He, presumably, could feel how much it was taking out of him. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything.

Alex took his time catching his breath as he moved to his bathroom, locking the door behind him on instinct, and then paused before he made another move. He needed to wash off, but he wasn’t keen on that with Michael in his head. He was comfortable with Michael seeing his body, yes, but… That was different.

“Michael?” Alex asked.

‘Oh, um, I’m sure there’s a way I can, like, turn off. Or something? Give me a minute.’

“Wait,” Alex said quickly, clutching the counter. His breathing labored a bit as his stomach churned and Michael’s buzzing amplified. “Don’t… Don’t turn off, that’ll freak me out, I don’t want you to go away until you’re in your body again.”

It was probably a horrible thing to say that he would regret, but also the idea of Michael going silent was suffocating and he couldn’t handle that on top of everything else.

‘Okay, I won’t.’ His voice was soft, earnest. It was debatably the first time he sounded like he actually understood what Alex needed from him. Alex didn’t want to think about that.

“Just… How do you see? Are you seeing through my eyes or is it some type of omnipotent, third-person type view or… I don’t know, I haven’t read enough sci-fi books on body sharing,” Alex said, pulling out the stool that was tucked underneath the counter.

He sat down and put his hands on his thighs. He pushed down with each finger one at a time slowly, from his pinky on his left hand to his pinky on his right. He breathed in tandem.

‘I see through your eyes. Right now I see your hands, your sweatpants, your rug. I love that rug by the way, but I don’t know if you should have a fabric floor mat in the bathroom. That’s, like, a hub for mold and bacteria. Did you know that? They have rubber ones, do you think those would work? I’m going to get you one and see how you like it, I think it’d be good. Or, like, at least‒’

“Michael,” Alex sighed. He’d said his name more times today than he’d said probably ever before. He just thought so loud and so much.

‘Sorry. But, yes, I see through your eyes.’

“Is there a way for you to not look?” Alex asked. Michael was quiet except the buzzing. “This is just… I don’t think…”

‘I don’t know, Alex. Let me see, okay? Give me a second, let me try.’ Michael sounded like he really would try, so Alex nodded and let him.

There was a stretch of silence with Alex doing nothing but pressing his fingers into his thighs, keeping himself calm and grounded. He didn’t try to rush as Michael fiddled around in his brain. He wasn’t really in a rush anyway. He wasn’t eager to go to sleep like this.

They kept on until Alex’s left hand stopped pressing into his thigh without his approval. Alex stopped breathing, staring at it and trying to move it. It wouldn’t.

“Michael,” he whispered, all that panic he’d subdued rising to the surface at alarming rates. It only worsened when his hand clenched into a fist on its own accord.

Alex made a noise between fear and shock, flinching away from himself. His throat closed in on itself and choked him and his head spun and tears pricked his eyes and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t control his body and he couldn’t

‘Fuck! Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that‒Alex, Alex, breathe. Breathe, okay? Breathe. Move your hand, look, it’s yours, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ Michael rambled and Alex felt hot tears pour over his cheeks. He clenched his hands into fists over and over, making sure he could control them.

Alex’s breathing was ragged and he was shaking, but he watched his hands and tried to ignore Michael's rambling. He slowly moved his hands to the top of his head and looked at the pole that held his shower curtain. He counted each ring as effectively as he could, trying to catch his breath. Michael eventually caught on that his words weren’t helping.

They sat like that for‒for too long. Alex wasn’t sure how long it actually was, but it was enough that, by the time he could breathe again, he was too exhausted to think about showering. He still kept moving his hands, making sure he was able to.

“I don’t like that,” Alex said, voice smaller than he would’ve liked. Childish, honestly. Helpless and out of control and childish.

‘I am so sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen, I was just trying to figure out where I could go. But, I… I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.’ Michael was genuinely repentant. Later, Alex would feel embarrassed about the entire thing. Right now, he just wanted Michael in his own body. ‘I’m so sorry.’

“Is that how you feel?” Alex asked, swallowing softly, “Like you’re completely out of control? Like… like something is moving for you?”

Michael’s lack of response was response enough.

Alex laughed a wet laugh and sucked a deep breath in through his nose. Hands shaking, he turned towards the sink. He wet his toothbrush with hot water and put toothpaste on it and brushed his teeth the way he did every night. Michael stayed quiet.

He rinsed, spit, washed his face, took his anxiety medication, and told himself he’d try to shower in the morning. A few more grounding breaths later, he moved to his bedroom with a wet washcloth in his hand. Alex sniffled and sat on the edge of his bed, slowly removing his prosthetic. He was supposed to clean the sleeve, but he couldn’t right now. He instead wiped his stump with the washcloth and decided it would have to be good enough.

Alex pulled out his phone and checked to make sure all of his security alarms were on and he’d already known the doors were locked. Typically, he would’ve done another round, but he was tired and overwhelmed and wanted to get in bed. He shifted towards the top of his bed and climbed beneath the blankets, wrapping himself up tightly. The lights were still on. He’d turn them off in a minute.

“I’m sorry for freaking out,” Alex whispered after a solid two minutes of cocooning himself.

‘Don’t be. I’m sorry for this entire situation. It’s… super invasive.’

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Alex murmured into his comforter, breathing as steadily as he could. In, out, in, out.

‘It’s unfair. I promise I’m going to fix this.’

“I believe you.” And Alex did believe him. He believed that Michael could do practically anything he set his mind to. That was the benefit of having a genius on hand.

This was just a particularly horrible situation that had Alex too nervous to think too loud.

‘You’re tired. Get some rest.’ Michael said, soft and sweet. For a fleeting moment, Alex wished he was here. ‘I wonder if my telekinesis works in your head. Do we even know if it’s physical or psychological? I don’t think we really do, or, like, not entirely. We gotta look into that as soon as I’m back in my body. Do you think I could turn the light out without making you get up? Do you mind if I try?’

Alex swallowed and clutched his blanket closer. When it was dark, it’d be even harder to fully conceptualize that Michael was in his head. When it was dark, he would hear him and it would be so easy to imagine he was just on the other side of the bed.

Still, he was right. Alex was tired. And the only way he was going to calm down was if he slept. That was easier said than done and he didn’t really want to sleep, but it was something he needed. He’d just have to play it by ear.

‘Please get some sleep, Alex.’ Michael sounded like he heard him. Perhaps he really did.

“I’ll try,” Alex said, “Try turning out the light.”

In theory, Alex did understand how the aliens used their powers. It was an intense and beautiful thing and Alex could watch Michael do it for hours. Feeling it, however, was something different. Michael focused on the light switch and Alex was all but lit up from the inside. His lips parted and the barrier in his mind he used to keep Michael out of his private thoughts seemed to shatter as they melded for a moment, too quickly to really learn anything and yet long enough to feel akin to the way he did when Michael whispered his closest secrets minutes after sex. Too intimate. Too close. Too much.

