#just me watching the entire credits waiting for these idiots to sort it out

[marvella15]

For one moment, Aziraphale let himself want Crowley

It's just an instant, not even half of a heartbeat, but he lets himself want all of it. Crowley. The kiss. An "us." He puts his hands on Crowley's back and feels him.

It's nothing like the grip Crowley has on his lapels. This is gentle, reverent. A caress. The way we would expect Aziraphale to hold Crowley.

The kiss is long, something like 10-12 seconds. It's sudden, intense. For most of it, Aziraphale's hands are held out in shock, in a stubborn refusal to admit what's happening and why and that he wants it too. Until, for one instant, he gives in.

And in almost the very same instant, he realizes what he's done and his hands spring away.

But in that one moment, he kisses back. And it's why Crowley holds on a little longer. You go too fast for me, Crowley. So he gives him a little more time.

And when Crowley does pull away, Aziraphale starts to say, "I can't."

The words are not even sound, just air. Maybe they even would've been better than his chosen alternative. "I can't" isn't "I don't want to." It isn't "You're wrong" or "We shouldn't" or "No."

But "I forgive you"? For Crowley, that cuts deeper and Aziraphale has to know it.

He has to reign himself in to say it and I think he regrets it immediately after. Because when Crowley leaves, Aziraphale's real feelings almost slip out.

He starts to say, "No."

No, don't leave. No, I've failed. No, this can't be it.

But, yet again, he stops himself. Takes all of that hurt and anguish and devastation and, yes, heartbreak (even if he did the breaking) and pushes it down. Puts on the angelic front just like he's done over and over for six thousand years.

We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don't even like you.

[somnambulants]

hi!! i was just wondering if i could request more yelena where yelena introduces her gf to natasha and her family and she’s uncharacteristically nervous so nat finds it amusing? thank you :)

a bit of minor surgery

summary: Yelena tries to keep you to herself but her family has other ideas word count: 1.7K notes: so this is a little different to what you asked for but i hope you still like it! for the sake of this, nat, yelena, alexei and melina are just one happy family 

“But if we –"

Natasha holds up a hand and Yelena stops talking. “Do you hear that?”

It’s faint but there’s the sound of someone moving around on her apartment floor. Being the only person who lives on this floor and one of the few in this building is enough for this to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

Survival for them has always meant constant vigilance.

Both of their heads swivel towards the front door as the footsteps become louder, very clearly approaching her apartment.

Yelena doesn’t have to look to know Natasha is mirroring her, pulling out her gun and scanning every entry-way for possible intruders.

On edge, Yelena presses herself against the door, readying herself until she listens properly and realises the approaching footsteps sound familiar. 

Somehow, she feels herself relax and become even more tense at the same time.

“Stop,” she says as Natasha moves towards the door as well, holding an arm out to stop her. “It’s okay. I know who it is.”

At her words Natasha relaxes, putting her gun away but she watches her face carefully as she does so.

The panic Yelena can feel building inside her must not be as well hidden as she thought because a slow grin spreads across her face as the sound of a gentle knock echoes through Yelena’s apartment.

“Is it..?”

“Yes,” Yelena replies curtly. “And no. You can’t meet them.”

Natasha gives her a wicked look, clicking her teeth together teasingly. “What? Scared I’ll…eat them?”

She snickers as Yelena reaches out and shoves her hard enough to knock the air out of her while also giving her a firm and clear: im going to kill you if you don't listen to me look as she goes to open the door.

Not that it's ever stopped Natasha before.

“Just stay there,” Yelena hisses and then wrenches the door open, finding you behind it with your hand still mid-air, prepared to knock a second time.

“Y/N!”

“Hi,” you say, looking a little startled but smiling at her none the less as you drop your hand.

Beside her and thankfully, just out of your view, Natasha, to her credit, is silent but Yelena can feel her gaze glued to her face and can especially feel the amusement radiating off her in waves.

She grits her teeth, forcing a smile. Your own fades a little as you take her in. “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Yelena says quickly. Still out of sight, Natasha lets out a huff of laughter just quiet enough that she hopes she’s the only one that hears her.

“Not at all,” she adds, and since the door covers most of her body, it’s safe for her to reach out and pinch Natasha on the arm. Which is what she does. Hard. “Just --give me a second?”

Clearly still puzzled, you nod and Yelena closes the door, giving you a smile that she has a feeling looks more like a grimace.

Next she grabs Natasha by the arm and starts walking her forcibly towards the window. “Out.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow as she pulls them to an abrupt stop, looking at her then looking out the window. “You seriously want me to scale ten stories because you’re an idiot?”

As an answer, Yelena unlocks the latch and lets the window sweep open, giving her a pointed look that says: Yes. Obviously. 

Natasha rolls her eyes but to Yelena’s relief, she slides out the window.

“неудачник,” is all she says in parting before she disappears, dropping down the stairwell and vanishing from sight completely.

The word lingers in the air after her: Loser.

Yelena scowls after her for a second before she rushes back to the door and opens it, letting out a sigh of relief when she sees you’re still there, standing in the same spot.

“Sorry,” she apologises, swinging the door open. “There was just a uh, complication....a spider. I caught it and put it outside. I know you hate them.”

As she speaks, you slowly raise one eyebrow at her. The other quickly follows and it's then that she notices the narrowed look in your eyes.

When you start speaking, your voice is low and scarily calm. “So it has nothing to do with the woman I just made eye contact with as she was climbing down your fire escape?”

Something Yelena is proud to say is that in her life there have been very few times she’s been at a loss for words. 

This however is one of them.

She stares at you, blankly, knowing her panic must be showing on her face by the way your expression progressively becomes darker and darker as seconds pass and she fumbles frantically for something to say.

“I, uh, she is, she, uh –”

“—Natasha Romanoff. Nice to meet you.”

To her credit, Natasha has always been the stealthier of the two of them. Ignoring that fact, Yelena chooses to believe that her being distracted by you is why she doesn’t hear her coming back up the stairwell.

She also chooses to believe that she didn’t visibly jump at the sound of her voice and that the cough Natasha lets out is genuine and not covering up a laugh that says she’s going to mock her mercilessly for this entire thing later.

Of course, Yelena can’t fool herself but she tries anyway.

You look even more unimpressed as Natasha comes to a stop beside her and it clicks in Yelena’s head that you think her and Natasha – her and Natasha. She can’t even finish the thought.

As funny as it is, she doesn’t let herself laugh, knowing instinctively that it’s not a good idea. The flinty look in your eyes just confirms how much of a not good idea that is.

Just because you weren’t raised like her doesn’t mean that you couldn’t pack a punch; something she learned early on in your relationship when she’d accidentally snuck up on you once. She’d had a black eye for weeks after that.

“Natasha is my --” she isn’t sure how to say: ‘this is the woman I was trained to kill people with while we grew up being tortured and experimented on, remember I told you?’ In a way that won’t make you go running for the hills.

As she trails off, Natasha, sensing her panic, jumps in. Yelena knows that internally, she must be laughing hysterically though to her merit, she keeps it to herself. “I’m her… sister. Of sorts.”

You know about her past – all of what she was willing to repeat of it anyway – so comprehension quickly dawns on your face.

“Then why…?”

She watches as Natasha’s mouth twitches, sounding amused as she directly addresses you: “Well... my sister is an idiot. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Yelena tenses as you give her a once over, raking your eyes over her consideringly, before you turn back to Natasha.  “I may have noticed that. Yes.”

"Hey," Yelena protests, weakly. "That's not fair."

You give her a pointed look and she falls silent. Resigned to her fate, she lets out a sigh.

She can tell from the matching scheming looks brewing in both your own and Natasha’s eyes that this is only going to be the start of her own personal torment.

--

The one thing she really, really hates about her family is that they have this habit of showing up unannounced – you’d think that the whole being assassins and consequently, a little trigger happy as a result would make someone call ahead but no.

Never.

For this reason, it comes as no surprise when there’s the familiar three tap repetitive secret knock knock knock they had all come up with years ago on her front door early the following morning.

Silently, Yelena prays you don’t hear it and stay asleep as she drags herself out of bed and prepares herself for what she’s about to deal with.

Truthfully, she’s a little surprised that they’d had enough tact to wait until morning. She’d half expected them to be knocking her door down the second Natasha relayed last nights events to them. 

Yanking the door open, she comes face-to-face with Alexei and Melina. Taking them both in and cataloguing mentally that they look alive and uninjured, she lets herself glare at both of them.

“Is something wrong?”

They both frown. “No?”

“Okay I’m closing the door then.”

She starts to swing it shut but it’s quickly caught as Alexei shoves a foot in between it and the doorframe, giving her a reproachful look.

“Is your –”

“Yes,” Yelena interrupts, scowling harder than before, if that was even possible. “Now, leave.”

The look on Alexei’s face shifts, now suddenly a little too much on the wrong side of sneaky. “Can we—”

“No.”

“But–"

“I don’t care. You can’t meet them,” she barks, probably too loudly, as she shoves him back out into the hallway. If she has to throw them bodily out of here, she will. It just would likely attract your attention, which is the opposite of what she wants. “They’re asleep.”

“We can wake them,” he suggests, unhelpfully.

Yelena glares at him harder. “No.”

It’s faint but all of a sudden, she can hear the sound of a door squeaking as it opens. Her bedroom door to be more exact. Your voice calling out to her quickly follows.

“Okay,” she says. “I’m closing the door now.”

“Hey, no wait –” Alexei starts to protest. Yelena closes the door firmly in their faces and is working on dead-bolting it just as you appear in her line of sight.

You blink at her blearily, wearing just one of her T-shirts and nothing else. Thank god she hadn’t let them in. “Who was that?”

“Neighbours,” Yelena lies. “Looking for their …cat.”

Still half asleep, you don’t think to question her and she sags against the door in relief as you venture into the kitchen in search of coffee.

To her relief, there are no subsequent persistent knocks or calls through the door and after a second, she can hear the quiet sound of footsteps and Alexei’s grumbling as they retreat.

Natasha is one thing – their parents or pseudo-parents or whatever they are – are another thing entirely. She’d save that one for another day.

Or never, preferably.

[imagineyourworld]

How the clones would ask you out (Genderneutral)

Includes Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Kix, Cody and Wolffe 

Warnings: None

Rex

Poor Rex would be so, so nervous 

It took pep talks vom Anakin, Ahsoka and several of his brothers to get up the courage to actually ask you out (though not all of them were all that helpful) 

Rex wouldn’t ask you out in public or at work, he’d go to your flat instead

His strong knock doesn’t betray his nerves, but the second you open the door he cannot remember what he was going to say for the life of him 

Luckily he was trained as a soldier his entire life and it only takes him a few second to forget about his nerves and continue with his plan 

“I was wondering if you’d like to go on a picnic with me tomorrow?” 

A picnic, Ahsoka had convinced him, would be the perfect first date. The two of them had even decided on a nice place in one of Coruscant’s few parks together 

(Plus Rex likes to bake and cook, it’s his way of dealing with the stress of war (and his brothers’ shenanigans)) 

“I’d love to.” 

You have never seen such a big smile on Rex’s face 

“Great. That’s great.” 

You chatted for a few more minutes before Rex had to excuse himself. Just as you were closing the door you stuck your head out again.  “Rex?”  “Yes.”  “Is this a date?”  The small blush on his face was adorable.  “I’d like it to be, if that’s fine with you.”  You smiled.  “It’s more than fine.” 

Fives

If anyone has an actual pickup line it’s Fives, not in a creepy way though, he’s cute about it 

The two of you have been flirting back and forth for a while now and Fives, after finally no longer denying his feelings, decides to ask you out 

He walks up to you with every bit of confidence he can muster 

“Hey handsome, what brings you here?”, you ask. Your usual greeting, but Fives doesn’t reply in the way he usually does (”Hey mesh’la, just coming to admire the view.”)  “Since you make my heart sing I was wondering if you’d like to accompany to a concert tomorrow.” 

You could tell that he wasn’t joking this time, but still decided to have your fun with him. 

“So sorry, I already promised another handsome young man with a number as his name to spend the day with him.”  As soon as the words left your mouth the smile fell from Fives’ face and instantly made you regret your words.  “Oh, baby, no. I was only joking. I’d love to go out with you.”  The smirk was back and brighter than ever.  “It’s a date!”, he said a bit louder than he had to. 

He’d kiss you on the cheek before saying goodbye. 

(And maybe he even whispers suggestions for what you could do after the concert in your ear.) 

Echo

Much like Rex, Echo is quite nervous

At first he was glad to have Fives on his side to give him advice, but he soon learned that not everything his brother suggested would go down well 

He’d wait for you at work and offer to walk you home, because someone once told him that travelling in the same direction eases conversation 

When you exit the building your eyes immediately fall on Echo, who is standing nearby with flowers in his hand.  “What are you doing here?”, you ask with a smile on your face.  “I... well... I saw these flowers in the market downton and they made me think of you.” He hands you the flowers, suddenly even more nervous now that he doesn’t have anything in his hands.  “That’s so sweet”, you say as you lift the flowers to your nose. “I was just on my way home, would you like to join me and come in for a cup of caf?”

The two spend the rest of the day together. Walking home, drinking caf, cooking dinner. After a while Echo’s nervousness fades and only returns when he realises it’s time for him to return to the barracks. 

“Actually I had another reason to come to see you today. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Like on a date. If you would like to go on a date with me.”  You laugh and the sound Echo usually cherishes breaks his heart, which you soon realise. “Oh, Echo, honey, no! I mean yes, but I just thought that today was kinda like... a date... I’m sorry, I was just assuming, I should have actually asked you.”  A smile mirroring yours appeared on his face.  “So... How about a second date?” 

Jesse 

Jesse only realises that he needs to ask you out as soon as possible after a particularly tough mission. A lot of his brothers died, even more got hurt, and he spent a few days in the medbay as well. 

The second he’s back on Coruscant he comms you asking where you are and no matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’s on his way to you as soon as you answer. 

“Stars, Jesse, what’s gotten into you?”, you ask when you open the door to his rapid knocking.  “I like you, I really like you and I don’t want to die without ever asking you out. So, (Y/N), will you go out with me?”  At first you don’t know what to say.  “Of course I’ll go out with you. But maybe you should sit down for a minute, you don’t seem like yourself.” 

After just a few minutes and a cup of herbal tea the two of you were talking and joking like always. That is until you remember an appointment you had to hurry to make.  “I’d hate to throw you out, but I really need to go.”  “That’s fine”, Jesse says with a smile. “How about I pick you up tomorrow at seven for our date?”  You nod your head smiling. 

Kix 

Kix asks you out more or less on accident. It’s been a long day, he’s tired, and all he wants is a relaxing evening with you. 

“Hey, Kix, you wanna come to 79s with us?”, Fives, who just popped into the medbay, asks.  Kix shook his head. “I really don’t. If it were up to me I’d spend the evening with some takeout and (Y/N).”  “(Y/N)?”, Jesse follows up.  “They help me relax like no one else and that’s what I need after stitching you idiots up all day”, Kix says, glancing at Fives and Hardcase at his last words.  “Then how about we grab something to eat and spend the evening on my couch?”, you offer.  Everyone turns to you, who had just entered the room. Echo bursts in a second later. “Sorry, I tried to stop her from coming in.” 

Kix blushes like crazy, you weren’t supposed to hear that. He tells you as much. 

You walk over to where he’s sitting, miraculously the others have disappeared, and place a hand on his shoulder. If it weren’t for the armour covering him you would have loved nothing more than giving him a soothing massage. 

“You know what? I’m here because I wanted to ask you out, but I guess you just did that for me.”  He chuckled. “Guess so. Let’s go, I cannot wait for our date.” 

Cody 

Cody would be so smooth when asking you out, mainly because he got advice from Obi-Wan, who flirts with everyone and could teach him a few good moves. 

His tactic is pretending you already agreed, which is why he spent the afternoon transforming his room into a small movie theatre for the two of you, complete with snacks and drinks and a holoprojector. 

He then makes his way over to your apartment to actually ask you out. And though he hadn’t been nervous all day, the second you open the door he’s at a loss for words. 

“(Y/N), cyare, I was wondering... No, that’s not it... I’m here to ask you... No, wait... Would you like to...” Though you can’t help but find his out of character rambling cute, you want nothing more than to put poor Cody out of his misery.  “Would you care for a glass of water?”, you ask, opening the door further to invite him in. 

For some reason the cool water helps him sort out his thoughts and he can finally ask the question he’d prepared earlier.  “Would you like to watch a movie with me tonight?”, he asks, his voice smooth and steady.  For a fraction of a second there was something that might have been disappointment in your eyes, but then you nodded.  “Sure. Why don’t we invite Waxer and Boil as well?”  Cody had been quite sure that you’d agree, but the second part caught him off guard. Maybe he should have been more obvious with his intention.  “Actually, I was hoping it’d be just the two of us.”  You raised an eyebrow.  “Wait a minute, Cody, did you just ask me on a date?”  A shy smile made it’s way on his face, though to his credit he didn’t blush.  “I did.”  He had no idea how it was possible, but the smile on your face was even brighter than his own.  “In that case, yes! I’d love to watch a movie with you.” 

Wolffe 

The main reason Wolffe was reluctant to ask you out was not nerves, but rather not wanting to admit his feelings, not wanting to admit a weakness. It was actually Plo Koon who, through ambiguous comments, convinced him to just do it.  

He didn’t want it to be a big ceremony, he wasn’t the type for big gestures, but that night, as you were sitting at 79s with the Wolfpack and your eyes were glittering in the multicoloured lights and your perfume made its way to Wolffe’s nose, he just had to ask you out before it was too late, before anything happened to either of you or someone else asked you before he did. 

And so, when most of the others were scattered across the bar, he asked you if you’d like to get some air with him. He may not be one for big gestures, but he’d be damned if he asked you out in a stuffy bar surrounded by his drunk brothers. 

Outside, he realized was not the perfect environment either. There were still drunk clones around and instead of stuffy it was cold, cold enough to make you shiver in your thin clothes and Wolffe wished he had a jacket he could give you.  “I’ll make this quick so you can go back inside. I-”, he stopped himself.  You were suddenly a lot closer than just a few moments ago, he could feel your warm breath on his face and it made him lose all focus.  “Yes, Wolffe?”, you questioned.  He cleared his throat and continued. “I was hoping that you’d like to go on a date with me sometime.” 

The atmosphere may not have been perfect, neither were his words, but your smile was and it made up for everything else.  “I don’t know, Commander, what’s in it for me?”, you asked with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know. Dinner, maybe flowers or chocolate”, he replied, trying his best to hide the sudden insecurity.  You crossed your arms over your chest and sighed. Wolffe knew what was coming next, he knew you’d let him down and it would be awkward. He never should have asked you out.  “You know, I had been hoping you’d say The pleasure of my company or something like that, but I suppose chocolate will do.”  A smirk had made it’s way to your lips and a low chuckled escaped Wolffe’s.  “Is that a yes, mesh’la?”  “It is.” 

[iceeckos12]

A time travel au. angst and h/c. inspired by this post

Warnings: jon’s very low self-esteem

“What do you think of him?” Jon suddenly asks, staring blankly at the wall of the breakroom.

Tim pauses in the middle of chewing his sandwich to give him a long, considering look.

He’s mostly decided to suspend his disbelief until further notice, simply to keep from losing his mind. What else is one supposed to do when future versions of Jon and Martin, who are also apparently dating, tell you that your workplace is currently involved in a plot to end the world? Ideally he would’ve processed one big revelation at a time, but apparently they don’t have time for that, so goodbye grip on reality, it was nice knowing you. I’ll hit the restart button as soon as things start making sense again.

Tim wipes his hand across his mouth, swallows, and asks, “You mean Jon II?”

Jon rolls his eyes, like Tim’s being obtuse on purpose just to annoy him. “Yes, I mean...him. Me. Jon II.” Then his nose wrinkles amusingly, the same way it always does whenever he says the moniker. He’s hated it since the beginning, but it was a battle he quickly lost, what with all three of his assistants opposing him.

Normally, Tim wouldn’t have thought twice about shrugging and answering, but...Jon’s been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Oh sure, he’d blushed up a storm upon learning that his future self and Martin were dating, and he’d expressed his own misgivings at the beginning, but...since then he’s been eerily, silently watchful. In Tim’s experience, when presented with this sort of puzzle Jon generally buries himself in research, and doesn’t emerge until he’s good and ready to do so.

There’s something else on his mind.

So Tim puts down his sandwich and gives himself a moment to think carefully through his response. “I mean...he’s a lot like you, obviously. But he seems…” What’s a polite way to say, the trauma and the boyfriend seems to have made him a little more easygoing? He certainly smiles more freely than he ever has, which...honestly, makes Tim want to cry sometimes. How horrible, that so much abject cruelty had just made him more kind. “...tired. A little less high-strung?”

“I see,” Jon says, turning his mulish gaze to his curry, dragging his spoon through the thick sauce.

Tim waits a beat longer, but when nothing else seems forthcoming he prompts, “Why do you ask?”

Jon’s reaction is only to press his lips into a thin, tight line. Tim knows this mood; he’s weighing how insecure he’ll look if he says whatever’s actually bothering him out loud, versus how much he wants someone else to hear it. Pushing him now will only make him clam up, so Tim just waits.