The light was off and the feeling died and the barrier returned. Michael went to his side of the brain and Alex took shaky breaths, tugging the blanket tighter around him. At least the feeling of sheer panic had subsided. Instead, blinding embarrassment and foggy pleasure and a massive amount of fatigue had filled his entire brain. Because of a fucking light switch.

‘My bad.’ Michael said, his voice warm enough to be a verbal hug.

Alex breathed in, curling up beneath his blanket and holding it to his nose. He wanted Michael so badly, more than he had in a while. Which was saying something because he typically wanted him a lot.

“You feel like that every time you use your telekinesis?” Alex asked softly. If he let his mind drift enough, he could imagine idle fingers on his hips, a foot rubbing against his calf, a pair of lips on his neck. Even then it was nothing more than phantom desires, once he hoped were too quiet for Michael to hear.

He was a little too convinced that they weren’t and yet Michael didn’t mention it.

‘No. I guess because it’s, like, through a different conduit‒not saying you’re just a conduit, but, you know, my body is built to do that stuff and yours isn’t. So it’s kinda like immediately lifting 50lbs when you’ve never lifted weights before. Deceivingly easy and then it’s not, like that took a lot of effort on my part and it’s not my body. And then‒there’s two of us, so it’s different. I kinda for a minute felt like we were bumping brains. Did that hurt? I didn’t feel any pain, but I don’t know how this works. I bet that drained you, though, you feel more fatigued. I won’t do it again. Are you okay? Talk to me.’

“Lifting too much weight doesn’t feel like that,” Alex whispered, eyes drifting closed. He was tired. So tired that he was almost a little angry that he wouldn’t be able to stay up long enough to keep his dreams away from Michael.

Michael hummed softly, amused.

‘Can you try something for me?’ he asked, soft and sweet and coaxing. A drastic tonal shift from where he’d been just a moment ago, from where he’d been for months. ‘Try talking to me in your head so you don’t have to keep talking out loud, I know that gets exhausting. Let’s see what it sounds like.’

In a different world, a different time, Michael would’ve called him baby somewhere in there. Sometimes Alex listened to him talk and could hear where he should’ve called him baby. He hadn’t heard it in so long. God, he needed to get rid of these thoughts.

‘It was draining and I’m tired,’ Alex tried, like an internal monologue but with more intent. Here is where Michael would smile at him, lean close, touch him somewhere just because he wanted to. Because he could. When was the last time Michael touched him simply because he could? Had it been a year now? More?

‘You’re thinking a lot of stuff I can’t hear. You okay?’ Michael asked.

“Does it sound like buzzing?” Alex murmured, “Yours sounds like buzzing.”

‘Yeah, a little. You don’t like the in-brain talking?’

“Might make it difficult to keep the stuff I don’t want you to hear away from you,” Alex said simply, “It’s hard enough.”

‘Fair.’ Michael was quiet for a moment, the buzzing still there.

Maybe they would wake up in the morning and this would all be fixed. Maybe this was a bad dream that would just force Alex to appreciate Michael’s existence.

But that would be fucking stupid because he already appreciated Michael’s existence. It was Michael who didn’t want him, not the way he wanted. Not the way they used to be.

Alex’s eyes slid open, suddenly not as willing to go to sleep. He was exhausted and wasn’t sure he would be able to get up in the morning if he didn’t sleep, but he didn’t want to. There was a chance that he would sleep and Michael would see things he shouldn’t and it wouldn’t change anything other than their already fragile relationship.

He couldn’t even keep his thoughts straight at this point.

‘Alex, you need to go to sleep. We’re tired.’

Alex didn’t respond, just staring at a fixed point on the wall. He shouldn’t have let him turn the lights off. The longer he forced himself to stay awake, the more the good feelings from his power faded and the more the bad ones from earlier in the night amplified.

Alex stayed awake as long as he could, fought off the fatigue, ran off the adrenaline from his anxiety.

Still, none of it was a match for how drained he was in every sense of the word.

“What are you talking about? What are you doing?”

Alex was laid on a bed of some kind, trying to fight them off. They were all faceless until they weren’t. Light would shift and he would catch angry, hateful, sorrowful, and clinical stares. They ignored his questions as they strapped him to the bed.

He was shirtless, pantsless, bare, and exposed. His ankles were held down by more straps. The people around him ignored him as he started to panic. They were all wearing black and white, all in habits and priest attire. Where was he? What was going on? What were they doing?

“Please, Father, help this young boy,” one of them said. A nun, the one who looked like she wanted to cry. Like maybe she felt bad. If she did, she didn’t do anything to help him. “Please.”

“Step back. We don’t know what this thing will do.”

The one who held his hand slipped away and Alex tried to keep himself calm.

If you’re good, they’ll let you go. If you’re good, they’ll let you go. Just be good. Just be good. You can be good.

Alex locked eyes with the priest who stood over him. He made a face, one of disgust. One of ‘how dare you think you’re allowed to look at me’ and Alex never broke eye contact.

He spoke in a different language and began to circle Alex’s body. It started off stupid: just recitations and throwing water on him. It was cold and Alex would flinch, but beyond that he didn’t do anything. This seemed to piss off the man more and he took a step to the side to speak with the other patrons. While he was doing that, Alex started to try and wiggle out of the restraints.

Before he knew it, though, they were back. The water they threw on him this time was hot. Flicks and droplets of scalding water, enough to make him gasp and enough to make him want to try to fight the restraints more. On his chest, on his thighs, on his legs, on his arms, on his face. It burned.

He kept it in for as long as he could, kept quiet, kept obedient, tried to be good. But it hurt. He screamed at them, please, please, please.

“It’s working.”

It seemed like it went on for days, hours. Alex laid there until he couldn’t cry anymore. He laid there until he was starving so much he felt nauseous. He laid there until every inch of him hurt in some way. He laid there when they pressed heated crosses into his arm. He laid there and let them brand him.

He laid there.

He laid there and he didn’t lose control.

He was going to be good.

Alex woke up with a start, gasping and clutching the sheets.

It was dark still. His dream was… not one he’d had before. Mindless, he checked his body the places his dream had said he’d been burned. It felt real. He checked his arms for crosses, rucked up his shirt to see splash marks from boiling holy water, felt his face to see if there were any sensitive spots. It took him three checks to realize it was the wrong body.

The cross brand that had faded over the years was rather inconspicuous on a man full of scars, but Alex had felt it. The parts of his body that took him a while to not flinch away from when Alex tried to touch made more sense. He just… didn’t think it was because of this.