Tim’s patience is rewarded when Jon blurts, “But you like him. You...you all do.”

“Yes,” Tim says slowly, because it’s true. Martin’s so enamoured with a Jon that actually likes him that he keeps bringing him tea just to get another glimpse of that gentle, thankful smile, just to strike up another conversation about nothing. Sasha has decided that he’s the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to her, and insists on consulting him whenever she reads a new true statement.

Tim’s personally a little unnerved by the awful, sad way future Jon looks at him sometimes, or the way he flinches back whenever someone tries to touch him without warning. But he’d taken Tim aside and quietly explained everything he knew about what happened to Danny, so.

Oh, Tim thinks, feeling like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Jon may be an old hand at fooling others with his grumpy persona, but Tim knows that he’s just using it to hide his massive inferiority complex. “Wait, are you jealous?”

Jon ducks his head, and his ears darken. Gotcha, Tim thinks. 

“Jon, you know that that’s still you, right?” he explains gently, quietly relieved that it’s not something more complicated. “We like him just as much as we like you, because you’re the same person.”

“But he’s not the same, is he?” Jon protests. “Look at the scars on his neck, on his hand. And he has panic attacks, and he flinches at loud noises, and, and—”

He breaks off, biting down hard on his lip, threading a hand through his hair.

Tim stares at him, feeling off-kilter, like he missed a step coming down the stairs. That doesn’t sound like jealousy. “...Jon?”

Jon shakes his head, his breath escaping him in thready, devastated gasps.

He can’t tell what’s going on in Jon’s head, and it’s starting to scare him. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Jon just sits there for a moment long, tugging at his hair, staring sightlessly at the middle distance. Tim gently untangles his fingers, giving him something a little more solid to hold onto.

“You all like him,” he says at last. “You all...he’s so kind, and he’s funny, and you like him, because someone hurt him first. He’s different—we’re different—because someone cut our throat and burned our hand, and you like him better.”

Tim’s horrified. “Jon—”

“Should I accept that?” he continues, the words flooding from him like a dam finally exploding in a shower of groaning wood and weathered stone. “Do I—how do I carry on knowing that I could be the person I want to become, if only I give myself to monstrosity, if only I let myself be hurt like that?”

“Of course we’re not going to let that happen to you!” Tim interrupts, voice higher and more frightened than he meant it to be. He’s applying duct tape to a raging river. He has no fucking idea how to fix this. “You don’t deserve—”

“Don’t I?” Jon demands, whirling on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t I deserve to be happy? Or am I unworthy of even this kind of improvement? Am I doomed to be like this forever?” Tears well in his eyes, spill over. “Don’t I deserve it?”

And then he slowly, inevitably, dissolves into tears, his slim shoulders shaking as he curls over and buries his face in his elbow. Tim drapes an arm across his back, angling his body so he can gently tuck Jon’s head against his shoulder. He doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. Even if Jon were in any shape to hear it, he has no idea how to fix this.

Tim could tell him that he and Martin and Sasha all think that he’s fine the way he is, and it’s the stress of an apparently eldritch job that’s causing him to push people away, but he doubts Jon would believe it. Words mean nothing when actions have been screaming something entirely different all this time, and Jon’s always been more observant than they give him credit for.

“Oh, Jon,” he whispers when the tears finally start to slow, dropping a kiss onto silver and black hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you felt that way.”

Jon pulls away and shrugs, averting his reddened eyes. Tim squeezes his elbow to prevent him from retreating entirely. They sit like that for a moment, Jon going very still and very tense under Tim’s hand, settling into the vulnerability like an open wound.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says finally, sniffing heavily. He’s aiming for his usual brusque, dry tone, but his voice is shaking, and he’s not fooling anyone. “That was unprofessional of me.”

Before Tim can stop himself, an incredulous laugh rips out of him. “Jon,” he says quickly, “We’re well beyond professional. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jon flushes. “Yes, well—it was unfair for me to put this on you, as your fr—as…” His expression goes all fragile and uncertain, and Tim’s heart aches.

“It’s not unfair,” Tim corrects gently. “As your friend,” and here he pauses for emphasis, “I want to know when you’re feeling like this.”

“Oh,” Jon murmurs, then straightens and scrubs the teartracks from his cheeks. “Oh.”

Tim nods reassuringly, takes a deep breath, and makes an educated guess. “I know you’re scared, Jon. We all are. This place is...horrible, and seeing what you went through is...terrifying. I can’t imagine how that must be for you.” He lets his eyes flicker up. Jon’s still watching him, rapt, and good, good. I haven’t lost him. “I won’t deny that he’s getting along with Sasha and Martin quite well, but...but that’s not because of what he—you—went through. It’s because….right now, you’re pushing people away because you’re scared, but he’s already done that. He knows that pushing people away just means you end up alone. It doesn’t mean he’s a better person, just that he’s a little wiser.”

“But how can you be sure?” Jon asks, leaning forward, eyes big and desperate.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have become your friend if I didn’t like you,” Tim admits unashamedly.

His bold honesty is rewarded by Jon flushing and ducking his head.

“But even so,” he continues, sobering, “Even if you were the worst person on the planet—and you’re not—you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt like that, no matter what the outcome. Does that make sense?”

Jon looks thoughtful as he says, “I—yes. Yes, that makes sense.”

He can tell though, that Jon doesn’t quite believe him. That’s okay—honestly, it’s what he was expecting. Tim’s been running headfirst into the wall that is Jon’s terrible self-esteem for as long as they’ve been friends. This problem is going to take more than one half-assed pep talk.

That’s okay, though. Jon’s worth the effort.

[bakubub]

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00​ for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

Previously: Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro. Tsukkishima Kei.  Bokuto Koutaro

Masterlist link

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Sakusa / Reader

Summary: You’re invited to Kiyoko’s seventeenth birthday party, which turns out to be a ball for the glittering elite of the magical world, where you meet one very surly, very sulky Sakusa Kiyoomi.

A/N: Comments as always, are much welcomed. Feel free to shout at me anytime!

Requests closed for the time being!

Though if you toss a suggestion my way that I like, I may...reconsider ;)

Requested by Yeon baobei @moondaius​ I hope you like it, darling <3

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

You feel out of place in this party filled with the glittering elite of magical society. Your sleeves do not quite reach down to your wrists, and the ruffles on the neckline of your dress robes are a little limp, but you’ve had to make do with the rejected pile of clothes from your more affluent cousins. It’s not often you get invited to formal dinner parties anyway. Your home is a tiny attic flat on the cross junction between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, and your mother is just a humble cleaning lady, so this soiree is just an exception - your classmate Kiyoko being exceptionally kind and inviting you to her seventeenth birthday party. 

“Look! Isn’t that Sakusa Kiyoomi? Isn’t he handsome?” You can hear the girls around you sigh dreamily to their friends as said boy enters the ballroom with his cousin Komori in tow. 

The Ravenclaw seeker elicits this sort of reaction even in school - or especially in school, but you’ve never joined his legion of fans, his overall grumpiness acting as a deterrent to you ever speaking to him despite sharing multiple classes together. Still, he is handsome, you admit to yourself. Towering over most of the party guests, Sakusa Kiyoomi has artfully tousled black curls, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and the most adorable pair of moles above his right eyebrow. 

“Komori!” You wave, grinning with affection as the affable Ravenclaw keeper bounds over towards you like an overgrown puppy. 

“It’s so nice to see you here!” He greets you with his usual cheer. “These parties can be a drag if you don’t know anyone.”

“It is a little overwhelming”, you admit, side-eyeing the chandeliers hanging from the arched ceiling, dripping in crystals and wrought with gold. You’re sure that if you managed to sneak just one chandelier in your pocket, it’d be enough to feed you and your mother for an entire year. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have fun tonight!” Komori promises with a chuckle. Then he snaps his head back, realising he’s left his cousin stranded in a crowd of fawning women - a fate that Sakusa Kiyoomi obviously deems worse than death judging from the way he glowers down at his shoes as if they’ve offended him in some way. 

“You better rescue him”, you add, internally amused as Yuna-san from Slytherin slides her talons up Sakusa’s arms. “Five minutes in, and he already seems like a damsel in distress.”

Komori answers you with a lopsided grin as he swims through the crowd to reach his cousin drowning in his worst nightmare. You snort to yourself, helping yourself to a generous amount of punch, watching as Komori manages to extract Sakusa while charming the ladies into not sulking too much at the loss of their prey. Sakusa promptly disappears once he’s free from the quicksand of social interaction, while Komori himself gets claimed for the first dance of the night. 

You have fun too - well, somewhat. You stand along the sides of the ballroom like an overgrown wallflower, watching as your peers in brightly coloured dresses get asked for dances while you’re passed over with a glance at your ill-fitting dress. But Komori does swing by and dances a foxtrot with you - both of you trip over the other at one point, causing a small commotion in the corner of the ballroom, but it’s all in good fun. Even Kiyoko takes the time to pop by and say hi, even though she’s swamped with well-wishers and familial obligations.  

You don’t regret coming to the party at all. 

“Omi, be social for once.” It’s only because your ears are sharp that you overhear Komori urge his cousin out from his hiding spot behind the dessert table. “You’ve been hiding from everyone the entire night, and you haven’t even danced once!” 

“I don’t like people.” Sakusa grounds out through clenched teeth. “And I don’t dance”. 

“Don’t be a grump. There are perfectly nice people here - look, I have a friend here who’d be perfect for a dance”. 

You look up, meeting his eyes as he grins apologetically at you. You’re about to mouth ‘hell no’ at the irrepressible Komori, but Sakusa beats you to it in his characteristically blunt fashion. 

“She’s tolerable enough I suppose, but I’m not inclined to be a knight in shining armour and dance with someone just because no one else will”. 

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. 

Komori looks like he’s about to push Sakusa into the birthday cake, but thinks the better of it. “Omi”, he hisses in warning. 

Sakusa glances up, guilt flooding his eyes when he meets your gaze, but you don’t give him a chance to redeem himself, flouncing away in a swirl of faded satin. You brazenly seek out dance partners for yourself - Kuroo from Slytherin might seem smarmy, but he smirks at you in recognition and twirls you around in a merry square dance and Akaashi from Ravenclaw looks like he’d much rather bury his nose in a book but he’s gentlemanly enough to let you take his hand for a stately waltz. 

You’re in the middle of another waltz, this time with sunny Bokuto from Hufflepuff when you spot Sakusa squirming from the corner of your eye. Yuna (Slytherin, seventh year, pureblooded of course) has him cornered, back against the wall, and there’s no Komori in sight to save him – nor anyone really, almost everyone else is enjoying themselves on the dance floor. 

You sigh inwardly. Sakusa might be cold and cranky but even he deserves to be rescued from Yuna’s clutches, so you maneuver Bokuto towards in their direction. Bokuto, to his credit, catches on immediately, and with a spark of mischief in his eyes, he grabs a glass of punch and tips it over both Sakusa and Yuna. 

“You idiot!?!” Yuna shrieks, horrified as the bright red liquid stains the front of her robes. “These robes were specially tailored for me in Paris you know?”

You didn’t know that, and frankly – you couldn’t care less about the cost of her fancy robes, and with a murmured – I’ll help Sakusa clean up, you grab said boy by his sleeve and manhandle him out of the ballroom. Thankfully she’s so distracted that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that you’re both seventh years now, so there’s really no need for you to rush to the washroom since it’s completely legal for you to be using magic to clean Sakusa up. You leave Bokuto in your wake to deal with an irate Yuna, but he’s grinning nonetheless, telling her that his cleaning charms are awesome, does she want him to try fixing her dress? Akaashi and Kuroo join the commotion, and in the diversion they cause, no one notices your escape.

You tug him down a deserted hallway, relinquishing your grip on him only when you find an appropriate hiding place – an open air balcony, where no one is likely to stumble on you. ‘Turgeo’, you whisper, whipping out your wand, nodding in satisfaction as the charm siphons punch off Sakusa’s robes. 

“You can catch your breath here for a bit”, you tell him, hopping up to take a precarious seat on the balcony railing. His brows pinch together, and you watch, bemused as he tries to make sense of what just transpired.

“Tha-“ 

Taking pity on him, you interrupt him. “You don’t have to thank me. I came to your rescue cos you’re tolerable, even though you’re always grumpy. Plus, I’m a Gryffindor, so being a knight in shining armour comes naturally to me”. 

Your amusement grows as he splutters at having his ill mannered words quoted back at him, embarrassment burning into his cheeks. It’s fun to throw calm, collected Sakusa Kiyoomi off balance sometimes, you think – and perhaps given his privileged, pureblood background, he probably needs it every once in a while. But then you’re surprised when he gathers himself and inclines his head ever so slightly. 

“That was…inexcusable of me to speak of you that way. I apologise.” 

 “It’s fine”, you reply easily, but he doesn’t allow you to shrug his apology off. 

“It’s not. I was rude and unkind.” 

This is the most you’ve ever heard Sakusa Kiyoomi say, and you want to capitalise on it. 

“I know how you can remedy that”, you interject with a smile. 

He quirks his eyebrows in confusion, watching you warily. You’re tempted to drag out the suspense to watch him squirm, but you don’t want to torture the poor boy any further. 

“You can pay me back by giving me the dance you so cruelly refused me”, you tell him, jumping down onto your feet. Then with the most unladylike laugh, you sweep into an exaggerated bow, holding your hand out to him - 

“My good sir, if you please?” 

He stares down at your proffered hand. “Here? Now?” 

“You have another time in mind?” You ask sarcastically, back still bent in a bow. “Come on, your mother probably brought you up better than this, don’t keep a girl waiting forever.”

“Fine, fine”, he mumbles. So as the string orchestra in the ballroom strikes up another tune yet again, he takes your hand, and wrapping his arm around your waist, he leads you in a waltz. 

Step step twirl. 

One two three. 

Step step twirl. 

He’s the ideal dance partner, expertly steering you through the one-two-three of the melody, never once making a misstep – though he does wince when you tread on his toes once too many times. 

“You’re surprisingly good at dancing, for a misanthrope”, you comment.

“My mother made me learn”, he replies, ignoring the hidden barb in your remark. “It’s a waste of time, but I guess now that I keep getting invites for balls, it’s useful knowledge so I don’t make a fool of myself when I get forced to dance.”

“Like now?” You chuckle self-deprecatingly. 

He doesn’t reply for a few beats and you assume the conversation is over when he replies – 

“Not like now. It - this is nice.” 

It’s summer, and while the cool night still nips at your skin, warmth inexplicably suffuses your cheeks. You thought you were just having a laugh, it’s only now that you realise that the situation you’ve put yourself in with Sakusa is practically lifted out of a fairytale – a boy and a girl, hiding in a balcony, waltzing under the stars? The only thing missing is maybe a shooting star falling from the skies, or a lost glass slipper or two. 

Your train of thought is interrupted when the song ends, and he surprises you yet again when he does not drop your hand. 

“Would my lady wish to dance with me again”, he asks, though there’s a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes that belies his formal tone. 

You ignore every fiber of your being screaming at you that dancing with him again is going to be terrible for your heart, dropping into a low curtsy. 

“Why, I thought you’d never ask”, you simper in a poor imitation of Yuna and her toadies, and he only snorts, sweeping you into his arms, intent on dancing the night away. 

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

“The two of you have been gone the entire night”, Komori comments, a faint accusatory tone colouring his words. “I was about to organise a search party.”

“I was just helping Sakusa clean up after a mishap with a glass of punch”, you reply, though your lie is punctured by the wince you give when your shoes pinch your feet – a sign that you’ve danced far, far too much on this magical night. 

“Is that so?” Komori directs his question to his stoic cousin. 

Sakusa doesn’t even bother to reply, palm warm against the small of your back as he ushers you off to his flying carriage, intent on sending you safely home. 

Your mother’s jaw drops when she wakes up to Sakusa’s carriage thunder down your street, a fleet of winged white horses dragging an enchanted golden carriage. You feel like Cinderella as he escorts you to the front door, pressing a courtly kiss to the back of your hand when he wishes you goodnight. That is, if Cinderella snagged her Prince Charming on the first night they met -  by accident, no less. 

Your jaw drops when you wake up the next morning to a delivery from an imperial looking snow owl, and when you tear open the parcel, your hands shake so much you have to sit down. That ridiculous boy sent you dress robes of pearl white tulle, along with an invitation to his seventeenth birthday party, to be held in two weeks. 

And the most staggering of all – the parcel also includes your dance card, Sakusa’s name neatly written in it to claim ayour dances for the night. 

Every single dance of the night. 

“Impertinent fellow”, you mutter to yourself, though you can’t help but fall back onto your bed, giggling like a loon. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi is an enigma, a boy shielding his true self from the world by cocooning himself in layers of unfriendliness and grumpiness. But in the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you’ve discovered that he isn’t as cold or unfeeling as he makes himself out to be. You unearthed his sharp sense of humour when he started dropping barbs about preening party guests, telling you the dirty secrets of each pureblooded family gathered here tonight. 

“She did what?” you gasped. “No way.”

‘Believe it”, he smirked. “She later tried marrying her daughter off to me, but my parents refused”. 

And over the course of the night, you start to see shades of his softer side. He surprised you when he apologised over and over again for not dancing with you the first time, saying he hadn’t realised that you were being overlooked because almost everyone in attendance were snobs. 

“It’s the dress”, you told him cheekily, tugging at the cheap fabric. “Otherwise everyone around here would be falling for my sparkling personality”. 

He couldn’t help but snort at that. 

Then he started to tell you about himself. You learn that he wants to go pro not because he has a burning passion for Quidditch, but rather because it’s something he’s put so much effort into that he might as well continue doing it into adulthood. You learn that despite his complaints about the Ravenclaw team - seemingly sweet Suga and the troublesome beaters Makki and Mattsun in particular driving him insane with their relentless ribbing and puns and jokes, he’s grown fond of them. 

He’s funny and witty and sentimental and smart. You truly enjoyed his company last night. 

You can’t wait to see him again. 

Neither can Sakusa, so it seems. He’s on your doorstep before noon, a bouquet of roses and a bashful expression on his face. 

“A gentleman caller”, you pretend to swoon as you open the door. “Happy day!” 

“I hope I’m the only one”, he retorts, all shyness evaporating immediately, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. 

“So far you are”, you tease, nose buried in rosebuds. “Fair warning before you sweep me off my feet though - I’m not going to be one of your typical, pureblooded heiresses who’ll titter at every word you say, just cos you’re Sakusa Kiyoomi”. 

He actually chuckles at that. “I’m counting on that”, he says, taking your hand. 

You both share a shy smile.  

[sparkledfirecracker]

Wrong Encounter

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.

Title: Wrong Encounter

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.

Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon

A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again!  I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.

ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.

How it started

The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.

The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.

 “There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.

 “OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.

 “He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.

 Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”

 “Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you

 Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.

 “Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.

 He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.

 “Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”

 “Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.

 “Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”

 “No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”

 “Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.

 “Fine.”

 “Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.

 You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.

 Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.

 “My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”

 “No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.

 “I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”

 “Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.

 “I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.

 It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”

 How’s it going?

One week later

Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.

 Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.

 Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.

 “Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”

 “Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”

 “Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”

 He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.

 You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.

 “You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”

 “Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.

 “That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.

 “I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”

 “This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.

 Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.

 “Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.

 “Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”

 “No.” you protested.

 His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.

 Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.

 You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”

 Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.

 Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.

 Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.

 Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.

 “Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Mr. Obnoxious and Mr. Bossy

Dialogue Prompt No.2- " Try not to die " request by @everlydream | Sorry for taking too long| Fluff ( sort of )

“So i got a new mission report “ harry fake grinned in success as he entered his shared office room 

“ oh is that so, what’s it about this time, missing cat?”draco raised an eyebrow at Harry in a returned sarcasm

“ oh no, no, that is your department, if i end up taking your work you’d be unemployed “harry tilted his head to the side with narrowed eyes and a fake smile

“ Well at least I don't steal credit, “ Draco rolled his eyes. Harry immediately reduced the distance between them, snapping his hand over the desk “ i did not steal the credit, he just happened to credit me for it “

“ And you didn’t deny, that is stealing the credit “ Draco taunted. 

“ whatever you want to believe, i know the truth “ harry flatly replied 

“ Yeah, like you stole my credit, “ Draco taunted again. Harry sneered at him, blabbering gibberish in the childlike argument. Draco chuckled as soon as Harry left the room with his case report file,mumbling to himself as an old lady.

They were enemies, of course, the one’s that had unknowingly been pining each other over for years and were obviously unaware of any said feelings and pretended every time that their hearts didn’t race whenever other entred the room, but every single one of their friends knew and had even tried teasing them about it but had always stayed in a state of denial. But then at the end, they weren’t enemies at all, they were just two oblivious people attracted to their so called nemesis. 

As the days went on harry’s case report became more dense and called more for his attention, his time, resulting in him hardly spending time in his office and as much Draco enjoyed having the shared office room to himself, he kind of waited for harry to walk into the office and have the tiniest of arguments but that didn’t happen; Draco pretended he was fine with everything and proudly told everyone how much he enjoyed not having harry being a pain in the ass. Pity what the actual truth was. He could almost get used to not having Harry around once he gets the promotion he was bound to have but he found himself slightly displeased with the inevitable fact, it was almost as if he enjoyed having Harry around and rolling his eyes at him if he was ever clumsy and tease him for being the chosen one, he enjoyed the little quips every once in a while even when he didn't mention it to Harry. It was almost like he came to the office everyday just so he could pull Harry’s leg but ever since the case report, he had entered to a very lonesome office and he found himself staring into space a lot and more frequently at harry’s unused desk. He wondered if that’s what’d it be like once Harry actually gets promoted, whether he’d visit him casually or would he just be situated in the other wing of the office that he’d only pass by Draco’s wing if he ever needed a junior to talk to or get to the shitty canteen and if he’d ever come to tease Draco or not. It was sort of empty in the office since his report and he had not so subtly asked some colleague about harry’s whereabouts and learnt that he stayed more in the field and would disperse home as soon as his work was done. It sort of made Draco furious and he didn’t understand why, even if the answer was right there inside of him but was dodging off the truth because he was either too scared of it or he felt that it was unethical. He also learnt that harry started remaining in the other side of the office building because of the library a lot and old case reports office because he needed old files and Draco only wished to see Harry again, even if it was an eye roll, to him it’d be a relief to know that his unknown ritual of rivalry wasn’t all broken even when it recently felt forgotten. Draco was upset about it even if he didn’t admit it to anyone or even to himself but he most definitely was. 

Upset and frustrated, he found himself not so subtly lurking around the library for 3 days just so he’d see harry even if he internally hated himself for it, he just reminded himself over and over again that he wanted to see that stupid round glasses idiotic prat, just once and so with not so much success he finally ran into harry. 

What he didn’t expect though was harry to just offer a smile and pass by him swiftly into another section of the library. Draco was planted with shock as he watched harry busying himself in the other section, it was almost too frustrating that without having a trail of any thoughts, he stomped behind Harry into the aisle he was in. 

“ Already sucking up people’s ass for promotion ?” Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest watching harry’s face turn into an amused reaction. 

“um, excuse me but what i’m doing is called working so i can actually take credit for my own work, also, yeah i talked with Jenna, she’s gonna credit you for the Simmon’s case “ harry genuinely smiled at Draco then again dug into his works. 

Draco huffed annoyingly as he took a few steps closer to harry. 

“ Since you’re still standing I’m assuming you need something from me ?” harry raised his eyebrows at him. 

“Well- if you had to be stuck with being a two goody shoes, you could’ve cleaned up your desk, its an absolute mess and its driving me crazy and i wouldn’t do it for you and you know that “ Draco rolled his eyes accusing him with pointed finger. 

Harry smiled amused before he nodded “ i’d stop by the office after hours and clean it up if its such a mess “ 

Draco chewed the inside of his cheeks “ that’s be great “ 

“Okay “ Harry replied and went back to reading again whilst Draco almost turned around to go back when he shut his eyes and turned around with a whip. 

“ And i also want don’t want your favor in getting the credit. I can get credit for my own self, i don’t need your help” 

Harry frowned “ Okay then “ 

Draco watched as Harry again went back to reading and he wanted to go back but his feet were as if fixated to the place and he didn’t feel as if he was quite done just yet, so he spoke again “ and one of my file is missing, so you better check in your pile of mess and return it back to me” 

Harry frowned again, sighing this time “ i said i’ll clean, alright. What’s the name of the file ?” 

Draco froze trying to think of how to reply to his made up lie that would seem true enough so Harry wouldn’t figure out the actual reason he was here. 

“ It’s uh- the file with- Amrontentia side effects “ 

“ You really need it? It’s a pretty old file, don’t you think?” Harry countered 

“Yes- but I need it to sort my files in alphabetical order “ Draco stuttered.

Harry nodded " fine, If I find it, I'll give it to you "

And Harry was almost back into his reading when Draco interrupted him yet again that Harry shut his book and arrogantly looked at Draco " you done or is there more to your life I've somehow messed up ?"

Draco frowned almost wanting to tell him another lie but instead what came out was "you've stopped coming to the office "

Harry blinked his eyes shut before he reopened them again " and that is a problem because ?"

" be-because of the- because it's occupying a space for someone who might actually use it" Draco lied

" Fine, I'll change my office then, that's what you want ?" Harry sighed

" no " Draco immediately denied

" Then what is it that you want because you're clearly just standing here making up a bunch of bullshit " Harry frowned at Draco holding an expression of inability to gather Draco's intentions.

"I- " Draco swallowed " it bothers me that you stopped coming to the office, it's just empty"

" it's not Empty Draco, there's you-"

" yes, but there isn't you " Draco slumped down a little bit in exaggeration.

Harry frowned at Draco until his confusion turned into a soft laugh " And you have a problem with me not being there, thought you Always wanted me out "

" Well, yes but- I don't know. I just- it's empty and I sort of hate it being Empty because then I have no one to taunt to about the mess because you're not damning there " Draco sighed frustratingly

"Wow, I did not know it bothered you so much, guess I'll try to come and stop by then,whenever you're in the office then " Harry smiled amusingly at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes " yeah, sure that's what I want. I don't know even know why I tried "

He had turned around to walk away when he pulled by the back of his shirt, almost collapsing into Harry's chest.

" You miss me then " Harry teased now facing Draco.

" I don't miss you, I just dislike that your obnoxious ass isn't in the office room anymore " Draco rolled his eyes to hide the faint blush of embarrassment hitting him.

" isn't that just a fancy sentence to say you missed me ?" Harry teased,again, this time stepping closer to Draco but enough to maintain the distance.

" I didn't miss you "

" you're blushing Draco, of course you missed me " Harry chuckled

" I'm not blushing " but he so was.

" come on, you lurked around here for 3 days so you could find me. Admit it Draco you missed me " harry laughed.

Draco swallowed the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from forming a smile and posing an eye roll again to lie " I did not lurk so I could find you, I just happened to be here- because I needed a book. So Harry James Potter, I did not miss you "

" You just used my entire name, you only do that when you're lying-"

" I do not " Draco narrowed his eyes

" Yes you do. You do that when you're lying to me " Harry grinned

"Fine, whatever you want to believe " Draco shrugged, his back hitting the shelf behind him as he crossed his arms in front.

" Oh yes, I do believe you missed me, you just don't want to admit it that you missed me " Harry pointed

" I did not- Merlin, I did not miss you-"

" it's okay Draco-"

" but I did not miss you " Draco snapped lightly

" then why are you here ?" Harry asked raising his eyebrows knowing Draco was lying

" because of all the reasons I told you before " Draco emphasised.

Harry looked at Draco for a couple of moments before he stepped back, his hand defensively raised in the air as he shrugged "Alright then, I'll sort those things out "

" yes, you do that and we're sorted " Draco agreed. Harry nodded in head in agreement and placed the book back in the shelf leaving Draco alone to walk away or just silently be there watching harry.

In his humongous ego, he had almost walked off but he wanted to say one last time " just for the record I didn't miss you"

" alright, I know that now " harry shrugged.

" good " draco bobbed his head in confusion of how easily he dropped off the topic and decided to walk when something didn't feel right and he Walked back to harry.

" I really didn't miss you " Draco furrowed his eyebrows at harry as he was scanning the shelf for another book.

" yeah, I know that " Harry nodded.

" yes, I didn't-"

" Draco if you keep telling me the same thing over and over again, I'm pretty sure I'll assume you want to kiss me " Harry smirked.

Draco's mouth dropped open in exasperation as he said " I do not " but the blush that rose up in his cheeks was very much evident.

" alright " harry smirked, nodding at him and this time turning to face Draco " kiss me then and prove me that you don't want to "

" what? That's just- absurd- I don't want to kiss you " Draco replied in mocked shock not being able to believe that Harry had said something like that.

"Seems otherwise " Harry shrugged.

" what- no- you know what, I will prove you then that I so did not very much wanted to kiss you " Draco replied with each step taking closer to him and stood just before him, grabbed his collar and kissed him over the lips.

" there, I proved you, I didn't want to kiss you" Draco breathlessly replied after the kiss.

" seems like you wanted to otherwise you would not have kissed me " Harry smirked

" You just-nmph-" but the words were forgotten as this time harry leaned in and kissed Draco like he had always imagined it to be like. It wasn't chaste or soft or hard or rough, it was perfect as it was, appropriate and comforting. It was what it had to be and what they'd always imagined it'd be like yet it left them utterly breathless as minute by minute it grew more rushed and harder with Harry's hand against Draco's back pulling him closer and Draco's still loosely rested on his collar.

In erratic breathing when they separated, Draco immediately pressed his head against harry's neck, blushing furiously and faint smile pressed upon his lips.

" Seemed otherwise didn't it " harry mumbled with a smile.

" yo- you're still obnoxious " Draco replied putting his head from Harry's neck and looking at him with a smile.

" you're still bossy " Harry countered.

Draco rolled his eye but for once it didn't matter. It Didn't matter what quip it was or how sarcastic it was, the only thing that mattered was he finally kissed Harry.

" my case ends in a couple days, you can stop missing me then and I have field work tomorrow " Harry teased, his hand still around Draco's waist.

Draco rolled his eyes " Try not to die "

Harry chuckled a little too loudly in the silent library that Draco had to put his hand over his lips to shut him up.

" and you wonder why I hate you " Draco whispered rolling his eyes playfully.

" you don't hate me, you just kissed me " Harry whispered back grinning.

" if you're gonna boast about it, then we definitely shouldn't do this " Draco raised his eyebrows at Harry.

" please, I just kissed Draco Lucius Malfoy, I am gonna wear a sign saying that "

This time Draco chuckled " you're an idiot "

" an idiot you Just kissed " Harry teased again.

Draco shook his head with a smile " an idiot I just kissed "

Harry stared at Draco a little too fondly for a few moments making Draco blush harder for being stared at " stop staring "

" Let's go on a date " Harry blurted.

Draco should not had been surprised by such a sudden ask but he was " Okay "

" you choose the place, I'll pick you up " Harry added.

" okay " Draco smiled at harry.

And harry smiled at Draco " okay "

" we're gonna date then, you and me "Draco smiled

"yeah, you and me " Harry replied

" it's gonna be a disaster " Draco chuckled softly.

" eh, we always were a disaster anyway. It was about time " Harry casually frowned. Draco looked at him a minute too long before he erupted in little laughter, harry soon joining.

Yes, they were thrown out of the library for the context, but they did end up kissing, so they had their happy end.

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompts request open

[robininthelabyrinth]

Jin Guangyao doesn’t find out about Qin Su and when Jin Rusong is born, Jiang Cheng is able to negotiate adopting Jin Ling and making him his heir. When Wei Wuxian is brought back, he meets a very different nephew or does he?

“Your son is growing up well,” Jiang Cheng said, watching Jin Rusong and Jin Ling (technically, Rulan, but no one ever called him that – for obvious reasons) play in the yard.

“He is,” Jin Guangyao said, not without satisfaction. His wife was already round with their second, and they were hoping for a girl this time – Jin Guangyao was a little too familiar with the sort of rivalries that could come up between siblings to wish such a thing on Rusong.

On his son, born legitimate, respected, rich – all the things Jin Guangyao should have had, and which he had obtained for himself through force and trickery.

“A-Ling as well,” he added, careful as always not to imply that he had any intentions of displacing the proper heir to Lanling Jin. “He’s gotten very skilled.”

Jiang Cheng snorted. “At throwing mud, you mean,” he said, but the disdainful words did not hide his pleasure in seeing his sister’s son thrive. However, the small pleased look disappeared quickly, and Jin Guangyao waited to see what exactly it was that had brought Jiang Cheng here on yet another visit, in addition to all the visits he paid for political reasons or just to see how his nephew was doing.

The silence lingered – whatever it was, Jiang Cheng must be especially unsure about it – and in the end Jin Guangyao was forced to speak, asking, “Is there something on your mind, Sect Leader Jiang?”

Jiang Cheng swallowed, but his expression firmed – at last, they would be getting somewhere.

“You may be aware of my difficulties in obtaining a wife,” he said, by which he meant several utterly disastrous marriage arrangements he had for some reason insisted on going to instead of simply selecting a girl that was suitable and suited his taste from the myriad out there willing to disregard everything else for a handsome husband and a comfortable life. “It makes questions of inheritance somewhat complicated.”

Jin Guangyao arched his eyebrows. The last his spies had reported, a cousin of the family was being trained up as Jiang Cheng’s right hand, and the general assumption had been that she would be the inheritor if something happened to Jiang Cheng.  

“I see,” he said noncommittally.

“I would, if at all possible, see that my parents’ bloodline is preserved,” Jiang Cheng continued, and – wait. Was he suggesting what Jin Guangyao thought? Surely not – the balance of power alone… “But it would be impossible for one person to inherit both the Jiang sect and the Jin sect.”

He wasn’t suggesting what Jin Guangyao had thought. He was suggesting something better.

“You want to adopt Jin Ling, thereby causing him to yield up his claim the Jin sect in favor of my son,” Jin Guangyao said, suppressing a frisson of glee. He hadn’t yet come up with a method for getting rid of Jin Ling that wouldn’t be somehow blamed on him – even an assassination from the outside would be suspected – but this would be perfect. “Are you sure that that’s in his best interest?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “It would allow them to be equals, avert jealousy,” he said, and Jin Guangyao abruptly recalled that Jiang Cheng had experiences strangely similar to his own as the unwanted son, for all that he was the trueborn heir. “Isn’t that for the best, in the long run?”

“Perhaps,” Jin Guangyao allowed. He had to play this cautiously, avoid any traps, though he didn’t think Jiang Cheng would propose such a thing just to prove that Jin Guangyao really was looking at getting his bloodline (his mother’s bloodline) onto the throne of Jinlin Tower forever. “Others might not think so.”

“Well, you’re going to make it worth my while to take him,” Jiang Cheng said, and Jin Guangyao turned to him in surprise. “I’m not an idiot. The things people would say about you if you just handed him over when you’re suppose to be safeguarding his interests – we’d need to find a way to sell it to them.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We make an agreement in the best interests of the cultivation world at large. We’ll redo the marriage between my sister and your brother as a ghost marriage, except this time he’ll marry into the Jiang sect rather than her into the Jin sect; as a result, A-Ling will be properly a Jiang, and I get to take my sister and her husband back to the Lotus Pier to sit in our ancestral hall. In addition, you yield your position as Chief Cultivator in my favor.”

The bit with the ghost marriage was actually brilliant – it didn’t disinherit Jin Ling so much as make him into someone who had always been a Jiang and never a Jin.

The bit about the Chief Cultivator, though…

“That doesn’t seem equitable.”

“It’s not,” Jiang Cheng said frankly. “It’s me taking shocking advantage of you. But having the Chief Cultivator position in A-Ling’s line of inheritance lessens the blow of losing Lanling Jin, and making the entire thing into a tawdry transaction stains me more than you – you get to be the brilliant deal-maker that ensures that your son inherits Jinlin Tower while putting a cousin on the throne of the Lotus Pier, and all I get is my sister’s memorial tablet, an heir to displace my own theoretical children, and a stupid position I don’t especially want.”

That was true.

“What do I get out of this, other than the line of inheritance?”

“As Chief Cultivator, I’ll pass your Watchtower proposal,” Jiang Cheng said. “Credited to you in full. And you won’t even have to deal with any protesting sects.”

Sects that conveniently disappeared, he meant, given the dark look in his eye; perhaps Jin Guangyao had not been as cautious as he should have been in hiding his hand there, even if Jiang Cheng had no proof.

Still, it was a tempting offer. Loathe as he was to give up the power, people would be a lot less inclined to gossip negatively against him if he wasn’t Chief Cultivator, and he could consolidate his strength in Lanling before retaking the position later – nothing in their agreement was stopping that from happening.

And it would make Rusong the unquestioned heir.

Oh, the things one did for one’s children…!

“Very well,” he said. “Let us proceed.”

[glassartpeasants]

Storage Closet

Shin Nemoto x F!Reader

Warnings: Wall sex, degradation, mentions of cuminflation?

A/N: I’m gonna see all you hoes in hell. I hate this. I’m tagging the people who I know willingly made me do it.

Taglist: @poke-txts @thotsforvillainrights 

~~~

“What I wouldn’t give to see that fucker put in his place. He thinks he’s all that but-uh he just make me so fucking anger.” You and Kurono sit in the yakuza living as he rants to you about a man named Shin Nemoto. Everytime it was always something new that Kurono had complained to you about. 

You two were good friends you’d like to say. You met Chisaki and Kurono in middle school after you helped both of them pass the art class that they need a credit for in order to graduate. After that you became good friends with the two boys. 

You watched them slowly grow the yakuza and hire people in and out. They felt like they were swarming all around before you knew it. Plague masks everywhere, seriousness in the air. Sometimes it was just boring around here. This place needed a little drama. A little spice.

Which gave you an idea that made your lips curl into a smile.

“Hey Kurono, I got an idea.”

“About what?”

“How to knock Nemoto down a peg or two.” Kurono’s eyebrow perked up as he gave you a intrigued look. He let out a chuckle.

“I’m listening.”

~~~

‘How am I supposed to get this fuck alone when all he does is follow Overhaul around like a lost puppy?’ Your groan in your head as your pretend to clean the floors. Your just waiting for the right moment to strike. Unlucky for you, you weren’t very patient. So that’s why it felt like an eternity.

So when you heard them walking down the hallways close to you, you had to quickly make a plan up so you could get him alone. You see Mimic, Kurono and Nemoto behind Overhaul as they walked towards you.

“Good afternoon Overhaul.” To be honest, even though you were friends, he still made you call him that. Kinda sucks but you rather not be turned into a puddle of blood. 

“Good afternoon (L/N). Thank you for cleaning the floors without being told.” He and the others starts to walk away before you realize this is your chance.

“Oh! I forgot to ask if it was okay if I talk to Nemoto for a second? I promise it will only take a few minutes.” You see Overhaul raise an eyebrow before letting out a sigh.

“Only a few minutes.” He said as the rest of them started walking off. Just leaving you and Nemoto. As soon as they were outta view, you grab Nemoto by the collar and drag him into the storage closet.

“Jesus fuck! What the hell woman-” You push his back against the door before putting a knife to his throat.

“If you don’t want your throat slit I suggest you listen to me. Okay Nemoto?” You felt him tense out and let out annoyed groan.

“Fine what?”

“Take off your mask.” He let out a sigh before he took off his hat and unclasped his mask. setting on one of the shelves of the closet. His bare face now in view.

“Now why would you cover up such a pretty face?” You say as you take off your own mask. You put your hand on his chest as you lean your face towards his.

“What the fuck are you even trying to do.” You let out a snicker before threading your fingers into his hair as you brought your lips to his ear.

“Be good and I’ll give you a little treat.” You could see his fist clench before he let out a soft gasp once he felt your lips press against his neck.

“Take off this.” You tug on his poor excuse of an outfit. You heard him let out a grumble before he took it off.

“Hehe.” You went back to kissing his neck before putting the knife back into your back pocket as you start to slowly trail your hand down his chest.

He let out a hiss once he felt your teeth brush against the one spot that had him red faced. You smile as you latched your lips onto said spot and starting sucking on it. Giving it little nibbles as well.

“Y-You better not leave a mark you bitch.” Nemoto turned his head so he didn’t have to look at you in the eyes. But that only gave you more room to cover his neck in hickeys and bites. 

“You look like such a pretty slut with all these hickeys on your neck.” You laugh in his ear as you gave it a little nibbe before you started to kiss his jawline.

“I am no slut. I’m not the one who dragged me in here just to make just to kiss my neck.” Your lips stop in front of his as you looked into his eyes.

“Who said that’s all I’m gonna do?” You push your lips on his as you let go of his hair and move both hands to his shoulders. Surprised, Nemoto tried to push you off only to realize he pretty much put his hands on your chest.

“You say your not enjoying this and yet here you are grabbing my breasts. You seem excited.”

“It was an accident and you know it!” You laugh against his ear, your hands moving down to his chest as you begin to slowly unbutton his shirt. Just as you were about to speak you feel his lips slowly but barely moving with yours. A small victory that will slowly lead into a bigger one.

You felt his hands move down to your hips as he starts groping at the flesh there. His lips started moving to the same speed as yours, making him finally accept the kiss. You have a small smile on your face as you finished unbuttoning the last button on his shirt. 

Your hands slowly move around his bare chest as you used your nails to softly graze across it, making him shiver. You let out a gasp once you feel his hands take residence at your thighs. He pulled you closer to him before he moved his lips to your ear,

“Jump.” Once you did what he asked he wrapped your legs around his waist. This time it was his turn to trap you against the wall. His body pressed up against yours as he started to kiss your neck and move his hips into against your clothed core. 

‘I was just coming to give him a handjob. How did we end up like this?’  Your thoughts were running wild as the feeling of his humping against your core made your clit throb in need. You started moving your hips along with his earning yourself a little groan. 

You move your hands down to his pants as you begin to unbuckle his belt and pull down the zipper of his pants. His fingers hook onto your own pants as he begin sliding them down your legs. You helped by stepping out of them before he put your legs back around his waist. Your panties still hiding your cunt.

His fingers move towards your clothed cunt as you feel the pads of his fingers stop at your clit. His fingers slowly rub it causing your toes to curl and moan out. You shake in his hold as your pride is holding you back from telling him to go a bit faster. 