‘I’m sorry.’ Michael’s voice was soft and nervous. Alex felt residual anxiety on top of the pre-existing bullshit from the dream itself.

“Michael,” Alex said because that’s all he could say, “Michael.”

‘Go back to sleep,’ Michael tried, ‘I’ll do better this time.’

Alex caught his breath and tightened his hold on his sheets. He wanted to curl up into his chest, to tell him sweet nothings. To touch and be touched because that was safe. Whatever he’d just dreamed was not safe. Having an empty Michael-suit in his basement was not safe.

Still, he slowly coaxed himself back to lay down. He was tired still and that dream had robbed him of any sense of being rested. And it was still dark.

‘Please go back to sleep. It’ll be okay. I’m sorry.’

“I’m sorry too.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dohman said, getting too close to Alex’s face. He would never understand why men who took homosexuality as their enemy number one decided to get nose to nose with other men when they were angry. It would be funny if it wasn’t the actual worst.

“Look, Dohman, you’re not my fucking type, get over it,” Alex said, shoving him back. That was his first wrong step, but what was he supposed to do? Let it happen? “I like men, not whatever the fuck you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dohman asked, his eyebrows tugging together further and his face turning a deeper shade of rage red.

“What‒are you upset? Aw, do you have a crush on me?”

Dohman threw the first punch and Alex managed to dodge it, throwing the second one. There were a few more, a blur of them, before he was hit in the nose and stumbled back. He stumbled straight into a different room, a kitchen.

“Alex. You’re late.”

The voice was one that instilled fear deep within Alex and he stood up a little straighter. His father sat at the head of the table, staring at him like he expected him to be late. Alex took a deep breath and went to sit at the table.

“I’m sorry, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Alex blinked.

“Sitting.”

“Did I say you could sit? You’re late. You missed curfew. Do I need to remind you what happens when you miss curfew?” he asked. Alex shook his head.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Alex held his breath as he stood up straight and went to the corner of the kitchen. He knelt down, his face towards the wall, and held his arms up. If he slumped or his arms wavered or if he sat on his feet, he would get an extra two hours. So he didn’t let that happen.

Alex listened to his father eat dinner. Listened to him put his dishes in the sink. Listened to him go into the living room and turn on the TV. He always wondered if he forgot about him, but he knew he couldn’t get up without consequences.

So Alex stayed.

And Alex didn’t slump.

He was going to be good.

When Alex woke up this time, the sun was still hidden away.

This one was less shocking, less jarring, more standard. Still, he curled up in bed and rubbed his knees mindlessly. Michael’s buzzing was there, but he didn’t say any words. Alex was almost thankful for it. He was embarrassed and still tired.

As his alarm went off to tell him to get up and get ready for work at the bright and early time of 4 AM, Alex turned it off and instead called the base. He made up an excuse about a stomach bug and how he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk giving it to anyone else and didn’t he have sick days built up? His superior agreed, told him to get some rest, and promised to see him when he was better.

Alex dropped his phone.

‘It was much sexier sleeping next to you when we didn’t share dreams.’ Michael sounded tired somehow. How did that work? Michael had probably already thought about that question a million times over.

“Yeah, it was,” Alex agreed.

He laid in bed for a few extra minutes before deciding he wasn’t going to get any more sleep. Whenever Michael left his brain, he was going to be taking a trazodone and he was going to knock into a relatively dreamless sleep for 12 hours. He at least had that to look forward to.

Alex climbed out of bed and reached for his crutches. When he got upright, it made it just that much more prevalent how tired his body was. This whole thing was draining and exhausting. His leg was sore, his head hurt, his stomach felt like he’d gotten a rather extensive core workout.

He spent his morning going through his regular routine, only this time with mindless Michael commentary. Alex had definitely understood Michael had a rather busy thought process and he struggled with silence, but he hadn’t realized how much. It was almost concerning.

Still, he listened and brushed his teeth, listened and washed his face, listened and took his meds, listened and put his prosthetic on, forced himself to eat breakfast, etc, etc, etc. Midway through his third cup of coffee, Alex started making his way down to the bunker. He held the mug between his teeth and focused on the ladder instead of Michael’s rambling.

When he looked at Michael’s body, it was exactly the way he left it. Alex walked over slowly and put his hand on his bicep, massaging it carefully and making sure it wasn’t getting stiff. He looked dead, he didn’t want him to feel dead.

Michael in his mind, however, went actually silent for a moment. Even the buzzing stopped.

‘What are you doing?’ Michael asked carefully.

“Sorry, I won’t touch you,” Alex said, taking his hand away. His eyes were harder to remove.

‘You can.’ He was speaking slowly, the buzzing returning at an all-time loud. ‘I just… didn’t think you would want to touch me. That’s pretty gross. Haven’t bathed.’

“Neither have I,” Alex said simply, “I pretty much always want to touch you.”

The buzzing, somehow, amplified.

Alex squeezed his eyes shut in response, the headache he had worsening because of it. Michael hadn’t mentioned the headache and Alex was beginning to wonder if he just always had a headache and that’s why it wasn’t phasing him. It would make sense if his brain was really that full all the time.

Instead of thinking too much about that, Alex took a big sip of his coffee and then sat it on the table.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

The two of them got to work brainstorming which was much easier than it would’ve been if Michael was on the outside because Michael’s ideas that were hard to verbalize came across to Alex in concepts. Well‒easier in theory because Alex only had so much knowledge within Michael’s specialty.

But, nonetheless, they worked. And they worked. And hours went by and Michael was still stuck in his head and no matter how hard they worked, nothing happened.

By lunchtime, Alex was exhausted all over again and he was beginning to feel more than a bit frustrated. He just wanted Michael in his own body. Why couldn’t the universe just give him that one thing? That should be an easy fucking request.

“I hate this piece of shit,” Alex grumbled, carefully setting the alien tech down instead of throwing it across the room because that would presumably be very bad. He tilted his head back from where he was sitting on the floor by the couch, the back of his head resting against Michael’s thigh.

‘Maybe we should call Liz,’ Michael in his head suggested, not mentioning a single thing about where his head was. Alex’s hands rested carefully on his own thighs, pressing down each finger one at a time starting from his left pinky all the way to his right. This was fine.

“What do I say? That I accidentally robbed you of your subconscious and that you’re stuck in my brain and she’s basically lost her science partner because he’s in my fucking head and I’m not him and I’m useless and‒”

‘Alex,’ Michael said softly, in the same way Alex had said his name when he got to rambling, ‘You’re not useless. And this isn’t your fault. It’s not one’s fault, we didn’t know this was going to happen. So let’s just call her and see if she can come help.’