His hand left your clit making your whimper in disappointment before you felt something poke at the fabric  of your panties. You look down to see his cock probing at your entrance. You were just wet enough from the treatment he gave your clit.

His fingers move your panties to the side a bit before you felt him try and push into your tight cunt.

“D-Damn...so tight...” He let out a groan before moving his hips back. Before you can say anything you got the wind knocked outta you from him slamming his entire length into you. Your nails digging into his chest as you scratch it. You swore you have heard him whisper your name but you didn’t wanna seem like an idiot if you didn’t hear it.

His hips slowly moving back and forth as you swear you could feel him hit your cervix. His hands holding your waist as to keep you in place. His fingers digging into your flesh, which is surely going to leave bruises afterwards. 

“Fuck your so wet a-and tight.” You could feel his hot breath on your neck as his hips snapped into yours. Your toes curl as you bit your lip, trying to not give him the pleasure of hearing you moan more. 

You felt his hand grab your chin and turn your face towards him where he caught you in a kiss. You couldn’t even focus on the kiss, not while you felt him pounding away at your cervix. You swear you could have felt him in your tummy. 

You let out a wanton moan once you felt his fingers place themselves back on your clit and start rubbing again, this time only faster.

“F-Fuck...Nemoto-” 

“Shut up slut. You started it and I’m finishing it bitch.” His thrusts got faster ashe put more force on his grip on your waist. You started to shake as you felt your climax creeping up on you.

“Are you gonna cum slut? I thought you were the ‘big bad guy’ but turns out your just a whore who wants to get fucked in a storage closet.” You can see why Kurono doesn’t like him. But you can’t deny that your close to letting go.

“C’mon bitch. Cum on my cock and I’ll pump you full of my cum. My little cumdump.” You dig your nails into his chest before letting out a scream that was silenced by Nemoto kissing you. Your eyes rolled back as you cum right on his cock.

“Fuck! You just got so much tighter.” His arms wrap around your waist to bring you closer to him before sinking his teeth into your neck so you don’t move. You could feel the base of his dick rubbing against your clit which led you to getting the pleasurable feeling all over again.

“Gonna cum again? Your more of a whore then I thought you were haha-Fuck gonna cum inside my slut.” Nemoto’s hips begin to stutter before he moved his hips to be connected to yours. He lets out a groan in your ear before you felt his cum fill up your cunt. You followed right after him.

Nemoto moves his head down to see the place where you two are connected before letting out a moan as he saw the trail of cum that connected his cock and your pussy together. His cum running down the side of your thighs. He could just feel himself getting hard again just looking at the sight.

You felt like you couldn’t even move your legs. Your legs twitched and you were certain that you were gonna walk with a sort of limp after this. You go to try and unhook your legs from his waist only to have his cock plunged inside you once more. 

“W-what?!”

“I’m not done yet my slut. When I’m done with you, you can only go so far without tripping cause of how much cum I’ve pumped into you. We’re long from over. From now on this pussy belongs to me. And it’ll only know that shape of my cock.” You felt every inch of him once he plunged inside of you once again.

“Now scream my name so the whole base can hear who you belong too.”

[eliemo]

Living in Denial

Janus’s pov in “Waiting Arms”

Summary: Janus had been a careful observer lately, noting with a sort of sad fondness how the other sides treated Virgil. He'd never seen him so content.

TWs: mention of past abuse

Masterpost

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 (let me know if you want to be added or if I missed you)

To his own credit, Janus had been piecing things together before Roman even walked in the room.

He’d been a careful observer lately, noting with a sort of sad fondness how the other sides treated Virgil. They were careful around him, but not overly so. The four of them were clearly close, a tight knit “family” as they called it.

It wasn’t Janus’s department, but he could see the love and adoration in their eyes when they looked at each other. He’d never seen Virgil so...content. It was a bittersweet feeling.

So the idea that Roman, Patton, and Logan had been physically abusing Virgil this entire time didn’t quite add up. In fact, it seemed a rather ridiculous conclusion to come to.

If Virgil hadn’t been trembling on the floor, begging him and Remus not to hurt him (hurt him again), and shakily confessing that he had been hurt before, it never would have crossed Janus’s mind as a possibility.

And so, it wasn’t hard to come to the realization that Virgil probably hadn't been talking about to light sides.

By all logical reasoning (Logan would be pleased) he’d been talking about the Others. The less prominent, sometimes cruel parts of Thomas that would never fully manifest. The sides he, Virgil, and Remus had unfortunately spent a lot of time around for quite a few years.

Virgil’s behavior, his words, his panic, the way the light sides acted around him, it all pointed to the glaringly obvious conclusion that Virgil was recovering from the treatment the others had put him through.

Janus put the pieces together in a matter of seconds. He’d then promptly shoved it aside and jumped on board with Remus’s assumption as he stood in front of his brother, keeping Roman away from the anxious side falling deeper and deeper into panic on the kitchen floor.

Maybe it was selfish, but he could blame it on the fact that he wasn’t thinking very clearly at the moment.

He’d snarled at Roman, demanding the Prince explain what he’d done to Virgil, despite being almost entirely convinced at this point that Roman had done nothing but help him feel safe. Possibly for the first time in Anxiety’s life.

He denied the truth, despite how plainly it was laid out in front of him, because it was easier. Because accepting the truth meant accepting the fact that Virgil had undergone horrible treatment and Janus had done nothing.

All the nagging doubts he’d brushed aside, all the little white lies he’d caught onto and ignored, all the shaking hands and wide eyed, haunted looks that he’d chalked up to just another one of Virgil’s eccentricities. (He was Anxiety, after all, he was bound to be a bit jumpy by nature) All of that had been years of abuse, neglect, and mistreatment hidden in plain sight.

That little voice in the back of his head telling him something was wrong had been right. And that...that was terrifying.

So in the moment, he’d denied it. That was what he did best, after all.

But denial would only get a person so far. Denial would only crash and burn and spread into a devastating fire.

Because despite how hard he was trying, very little was going to be able to convince Virgil that Janus’s intent wasn’t to harm him. Not until he calmed down.

And then Virgil was gone, sinking out away from the noise in the kitchen, and Janus couldn’t honestly say he was surprised, alarmed as he was.

“Get off me, you idiot!”

Janus glanced behind him, shoulders sagging at the sight of the brothers. Roman had tried to push past Remus, the Duke grabbing the Prince’s sash and shoving him back, and Deceit knew if it was only a matter of seconds until someone threw a punch.

But in the moment, Janus couldn’t move, the loathsome truth fighting its way to the surface no matter how much he hated it, still kneeled on the kitchen rug.

The rug...the rug that definitely hadn’t always been there. The rug they’d placed beneath the cabinets seemingly out of nowhere one day. The rug that didn’t particularly go with the rest of the room.

Janus had once made a snide comment he didn’t really mean to Logan, offhandedly mentioning that they should get rid of it. He’d never seen the logical side grow so righteously defensive so quickly.

There had been a similar occurrence when he’d brought up the cups the light sides used. The plastic cups…

The truth was piecing itself together, and Janus thought he might be sick.

“What’s going on?”

Patton’s voice, frantic and confused, was flooding the kitchen before Deceit could pull himself together and reign in the chaos, the moral side skidding to a stop in the kitchen doorway.

And before Janus could stop him, Remus was releasing his hold on his brother and whirling around to face Morality.

“What the fuck have you done?”

The moral side paled, eyes going wide, and Janus wondered if anyone had ever had the audacity to swear at Patton before.

“I- what? Remus, calm--”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Remus was still clutching his Morning Star, and Roman was carefully moving to put himself in between the two sides. “Tell me what the fuck you’ve done to Virgil!”

It was like a string had been cut. Patton’s face dropped, something dangerous hardening in his eyes. His gaze went to Janus on the rug still stained with spilled water, then to Roman shakily hovering in the middle of the chaos.

“Where’s Virgil?” Patton asked, and Janus had never heard Morality sound so cold. “Roman--”

“He sank out,” Janus said, finally finding his voice for the first time since Virgil had disappeared. “I was...attempting to calm him down.”

“Oh god.”

Remus reached for Patton’s arm as the moral side turned away and Janus quickly forced himself to speak again, beyond grateful for the way his words didn’t tremble.

“Let him go, Remus,” he said. “It wasn’t them.”

Remus turned to him, incredulous, but dropped his hand all the same, Morning Star still held tight in the other. Patton threw him a questioning glance, but was hurrying through the doorway without another word.

He nearly ran right into a slightly disheveled Logan’s chest.

“What on earth?” He frowned when Patton didn’t answer, barreling past the logical side and out of the kitchen. “I heard yelling, is--”

“What do you mean it wasn’t them?” Remus was spinning around to face Janus, completely ignoring Logan’s tired confusion. “Virgil just said--”

“You're not listening! ” Roman jumped in, and Janus watched Logan quietly take in the scene. “If you would just calm down and let us explain--”  

“Roman.”

Janus didn’t jump- not quite. He would never allow himself to so visibly lose his composure, never in front of so many people. But Logan’s voice, the look in his eyes, was more than enough to bring silence to the room.

When Deceit looked up at Logan, it was like reading an open book. Janus could pick up on lies, read between lines like a second language, but with the logical side there really was never any need.

Logan, for all the times he claimed not to feel, felt more clearly, more strongly than even Patton. He felt and expressed his emotions more intensely than any of them, all while adamantly denying their existence.

And right now, Janus only needed a single glance to see Logan’s anger.

“What happened?” he asked, eyes on the Prince, voice steely calm. “Where is Virgil?”

There was worry beneath the anger, but not nearly enough at the moment to grant them any mercy.

“He was having an attack,” Roman explained, defenses dropping, and it was clearly a frequent enough event that Logan instantly knew what he meant. “I was trying to help him but they wouldn’t let me!”

Janus would never admit it, and he wondered if Remus felt the same, but something about Roman’s aggression sent a pang of...something though his chest. Something that hurt.

He deserved it, he knew. He wasn’t even close to being one of them. He might never be. But he’d been making strides lately, small as they were.

Now, it was like being back on the outside looking in.

But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered is that Remus was quiet, and Janus needed to keep it that way before someone threw a punch.

“I think it is safe to assume,” Logan was saying before Janus could gather his thoughts. “That Janus and Remus have no knowledge of Virgil’s previous treatment. They were trying to protect him.”

“All I know,” Janus said, the bite to his words the last defense he had left. “Is that Virgil was convinced he was going to be beaten. Again. We were a bit caught off guard, so forgive us for taking initiative, Roman.”

“And look where your initiative got you!”

“So what you’re saying,” Logan snapped, turning back to the twins before Janus could retort. “Is that Virgil had already been triggered into a panic attack, and you two decided to have a shouting match five feet away from him?”

Roman had the decency to look guilty, the fight deflating completely from his stance, but Janus couldn’t find it in him to be relieved. Not when Remus was looking progressively more and more panicked beside him.

“I was- I was just trying to help! I thought you--”

“Living room.” Logan’s voice was cold, and even Janus couldn’t shut the Duke down that easily. “All of you. Now.”

Janus, for once, didn’t argue, and he suddenly realized he still hadn’t moved from his crouch on the kitchen rug.

Regaining what little dignity he had left, Deceit quickly picked himself back up, absently brushed off his clothes like he wasn’t just barely numb enough to avoid breaking down completely, and stalked right past the others, all while ignoring the death glares Roman and Remus were sending each other.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately- he really wasn’t in a headspace to have his worst fears confirmed), the dreaded conversation wasn’t yet ready to happen.

“Logan!”

Patton was barreling down the stairs, eyes only on the logical side, trembling and frantic, and Janus felt something uneasy clawing at his tightening throat.

Remus had moved to the couch, perched on the arm with his legs crossed, watching the others uneasily. He kept glancing at Janus, but Deceit couldn’t bring himself to look over.

“He’s not there,” Patton hissed, voice laced with panic as he gripped Logan’s sleeve. “He’s not- he’s not in his room, I can’t find him I can’t--”

“Patton, please attempt to calm yourself.”

“He’s gone again!” Patton’s voice caught, eyes welling with tears, and Janus quickly turned away. “It’s happening again, he...what if he- Logan I can’t let this happen again!”

There it was, once more. Again. It was going to happen again. Virgil didn’t want to be hurt anymore.

All of it. Over and over again for god only knew how long. And Janus, priding himself on being a silent observer, on always knowing more than he let on, had just...he’d just…

Janus was sinking out of the living room before he really had time to wrap his head around where he was going, He tried not to think about the irony of following in Virgil’s footsteps.

But if Virgil wasn’t in his room, something that was clearly alarmingly familiar to the others, then Janus was almost positive he knew where he was.

He’d practically said it himself in his panic, a shred of safety he’d desperately clung onto.

“Hey, you’re ok.”

The words were already filtering in by the time Janus appeared beside the staircase in Thomas’s living room, dread already lessening at the apparent lack of panic in the host’s voice.

“You’re ok, bud. You’re safe. It’ll be ok when you wake up.”

Virgil was on the couch (Janus hadn’t quite expected to feel the relief that strongly, legs threatening to give out beneath him), eyes closed and breathing beginning to slow.

Thomas was kneeling on the floor beside him, one hand carding through Virgil’s hair, the other carefully interlocked with the anxious side’s, speaking soft reassurances as he slowly drifted off.

Thomas was a good person. Janus knew that, despite any arguments he may have made in the past for the sake of proving a point.

Thomas was compassionate. He cared, more than anyone. And yet it still caught Janus off guard to see him act so gentle towards Anxiety.

With theories of what had happened to Virgil in the past forming in his head, Janus decided that was for the best. Virgil needed people to be gentle with him.

He wished he’d been able to offer that.

Janus was taking a step forward before he could stop himself, voice much smaller than he would have liked. “Thomas?”

Thomas froze and fell silent, shoulders tensing slightly, but he didn’t turn away from a now still and quiet Virgil.

For a moment the living room was quiet, and Janus wondered if he should just duck out, hurry and tell the others that Virgil was safe.

But he couldn’t move, completely frozen once again, and Thomas let out a quiet sigh.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, and Janus did not care for being thrown off by his own host. That was his job. But Thomas was continuing before he had the chance to come up with an answer. “Can you grab me a blanket from the closet?”

Janus opened his mouth to respond, something sarcastic and witty automatically at the tip of his tongue, but then his eyes fell back onto Virgil, the guilt flooding back, and any usual snark died in his throat.

“Of course.”

Thomas had a few blankets folded up on the closet shelf, and Janus carefully took the softest one in there- a dark gray comforter he thought he might have seen Virgil use before.

Wordlessly, he handed it over to Thomas and watched as he draped it over Virgil, careful not to wake the anxious side.

“He’ll be ok,” Thomas said, and took a shaky breath. “Did you...did you know?”

“Oh yes.” There was no use in even trying to control his own response. “I was fully aware that Virgil was being horrifically abused every time I had my back turned. I stood there and did absolutely nothing to stop it. Is that what you want to hear?”

Thomas was staring at him, probably watching Deceit with that unbearably gentle gaze, but Janus refused to look. He kept his eyes on Virgil, gloved hands clutching his own sleeve, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he’d started to shake.

As awful as it was, as selfish and cruel as it was, he wished the light sides had been the ones hurting Virgil. He wished this was something recent. He wished there was an excuse for not noticing.

“Janus?”

It took him a moment to realize that wasn’t Thomas speaking, Patton now beside him in front of the couch. Thomas was nowhere in sight, and Janus had no idea how long he’d been standing here.

“Can you head back to the mindscape, please?” Patton asked, a hand coming to rest on Janus’s arm. He didn’t pull away. “The others wanna talk to you.”

Janus scoffed, still frozen in place. “You all must be thrilled. Finally an excuse to send the dark sides back where they came from.”

He didn’t spare Patton anything more than a cautious glance, but it was enough to see his eyes filled with a disgusting amount of sympathy.

“We know you would never hurt Virgil,” Patton said. “Remus wouldn’t either. We all know that. I trust you, Janus.”

Janus shook his head, throat far too tight to form a coherent answer, taking a moment to breathe. “Are you coming?”

“Not yet,” Patton said. “I...think I need to stay with him. Just for right now.”

And Janus supposed he understood that. A part of him wanted so desperately to stay, to never let Virgil out of his sight again just to be absolutely sure he was safe.

But he didn’t have the right to make that request. Not when he’d clearly failed so spectacularly at keeping him out of harm’s way before.

He sank out without another word, trusting Patton to do what he couldn't.

The living room in the mindscape was almost exactly the scene he had expected. Logan and Roman were on the couch, the Prince scowling at Remus who was pacing the floor, whatever rant he was going on falling silent as soon as Janus reappeared.

The Duke’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw him, brimming with unabashed hope and desperation, and Janus’s heart sank when he realized what Remus wanted.

Remus was waiting for a better explanation, for Janus to assure him that what the light sides were saying wasn’t true. That Virgil hadn’t been beaten behind their backs for years.

God, Janus wished he could offer him that.

Instead, he moved over to the empty armchair, sat down with his hands folded in his lap, and steadily met Logan’s gaze.

“Tell me what they did to him.”

He didn’t look away. Not when Remus stormed out of the room and a door slammed somewhere in the mindscape a few seconds later, not when Janus’s gut twisted in anger and disgust when Logan told him details.

He did, however, begin to feel like he might throw up when they explained that Virgil had been taught that it was normal.

“Janus.”

Janus hadn’t realized he’d stood from the chair, already moving towards the stairs until Logan was suddenly following him, voice curt and pained. Deceit forced himself to turn back around.

“I can’t say that I fully trust you yet,” Logan said, and Janus almost laughed at the logical side’s bluntness. “And I have my differences with Remus. But I know you two would never hurt Virgil. I know you would have stopped it if you’d known.”

Of course he would have. If he’d ever caught one of the others in the act, ever seen the abuse in action, it never ever would have happened again. No one would dare.

And they’d known that. So they’d hidden it. And Janus had never thought to look deeper into the little, seemingly meaningless lies. The way sometimes Virgil would be limping…

God, what the fuck was wrong with him? How on earth was anybody willing to accept him when it had all been his fault?

But he didn’t say any of that. There was no excuse, no reason to drag this on any longer than was needed.

“Alright,” he said instead, continuing up the stairs. “Tell me when he wakes up.”

Janus thought briefly about checking in on Remus, but quickly decided he couldn’t bear to see his own guilt mirrored in the Duke’s horror.

Later. They would talk about this later.

Instead he locked himself in his room, doubting anyone would come looking for him but fully prepared to turn them away if they did. He didn’t want to face anyone right now. He didn’t plan on leaving until Virgil was awake.

He stayed there in silence until Patton softly knocked hours later, the sky dark and his head heavy, nervously informing him through the door that Virgil was awake and up for visitors.

And in those hours, if he’d let his walls down and privately lost his carefully upheld composure, well...no one needed to know.

All that was left to do was move forward, and make sure Virgil knew he would never be hurt again. Janus wouldn’t let him. Not again.

[kaeyastopmakingicepuns]

Diluc x Reader Fake Marriage, part two

Part One

So, this is a continuation of the fame marriage fic, which I didn’t really intend to continue, but here we are.

Summary: Fake marriage, you know the drill.

Rating: T

Preview: 

"You said, and I quote: 'you should really bring the Knights of Favonious with you next time,'" you reminded him.

Diluc faltered. "I didn't mean it like that."

Also on AO3

You had barely made it a hundred paces past the bridge that led out of Mondstadt before you began to regret you choice of travelling companion.

"Not getting cold feet, are we?" Kaeya asked as he walked backwards a few steps ahead of you, his hands casually clasped behind his head so that his elbows stuck out.

You rolled your eyes. "Cold feet from what?"

"Ya know..." Kaeya grinned. "Having Mondstadt's greatest Calvary Captain-"

"--Only Calvary Captain," you corrected.

Kaeya didn't miss a beat. "--Most handsome and charming Calvary Captain accompany you on your errands?"

"What is this, 'bring your obnoxious, little shit to work day?'" You scoffed. "I simply asked for an extra pair of hands, don't you think that this--" you jerked your head backwards small battalion of knights marching in formation behind you-- "is a little much?"

Kaeya gave you a nonchalant shrug. "Jean asked me to show some of the new recruits the ropes. Ya know, let 'em get their feet wet. I figured what better way than by shadowing my favorite adventurer?"

"Ah." You understood now. "I see what this is, you're trying to get me to do your job for you."

Kaeya gave you an impish grin. "Does that sound like something I would do?" he asked, well aware that was exactly the sort of reputation he'd curated for himself.

You didn't grace that with a response. "I thought that new honorary knight was your favorite adventurer?" you asked instead.

"Oh, no, no, no, my dear," Kaeya said, waving a finger back and forth in front of your face. You smacked his hand away and tried to will a small stone or a tree root to trip the backwards-walking idiot. It would serve him right.

"They are my favorite traveler. You-" he tapped your nose. You willed harder. "-are my favorite adventurer."

“Gee, I’m flattered,” you said drily.

You continued walking in silence-- well, you were silent, Kaeya was most decidedly not-- and it wasn’t until you were halfway through the Windwail Highland that Kaeya finally thought to ask, “So what’s the plan for today?”

“We’re going to see Andrius,” you said. “I need a spirit locket.”

“Spirit locket?” Kaeya echoed playfully. “Whatever for?”

You glared at him. He knew exactly what for, using up all your raven insignias the moment you could get your hands on them, occasionally not even waiting until you had removed them from the alchemy bench.

Kaeya placed a hand on his chest in mock surprise. “For me?” he asked, words practically dripping with that false honeyed tone he used when he felt like being particularly annoying. “Why, you shouldn’t have!” He was right. You shouldn’t have. Except Kaeya was your best friend (but Archons, at what cost?) and you had agreed to help him when he had bemoaned his difficulty in taking on the ice wolf due to his cryo vision.

Speaking of which-- “Oh, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be, what, with my cryo vision and all. I guess I’ll just have to watch while the rest of you fight,” he said, not sounding even remotely sorry.

“I did tell you not come,” you reminded him.

He opened his mouth to retort, but a voice in the distance calling out your name caused you both to turn your heads.

There, making his way toward you from the direction of Dawn Winery, was Diluc, his coat and bright red hair billowing dramatically behind him as he walked, which was odd, seeing as the ‘Windwail Highland’ was uncharacteristically un-windy. How did he always seem to do that? He must be personally blessed by Barbatos, you mused, and to his own credit, Diluc certainly knew how to make an entrance.

As he drew nearer, you could make out an irked expression on his face. That is to say, a different irked expression than the one he usually wore.

Once he was close enough to converse without shouting, he spoke to you directly, ignoring Kaeya and the other knights completely. “Since when do you hang around with the Knights of Favonius?” Was he pouting? Not quite, but he was coming very close to it.

You blinked. "I'm just taking your advice."

Diluc looked scandalized. "I would never advise such a thing!"

You spoke slowly, surprised at your own patience, "You said, and I quote: 'you should really bring the Knights of Favonious with you next time.'"

Diluc's indignant expression faltered with uncertainty. "We were just standing around," he defended himself weakly.

You could actually feel the vein in your eyelid twitch as you tried to control your sudden rage. "We were standing next to a campfire, so that we didn't freeze to death!" you said through gritted teeth.

Diluc knew he had no leg to stand on, so he switched tactics. "When I said take the Knights of Favonious with you, I didn't mean it like that," he said with indignance.

What was he even talking about?! Stubborn bastard. "There's only one way to take that you-- you--" You jabbed a finger into his chest repeatedly, trying to come up with the right word, but found yourself distracted by how ridiculously toned his abs were. You stopped poking him and flattened your hand against him, marveling at how well-defined he felt. It took at least a full thirty seconds before your brain reminded you that this was a weird thing to do. 

Then a light chuckle reminded you that you also had an audience.

You quickly dropped your hand, clearing your throat awkwardly. Was Diluc staring at you? Probably, but you didn’t dare a look as you turned your attention towards Kaeya.

“Come along now,” he said, ushering the trainee knights back towards Mondstadt. “Let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy. We’ll find some nice, gentle dummies for you all to fight.” Some of the new recruits looked intensely relieved at not having to go up against the legendary wolf on their first day, which, yeah, was fair. But with them gone, you’d be left alone in this embarrassing moment with Diluc.

“Kaeya,” you hissed. “Get back here.” Kaeya kept walking. “Get back here,” you repeated more frantically, pointing at the ground in front of you. Kaeya put a hand up to his ear mouthing something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,’ as he continued on. “Get back--” Kaeya turned around, and you let out an angry squeak.

“ W-what I-I meant was--” Diluc stammered as the group disappeared from view. 

You turned to face him to find his face had turned tomato red. 

He took a deep breath and tried again. “I meant if I am unable to go with you. But, I am.” He coughed. “Able, that is.”

You raised an eyebrow. That was literally not what he said, but you’d let it slide. You assumed that he had only made the original comment out of stress, and it took seeing you parading around with the knights to realize what a jerk he’d actually been. 

“Alright,” you said. “Want to go challenge an ice wolf?”

Diluc’s expression flattened. “This is for Kaeya, isn’t it?”

“I can call the knights back if you’d rather not--”

“No.” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Diluc grabbed your hand and began leading you down the road towards the Wolvendom.

---

“So about what we discussed last night...” Diluc said carefully as the two of you headed back towards the Dawn Winery, prize in hand. 

You tensed. So much for never bringing it up again. “Last night?”

“Yeah, you know.” Diluc either didn't notice or decided not to take your out. “The whole... ‘fake married’ thing.”

“You’re not actually considering that, are you?” Why were you so damn nervous all of the sudden? It wasn’t like you had agreed to anything. But then again, why not? It wasn’t like you would fall for a guy like Diluc, right? Someone as prickly as him? Did he even have a romantic bone in his entire body? It would be like falling in love with a mitachurl. Of the blazing axe variety, to be precise. Because of the fire.

“Well, I was giving it some thought, and I realized it could actually be incredibly beneficial,” he explained. “To both of us, I mean. You take most of the commissions around the Windwail Highlands and Brightcrown Mountains--”

“--Because of the treasure,” you reminded him. Why did you feel the need to remind him every time it came up? It wasn’t like you had some other secret reason. Okay, so yeah, the treasure in these areas was pretty much the same as anywhere else, but whatever.

“Right, because of the treasure.” Diluc continued, “So living in the manor just makes sense, I mean, even if we don’t get fake married, it makes sense, it wouldn’t be weird or anything.” Who exactly was he trying to convince, here? “And not having to be worried about having hopeful suitors dropping by the manor would give me more time to work and focus on...” He faltered. “Other duties.”

You rolled your eyes. “Diluc, I know you’re the Dark Knight Hero.”

Diluc looked shocked, but didn’t deny it. “How?”

"It was the hair.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Oh...”

“Yeah.”

“...I’ll get a hood,” he decided before he caught up to you, as if that would solve the problem. Somebody needed to help this man. Wait, as the one who noticed, was it your responsibility now? Archons, it just might be.

“But anyway. The marriage. The fake marriage, that is.” The Archons had a cruel sense of humor to make this man as awkward as he was and then give him a blush that matched his hair color. “What do you think?”

You stopped walking and turned to him. He stopped, too. His face was serious, but his eyes were... hopeful, maybe? Did he really need this that badly? Suddenly the thought of turning him down made you feel extremely guilty. Although, oddly enough, you didn’t want to turn him down. Because of the manor. You wanted to fake marry him for the manor, obviously. Just like how you took the commissions that required you to pass by the winery for the treasure.

“...Alright,” you finally agreed. “But don’t expect me to fall in love with you.”

“I thought that was the point,” Diluc agreed, and you had to summon an image of every cranky, sour, disgruntled face you had ever seen Diluc make in an attempt to block the image of Diluc smiling (not smirking, but actually smiling) that had seared itself into your brain. Not a problem, you assured yourself, it would probably only take a few days of cohabitation before you remembered how aggravating he could be. 

In fact, it was mere moments later, when you stopped to gather some small lamp grass, (for him, no less,) that he reminded you of just that by cutting you off mid-comment with a growled ‘I don’t do small talk,’ before he looked at the sky impatiently to assess the time.

“I still have a lot to do at the guild, how about you take a rest while I go back?”

Oh, you were so bringing the Knights or Favonius with you next time.

[tulipjeanohare]

Untitled

PAIRING: EZ Reyes x OC (Sloane)

NOTES: I wrote this during Season 2 and just never shared it but I’ve been wanting to get back into writing. SO, I hope you guys enjoy and I’d love feedback!

WARNING: Mature Themes.

Credit to the person who made the gif @shadesalvarez

WORD COUNT: 6, 370

It was another typical Friday night at the bar; the place was packed wall to wall, a new band was perched on the stage performing a set list of songs she’d never remember, and the regular unfavorable drunks were crowding the bar top. Just another weekend wasted working behind the bar when she’d much rather be somewhere else doing just about anything other than this. The bar wasn’t that bad, really. But it wasn’t what she wanted. It paid the bills and that was all that mattered to her as a single mother.

There was never time for men and she was fine with that. Her son didn’t need any other men dropping in and out of his life. That much she were sure of. So she lived the monotonous life that she had grown accustomed to the last few years. During the week she worked at a local art museum in an attempt to keep her passion for art alive while she couldn’t afford to actually make any then the weekend came and she spent her nights slinging drinks for every lowlife that decided to slither into the dimly lit hole in the wall bar off the highway.

It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, she had regulars that she loved seeing and for the most part everyone kept their hands to themselves and tipped rather well. The whole single mother thing did work to her advantage from time to time. But every now and then some idiot would come in trying to impress whatever frat friends he had drug along with him and made a pass at her. She could normally handle herself pretty well but when they got too aggressive she defaulted to the gruff, muscular man they’d hired to work security.

Tonight was no exception to any of this.

Earlier in the evening she had dropped her son off at her friend’s house and gave him an extra long hug. Promised him she’d see him bright and early in the morning and she was off. It never got any easier to leave him; he was four now and was the smartest kid she’d ever met, she might be a little biased but it was true. Those big brown eyes of his melted her heart every time he gave her the same sad puppy dog face before she left. She knew he was fine there. He loved her friend, she was like family to the both of them. But she still hated to leave him to go deal with a bunch of overly macho men for hours on end.

By the time she got to the bar the place was already crowded and the band had already started to play. As quickly as she could she made her way behind the bar and dumped her bag and jacket in the backroom before making her way to her first customer of the night.

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

EZ had taken off from the clubhouse almost two hours ago without a plan in his mind of exactly where he was going. All he knew was that he needed some space. He needed to forget the life he’d chosen for just a few hours and pretend he wasn’t the man he’d become. The loud engine of the motorcycle roared in his ears as he passed a big black sign reading ‘Big Al’s Roadside Bar, Next Exit’.

That’ll have to do, he thought to himself.

When he pulled into the gravel lot in front of the building there wasn’t a single motorcycle in sight and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders he didn’t know had been there. Before he headed inside he took off the leather cut with his name stitched on one side and shoved it into the bag on the side of his bike. There was no reason for anyone here to know who he was or that he ran with any club.

His watch read half past eleven when he entered the door. Enough time for him to have a couple drinks and maybe make his way to that motel he'd noticed just up the road. The place was loud and the people were crowded inside like a can of sardines so he figured his best bet would be to make himself at home up at the bar, hide himself in the corner there and get a little drunk.

Once he reached the bar though he was a little more than surprised to see such a beautiful woman behind it. All the bars in Santo Padre either had weathered old ladies behind them or former inmates he’d probably seen in passing during his time inside. The woman behind this bar was far more beautiful than anyone he’d seen back home in a long time. She had thick mess of black hair that fell well past her shoulders, he watched as she pulled it back into a bun at the nape of her neck.

She looked real. Not like the girls who hung around the clubhouse in hopes of becoming someone’s old lady. Her face was bare except for the gloss that created a sheen on her plump lips. Lips he’d pay good money to kiss. The black jeans she had on hugged her every curve so tightly he couldn’t help but stare when she turned to hand another bar patron their drink. The T-shirt she wore had the Virgin Mary printed on the front, exactly like the statue that sat inside the clubhouse in Santo Padre, but he was sure if wasnt some funny pun for her because he’d noticed the delicate cross necklace hanging around her neck. One arm had a smattering of tattoos he couldn’t quite make out while the other seemed bare.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d been staring at her until she turned to him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face before leaning her palms against the bar top, “you wanna order something or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“Shit, sorry,” he quickly answered.

A laugh fell from her lips, a laugh that rang over the music. It was sweet and soft, no malice behind it. It made EZ’s shoulders relax a little. “S’ok...not the worst anyone has ever done in this bar. Long day?”

“You could say that,” EZ replied.

Without a word she nodded, reached under the bar for a cold beer and popped the top off before sliding it across the table to him. “Nothing an ice cold beer can’t help, right?”

“Amen,” he smiled, reaching in his pocket for some cash.

Before taking it the bartender eyed it for a second, “you wanna just open a tab?”

“Nah, I’ll take it one beer at a time,” he assured her.

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

The rest of the night went off as usual; the same guys sidled up to the bar to grab her attention for a few quick moments before another pushed his way up to her. But there was one thing that was different tonight. The guy at the end of the bar.

He wasn’t like the others. His eyes were kind and he spoke with more eloquence than any man she’d met in her entire life had. He was polite and quiet, a god send on a night like tonight. So she spent a little more time at his end of the bar than any other. Any time he would finish a beer she was sure to be right there with a fresh one and he would hand her another handful of bills.

One beer at a time.

Things were beginning to quiet down at one when it happened.

She was wiping down the bar top at the other end of the bar when a new guy took a seat. He leaned over a little too close for comfort when she asked him what he wanted. Then when she handed him the class of brown liquor he’d asked for he grabbed her hand in his, which she quickly shook herself free of.

EZ took notice of the interaction. He’d been nursing another beer, trying to decide if it was time for him to head to that motel when he saw the guy grab hold of her hand. He felt himself begin to react before she shook her arm free, scowling at the guy before walking back down towards him.

“You alright,” he asked, his voice low so only she could hear.

A smile crept across her lips as she nodded, letting her elbows rest on the wood top while she leaned over it. “I get five of those guys a night...that’s nothing. I appreciate your concern though...I never got your name.”

“EZ,” he smiled, those pearly white teeth of his on full display.

Standing there across the bar from him, a mere few inches from him, she felt like her heart skipped a beat. There’s got to be a catch here, she thought to herself. “EZ? Interesting,” she smiled, holding her hand out for him. “I’m Sloane, nice to officially meet you.”

When he took her hand in his she could feel the slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She hoped to god he couldn’t see it in the dim lighting in the bar. But the rough, calloused feeling of his palm against hers felt nice. A sign of a real man.

And EZ got a rush of electricity through him as he held her hand in his. He could smell her perfume wafting in front of him when she leaned in closer to him. It was like a field of fresh flowers on a breezy day. “That’s a nice name, it suits you,” EZ said softly.

Before either of them could say anything else someone at the other end of the bar was shouting for her. Quickly she gave him an apologetic look before making her way to the person.

Once again EZ was tempted to watch her; the way she moved was so easy, like she was doing a dance every time she’d spin around to grab a bottle of liquor or reach one way or the other for a glass. The same piece of hair kept falling in her face until she finally pulled the hair tie from her hair and let it fall at her shoulders. Somehow it made her even more beautiful to him. The dark mess of hair she’d had pulled back before now framed her face. Every now and then she’d tuck a piece behind her ear before it fell again.

The way he was feeling towards this new stranger in front of him was different. It had been a long time since he’d felt any sort of way about a woman. His mind had been stuck on one in particular and it was becoming more and more evident that nothing was ever going to happen with them again.

She wasn’t Emily but deep down he felt like she might be better than Emily.

Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts he noticed the same guy from before giving her a hard time. But this time he had a hold of her forearm, hard enough that her skin was white where his hand held to her. He gave her a few seconds, waiting for her to pull free of him again or for the bouncer to jump in but nothing like that happened. The guy kept holding onto her and she was getting more and more agitated as the interaction went on.

“Let go of me right now,” she all but shouted at the guy.

He rolled his eyes, leaning in closer to her, “oh come on, stop playing hard to get and just let me take you home.”

Before she was able to get another word out EZ had his hand on the guys arm and was almost chest to chest with him. “Let her go before I make you,” he said, his already deep voice seeming to drop another octave.

Now it was a tangle of arms in the middle of them. EZ holding tightly to his while the guy still kept his hold on Sloane. And the next thing she knew the drunk guy was headbutting EZ and lunging towards him. With her arm now free her eyes darted around the room in search of her back up, the guy that was generally posted up at the end of the bar to keep his eye on her was nowhere to be found. All she could do now was hope it didn’t get too out of hand.

EZ took a quick swing at the guy and landed his fist right on his chin, knocking the guy back a couple steps. But that didn’t stop him from going at her new friend again; swinging with all his might in hopes of landing something. It was clear to Sloane that this wasn’t EZ’s first fight, he knew what he was doing but the other guy was way in over his head with too much testosterone and alcohol running through him to tell him to stop while he was ahead.

A few more punches had the guys lip bleeding and his already wobbly footing worse. By that time the bouncer had made his way back to the bar and quickly grabbed hold of the swinging drunk and started to cart him out of the bar. He turned to yell at the other man that he’d be back for him but she stopped him, “let him be, he was just stepping in to stop that guy. He’s fine.”

The bouncer glanced from his bartender then to the muscular man standing just a few feet from him, not a single bead of sweat on him. All he could do was nod and continue kicking the other man out of the place.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Sloane shook her head, trying to conceal the smile attempting to break across her face.

As much as she hated having anyone thinking they needed to defend her honor she had to admit that it was really hot seeing him land that punch. And his body hadn’t looked bad doing so either.

She pulled another bottle of beer from the ice and handed it to him, “this one's on me, as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” he started.

Shaking her head she pushed the money he’d started to hand to her back his way, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

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

The band had long since vacated the stage and people were filing out of the bar by the time EZ had decided it was time to leave. Sloane had been a breath of fresh air for him and he didn’t want to have to head out any sooner than he had to. But he figured she wanted to get the place cleaned and clock out so he’d dropped some cash on the bar top for a tip and started for the door. But soon he heard her familiar voice call out to him.

“Hey,” she shouted, her voice carrying over the soft music playing from above. “How do you feel about a couple drinks...back at my place?”

EZ wasn’t sure he heard her right. Sure, she’d given him a little more attention than any of the other bar goers tonight but he hadn’t even for a second thought she’d ask him back to her place. The room felt a lot quieter as he stumbled with his words, completely caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, yeah...that actually sounds great.”

“Give me ten minutes,” she replied before bouncing off to wipe down the tables scattered around.

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

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm on the drive to Sloane’s place, both of them eager to hear the other’s voice no matter what they were saying. Every now and then she’d catch his gaze lingering a little longer than he’d intended for her to see and it gave her those familiar butterflies from earlier in the night. She was having an internal battle with herself though; this is so stupid...what do you thinks going to come of this, she’d hear the voice in her head ask. But she didn’t care. It had been years since she’d had any kind of relationship with a man, one night would be good for her.

So, a fifteen minute drive later and they were pulling up to the front of her apartment building and he was following her closely up the stairs. To be fair he wanted to press her up against her door the minute they hit it but he restrained himself, he wanted to let the night last as long as possible. He was enjoying himself. Enjoying not thinking about his life back home.

“Place might be a little messy,” she told him, kicking her shoes to the side as soon as she stepped inside with EZ following suit.

While she busied herself in the kitchen searching for the liquor EZ wandered around the living room, taking everything in. The place was immaculate except for a few toys strewn about on the floor; a small blue blanket with cars all over it tossed over the side of the couch hastily, a tiny plastic easel in the corner with a freshly done finger painting clipped to it. Next to it was a larger one with the beginnings of an incredible, vibrantly colored painting.

“You have a son,” he asked, his voice carrying to Sloane in the kitchen as she grabbed a couple glasses.

Biting her lip she nodded, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of the couch before making eye contact with him. “Yeah, he’s the one guy in my life,” she beamed. “Just turned four last month, he stays with my best friend while I work at the bar on the weekend. Is it weird?”

“Nah, I love kids,” EZ smiled. “Dad in the picture?”

Sloane shook her head, pouring some of the brown liquor into the glasses. “No, it’s probably for the best anyways. We make a pretty good little duo. What about you?”

“Just me,” he said, wincing a little as the hard liquor stung the back of his throat. “Pretty close with my pops...and my brother.”

It was tempting for her to question the little pause he made before he mentioned his brother but she didn’t think it was any of her business having only just met him a few hours ago. She felt so at ease with him though she almost asked, it was on the tip of her tongue to say something but she held back. The smile that lingered at the corner of his lips told her there was good there.

The two of them sat side by side on the floor in front of the couch; the coffee table pushed out a little to give them more room, their bodies turned towards each other so they could talk, the brown liquor getting less and less in the bottle. There had been a handful of moments where EZ had wanted make a move. To rest his hand on her thigh or tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear before leaning in for a kiss. But he wanted to hear more about her and her life and everything about her.

He was enthralled.

And so was she.

She could see the kindness in his eyes. Past the bruise under his left eye and the cut on his cheek there was more to him. When they had left the bar she’d noticed the motorcycle and wanted to ask him about it but she decided not to. There was probably something there she wouldn’t like and tonight she just wanted to have fun. Every time he made even the slightest move the veins in his forearms shifted just the slightest bit and it made her think of how it would feel to have those arms wrapped around her body. Then he’d speak and she was enticed by the deepness to his voice, the diction in the wash he spoke was nothing like she’d heard around there before. The guys there wouldn’t know how to string an intelligible sentence together if their lives depended on it.

EZ was different.

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

Sloane rested her head on the chest of the new man in her bed. One arm of his slung around her waist while his hand gently stroked her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. She let her hand rest on his abdomen before she let her fingers trace lines down the center of his stomach. He was all muscle and she could feel it while he was on top of her, the way his body weighted over her as they moved in rhythm together.