Alex breathed in deep and nodded slowly. He sat there unmoving for a moment after that. Michael’s buzzing was incessant and it was very clearly worried. It gave off the same energy that Michael had so many times before, just much different because it was in Alex’s head rather than on Michael’s face.

“I wish you could hug me,” Alex said softly. It felt like a simple, easy statement all things considered. Michael’s worried buzzing tapered off just a little.

‘I wish I could too.’

And they sat there, taking a break before they called Liz. She wasn’t in California anymore, having come back because there was just something about Roswell that refused to let you fucking leave. Or she missed her dad and her sister. One of the two options. So, at least they had that going for them.

Alex pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts and found Liz Ortecho sitting in his short list of 25 contacts. He hadn’t actually spoken to her in a while, not over the phone and not just the two of them. Once upon a time it would’ve upset him, but they were adults and they hadn’t been each other’s first priorities in a very long time. Alex wasn’t sure he’d ever been hers. But that was fine too because that’s what friendship was sometimes.

“Alex?” Liz answered like she was extremely confused to see him calling. Alex huffed a laugh despite nothing about his situation being funny. Not in the fucking slightest.

“So, I have a little situation that I don’t feel comfortable telling you over the phone,” Alex said. He knew she was rather easygoing about what she shared over the phone, but he wasn’t as trusting. Hell, he barely liked having his phone on him when he was doing things like this at all even with all of his protective shit on it. He knew how easy it was to be tracked, to be listened to. The only one who took his concerns seriously was Michael and Kyle. “Can you be at the cabin in less than an hour?”

“...what cabin?”

Alex sighed, “The old Valenti hunting cabin? Come on, I know you and Kyle probably hooked up here a lot when we were in high school.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?”

“Kyle.”

“Got it.”

Alex sighed as the call ended and dropped his phone. His eyes drifted over to Michael’s body, still and cold and catatonic. He reached out for his hand mindlessly and started to massage it carefully, working into all the muscles he knew still got sore on bad days. Not like they were sore now.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Michael said, ‘You don’t have to…’

There was an implication, one that was rather insulting if Alex was asked. He never allowed his feelings to go unknown, not since his rather embarrassing display at the Wild Pony. It was Michael who needed to catch up; Alex hadn’t been hiding it.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alex asked again.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I just hate that I can’t feel it.’

“You will when you get back. You’ll be able to feel it then,” Alex said, a quiet promise that he would continue. He hoped that was good enough for Michael to understand.

They sat, waiting for Liz to show up and staying as calm as they physically could. Alex considered crawling beside him more than once but he felt that would just be too much. Too much whatever. Alex waited until he felt as at peace as he physically could be.

“Michael,” Alex called, “How did you take over my hand last night? You tried to explain it but I didn’t really understand.”

‘Basically, from my understanding, I just connected those parts of my psyche to your arm. Like when you’re laying in bed and you need to get up and so your brain tells your body to move. Like that, I guess, and I guess it was enough to take over yours.’

Alex blinked and breathed steadily, rolling his shoulders back and steeling himself.

“Try again,” Alex suggested.

‘What? No. No, I’m not doing that. You didn’t like that, I’m not doing that to you again.’

“You’re cooped up in my brain. Don’t you want to stretch out? I feel guilty that you’re trapped there. As long as you don’t take over my whole body and I know what you’re going to do, I think I’ll be okay,” Alex urged. Michael didn’t say anything right away. “I just feel bad. Just tell me what you’re going to do before you do it, okay?”

‘Are you sure?’

Alex nodded and kept his breaths steady, waiting for the moment Michael would decide to act. Maybe this was stupid and maybe he’d freak out again, but…

‘Okay, it’s gonna be your left arm, elbow down.’ Alex kept his breathing steady and used his right hand to continue holding onto Michael’s. He wasn’t clutching back and that made it feel a bit hollow, but that was alright. Michael was in him. One day when this was over, he’d probably make a joke about it. ‘Okay, ready?’

“Ready,” Alex agreed.

He swallowed as he felt his arm go numb and tingly as Michael took over. He kept his breathing even and held onto his hand and watched as Michael moved his fingers carefully, just stretching them around.

‘I’m gonna raise it, alright?’

“Alright.”

‘You’re doing so good, thank you for this.’

Alex nodded as watched as his hand rose and his wrist rolled. He could feel a bit of panic edging in him, but he held out. Michael used Alex’s thumb to trace each finger on his hand.

‘Can I touch you?’ Michael asked. Alex took a shaky breath and nodded again, not really trusting his voice. This whole thing was weird and slightly terrifying and slightly exhilarating at the same time. He’d never felt something quite like this before. He was pretty sure not many had. ‘Okay.’

His hand moved to his face, gently tracing over his nose and his cheek. Alex’s lips twitched and let out a heavy breath. Michael guided his hand over his jaw and to his neck, sliding over his shoulder and down his arm until he got to where Alex was holding Michael’s body’s hand. The hand Michael was controlling layered over them, squeezing the hand Alex still had.

‘Squeeze back,’ Michael requested. Alex did. It must’ve looked insane that he was just holding his own hand, but his heart was thudding in his chest at the reality of it.

“You know we’ve never held hands,” Alex pointed out, “Not for real.”

‘Yeah,’ Michael said softly, ‘We’re gonna.’

“We’re gonna?” Alex wondered, watching as the thumb Michael was controlling rubbed against the back of the hand he could feel.

‘We’re gonna. This doesn’t count.’

“Okay.”

Alex startled as his phone went off, alerting him that someone was within a half-mile of the cabin. Slowly, feeling came back to his hand and Michael was no longer in control of it. Alex took a few breaths to reset himself before putting Michael’s hand back on his side.

“We should go upstairs,” Alex said.

‘Do you feel okay?’

“Yeah,” Alex said even though he knew Michael could literally feel him. It was nice that he asked nonetheless.

Alex pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his empty mug before going to climb the ladder again. He needed to put stairs in or something because this was just getting annoying.

‘I’ll build you stairs,’ Michael offered. Alex tried not to get that warm and fuzzy feeling in response to that because this was very much not the time.

“Not necessary.”

‘I’m gonna.’

They got up to the cabin and Alex walked over to the kitchen, rinsing out his mug. He stared at the coffee maker for a few seconds before he reached over and dumped the grinds out and rinsed the mesh. Michael rambled about coffee grinds being good for compost or something and Alex nodded along, agreeing to wherever his train of thought was headed. He started another pot and then waited.

By the time Liz and Kyle showed up, Alex had already poured himself another cup and went to unlock the door. If he looked like he hadn’t slept (which he knew he did), they didn’t say anything as he let them in. Kyle did, however, reach to give him a short hug because they did that now. Alex still thought it was a little weird, but he appreciated the effort and sometimes he actively wanted the affection.

“So, what’s going on? Is Michael here? Because if not, you should’ve had me bring him,” Liz said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, he’s definitely present,” he said. It wasn’t funny. Michael seemed amused anyway. “There’s no point in me beating around the bush or anything, so basically Michael fucked with a piece of tech, got stuck in it, and when I touched it he got stuck in my head.”

They stared at him.

“Like… you can’t stop thinking about him stuck or…” Liz trailed off. Alex snorted.

“No, like his entire psyche is currently existing in my head. He says hi and to tell you your haircut looks nice,” Alex said. He didn’t notice she even got a haircut. Their eyes widened. “We’ve messed around with the piece for hours and nothing is working, so we called you over.”

“Okay, um,” Liz breathed, nodding her head, “Yeah, absolutely. Just, like, give me a minute. This is insane. He’s really in your head? Where’s his body?”

“Downstairs. And, yeah, he’s really in my head,” Alex said.

A warm feeling started to burn in Alex’s stomach, one that he was rather certain didn’t belong to him. It still took him a minute to realize it was Michael’s and that was… a lot. Apparently, every other feeling of his Alex had felt was one they were sharing at the same time. Good to know that they were both guilty and existential as hell.

“Okay. Wow. Right. I’m going downstairs. I wish you would’ve warned me! I could’ve brought some more stuff,” Liz said as if she didn’t have a backpack full of things already. She headed down the ladder with no hesitation.

“And you’re okay?” Kyle asked, keeping his voice low. His eyebrows were pulled together in concern as he searched Alex’s face. “That’s like a major invasion of privacy. Are you sure he didn’t do this on purpose?”

‘Dude, what the fuck.’

Alex snorted, “You know he can hear you, right?”

Kyle blinked a few times and then very clearly decided he didn’t care because he eyed him very deliberately.

“Tell me if you need anything. I’ll get you some sedatives or whatever if we can’t figure this out because I know you haven’t slept,” Kyle said, squeezing his arm. Alex nodded in appreciation, but they both knew he wouldn’t be accepting anything. “Coffee fresh?”

“Yep, just brewed it.”

“And you’ve eaten lunch?”

“I will,” Alex said. Kyle raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “I will!”

“I’ll make you some toast and meet you down there with Liz,” Kyle decided and then headed into the kitchen. Alex rolled his eyes, but he listened without argument.

‘It still freaks me out how close you two are. It’s so weird. He’s still so punchable.’

“His jaws way more chiseled now, though, so it might hurt,” Alex pointed out, his words muffled around his coffee mug as he carefully made his way down the ladder.

“Huh?” Liz answered.

“Was talking to Michael,” Alex said and chose not to be embarrassed by it as he hit the floor. If he was, that would just be more than he could physically handle right now.

“Oh. Okay. Right,” Liz said, blinking as she stood up straighter, “Sorry, this is just so weird.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird for me too,” Alex said.

His eyes drifted to Michael’s body where Liz had clearly already gotten started. She was questionably comfortable with his body, having already taken a blood sample and written down his current state in detail in her notebook. Sometimes she worried Alex with this whole thing, but Michael didn’t seem to have any arguments.

‘She’s basically like my best friend after you. We’ve done a million experiments on each other, so I don’t really care what she does to me,’ Michael explained anyway. Alex nodded and let him continue to think about what she was going to do. He could tell this was going to be rather exhausting having to play translator, but he supposed it was worth it.

“Okay, so, he’s stable. It’s obviously a different kind of stasis than the pod, but he is in stasis. I checked his blood under his microscope and all of his blood cells are basically frozen in time. Oh, I need to check his hair and his skin cells. This is insane,” Liz rambled. Alex could feel Michael’s residual excitement start to build in his body. He almost felt bad he couldn’t enjoy this with her.

For Michael’s benefit, even though it made him uncomfortable, Alex looked under the microscope at the frozen cells. His skin cells were equally frozen and his hair‒well, his hair looked like all hair does, but Michael seemed to think it looked different and he would just accept that.

Liz picked up the piece and marveled at it for a moment, grinning wildly. Alex felt himself doing the same solely based on Michael’s emotions which was, honestly, too much. He tried not to think about it too much. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure anything would get done.

Alex very quickly realized that he couldn’t keep up with Michael’s thoughts and his headache was strengthening by the second even after he ate the toast Kyle decided to force-feed him. He, however, kept that to a minimum and tried to carry a conversation with Liz by repeating Michael. He made it a good thirty minutes before he hit a point where he wasn’t making sense due to Michael’s brain saying three different things while Alex was talking.

“Okay, wait, stop,” Alex said, dropping his head in his hand. It was throbbing and Michael hadn’t said anything. “What the fuck, does your head hurt all the time?”

‘More times than not, yeah,’ Michael answered. Alex shook his head and rubbed his temples. ‘I’m sorry. Do you have medicine? Nothing usually works on me outside of acetone and that only dulls it. I’m sure something works on you, though, right? Do you have ibuprofen? I know you have Tylenol upstairs in the bathroom, but I’m not sure if that would work and maybe it’d make you tired and you’re already tired enough which would make things a little bit more difficult since we’re trying to‒’

“Michael. Please,” Alex whispered. He stopped rambling where Alex could hear, but the buzzing never stopped. Liz and Kyle, on the other hand, were silent. “Kyle, can you go get my Aleve from upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Kyle said, his footsteps rather quickly heading up the ladder.

Alex sat there for a moment, rubbing his temples and breathing. This time, he could feel the separation from his own guilt and nerves and Michael’s guilt and nerves and he could feel where they blended. He needed a fucking nap.

“Alex, do you need a break?” Liz asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Are you going to figure it without me translating for him?” he asked. Liz didn’t answer and that was answer enough.

Alex took a deep breath and lowered himself to the floor beside the couch. He could feel the guilty, yet restless energy burning within him that all belonged to Michael. He wished he was out and so he could watch him ramble, watch him pace, just watch.

‘What can I do?’ Michael asked.

“Nothing,” Alex responded. Liz, by now, caught on that he was simply talking to himself.

Kyle returned with a glass of water and a doctor-approved tweak of Aleve. Alex took it graciously, downed the rest of the water, and then returned his head to his hands.

They’d barely made any progress, namely because they didn’t know where to start other than the piece which Alex and Michael had already worked with. Alex, under Michael’s instruction, had gotten out the other pieces in hopes that would solve the problem, but that hadn’t made a difference.

Maybe they were stuck like this.

‘We aren’t stuck,’ Michael said, ‘I’m getting my body back.’