The room was silent except for the heaviness of their breathing. EZ felt chills run up his spine the way she tucked her leg over his bare thigh while they laid there. Her soft skin felt like silk against his and he wanted to stay like this for as long as possible. If he closed his eyes long enough he could still see her silhouette above him in the dark room. He could envision the way her hips moved back and forth as she rode him. His fingers holding tightly to her hips until he finally pulled her down close to him so he could nip and kiss at her skin.

For a second he leaned down and pressed a kiss into the crown of her hair, a simple gesture that spoke volumes, before he spoke. “Ezekial,” he said quietly.

“Huh,” she questioned, turning so she could rest her chin on his chest.

The outline of his face just visible in the moonlight pouring in through the closed blinds. “That’s my name. My full name. Ezekial.”

“I like that,” a smile spread across her face and she wasn’t sure why. She turned her face to nuzzle her nose against his bare shoulder before peppering his skin with a few quick kisses. “Ezekial.”

EZ loved the way his name sounded coming off her lips. The raspiness in her voice and the way he could almost hear her smile as she said it. He’d heard it countless times before but it felt special when she said it.

After a few more silent minutes she got up to use the bathroom and he leaned over to grab his boxers, sliding them on before he turned the bedside lamp on. The bathroom door was left open a crack and he could just barely see her naked frame moving in front of the mirror before she pulled his shirt on over her head. His eyes wandered down her body as she walked back into the bedroom, the shirt of his clinging to her curves and just stopping below her ass.

“You’re incredible,” he grinned, reaching his hand out to her as she moved to the side of the bed.

She couldn’t help but smile back at him. Not because of the compliment but because of the way his face lit up as he said it. The laugh lines next to his eyes crinkled as his smile widened and it made his deep brown eyes even more endearing than they already were.

Thoughtlessly she let him take her hand in his and pull her down onto him on the bed. Her legs rested on either side of him as he let her sit in his lap, his hands resting at the small of her back. If he had it his way this night wouldn’t ever end. He hadn’t thought about the club or his brother or Emily all night and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Where’d they make you,” she asked with a hint of a laugh in her voice. “You’re...different. Good different.”

He didn’t answer her with words. He simply just wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her into his chest before he pressed his lips against hers once more. There wasn’t any hesitation there; her lips parted to allow his tongue to slide across her bottom lip before they let themselves get lost in the kiss. Sloane’s mind wandered back to earlier in the night after they’d finished their whiskey and their bodies had somehow moved closer and closer to one another where they sat. She could see his eyes move to her lips every now and then while they talked and she wanted to beg him to kiss her about a hundred times before he actually did.

And once he finally did they were quickly moving to the bedroom. Her bedroom she hadn’t shared with anyone but her son in a very, very long time. They’d stumbled down the hallway attached at the lips before he finally grabbed ahold of her and pressed her up against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as they both yearned to be closer to each other.

“Is this okay,” EZ had asked, his lips trailing down her neck while his hands held tightly to her back side.

It had made her smile; it had been a very long time since any man had ever asked her permission for anything let alone this. So she had placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled his attention back to her face before speaking. All she said was a breathless yes before they stumbled their way to the bedroom.

By the time Sloane was able to pull herself back to reality, back from her thoughts Ezekiel had flipped her onto her back and was pushing his shirt up over her chest to let his mouth wander over her breasts. A shiver shot through her at the feeling of his soft lips kissing and sucking at her skin. She let her fingers run over the smooth buzzcut of his as he traveled farther and farther down her body until she could feel his warm breath between her thighs.

Before they had both been so hungry for each other all they wanted to do was get off and quickly. But now they wanted to take their time. EZ wanted to explore her body; he wanted to hear the way she’d moan the first time she felt his tongue on her, he wanted to know how it felt to have her body wrapped around his while they made love. Sloane wanted to hear his gruff voice whispering to her while he was inside her, to feel the weight of his strong body on top of hers once more.

The room had fallen silent except for the sound of the shaky breaths she was taking as he gave his full attention to her core. His tongue lapped at her lips teasingly before she felt his teeth graze the sensitive little nub tucked inside. A whiney moan escaped her, her back arching at the new sensation. His hands held tightly to her thighs with his face buried between them for what felt like an eternity and by the time he pulled back her entire body was shaking on the edge of an intense orgasm.

“Ezekiel...please,” she almost pleaded with him.

A smile curled at the corners of his mouth before he peppered the inside of her thigh with kisses, “be patient, baby.”

And she tried to stop herself from letting out the sound that came next but she couldn’t help herself. The moan was throaty and full of lust, her lips parted perfectly and bright cherry red from how she’d been biting on the bottom lip. Hearing him call her baby was more than enough to encourage her to hold off for him. If she was honest she’d do just about anything for him right now.

Once more his lips trailed her skin but this time he was heading upwards, leaving the spot between her legs he’d made himself at home at and making his way to her breasts. The pink colored skin of her nipples was pebbled and hard from just the light nibbles he was giving her skin. But he hadn’t forgotten about her needs; while his mouth made quick work of her nipples he let one hand slip between her thighs and slipped two fingers inside of her which elicited a sharp intake of breath from her.

Her body writhed underneath him in an attempt to hurry along her orgasm because she knew once she came like this he’d been inside of her. And her body felt like every inch of her was on fire the way he was working her core with just his fingers. The tips of his calloused fingers were gliding over her gspot repetitively while his thumb rubbed back and forth over her clit.

Just as her back began to arch off the sheets below her EZ moved his attention from her chest up to her neck and then let his lips rest against her earlobe before he spoke. “Can you come for me,” he whispered, his free hand caressing her side.

In her head she had a witty line to reply with but she couldn’t get it out. The wires were crossed because her body was in overdrive the way he was fucking his fingers into her. So she settled on a lot of eye contact and a quick, almost pleading, nod of the head.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

At that her legs began to shake and she let her nails dig into his bare back as she began to hit her climax. A few throaty moans broke the silence in the room before he pressed his lips to hers, letting his mouth swallow her audible pleasure as she came down.

For a few short moments the two of them laid there tangled together allowing each other to cool off. But she could feel how hard he was as his erection pressed into her hip. Without a word she slipped her hand between the two of them and slowly stroked him, his hips absentmindedly working in motion with her hand. “I need you,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his temple.

They both knew one of them should’ve reached for a condom. It wasn’t anything new to either of them to use protection but they couldn’t be bothered in this moment. Both of them ached to feel that closeness between the two of them again. They each wanted to feel the slow movements of the other while they were so intimately joined together. Before had been quick and sloppy. But this, this was going to be slow and needy for both of them.

They hadn’t spoken of it but they both knew the other needed this intimacy. He was looking to forget his life back home for a while and she was holding off on reality herself. She wanted to remember what it felt like to have a man’s gentle touch, to be with someone who wanted to be with her.

EZ lifted his head until their foreheads were resting against one another, his nose grazing the tip of hers as he repositioned himself between her legs. He pushed her legs wider with his muscular thighs, his cock grazed her lips for a second before he slowly slide inside of her.

In unison they both let out shaky moans; her hands gripped onto his biceps as he hovered above her, their faces still touching. His eyes studied her face for a few more moments before he began working his hips against hers. The soft sound of skin on skin filling the quiet bedroom. One hand of his slipped beneath her to grab hold of her backside while the other slide up her neck until it was placed just under her chin, the slightest amount of pressure applied.

“Ezekial,” she sighed, her lips curling into a smile at the feeling of his hand around her neck.

He had to clinch his jaw to keep his composure. Hearing his name fall from her lips like that, with the visual of his hand where it was placed was too much for him. And the way her body moved in rhythm with his as he fucked her slowly only made him more sensitive. To keep his mind occupied, to hold himself off as long as possible, he busied himself kissing up her jawine until he buried his face into the crook of her neck. The faint smell of her perfume lingered there.

Sloan let her eyes flutter closed as he allowed himself to rest on top of her, bringing them closer together as they fucked. One leg hooked behind him to keep them close while her hands held tightly to his broad back. His skin was soft to the touch and he smelled like sandalwood, she couldn’t imagine anyone like him ever being in jail but he’d divulged that to her earlier. If it had been anyone else she would’ve ended the night but not with EZ. No, for some reason even after he told her about his past she still felt safe with him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he finally spoke again.

She smiled against his ear, nibbling at the skin, before pressing him back from her and back onto the bed. For a split second he fell from her but she quickly straddled him and guided him back to her core. A shutter went through her at the way she stretched around him. “I could do this all night,” she finally replied, her breathing uneven.

That beautiful smile of his spread across his face and she couldn’t help but smile back. Even in the darkness of the bedroom she could still see how perfect it was, she could still map out the little creases at the side of his eyes that formed when he smiled.

Resting her hands on his chest she began to buck her hips back and forth quicker now. His hands found their way to her hips and held onto her as he watched her from below, his hips working up against her. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted at the feeling of him slipping deeper inside of her. EZ’s eyes were fixated on the way her breasts bounced up and down with every movement either of them made.

The tattoos that littered her skin on display as she rode him and he wanted to kiss every last one, trace them with his fingertips while they laid naked together. He wanted to know about the little one that sat on her left hip all the way up to the lotus flower at the nape of her neck.

Soon he was pulled from his thoughts when he heard her call out his name once more. This time it was needy; her brow furrowed together as her body leaned down closer to his. Instinctively he placed his hand into her mess of hair and pulled her down even closer until they were chest to chest. Again their foreheads hovered close together as he began to take control.

It was her turn to watch him as he fucked up into her in an attempt to get them both off. Short, choked moans came from both of them as they got closer and closer. She could see the neediness behind those brown eyes of his. And she could feel it in the way he was holding onto her, his fingers digging into the skin of her ass.

Slipping a hand between them she began to work her clit in time with the way he was working into her and it made her breath catch in her throat. The sudden newness of the pressure against the bundle of nerves drove her closer to the edge. And he could feel it in the way she tightened around him so suddenly.

Again they locked eyes as he fucked into her a few more quick times before he felt her tighten against him. Her mouth fell open as she let out the most lust filled moan he’d ever heard. Which only egged him on more, thrusting into her at a punishing pace until he finally released inside of her. Her lips rested against his earlobe as she let out a few more soft, whiny moans while he slowly continued to work into her.

The two of them went at it like this for the next few hours until the sun began to creep into the room through the blinds. He held her close against his chest as they spoke in hushed tones as if someone could hear what they were saying. It took everything in him to finally make himself leave her. But he knew he needed to start home or else he’d have more missed phone calls on his cell.

She pulled the sheets up over chest while she watched him pull his jeans on and search for the shirt of his she’d pulled on earlier in the night. The way his muscles moved under his clothes only made her want to pull them off again but she knew he had to leave. He had a life somewhere else and she had a son she was missing more than she realized at that moment.

“Last night was,” EZ paused, trying to think of the right word to us.

[nitrochiralfan]

The Day is Dawning [Tokiakari]

All credit to the transualtion of the novel chapter belongs to memera and their hard work don’t repost without crediting them.

That day it had rained since morning. That’s why for the entire day, the sky had been so dark you could not tell if it was noon or night. Right now the time was 2am. Akira breathed out a sigh as he gazed out the window. Occasionally, a straight line of light from the east flashed through the rain.

Isn’t he kind of late?

As Motomi worked as a journalist, it wasn’t surprising that he often came home after midnight, but today’s case was supposed to be a simple one.

Akira’s eyes darted over and over to the clock hanging on the wall.

So slow.

In this room lighted by only a small lamp, Akira had lost count of how many times he had sighed as he looked at the empty road outside through his own reflection on the window. They had moved here for only a month, but it wouldn’t be long before they moved again.

What’s the next case? Your work seems to be going smoothly.

At first Akira had simply been cluelessly following along, but he had quickly become a proper assistant. It had been years since the happenings in Toshima. It wasn’t always peaceful, but their life had never had any serious problems.

Travelling around with Motomi had been quite exciting and fun.At one point he even thought he could do this forever.However, sometimes the little flickers of doubt would cross his mind.

There’s no such thing as forever. Surely someday, something bad would happen.

Usually Akira could erase those thoughts quickly, but today, he couldn’t even push them away. The thoughts were quickly piling up instead.

I hate this feeling, but what if something bad had really happened?

Unable to suppress the bad feelings, Akira clenched his teeth as he stood in the dark watching the rain fall outside.

It was then that it happened. A faint sound came from the front door. Was it the sound of footsteps? It seemed too uneven and irregular for that. Just as Akira was cautiously approaching the door, an unnatural sound thumped against the door.

“….!”

Akira tensed up. He pinned his eyes at the door instinctively. The door stood in the dimly lit hall way, as the sound of someone shaking the door repeatedly could be heard.

Is it a robber or a thug?

Akira held his breath and watched silently as the door unlocked and slowly opened. Akira concentrated hard, his body ready to pounce.

The silhouette that the dim lights were showing was——

Akira breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that face.

It was Motomi.

Was that unsteady gait because he’s drunk?

Motomi’s brows were furrowed as he tried to call out Akira’s name.

Motomi did not seem to enter the room. His posture was unnatural, and he leaned heavily against the door. A droplet dripped down from his right side. At first Akira had thought it was a raindrop, but as soon as the light in the room hit Motomi, Akira knew he was wrong.

——It was blood.

“Old man…!?”

“Akira… sorry but… could you lend me a hand?”

Motomi’s voice was slow and unconcerned, a tone completely opposite to the severity of the situation. Akira immediately went up and put Motomi’s outstretched arm around his shoulder. The dark orange shirt he wore under his coat had a huge black stain on it. Just that alone drew Akira’s attention to the blood.

Motomi leaned against Akira and they moved slowly, his face frowning and his one eye squeezed shut in pain. Motomi gave a bitter laugh.

“Ow…ouch ouch. They really did me in this time.”

“What in the world happened?”

“Mm, well, you know…”

The talk can wait. Right now the important thing was to tend to these wounds. Carefully supporting this body so much bigger than his, Akira led Motomi to the bedroom.

“Man, I’m beat.”

Motomi breathed out a large puff of smoke from the cigarette he had taken a deep puff from, and fell onto the bed he was leaning on. Akira took out some bandages from the first aid kit and sighed as he closed the lid. They had prepared this kit in case of any injuries on their travels.

The hospital was closed at this hour of night, but thankfully his injuries were not too serious.

Rest for now, we can go see a doctor tomorrow.

Motomi’s right torso had been slashed with a knife.

Akira had since wrapped it in bandages cleanly. Motomi had been bleeding so bad before the bandages, yet now after it was so nicely wrapped up in white, it almost looked like there hadn’t been a wound at all. But one look at the blood-soaked towel used to clean the wounds, and you would know that wasn’t true.

“So?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me.”

Akira glared at Motomi, who was lying on the bed acting like there wasn’t a problem. Even without using words, it was obvious Akira had a billion questions he was demanding answers to. Akira haphazardly left the first aid kit on the side table and sat down lightly on the bed.

“Mmm? Well yeah…” Motomi scratched his nose with the hand holding his cigarette and replied lazily, “Maybe it was just a random attacker or somethin’. I dunno.”

——Something must’ve definitely happened, Akira thought.

If Motomi was brushing it off like that, it must’ve been something he found hard to talk about. But that was also why the silence that Akira returned was filled with serious anger. He wasn’t mad that Motomi was pretending to make light of the situation, he was mad that it was something so bad that would make Motomi clamp up in silence. Motomi peaked at Akira, saw his glare, and quickly looked away.

Silence.

Akira held his glare steady, never looking away. The smoke from Motomi’s cigarette filled the space between them.

Motomi emptied his cigarette ashes into an empty can on the side table. Even a movement as light as this, sounded extremely loud in their silence. It was a brief minute, but it felt like an endless moment of tension and nerves.

“Geez, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

Motomi let out a laugh of defeat as he put out his cigarette on the brim of the empty can. His brows were furrowed as he tried to get up.

“Does it hurt?”

“…Sort of. But I’m fine.”

Motomi supported himself up with an elbow on the edge of the bed, and leaned against the wall. He looked straight into Akira’s eyes. “Well, the situation was like this. I was attacked suddenly. There was a back alley, away from the main road. It was dark and narrow. They hit me from the back when I was passing through.”

“Did you see their face?”

“It was too dark and too sudden. I didn’t. …But well my guess is…”

Motomi stopped there, rubbing his chin like he was thinking of something.

“Your guess is…?”

“Nah, it just feels like it was a face I had seen before somewhere. …My guess is it’s someone from Rabbit, maybe.”

“Rabbit…”

——The pharmaceutical company, Rabbit. A big-named company that everyone knew. In reality, it was a coverup for the research institute ENED, that was the cause of all the tragedies in Toshima.

“But why would they do that to you, old man?”

“Well, I can think of a million reasons why. After all, I am a journalist of the truth, ya know?”

Saying that, Motomi shrugged his shoulders in a joking way.

I want to bring to light the truths that were twisted or silenced —— That motto of his was what led Motomi to do this line of work even to this day. Of course, he had also tried to reveal as much as he could about what had happened in Toshima, even though that had put his life at risk. It was also the reason why they never stayed put in one place too long. But because they had never actually gotten seriously injured before, Akira had grown complacent and ignored all the occasional little worries that would appear in his head.

If only we could just keep on living like this peacefully and carefree, he had thought.

But of course…

“Well, this could also be considered a scoop! ‘Employee of a seemingly-good company, attacks a civilian!’ or something like that.”

“Is it really the time to be joking?”

“Mm?”

The words that escaped Akira’s lips sounded calm, but inside he was mad at how Motomi always acted like everything was a joke and nothing was serious to him. Like his wound just now. Even though it wasn’t a deep injury, he had lost a lot of blood.

So much blood.

…Blood…

“…Hey. Akira?”

The sight of Motomi’s bandages was wavering in Akira’s vision.

Motomi was frowning as he peaked at Akira’s face.

Under all that white bandage, was all red. The white hides the red; the color of emptiness. Suddenly, Akira’s anger evaporated and he felt absolutely nothing. He felt separated from his vision and from his consciousness, as if he had gone into someone else’s body. An image appeared, overlapping with what his eyes were actually seeing before him. A world covered in red. A reality that felt so far away. The scene that was flashing before his eyes was not that of the room he was in.

It was dark, and dirty; a scene of Toshima.

“Oi! What’s wrong?!”

Motomi’s voice was far, far away. Akira felt like his consciousness was being swallowed up. A nausea started to bubble up in him. It felt intolerable.

“Akira? Akira!”

When Akira’s eyes opened, the first thing he saw was the beige ceiling, dimly lit by the room lamp.

—— This isn’t Toshima.

When Akira realized this, he slowly let out the breath he had been holding.

Akira had covered his eyes with an arm. When he blocked his sight this way, he could feel his heartbeat was pounding faster than usual. On that same arm, Akira felt something dry and warm touch him.

“…Are you alright?”

When Akira uncovered his eyes, he was looking right into Motomi’s gentle eyes above him.

“…Old man, what about your wound?”

“Idiot. Worry about yourself right now, not me.”

Even though Motomi’s words sounded surprised, it was dipped with concern. Motomi lifted the hand he was holding Akira’s arm with, and touched his forehead.

“You don’t seem to have a fever. How are you feeling?”

“I’m ok.”

“Do you want to eat something?”

“No.”

“But let me guess, you haven’t eaten a thing since morning right? The contents of the fridge and the food stocked up haven’t changed since I left.” Motomi looked so brusque, yet because of his work he had a surprising eye for detail.

Weirdly touched by this thought, Akira shook his head.

Although Akira had always been this way, always having little to no appetite, it was especially so when he was left alone. He just simply did not feel like eating when he was alone, and he often went the whole day without food.

Although he was usually alright without food, today he just felt rather out of it. He was starting to feel like he might have a fever.

“Even if it’s just a bite, you have to eat something. Hang on.”

This time Motomi really sounded teasing. He got up as if to go to the kitchen, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking surprised.

Confused, Akira followed Motomi’s eyes right down to…

Akira quickly let go of his hand.

Instinctively, he had grabbed Motomi’s shirt. Maybe it was the fever frying his brain, but he himself had not realized what he had done.

——He’s going to tease me…

Although Akira had braced himself, Motomi said nothing, but instead cracked a small smile. He lowered his big hand and patted Akira’s head.

“What’s wrong? Are you worried?”

“…….”

“Well we did have a smooth trip so far.”

Even though Akira did not say a word, Motomi probably knew what he was thinking. Motomi sat back down on the bed. The bed springs bounced lightly. Because he was wearing a shirt, the badges on his torso were not visible.

“Well, anyway, I kinda figured something like that would happen one day. …But really, relax! It’s nothing for you worry about at all!”

His rugged fingertips brushed against Akira’s cheek.

“I said I would bring you with me, even to my grave, right? A man never goes back on his words. Anyway you’re the dangerous one.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“It means I can’t leave you alone. You’re always so freaking stubborn, yet also surprisingly frail.”

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but he could not find the words, so he averted his eyes instead. He could not disagree. After all, he had just passed out for no reason.

“I won’t die that easily even if I’m killed.” Motomi laughed.

Akira glared at him. “Stop that.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t talk about dying and stuff.”

Motomi might have been trying to be funny, but Akira thought it was extremely unpleasant. It was not something Akira thought one should be joking about. Motomi looked surprised for one second, then he quickly resumed his smile.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Two thick arms slid around Akira, and carefully pulled him into a huge hug.