Alex felt when his breath hitched and felt when tears pricked his eyes. He brought his knee in closer and bowed his head against it so he could at least pretend he wasn’t losing it. But he was. He was overwhelmed and fucking terrified and he wanted Michael.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, ‘If anyone can figure this out, it’s us, alright? Just take a breath and I’ll try to dial it back. I’m sorry.’

‘You shouldn’t have to apologize for just existing as yourself. This just isn’t fair,’ Alex thought back at him, not really eager to let Kyle and Liz in on their conversation. Part of him was still scared this would make it harder to keep his thoughts to himself, but, after their dreams, he was beginning to feel like it didn’t matter.

‘It’s not fair. Not at all. But maybe there’s a reason for it? Like, why would this exist if there wasn’t a reason for it, you know? Why would they make it if it was just a torture mechanism?’ Michael asked. Alex bit the inside of his cheek. ‘I’m trying to think of what use this could have.’

‘Couples therapy?’ Alex offered. Michael’s amusement lit him up for a moment, a silent acknowledgment that he’d probably laugh if he had a body to do it with. ‘Missions, maybe? Or coaching. It’s an effective communication device.’

‘Maybe when they were coming here they only had space for so many people, so they had some people leave their body on their planet,’ Michael suggested.

‘Maybe. We probably won’t ever know. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Michael said, but they were both keenly aware that it wasn’t actually okay that they knew so little, ‘I just need to get back into my own body.’

“What’s the next step?” Alex asked.

‘Give us the rest of the day to try and figure this out and, if not, then we might have to call Isobel in,’ Michael said at the same time Liz responded with, “I think we should keep trying and if we can’t figure it out by tonight, we get Max and Isobel to see if they can think of anything.”

Alex huffed a laugh and raised his head.

“Okay. Let’s keep trying.”

Hours later, Alex found himself in his bathroom again. This time he was a little more determined to actually bathe. He felt gross and just needed something to make him feel better. The food and medicine Kyle gave him only helped so much and their constant stream of failures didn’t make any of it better.

Kyle and Liz with apologetic faces, but they had a clear determination to want to continue trying to figure it out. However, the four of them agreed to bring in Isobel and Max because this very clearly was going to need some more alien reinforcement.

“I’m really not looking forward to Isobel being in my head,” Alex sighed, leaning over to turn on the faucet. He felt until the water was hot before plugging the drain and sat himself down on his stool to wait for the tub to fill.

‘I know, but I’m hoping she’ll be able to see something we can’t. We aren’t really in a mindscape right now. Maybe she’ll see a way to put me back,’ Michael encouraged. Alex sighed and unbuttoned his jeans.

“I get why we need her, I just don’t know what I’m going to have control over. And, no offense, but I don’t really trust Isobel to be respectful or quiet about anything she does see,” Alex admitted. Michael’s instant understanding and agreement was palpable.

‘I’ll try to make sure she keeps it to herself. She’s getting better,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and hoped he was right.

Alex pulled off his jeans and tossed them into his hamper and went to his prosthetic. Thinking about his hesitation from last night almost felt ridiculous‒as if Michael would say anything about him bathing‒but he knew the circumstances tonight were a little different. He felt different.

Once his prosthetic was removed completely, he put it outside the bathroom door and then closed it. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that with his jeans and then closed his eyes. His head still hurt and he was exhausted, but he needed to bathe. He was gross. Michael, for his part, stayed quiet for the first time since that morning. It was honestly a blessing though he felt guilty about it.

The bathtub got to where Alex wanted it and he shut off the water, moved to take off his boxers. He threw them alongside his other clothes and then skillfully moved himself onto the ledge of the tub. Alex swiveled around and put his foot in the bath before slowly lowering himself in. He could feel his muscles instantly reacting to the warm water. He needed this.

Alex sunk into the water until it touched his chin and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of it. There was something endlessly lonely about having someone you love stuck in your brain and not being able to touch them. It was cruel, almost.

Michael’s buzzing seemed to calm a bit as they sat there in nothing but the hot water and each other’s company. Alex had imagined bathing with him more than once and never had it crossed his mind that the first time he would get the chance, Michael’s body wouldn’t be there to experience it. They were having too many firsts this way.

All of them led right back to being too close, too much, too aware. He hated it and yet he had never felt more seen by Michael Guerin in his entire life.

Cruel and laughable.

‘Alex,’ Michael said, soft and warm like he had late the night before, ‘Can I use your hand? The same one as earlier. I just… wanna try something.’

Alex’s heart picked up speed in the same way it had when he held his hand and he nodded without hesitation.

His left arm tingled and then went numb as Michael took over. The hand Michael was in control of glided across the top of the water and then rested over his heart. He rubbed his hand into his skin, slowly making his way up to his neck and over his jaw. Michael felt over his features again, only this time focusing on his lips.

His thumb pressed into Alex’s bottom lip and slowly dragged his mouth open. Alex huffed a laugh and opened it further, letting Michael press the pad of his thumb against his tongue. Alex bit down gently and felt a burst of adoration flood through him. It stole his breath for a moment.

Michael pulled out of his mouth slowly and slid back down to his chest and then to the arm Alex still had control over. He felt over his bicep and his forearm, feeling each muscle as if they were something to behold on their own which really only had Alex’s picking up speed.

‘Why have I never taken my time with you before?’ Michael asked. They both knew. Neither of them said anything.

Alex tilted his head back and closed his eyes as Michael’s fingers dragged over his neck and then dipped beneath the water. He traced over his chest and his stomach, slow and curious despite the familiarity of it. Michael touched his thigh and dragged his fingertips up and down before sliding between his thighs.

Alex caught his wrist and Michael obediently paused.

“Michael,” Alex whispered, his breathing noticeably heavier as he tried his damnedest to ignore the tight, warm feeling in his stomach, “Michael.”

‘Yeah?’

“What happens if we can’t figure it out?” Alex asked, “What happens if you’re stuck?”

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael answered.

“We have to think like that. Eventually, we’re going to have to go back to work, eventually, we’re going to have to pretend to carry on. What happens if you’re still stuck in my head?” Alex demanded.

‘Don’t think like that,’ Michael repeated, ‘It won’t come to that. We will fix it.’

“But what if we can’t?”

‘Alex, listen to me. No matter what happens, I won’t be stuck in your head for the rest of your life. This is temporary regardless of what that means for me. I’m not making your life miserable.’

Alex breathed out like he’d been hit. He didn’t ask what that meant. He didn’t ask how long Michael was willing to try. He didn’t ask anything.

“I miss you,” Alex breathed, “I want… I want‒”

‘I know. Me too.’

They sat there for a moment with that and Alex wanted to say he loved him, just in case. But they had time. They had to have time.

And he didn’t want any more firsts this way.