Akira instinctively wanted to struggle against it, but his body went limp as it was engulfed in Motomi’s.

I almost forgot he was injured. Better not struggle.

But even if Motomi had not been injured, Akira somehow guessed that he would probably not have struggled either. Akira rested his chin on the strong shoulders before him. Usually at this point, Motomi would be teasing Akira, but instead of doing that, he was quietly and gently patting Akira’s back.

“Ok, how about this. I won’t die. You won’t die either. Until the day you tell us to go and die, we will keep living on for a hundred, no, a thousand years. Yeah?”

“I don’t want to live for that long.”

“Haha, I see.”

Akira could feel Motomi’s warmth from the arm he was resting his cheek on. He was wrapped in Motomi’s smell.

To be honest, Akira was surprised at himself. Despite that bad memory that had flooded his head just as he was about to pass out, Akira suddenly felt like everything was ok now. He felt like he could “exist together” with this memory. But it was just too vivid to think that way. Without losing its color, the pain would slowly but gradually overflow.

But was that alright? Akira thought. No, more like, it is alright. These wounds embedded deeply in him from all that he had lost, Akira had decided to accept and live with them from the day he left Toshima.

And thus, this pain and this fear, they were necessary. He must never forget them. They were the undeniable proof that right now, he was breathing and living.

And right now, he had someone who could share his pain and support him. Just this alone filled Akira with joy.

If Motomi said he was ok, then Akira wanted to accept that and wanted to believe in him.

Akira found it funny and a little strange that he was now able to to think this way. The large hand that was patting Akira’s back, moved up to caress his cheek. The distance between them shortened.

Akira waited for Motomi’s gentle eyes to close, then he too, did the same.

“…nn…”

They touched. Their lips met again and again. Slowly Akira got used to the prodding tongue that carefully pushed into his mouth. Motomi’s rugged fingers treated Akira like he was glass, occasionally a bit rough, but always gentle. These fingers ran through Akira’s hair, clasping. The occasional wet sounds made Akira feel embarrassed, but their intertwining, fluttering tongues quickly made that embarrassment disappear.

“…I can’t get enough of you, seriously.”

The words that Motomi had blurted out in the heat of their kiss lit a fire in the pits of Akira’s belly.

He’s always like that. He always says things that he knew would embarrass Akira. And worse, he always knew the worst time to do it.

“…That’s enough.”

Akira had pushed his arms out, trying to get away, but even his entire resistance was swallowed up in an embrace.

“Let go.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I’m telling you to let go.”

“Well that’s going to be a problem. ‘Cause I’m mad…”

“…Mad about what?”

“This old man. Is mad. About you.”

“…….”

Clearly Akira’s words were not getting into Motomi’s head. He was starting to feel super annoyed, and he let out a loud sigh. As if to scoop up all of Akira’s sighs, Motomi broke into a small smile as he pressed their lips together again.

As Akira slowly gave in, he thought, I don’t exactly hate this.

When did I start to feel comfortable with this feeling of excitement?

When did I start to feel relief whenever Motomi’s hands touched me?

This is how two people shared their feelings and accepted one another.

Since when did I start to realize this?

After a long kiss, Akira felt the springs of the bed on his back. He took in a deep breath.

———

“You know, I’ve always thought this.”

“Thought what?”

“That your cooking is really bad, you know….?”

“……”

Akira pouted and muttered unhappily to himself.

“Well fine, then don’t eat it.” Akira said, as he slammed the table with one hand and stood up.

Who was it that said they were busy so they wanted me to cook?

When they had just come back from the hospital, a work call had come in. Akira had tried to tell Motomi he should rest instead, but it was a major client so Motomi could not refuse. Akira narrowed his eyes at the gentle sunshine coming in from the window. The sky was so clear today that the dark rain from yesterday felt like a lie. Ever since he started living with Motomi, he had tried to do housework. Maybe it was because Akira never had a homely lifestyle before, but no matter how he tried he just could not get better at it.

Especially when it came to food.

Akira had always felt he was ok even if he didn’t eat. Needless to say, he did not care about the taste either.

Motomi raised a brow and seemed to want to say something but he couldn’t decide how to put it.

“Well I mean……, the person who marries you is gonna suffer.”

“Not really. It’s not confirmed that I’ll be the one doing the cooking.”

“Hey you never know. Housework and child raising is too hard for only one party. It’s important to share the workload, you know?”

After swallowing the ‘thing’ on his spoon, Motomi made a weird face. He then pressed his index finger to his wrinkled brow in a deliberate manner. It got on Akira’s nerves the way Motomi was talking him to like he was arguing with a child.

“In the first place, who would I even marry?”

“Hmm, who knows?”

“……”

Hearing that answer, Akira grew increasingly irritated.

When he said they would be together to the grave, didn’t he mean they’d be together till death do us part? Wasn’t it Motomi who said that?

But despite that, it’s not like Akira had ever gave any thought about their relationship or anything like that. It’s not like Akira had ever expected ‘Forever’ or other words like that. He just thought he wanted them to be together, for as long as possible. That was all. However, hearing such words and their vague meaning wasn’t pleasant at all.

Was it ok for the two of them to be together? Or was it actually not ok, but they just kind of ended up together? Such thoughts started to flood Akira’s head. Leaning with one elbow on the table, Motomi looked up at Akira, grinning.

“Ohh what a poor thing! I feel so sorry for the poor person who has to marry you.”

Listening to what was Motomi’s obvious teasing, Akira’s irritation turned into anger.

I was an idiot to think about our relationship so seriously!

“Old man.”

“Hm?”

“Are you done?”

“With what?”

“…Are you DONE—“

With a swoop, Motomi had suddenly stood up and slipped his arm under Akira’s thigh and arm. Akira was so shocked he forgot what he was about to say, letting his guard down. In a scoop, Motomi picked Akira right up.

“……oof, you’re really heavy.”

“Yeah no shit. PUT ME DOWN!”

Motomi grimaced and gave a bitter laugh.

He was injured just yesterday. It wouldn’t be a surprise if doing this was painful. “Ow ow ow. Don’t struggle, it makes my wound hurt more. Well anyway, don’t you think there’s at least one of these poor sobs in the world who would? Huh Akira?”

“…What?”

“I mean if it was me I’d even cook delicious food.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Akira was so busy trying to figure out how to get down that he was not really getting what Motomi was talking about. In fact, Motomi’s words were going in his right ear and exiting right out the left.

Motomi happily squinted at Akira struggling in his arms and the corners of his mouth raised  into a grin.

“In fact, how about we get married right now?”

“!?”

The words were so shocking that it snapped Akira right back into attention. He stared at Motomi’s face.

What the heck was this old man talking about?

…Was my cooking that bad that it had made him go strange?

While these thoughts were racing through Akira’s mind, Motomi’s grin got wider and wider. Akira suddenly got really mad, and ignoring Motomi’s injuries he struggled wildly to get out of Motomi’s grip.

Motomi watched Akira’s reaction but continue going on about how painful his wound was, as he quietly adjusted his balance and tightened his grip so that Akira could not get away.

“Idiot! Let go!”

“Hahaha!”

Motomi’s joyful laughter reverberated from the rampaging Akira under his chin, all the way out the open window, into the bright blue sky.

END

First Publication: Cool-B 2005 vol. 3 / 2005 August 4th

——

The Day is Dawning Explanation

This was a short story published in Cool-B. The theme was Motomi and Akira.

I was trying to write that Akira, who was completely indifferent to the warmth and connection to other people, gradually beginning to realize that it was ‘good thing” after being near Motomi. And once he slowly began to accept it, he would start to try approaching people on his own accord. Akira would also start to worry about how vague the future is, and I think this shows a change in how he thinks now.

I also did not plan for Motomi to say “Let’s get married” at all, but somehow Motomi just ended up saying it (LOL). When it comes to Motomi, he seems to write himself often, just like his “Bring you with me to the grave” words.

I chose this title (Tokiakari) after seeing the dictionary explanation: “As dawn breaks, the eastern sky becomes slightly brighter, or, when it’s raining, the clouds occasionally part, and the sky become brighter”.

—Fuchii Kabura

[rainboq]

Thank you for the prompt! Here's one in return. #3 (kiss on the cheek) pricefield

You asked for a kiss on the cheek, you get an entire date and Chloe being a massive disaster. Enjoy! Apologies in advanced for my nonexistent Spanish skills. I’m going insane. It’s just Max, why the hell am I going insane? Chloe sighs as she sits in her truck, one hand on the wheel while the other hovers over the send button on her phone. Fucking Rachel and her big ideas. Just ask her out Chloe, it’ll be fine Chloe, you’ve known her since you were a little kid Chloe. 

A little traitorous part of her wished that Max had just said no so she could get the rejection over and done with. Instead, her dorky little face with it’s stupidly cute dimpled smile and earnest eyes had light up like Chloe had told her that there was going to be new episodes of Hawt Dawg Man or something. And not, you know, a date with her dumb punk ass.

Just hit the damn button Chloe so you can blow this already and tell Rachel you told her so. There’s no way someone as smart and talented as Max wants anything to do with me. She’s just doing this for old time’s sake.

Her finger taps the button and she locks the screen so she can’t stare at it and ratchet her anxiety up higher.

Ha. As if she has any control over her anxiety right now.

Her phone buzzes with Max’s reply and she takes a few deep breaths to try and steady her nerves. Her usual go to right now would be smoking, but she forgot her damn pack at home like a dumbass in her flurry of getting ready. At least I didn’t fuck up Rachel’s makeup job.

Is Max even going to like me with this much makeup on? She knew me before I ever started wearing any.

She does an impromptu drum solo on her steering wheel to try and get some of her nervous energy out, to mixed success when her eyes spot movement in the lobby of Max’s building. She turns in her seat, gets a look at her and promptly forgets to breathe. Chloe had said to dress up a bit, and Max had taken the liberty of wearing a flowing black dress with some matching leggings. It’s not nearly as showy as the things Rachel wears to parties and events, but there’s something about the way her freckled shoulders look under the straps that makes her heart squeeze. Those damn freckles, why do they have to be so cute?! Dammit, breathe, don’t be a total dweeb in front of Max because she grew up and got hot.

Fuck she is hot though.

I’m so boned.

Max spots her truck as she pushes out through the inner door and a great big dorky smile spreads across her face as she waves enthusiastically. Chloe waves back and scoots across the bench seat to throw the passenger door open. A moment later Max is climbing in, all winning and too god damn adorable smiles. “Hey Chloe!”

“Uh, hey Max! You look… hella great.”

Max’s cheeks go a bit red as she hunches her shoulders forwards, one hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t know about that, but you look amazing.”

There’s no part of Chloe’s stolen blazer and worn black jeans that qualify as amazing to her, but if Max likes it she’s not about to complain. “Thanks,” Chloe tries to say as smoothly as she can muster despite the slight wobble in her tone, “You down for some food?”

“I’m hella starving.” Max replies with a cheeky grin as she shuts her door. “I’m so down for this ‘best taco truck in town’.”

Rolling up to a dumpy taco truck in her old brick with someone as gorgeous as Max suddenly has Chloe feeling like Max really deserves a better first and probably only date, but plans are plans. “Then let your noble steed be off, fair maiden!”

Max breaks out in gigglesnorts as Chloe pulls out of the parking lot. “You did not just use one of William’s lines on me!”

“I so hella did Caulfield, what’re you gonna do about it?” Chloe adds a wink, hoping it’ll cover up how obviously sweaty as hell her palms are right now.

“Oh, I’ve got something in mind.” Max says in a low tone that makes Chloe have to fight to not choke on her own spit.

Oh god, is Max actually flirting with me? I’m so not fucking ready for this. “You down to thrash a bit hippie?”

“As long as your bony elbows don’t hit me!” Max replies with a laugh and Chloe punches the radio on.

The scratchy punk from the local station starts blaring and Chloe internally breathes a sigh of relief at not having to try and deal with Max’s flirting for a moment. Oh god, I can hear Rachel laughing her ass off at me right now.

Max for her part grooves along, and Chloe has to focus to avoid going off the road because of it. God she still dances like a total dork! Fuck, it should be illegal to be this cute or something.

Thankfully they make it to the taco truck without Chloe running into anything, despite her distracted driving, and she pulls them up to the sidewalk. I just hope she likes it or this is going to be a hella lame date.

“Hungry Max?” Chloe asks as she throws her door open after shutting off the radio.

“I’m so hungry, you have no idea.” Max replies as she does the same before sheepishly admitting, “I also kinda skipped lunch.”

Chloe jumps out of her truck and jogs around the front of it as Max clambers out. “Jesus Christ Caulfield, no wonder you ended up so short.”

“What! Hey! Not all of us get to be so freakishly tall.” Max groans and sticks out her tongue.

“Yup, it’s just my burden to bear. Now what do you wanna eat?”

“I mean, you know what’s good here.” Max shrugs as she walks alongside Chloe towards the food truck. “Order for me?”

“Spicy or nah?”

“No way, never spicy.”

Chloe can’t help but laugh at the way Max shakes her head and waves her hands in the air. Yup, still a total dork. “Can do Maximo. Just wait here.”

Chloe skips ahead a few steps and shouts out, “¡Hola Alejandro!”

There’s a clattering sound inside the truck and a middle-aged man’s face appears, “¡Aha! ¡Flaca! ¿Como estas?”

“Muy bien, gracias. ¿Y tú?”

“Bein.” He says with a nod and a big smile.

“Bien, quatro numero doce con polo por favor.” Chloe says, before turning to grin at Max who looks a little stunned.

Alejandro sticks his head out to see what she’s looking at before pulling back in and grinning broadly. “¿Tu amor?”

Chloe shrugs, unable to keep the smile off of her face as she rubs the back of her head. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I forgot how to say that in Spanish. Way to go dumbass.

Alejandro, to his credit, doesn’t need it spelled out for him as he pokes his head back out and calls out to Max, “¡Hola bonita!”

Max freezes up for a moment before doing a little wave back. “H-hola.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Alejandro grins at her, before retreating back into the food truck to start working on the order.

Chloe pulls out her wallet from her blazer’s pocket and takes out approximately the right amount of money plus tip and drops it on the counter before jogging back to Max with a big idiot grin on her face. “And that’s the food!”

“I guess I should probably learn some Spanish if I’m going to be living large in LA, huh?” Max asks sheepishly, doing that thing she used to do when they were kids where she’d hold her arm.

“Prolly a good idea,” Chloe says as she moves to stand next to Max. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

“Maybe I should have brought a sweater, I always forget how cold it gets here when the sun goes down.”

“Here, stand next to me, the food should warm you up.” Chloe holds out her arm and Max doesn’t hesitate to tuck into her side.

A sort of silence settles in as Max hums softly to herself and chews on her lip while Chloe watches the window for the food. The pressure of Max against her feels good, great even, but it all feels so surreal. “I can’t believe we’re actually on a date.”

“Oh no?” Max giggles softly as she snakes an arm around Chloe’s waist, “What’s so unbelievable about it?”

“How about the part where you said yes?”

“When I told my parents, my dad announced that Joyce and mom owe him fifty bucks.”

“Wait, what?” Chloe somehow manages to not stammer.

“They all had a bet, our dads bet that we’d date some day.”

Chloe turns her eyes heavenwards, where the few stars visible in LA are starting to poke out as the sun sets. I guess you’re smiling on my dumb ass from up there, huh dad?

“¡Loca!” Alejandro shouts from the truck as he puts their food out.

“That’s us.” Chloe says before reluctantly pulling away from Max, “we’ll eat in the back of my truck, meet me there?”

“Sure thing.”

Chloe trots over, grabs the two trays of food. Damn, dude threw in tortilla chips gratis, I fucking owe him a bigass tip next time I come.

Max waits for her, standing next to the now open tailgate. “After you, mademoiselle.”

“You know French?” Chloe asks with a cocked eyebrow as she slides the trays into the bed before climbing up.

“I picked up a couple things from an ex.” Max shrugs as Chloe turns, offers her a hand and hauls her up into the bed.

They end up sitting together at the far end, their backs resting against the cab as Chloe divides the food between them. “Eat up, short stuff.”

“Oh my god, stop making fun of my height you beanstalk!” Max laughs as she elbows Chloe.

Chloe just cackles as she pulls out her first taco and takes her first bite. Come on Chloe, it’s Max, but it’s still a date so don’t eat like a total fucking slob.

She waits until she’s actually finished her first mouthful and swallowed before turning to Max, “How is it?”

“Oh my god I think I’m in love,” Max mutters as she finishes her first mouthful, “Legit the best taco I’ve ever had.”

“Did I tell you or did I tell you?” Chloe grins in triumph before taking another bite of her taco.

They don’t talk much as they consume their tacos, they’re too tasty. Chloe finishes first and has to resist the urge to shout her victory like they did when they were kids having stupid eating contests. Instead, she starts popping tortilla chips into her mouth and just kind of watching Max while she waits.

Damn, I’ve seen her a bunch since she moved here and I still can’t get over how damn cute she got. Like even her ‘ugly duckling’ pics from high school look great. I can’t believe I missed out on her braces years though, damn, that would have been hilarious to be around for. That or I would have gotten in a lot of fights for jackasses making fun of her, which wouldn’t have been much of a change honestly…

Max finishes her tacos and beams up at Chloe, “That was delicious! Thank you so much Chloe!”

“Hey, you deserve it, also hang on, you got some sour cream on your nose.” Chloe grabs a napkin and wipes it off, prompting a giggle from Max.

“You’re adorable.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Max laughs and steals a chip from Chloe’s basket before grinning at her as she eats it.

“What, hey! Those are my chips! You’ve got your own!”

“Yeah but yours are tastier!”

Oh my god, this old game. “What, you want me to feed them to you?”

Chloe’s heart skips a beat as Max’s cheeks flush red. “I-I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

“Only if you feed me yours.” Chloe grins as she feels her own cheeks heating up.

“It's a deal then.”

Chloe holds up one of her chips to Max’s face, who promptly devours it before holding up one of her chips for Chloe, who returns the gesture. Before long they’re both grinning at each other like sappy idiots and swapping chips until their baskets run empty. Max makes a little disappointed noise as they run out and Chloe gathers up their baskets.

“I’ll run these back and we’ll hit the road?”

“Sure thing.” Max says, before stifling a yawn. “Man, I didn’t realize how late it’s getting already.”

“Nah, you’re just getting old, the night’s still young.”

Max jabs a finger into Chloe’s side before laughing, “You ass, don’t you know it’s rude to joke about a lady’s age?”

“I’m older than you!”

“I said a lady.” Max retorts with a smirk as they both get to their feet and hop out of the bed.

“You got me there Maximus Wrecked.”

Damn, I think this is actually going pretty well! She thinks to herself as she jogs back to the food stand and drops the baskets off on the outside counter. From inside Alejandro flashes her a double thumbs up and Chloe grins back at him before turning around to head back to her truck.

Max is already in the cab, holding herself and shivering a bit as Chloe gets in. “Definitely should have brought a sweater.”

Thinking fast, Chloe pulls off her blazer and holds it out to Max. “Here, until the heater decides to start working.”

“Thank you so much,” Max says as she puts the blazer on in a hurry, “This has been great.”

“Hey, you’re great so…”

There’s a giggle from Max before she stifles another yawn. “Dork. We should probably head back though. I had a crazy long day.”

Chloe’s heart sinks and her mind immediately starts racing for ways she fucked this up as she starts her truck up. “Oh, okay.”

“I had fun Chloe, seriously.” Max says, reaching out across the bench and laying her hand on Chloe’s forearm as she shifts the truck into gear. “We’ll have to do this again.”

Oh, okay, so I didn’t completely fuck it up. “Second date, huh?”

“Definitely,” Max smiles warmly as they pull out into the street, “Mind if I put some of my tunes on?”

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

Soft indie rock fills the cabin as Chloe drives back to Max’s place. Despite the promise of a second date, she really, really, really doesn’t want this to end. She’d hoped to go walking down the beach or something with max, maybe hit up a bar and get a little crazy.

Can’t you just be happy dumbass? You got the second date, just… take it easy. You know better than to rush Max of all fucking people.

The drive back to Max’s apartment is way too short, or maybe she’s so wrapped up in her thoughts that the usual nightmare of LA traffic barely registers. Either way, she’s sitting in front of Max’s building and wishing she was anywhere else in town with Max.

“So, uh…”

“Thank you, I had a wonderful evening,” Max says softly as she scoots across the bench seat and presses a gentle kiss into Chloe’s cheek, one hand cupping her chin.

It takes Chloe a second to remember what words are, much less how to put them together into sentences, but she does manage, eventually as she turns to look at Max. “You’re, uh, hella welcome.”

Something mischievous that ties Chloe’s guts in a knot sparkles in those brilliant blue eyes of Max as she smiles wide, “Do you hella want to come up to my apartment for some coffee?”

[moonflowerlesbians]

“choose your battles wisely”

Un-beta’d and written after surgery, so please take with a grain of salt. I’ll reblog with the AO3 link in the morning!