Alex let go of his wrist and Michael’s hand rested on his legs. He let his eyes close again and tried to relax as Michael moved again. Alex almost expected him to reach between his thighs again, and yet Michael just rested his hand on his face.

Michael cradled his jaw in his hand and rubbed his thumb over his cheek slow and methodically. Alex squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into the touch. If he kept his eyes closed and if he focused hard enough, he could almost feel his breath on the back of his neck.

‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’

Alex woke up long before his alarm again.

Dreams of angry foster parents bled into dreams of angry drill sergeants bled into active battle bled into his father with any object he could get his hand on. It was miserable and Alex had to wonder why they couldn’t have a nice dream. Just one. On where Alex could pretend to touch him again and he’d be warm.

Despite having Michael in his head, Alex couldn’t help but feel even more lonely than he had when he climbed into bed. They’d tried to shut off the lights with his telekinesis again before bed and it was a little more painful than the first time and Michael vowed not to use it again and he’d gone quiet. And Alex was lonely.

“You know what’s crazy? It’s only been, like, 36 hours. Why does it feel so much longer?” Alex whispered, voice deep from sleep.

‘Because it has been longer. I was practically living in your house and yet I didn’t do anything. I wasted so much time,’ Michael said. Alex wanted to argue, but he found himself not having much to add. They had wasted so much time and now they weren’t even sure what time they would have.

“Me too.”

‘No, Alex, you’ve known what you wanted for a year now at least. You’ve made it clear. I kept trying to wait for, like, a moment when it felt right. And I’m beginning to think it just never felt right because I wasn’t with you. Self-defeating cycle or whatever,’ Michael said, very clearly annoyed in the emotions that filled him.

“You’re allowed to take your time.”

‘But I was never going to be perfectly ready. I’m always going to struggle. But I could’ve had you. God, I was so lonely and you were right there.’

“I’m here now,” Alex whispered. Michael’s self-deprecation was louder than Alex was willing to take.

He laid in bed for a few seconds longer before he got up and reached for his crutches. He was lonely. Michael was lonely. This was so stupid and ridiculous and he hated every goddamn thing about it. He just wanted him back. Was that such a hard request?

Clearly, it was. The universe didn’t want them to have anything.

Alex made his way to the bunker and ignored the worry Michael was experiencing as he slid his crutches down the ladder. He made sure they landed out of the way before heading down himself, hopping down one rung at a time while having his arms carry the brunt of his weight. Michael managed not to say anything.

Once he hit the ground, Alex picked up his crutches again and made his way to the couch where Michael’s body was. He rested his crutches down on the floor and then gently pulled the alien tech off of Michael to put it on the counter. Then he pulled the corner of the blanket up and crawled inside.

‘Alex,’ Michael whispered, sounding almost pitiful. Alex just cuddled closer. He was cold and unbreathing and it was unsettling as hell, but it was Michael.

Of all the things they hadn’t done, they had done this. Alex had slept with his head on his shoulder or his chest more than once. Michael had slept fully on top of him even more. They always slept well together. Even when the nightmares came, there was a safety in having another body to hold. And so Alex held him.

He tugged Michael’s limp arm around him and layered his hand over his to keep it on his hip. He rested his head on his chest and draped his leg over Michael’s thighs. Then Alex closed his eyes.

‘Get some sleep, Alex,’ Michael said, ‘I’ll hold you for real soon.’

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Alex murmured.

‘I fully plan to keep it. Get some rest.’

And Alex did. He never actually fell asleep hard enough to actually dream which was both great and terrible. He was still tired when he opened his eyes again, but he didn’t have any dreams to add to the list and that in itself was refreshing. Michael was still a cold, unmoving rock beneath him. Alex didn’t move.

He laid there for a long time, rubbing circles in his chest with his thumb.

Eventually, Alex made his way upstairs to get presentable whenever he realized Liz, Kyle, Max, and Isobel were probably on their way. Michael was quiet in his mind, but the ever-present buzzing wasn’t gone so he took that as a good sign.

Alex got dressed and brushed his teeth and got his prosthetic on and managed to even eat breakfast by the time they pulled up.

‘It’s gonna be okay. Hopefully, we’ll figure it out today,’ Michael said. Alex sighed and nodded, sipping his coffee as he unlocked the door.

“Hopefully.”

“So you trapped my brother in your brain?” Isobel greeted. Alex managed a smile.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Can he hear us?” she wondered, eyeing Alex. He nodded easily. “Michael, this was a really weird way for you to try and get a boyfriend.”

‘That’s not what happened!’

“He said that’s not what happened,” Alex repeated. Isobel rolled her eyes like she didn’t buy it. Alex was too ready to get this over with to argue. “Let’s go downstairs and you can see what you need to do. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you guys want any.”

No one went and got coffee.

By the time they made it down to the bunker and Alex sat on the floor beside the couch, he found himself feeling like a spectacle. They were all staring at him and Michael with confusion and fear and pity‒and he was more than slightly miserable about it. Michael murmured encouraging words, but it only did so much.

“I hate seeing him like that,” Isobel said, suddenly a lot less flippant now that she was actually seeing Michael laid out and unbreathing and cold. Alex watched a series of emotions cross her face and couldn’t help but think about how this was the second brother she was seeing look dead.

‘I’m not dead. I’m going to be okay,’ Michael insisted. Alex nodded. He hoped he was right.

“Me too. Can we get started?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Isobel said. She quickly knelt beside him and beside the couch.

‘Wait, before she starts, we all three should be holding the piece,’ Michael said quickly. Alex licked his lips and nodded.

“Michael says we should hold the piece. And, Kyle, stand by to check vitals whenever he comes to. Max, just be ready to do your little healing thing just in case,” Alex instructed. Kyle nodded and Max opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was immediately shut down by Liz and Isobel simultaneously glaring at him. Then he nodded.

Alex took a deep breath as grabbed the piece. He pulled Michael’s hand off the couch to touch it as well and Isobel grabbed onto the other end. Alex locked eyes with Isobel and instantly started to feel her trying to pry. Instinct and training told him not to let her.

‘Alex. Relax. I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay,’ Michael coaxed. He kept whispering sweet words of encouragement and Alex did his best to let himself go as he started at Isobel.

Slowly but surely, he phased out of consciousness and into where she wanted him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is this?”

Alex was sitting cross-legged on a bench of some sort and everything around them was pitch black. Well, mostly. Isobel was far to his right and across from him was Michael. To his left, the piece floated and lit the empty space well enough that he could see their faces. Isobel was fully mobile and aware, but Michael seemed to be just as catatonic as he was in real life.

“Why does he look like that?” Alex asked, “He’s obviously awake, I’ve been hearing him in my head.”

“I don’t know, why does your mindscape look like this? I’ve never been in one that’s all black before,” Isobel commented.

Alex could barely give her the time of day as he stared at Michael. It took him a moment but he eventually realized he was vibrating so quickly it was hard to catch. No wonder there was incessant buzzing. Alex wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but he couldn’t seem to move.

“Jesus, this place is ridiculous, I feel like I’m walking in tar,” Isobel said. Alex finally looked at her and she was moving, but it was in slow motion. It was really fucking frustrating.

“I think it’s because I don’t want you to see anything,” Alex admitted. Isobel scoffed.

“Well, will you let up enough for me to try and fix this?” she demanded. Alex swallowed and looked at Michael and then to the piece. He really didn’t want to.

“Tell me what the plan is first,” Alex said. Despite how irritated she very clearly was, Isobel gave him an answer.

“I’m going to lead Michael to the piece and then I’m going to get out of your mindscape and then go into his and lead him away. That sounds like the easiest route,” Isobel said. Alex bit his bottom lip as he stared at Michael. That did sound like the easiest route. And that’s primarily what made him nervous.

He didn’t like doing this without hearing Michael’s opinion.

“Listen, Alex, maybe if you let up, he’ll be more aware and we can ask what he thinks we should do,” Isobel said. Alex stayed quiet for a moment.

He made his decision quietly while staring at the blurred outline of Michael’s body. Light started to filter into the space and Isobel’s movement was made a bit easier as she headed to Michael. As the light flooded in, so did memories.

Michael’s voice‒never with someone I like as much as I like you. Alex’s voice‒you’re mine. His father’s voice‒too many to pick out anything in particular. Isobel glanced over at him as his father’s voice started to overpower Alex’s own thoughts.

“Stop it, focus on him,” Alex said. Isobel took a breath and nodded.

Michael’s blurred figure slowly opened his eyes, blinking and tired. Alive. The sight alone was enough to bring him a bit of comfort. Alex listened as Isobel ran her plan by him and he nodded, glancing over at Alex. He gave a smile and Alex couldn’t help but give one right back.

In the background, his own voice and Michael’s voice overpowered his father’s.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Michael told him, echo-y and honest. Alex nodded.

“And I’ll see you.”

Michael took Isobel’s hand and she swiftly led him over to the piece with practiced ease. She gave one more glance around Alex’s mindscape before she waved and everything went black again.

Alex opened his eyes to see both Isobel and Michael still out of it. Michael’s buzzing no longer filled his head.

Alex gave a breath of relief and slumped back, his hands bracing against the floor as he waited.

It was painfully quiet as they all watched Isobel and Michael hold onto the piece with bated breaths. It worked. Hopefully. It was working. Michael wasn’t in his head. That was good. This was good. Things were going in the right direction.

Or he thought that until Isobel opened her eyes and let go of the piece. She didn’t look satisfied or relieved as she stared at Michael’s body. His still, cold, unbreathing body. They all waited.

“Where is he?” Alex asked after a moment, “Why isn’t he waking up?”

“He… He said he could do it on his own. I thought he had it…” Isobel said softly. Alex choked on air and stared at her with wide eyes.

“Well go back in and see where he’s at! Maybe he got lost!” Alex demanded. She didn’t look his way as she stared at her brother.

“No, I saw him leave. If he’s not there, then I don’t know…” Isobel trailed off.

In an instant, Alex was on his knees and trying his best to avoid the piece as he shook Michael’s shoulders.

“Wake up,” he told him, “Wake up, you promised me you’d see me.”

A few more seconds passed without him and Isobel scrambled back to grab Max’s arm, tugging him forward. She was snapping at him to do something, but Alex could barely hear as he shook him. He needed him to wake up.

“Alex, move, I’m gonna try to get up, but if you’re touching him it could hurt you,” Max said. Alex moved away faster than he logically should’ve, but Max quickly stepped in and put his hand over his heart.

Before any funky alien healing could happen, though, Michael’s eyes opened and he took a deep breath.

“Fuck, my head hurts.”

And for the first time in days, Alex laughed.

After Michael insisted he was fine, let Liz and Kyle take vitals, and insisted he was fine some more, they eventually gave them some space under the condition that Michael had to get lunch with Isobel after he got some rest.

The house was quiet, the doors were locked, and the sun was shining through the windows as Alex sat on his bed and Michael sat across from him. They were both changed into nightclothes and staring at each other, feeling familiar in a completely new way. Alex had no doubt that his joy was nothing but his own.

It was nice to have quiet in his mind again. Nicer to have Michael here. Even nicer than that, to have Michael be on the same page.

“Alex,” Michael said, slowly like he was testing the word in his mouth again. Alex found himself smiling a bit too wide.

“Michael,” Alex said back. Michael smiled just as wide. “In the nicest way possible, I never want to get near your brain ever again.”

Michael laughed softly and, fuck, it was a nice sound. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

“And in the nicest way possible, I never want to be stuck inside you ever again,” Michael said. His tongue pressed behind his teeth as he smirked. “I mean, not in that way, at least.”

Alex shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“When are you going to touch me with your own hands?” Alex asked. Michael sat up a little straighter.

“I thought we were meant to take a nap.”

“Why can’t we do both?”

Michael didn’t need to be asked a second time as he lunged forward, easily pressing Alex into the mattress. For the first time in a long time, Alex was kissed without hesitation and without a time limit and without restrictions. He was kissed like he was known and loved by someone he knew and loved.

Michael’s hands gripped his sides and slowly slid up, feeling him and gripping him tightly. He settled between Alex’s thighs and kissed him breathless and touched him anywhere he could reach. Even the way he grabbed his knee and his elbows felt like gentle caresses, carefully and deliberately.

“I am going to take my time with you,” Michael whispered into his mouth, “And I am going to savor every minute of it.”

Alex grinned and tugged him closer, wanting to have every inch of himself pressed against every inch of Michael. He was warm and breathing and his heart was beating. All things Alex would never take for granted.

“I’m going to put in the work this time, Alex,” Michael promised, pulling Alex off the bed just enough to grab the blanket and throw it over them. With a tilt of the head and no ridiculous reaction at all, the light shut off and the curtains closed and it was just them. Separate, but together. “This time I’m not wasting time.”

“Me neither,” Alex hummed. Michael’s hands slid beneath his shirt, over his bare stomach and chest, and breathed him in.

“I love you,” Michael said, honest and out loud, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” Alex said, “And I know you know that I love you, but I love you.”

Michael grinned and wrapped his arms around him, slowly lowering himself as he left a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck. His head hit Alex’s shoulder and his body relaxed on top of his. Fully and completely.

Because he was here. And he was breathing. And he was his.

And Alex finally fell asleep.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #alex + body

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