Rated T, ~4.1k. Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort

~~~

Jamie is an idiot.

Or, to be more specific, she is an absolute goddamn buffoon of the utmost clownery.

This is, more or less, Dani’s internal monologue as she follows the sound of pained grunts to a somewhat obscured section of the sprawling statue garden, where she comes across a rather disgruntled gardener lying flat on her back in the mud. Her oilskin hat has fallen to one side, and Jamie stares, bleary-eyed, at the grey England sky overhead. There is a decently sized marble sculpture on the ground beside her.  

“You alright, there?” Dani calls, after only a brief moment of amused silence.

“Jesus!” Jamie swears, her entire body twitching, which causes her outburst to dissolve into a groan. “Christ, Poppins, wear a bloody bell,” she grumbles.

Dani rolls her eyes. “You alright?” she repeats, quieter this time.

“Oh, who, me? Yeah, ‘course. Just, you know, enjoying some ‘me time.’” She moves to raise her arm in a weak attempt at waving Dani off, but the limb makes it mere inches off the ground before flopping unceremoniously into the dirt. “Taking in the views...”

“Some view,” Dani notes, with a playful, sardonic lilt to her voice. A pause. “Owen made sandwiches if you’d like to come in for lunch.”

“Be right there,” Jamie replies halfheartedly. She does not stir, her gaze still fixed on the dreary cloud cover, a firm set to her jaw. “Don’t wait up.”

“We might as well walk back together.” Dani crosses her arms. “That is, assuming you’re almost done with your ‘me time.’”

“Almost done. Right. Yeah.”

Dani watches the deep inhale as Jamie steels herself, the muscles of Jamie’s stomach flexing with effort. With a sharp gasp, Jamie pushes herself onto her elbows, but she only lasts a quick second before she’s once again lying prone, muttered curses falling from her lips.

Dani winces sympathetically. “Oh, baby, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Bit late for that.”

“What did you do?” She kneels at Jamie’s side, moist soil dampening her jeans, and brushes wispy brown hairs from her face.

“Picked a fight with the wrong woman.” Jamie nods at the overturned statue. “Credit where credit’s due, she’s stronger than she looks. Heavier, too.”

“So, you decided you were going to move a marble statue, on your own, after a rainstorm, which resulted in you, what, throwing out your back?” Dani translates. “And you thought this was a good idea because…?”

“Never said it was a good idea.”

“And yet here we are.”

“Right, well,” Jamie sighs, “we’ve established I’m not the sharpest knife in the block.” Her eyes meet Dani’s, defeated. “If you would be so kind as to lend me a hand, I’d rather not like to die like this.”

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” She thinks she catches a fleeting smile before it is replaced with a grimace.

Gingerly, Dani wedges her arm between Jamie’s shoulders and the earth below, murmuring gentle apologies at each indication of discomfort. She offers her other hand for Jamie to grab. Together, they work her into a sitting position. Jamie’s chest heaves, and her face is a ghostly shade of white.

They stay like that for a minute. While Jamie catches her breath, Dani’s fingers rub what she hopes are soothing circles into her back. How long has she been out here?

“Are you okay to walk?” Dani asks.

“Suppose we’ll find out,” Jamie says in a tone not at all reassuring.

Dani braces herself and takes both of Jamie’s hands in her own, digging her heels into the dirt. “One...two…”

On three, she pulls, and Jamie staggers to her feet, with Dani catching the majority of her weight as she topples forward and the air goes out of her.

“JesusshitfuckingChristfuckshittinghellgoddamnit-”

“Okay, you’re okay,” Dani says, trying to angle herself to best support the woman about to get herself excommunicated for blasphemy. She can feel the tension radiating off of Jamie in waves.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Jamie promises, very much not fine and very much not good. “Nothing’s broken, I don’t think. Just, ah, a little crooked, s’all.” Her breathing is labored as they take a few tentative steps.

“Look, you just rest here, and I’ll run back and get Owen--”

“No, absolutely not,” Jamie cuts her off. “If that man finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it. Little shit still brings up the Rosebush Incident of Eighty-five whenever I break out the pruning shears.” Her arm drapes heavy around Dani’s neck as they round a corner.

“What--”

“Don’t,” Jamie wheezes, “ask.”

“You realize how dumb that is, right? And I’m definitely going to ask,” Dani says, guiding them toward the front door. Jamie stops short.

“Side door,” she explains, “servants’ hall. Won’t go past the kitchen. Can use one of the empty rooms until I sort myself out.”

“You might want to get your head checked if you think I’m leaving you alone like this.”

Dani readjusts her grip, while Jamie nimbly flips through a massive ring of keys Dani swears she’s never seen before, yet Jamie handles with the expertise of someone who does this daily. Which, Dani realizes, feeling rather stupid, she probably does.

“Fuck,” Jamie says under her breath as the door opens, revealing a hallway Dani has yet to explore. Dani sees the problem. She looks at Jamie. She looks at the narrow staircase. She evaluates her upper body strength.

Then, Jamie is making a rather undignified noise as Dani lifts her without warning, and Dani would be lying if she said the look on Jamie’s face isn’t extraordinarily satisfying. Something about seeing her stoic, mulish girlfriend, gone limp in her arms, looking at her, a little awestruck, well… it’s a sight Dani intends to cherish. And definitely not for the potential blackmail purposes.

Only after Dani gingerly deposits her on the blue quilt in Dani’s room does Jamie say, deadly serious, “We never speak of this again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dani says, “take these.” She plops two pills and a cup of water in Jamie’s hand and disappears into the adjacent bathroom.

“That’s the spirit, Poppins,” she calls after her.

“Come on,” Dani says, reappearing in the doorway. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

“I’m fine,” Jamie scoffs, visibly shivering.

“The mud stain on my duvet says otherwise. Come on. Up you get. The bath is filling.”

“I can’t ask you to let me use your bath.”

“Good thing you’re not asking, then.”

The half-formed rebuke dies on Jamie’s lips, and she nods as if to say, touché, but Dani is certain she will not be hearing the end of this. She beckons Jamie up and pulls her into the other room, leaning her against the countertop. Without thinking, she begins undoing the buttons on Jamie’s top.

“Blimey,” Jamie remarks, not pushing Dani away, but stilling her movements.

Dani can feel the heat rise in her cheeks. She backpedals. “I, um, I didn’t-- I’m so sorry.”

Jamie just laughs, “Only teasing, love. But, ah, I can probably take it from here, yeah?”

“Um, yeah. I’ll just… be in the bedroom. If you need me.”

Dani slumps against the door as it closes behind her. The sound of the water running mimics the rush of blood in her ears. They’ve only been doing... whatever this is between them for a month. Not long at all. Certainly not long enough to be undressing her in the middle of the day with people in the house while she’s in pain. Dani hadn’t meant it in an erotic way but, Jesus, Dani, show some restraint.

She exhales. Right. Organize. Jamie will need a towel. She’ll need dry clothes. Maybe tea? A warm compress. Or ice? What do people put on sore muscles? A massage? Dani swallows thickly and shakes off the thought of Jamie’s smooth skin beneath her fingertips, tightness dissipating as Dani works the knots away. She absolutely does not imagine Jamie melting into the mattress or the moans that might escape through her lips, and she decidedly does not dwell upon the rare sight of Jamie, pliant and entirely relaxed.

Absolutely not. Shove that into a box and come back to it later. It’s worked well enough in the past.

Right then.

Dani sets about making the necessary rearrangements, shuffling her boots into the closet, digging out appropriately loose clothes for laying about, and swiping a plate of sandwiches from the kitchen, making some excuse about Jamie being too busy to come in, but she sends her thanks. Owen raises an eyebrow at this, but apparently does not feel the need to comment. Hannah, however, takes one look at Dani’s muddy knees and frowns.

“Miss Clayton, you had better not be tracking mud through my house.”

“Yes, Miss Clayton, or else you will have to mop up the mess just like Miles!” Flora states, intently focused on the cucumber and cream cheese sandwich on her plate.

“I told you it wasn’t me!” Miles objects loudly, his drinking glass making contact with the table with a bit more force than necessary.

“It’s in the past,” Dani dismisses, before the situation can get out of hand. She turns to Hannah, and, in her best I’m-setting-an-example-please-go-with-it voice, says, “Of course, Mrs. Grose, I made sure to wipe my feet at the door, but I will clean up any messes I made because it is very important that we all clean up our own messes.”

“Right you are, dear.”

“Could I get a cup of tea to take to Jamie as well? I’d make it but…”

“Say no more,” Owen rises from his seat at the table. “Wouldn’t want to poison poor Jamie, now would we?” Then, with a chuckle, “She’s got you properly whipped, hasn’t she? Trekking lunch out to whatever corner of the grounds she’s wound up in.”

“Why’s Jamie whipping Miss Clayton?” Flora pipes up.

Dani feels her face flush. “Oh, sweetie, she’s, um, that’s not--”

“What Owen means to say, is it’s very nice of Miss Clayton to deliver a meal to Jamie while she’s working,” Hannah says pointedly.

Owen coughs. “Ah, yeah, to-tea-lly leaf-ly of her to help out.”

“Hannah, I was thinking of taking my lunch with Jamie. Would you mind keeping an eye on these two for a little while?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Hannah chaffs, “They’re an awful lot of trouble, these two.”

“You think,” Owen chimes in, “they’d behave if I told them I could use a hand baking biscuits this afternoon?”

“I suppose that might do it,” Hannah says, an expression of faux pensivity creasing her forehead. “What do you think, children?”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Grose, that would be perfectly splendid!”

“Can we make snickerdoodles?”

“Don’t see why not,” Owen says. He hands a teacup to Dani. “Off with you. Go find your knight in mud and dungarees.”

Dani shoots them a grateful smile and heads back upstairs, delicately balancing the cup with the plate of food. She knocks thrice.

“Yeah.” Jamie’s voice comes muffled through the heavy wooden door as Dani cautiously turns the knob.

Dani lets out a moderately embarrassing squeak and immediately averts her eyes, intent on looking anywhere except at a very wet, towel-clad Jamie. “Oh, um, good. Y-you found the towel.”

“That I did. I, ah, wasn’t sure if these were for me,” she gestures to the neatly folded stack of clothes on the bed, “didn’t want to assume.”

“They’re, um, they’re for you.” There’s a fascinating crack in the floor Dani has never noticed before. It’s about four inches long and almost invisible.

“Hey, Dani, you can look.” Jamie sounds almost concerned. ‘S’okay. It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.” She grins wryly.

“No, no, yeah, I know. It just, I don’t know, feels different when it’s not for that reason.”

“Dani Clayton, not a fan of casual nudity. Noted,” Jamie teases.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t a fan.” Dani places the tea and sandwiches on the bedside table, stepping into Jamie’s space.

“That so?”

“Mhm,” Dani hums, “and I’m going to stop this runaway train right here. You’re injured.”

Jamie huffs. “Bloody rude.”

“How’s your back?”

“Feels fine. Right as rain. I’ll just get dressed and go back out--”

“You most certainly will not. You are going to get dressed and get in this bed and you are going to rest.”

“But I’ve still got to finish in the statuary, and Hannah’s brought up a crack she wants me to fix, and--”

“--and all of those things can wait. I’ve taken care of enough idiotic teenage sports injuries to know that straining it will only make it worse. So, put these on, and get into bed.” She leaves no room for disagreement.

“I can’t believe you just used your teacher voice on me.”

“I can’t believe you’re being this obstinate.”

“I’m fine!”

“Why won’t you let me take care of you?” It is not aggressive. It comes out softly, a hint of confusion combined with an ounce of desperation.

Jamie freezes. “I don’t…”

“You only took a bath after I practically forced you--”

“I wouldn’t--”

“You could’ve really hurt yourself.”

“I know, but--”

“How long would you have laid out there in the mud before calling for help?”

“Dani,” Jamie interrupts, an appeasing thumb running along the inside of Dani’s wrist, “look, I just…” she sighs. “It’s not that easy.”

“It is, though,” Dani insists.

“No, love, it’s not. Not when you’ve been… well, not when you’re me.” She pauses, sits on the bed, and nudges Dani down next to her. “I don’t like feeling useless, s’all. People look at you, see you laying about, they see weakness. Someone to be pitied or someone to be taken advantage of. Just once is all it takes for them to get the idea you can’t stand on your own two feet.”

She seems a million miles away, a decade, even, and Dani waits. Jamie will continue if she wants to.

“I don’t like being pitied. And I know that’s not...that’s not what you’re trying to do.” She chooses her words carefully, as if walking through a minefield. Dani stands on the other side. “No need to give me the talk about everybody needing help. ‘Cause, in theory, yeah, that’s true, but when you’ve always been the one doing the helping... it… it’s not all that easy to be on the receiving end.” The last sentence is rushed, and Jamie finishes with a humorless snort of laughter. Her thumb has halted its caress of Dani’s skin.

Dani is silent for a moment. Coddling would be met with rejection. Not outright, no, but Dani knows better. Jamie has lain bare this piece of her soul, held out a fragment of her identity in tender hands, and trusts Dani to take it under her care, treasure it. Jamie had woven the tale of her life under the moonlight, and Dani has spent the past month trying to unravel the threads, to understand. Now, Jamie has given her a new string to follow, but she cannot pull too hard, lest it fall apart.

Dani speaks, quiet, but firm. “We’ll just have to practice then, won’t we.”

A flicker of confusion passes over Jamie’s face as she processes. Then, she softens. Her thumb resumes its rhythmic movement.

There will be other times, Dani has said, and I will stay and I will be here for you because you aren’t alone anymore.

And that seems to be enough.

Jamie exhales through her nose.

“Bit nippy in here. Might, ah, might want to put on some clothes.”

Right. Yes. Of course. Jamie is still in a towel. Gooseflesh has risen along her legs, and she shivers.

“Oh, oh, yeah,” Dani stammers, “I’ll just--” She mimes turning around and is met with a chuckle.

“You weren’t this shy the other night, if memory serves.”

“That,” Dani reiterates, “that was different.” She makes a show of fussing with the corner of the duvet, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles.

Jamie makes a noncommittal noise low in her throat. “I’m decent.”

Dani had picked the clothes, sure, but for a woman who prides herself on preparedness, actually seeing Jamie in Dani’s old elementary school t-shirt and loose-fitting, flannel trousers causes the circuits in her brain to fry.

“Your tea’s getting cold,” she says dumbly. “I didn’t make it,” she adds, noting Jamie’s look of skepticism. Apparently satisfied with that answer, Jamie sips at her beverage and slides under the covers, gesturing for Dani to join her. She shakes her head. “I still need to clean myself up. Hannah’s watching the kids for now, but I really should get back to them.”

“A tragedy of Shakespearen proportions.”

“You need anything else before I shower?”

“No, thank you, love.” Modest affection shines on Jamie’s face, and she speaks so genuinely Dani’s heart aches. She smiles.

“Get some rest, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jamie gives a mock salute, at which Dani can only roll her eyes before exiting  into the bathroom with an extra towel and a change of clothes.

When she returns, wringing her hair out, she finds Jamie soundly asleep. The teacup has been placed on the table, next to the plate now missing a sandwich, and Jamie is curled on her side, puffing slow, measured breaths.

Chamomile tea. Who knew?

Dani makes sure to close the door quietly, and she does her best to herd the children away from that side of the house.

It’s about time for supper when Dani makes her way back to her room. When Jamie does not answer her knocks, Dani opens the door, praying the hinges will not squeak for once. Jamie is still nestled in Dani’s bed. She’s rolled over, though, facing the door, and Dani can see her bangs billowing slightly with every breath. Jamie’s nose twitches where the hair tickles it.

This isn’t the first time Dani has seen Jamie in her bed, and she certainly hopes it won’t be the last, but this, this casual intimacy, is something so precious to her. She wants it to last.

Dani perches on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to remove the offending strand of hair from Jamie’s face, and Jamie stirs.

“Hey,” Dani whispers, and Jamie cracks an eye. She presses a hand to her forehead. One of her shirtsleeves has fallen to the side, revealing pale collarbones.

“Hey.” Her voice is gravelly, sleep-laden, in a way that makes Dani’s stomach turn over itself. “Time s’it?”

“Around six, I think?” That grabs Jamie’s attention. Before Dani can stop her, she’s scrambling to sit up, completely forgetting that’s a terrible idea and acting surprised when she topples back onto the pillows with a grunt.

“Easy, easy…” Dani scolds sweetly, as Jamie gasps. “You’re okay. Just lay back. That’s it.”

“Christ.”

“Forgot why you ended up here in the first place, huh?”

“I can’t believe you let me sleep all day,” Jamie says, when the stab of pain fades. “Thought you’d at least wake me up after an hour or so. Had things to do.”

“We said they could wait.”

“You said they could wait.”

“You can’t seriously be mad at me for making you take care of yourself.”

“Feel like I wasted a day, s’all.”

“Well, you didn’t. Taking care of yourself is never a waste,” Dani says, effectively ending the argument. “Do you want to come down for dinner, or do you want me to bring it up to you?” Jamie opens her mouth, but Dani continues, “Before you answer, I want you to think about whether you’re making this decision based on what’s easiest for me, or what you actually feel capable of doing.”

Jamie’s brows raise. “Someone’s feeling bold this evening.”

Dani resists the urge to shirk away, to cave. She knows Jamie would drop it instantly, reassuring Dani that she hasn’t actually overstepped. Instead, Dani says, quietly, sincerely, “You don’t have to put your needs aside to make my life easier.” She considers, leans down so that she’s laying next to Jamie on the bed. “Besides, I like taking care of you.”

Jamie studies her. Whether she’s looking for the lie or for Dani to pull back and say, “just kidding!” Dani doesn’t know. Jamie presses a gentle kiss to her lips, a kiss that speaks the words she cannot. A kiss that says, I’m working on it.

Dani stays close when they break apart, their foreheads touching. “So, dinner?”

“Should probably make an appearance.”

Dani gives her a pointed look. “‘Should’ or ‘want to.’”

“Want to,” Jamie assures, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“You know,” Dani says, helping Jamie sit up slowly, “we should probably tell them how you hurt yourself, or they’ll assume it was from less, hm, virtuous activities.”

“Dirty bird.” Jamie swats her arm. “Owen, maybe, but not our good, Christian Hannah.”

“But do you really want to deal with the comments at the table?”

“Fine. We tell them I fell, and that’s it.”

“Right, so I shouldn’t mention your incredibly stupid idea to move a heavy marble statue without help?”

“Not ideally, no.”

Dani pouts. “Do I at least get to ask about the Rosebush Incident of Eighty-five?”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” Jamie sighs. “Fine. Ask Owen, then. Suppose you’ll find out about it eventually.” Dani places a gleeful kiss on her cheek.

“Come on, let’s get some food into you.”

The few hours of bedrest appear to have paid off, Dani thinks smugly, as Jamie is perfectly capable of walking herself down the hall. Jamie, however, seems to be rather content to use this as an excuse to lean into Dani, and Dani can’t say she minds all that much. She stands on her own as they near the kitchen and moves with only a slight limp and a wince Dani only catches because she’s looking for it.

At another time, she’ll wonder how often Jamie has hidden her pain.

“There she is!” Owen exclaims when they take their unassigned, assigned seats at the table.

“What happened, dear?” Hannah says simultaneously, as Owen does a double take, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missing. It dawns on him a moment later.

“Fell. ‘M fine,” Jamie shrugs.

“Must’ve been some fall,” Owen remarks, with a smirk that has Dani wary.

“Hm?” Jamie does not look up from the roll she’s buttering.

“You’re wearing Miss Clayton’s clothes,” Flora observes helpfully. Dani chokes on her water. Shit. How could she have missed that?

To her credit, Jamie continues without faltering. “Tripped, landed in a mud puddle, and I didn’t have a change of clothes in the truck. Miss Clayton was nice enough to loan me hers.”

Well, the first part, at least, is true. Dani pinches herself for not asking if Jamie had her own clothes to change into. Even if she does look divine in the free t-shirt they gave Dani when she started teaching.

Owen seems skeptical, but, blessedly, he drops the subject in favor of animatedly recounting the story of their baking adventures that afternoon.

Hannah catches them after dinner, just as Dani is preparing to send the children to bed. “Will you be staying the night, Jamie? In the unfortunate event your injury acts up, of course,” she says with a mirthful wink.

Jamie looks to Dani for an answer, her mouth moving but no words coming out.

“Yes,” Dani decides for them.

“I’m assuming I won’t need to make up the guest bedroom for you?”

“Oh, um, no, thanks. That won’t be necessary.” Dani isn’t sure why she’s blushing. It’s not as if the whole manor doesn’t know about them. They’d tried hiding at first, sneaking about and slipping into dark corners like teenagers. They were not very good at it.

Later, with Miles and Flora safely asleep and Owen and Hannah having taken their leave for the evening, Jamie returns to Dani’s bed, this time with Dani sliding in behind her. Dani nuzzles into her back, careful not to touch any sore areas.

“I know I was an idiot,” Jamie’s voice cuts nervously through the darkness, “but, ah, just wanted to say thanks. For caring about me. Not really...not really used to that.”

Dani can feel her entire body tense. She presses tender kisses along Jamie’s back. “Of course,” she murmurs, and she hopes her conviction comes across. “Always.” She hesitates. “You’re not wrong about being an idiot, though,” Dani giggles.

“You like it.” It’s not meant to be a question, though Jamie’s voice wavers.

“I do,” Dani confirms affectionately, “I do.”

Jamie relaxes against her.