#maybe ill even write a fic just cause i think writing from his pov could be fun

[justablah56]

forever thinking about Dani's nat 20 insight check on Maxim in s3 ep7 I think and Austin being like this man is an absolute wreck who is using magical duct tape on half of these projects he is the least organized person ever and he is clearly jumping from project to project as soon as he gets bored and his entire collected serious vibe is complete bullshit . it's so good guys .

[cryptic--writing]

Hiya 👋🏻

It’s not really a kinktober request, but maybe you’ll consider doing it? No pressure though))

Ajaf era James, where he was drinking a lot. He understands that that affects him and turns him into a monster. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt reader, but he can’t break up with her for her safety, he loves her too much. So he comes up with stupid plan of making her break up with him because of his behavior? So he starts to undermine her efforts, e.g. the meals she cooks “could have been better”; makes fun of her simple 9-5 job , saying that’s she lucky she can have a relaxed job cause he’s earning most of the money and covering the bills. Although she’s hurt, she is staying as she loves him and thinks it’s the alcohol talking. James, realizing his plan doesn’t work, makes the final move: after they have sex one evening, he tells her that groupies do a much better job. That’s too much for her to take so she leaves him.

Unfortunately, after break up he feels even worse. Lars is worried so he interrogates him, and drunken James confesses. So Lars finds reader and locks her in the studio with James for them to reconcile (can we have smut here)?

Few weeks later when they start recording black album, James plays her a song (which will become nothing else matters), saying that it’s his way of telling everyone how much she means to him?

I’m sorry I can’t write short asks 🥲🥲🥹🥹

You are a great writer so I really hope this will become a story 🙏🏻

hihi!

and omg its here. took me 9 days to write it lmao but yeah

i cant explain how much I loved this idea pls marry me annon

also ~~~ means POV change (yes there is James and reader pov)

this fic has legit everything so I hope y'all enjoy it bc I busted my ass on it

some parts may be confusing idk

anyways

word count: 10623

warnings: mentions of achohol/drugs, death is mentioned, toxic relationship, break up, angst, smut, fluff, I'm prob forgetting smth

OR SO I THOUGHT (1989)

It had been a rough couple months with James. I felt determined to help him with his only worsening alcoholism, though he only continued to shut me out. I could feel the guilt when he was around, but it didn't make him stop. I tried, I really did, encouraging him to talk to me, to help me help him. 

It was the same sad scene every night. James would come home, probably around midnight, and I couldn't sleep without him next to me, so I was up, all those hours, wondering as I tossed and turned as to where he might be. All I knew is I was in for a scary time when he got back, but I eventually grew tough skin to deal with this.  Understood that this wasn't safe for me, or him, and I stressed that so, so much to him, but James never understood. Well, he never told me he did. Maybe there was more going on in his heart I never knew about. But, of course, I could never discover as he would always close himself off so much.

It was another day where the cycle would repeat. I woke up at three am to the sound of James stumbling in, mumbling something under his breath before he plopped down on the bed beside me, and I knew well enough to hold my tongue, to not provoke him. I pretended I was asleep, which he believed, trying, or at least I think he was trying, to snuggly up next to me, but he had his back to me. His arms weren't around me. Maybe that's all I yearn for now, to be loved and held.

Once I could finally go back to sleep, I was awoken not much later by the sound of my blaring alarm. It was seven am, time to get ready for work. James is a heavy sleeper, he never woke up from my alarms, though I always rushed to turn them off, just in case they would wake him. Slipping out of bed with a groan, I observed his sprawled out body, his shoes still on. I'm glad he made it to the bed this night, as others he would end up on the couch, or in his car, or somewhere I had no idea of.

I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, like a mother caring for her ill son on a school day. I slipped off his shoes, trying to get him more comfortable. I scurried towards the closet to grab my work clothes for the day before getting changed in the bathroom and rummaging through our medicine cabinet, finding some pain killers and then getting him a cold glass of water, leaving the items on our bedside table. I paused to watch over him as he slept, his slow, steady breaths that rose and fell from his chest. I loved him too much to change this lifestyle. I loved every part of him, and if this was part of him, then so be it. I'll help him get better. He loves every part of me, no matter what, right?

Or so I thought.

I slipped on my heels, walking into our messy kitchen, the sink filled with unwashed dishes James was supposed to do. But, he isn't well, so I must do them for him. After washing the dishes, I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup and left some for him and began to make breakfast. James had been off lately, different to how he already was off, but that slowly became part of our normal, so one new change did not stick out too much, but this one did. I don't know what it is. He just felt… lifeless, cold, I guess. I decided to make one of his favorite breakfast meals, a nice, warm and fluffy stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon, cooked just the way he liked it. I spent extra time trying to make it the best I had. I knew they would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but hopefully he'd appreciate my effort. I ate some eggs before scrambling for a notepad, getting a pen to write him a sweet good morning note, explaining I was at work, when I'd be home, how much I loved him, and where the other meds were if he needed them. I wrote these notes almost daily, but this one I made longer and more love filled. I figured he would want my love.

Or so I thought.

I came home around six pm, the evening traffic being worse than usual. Instead of seeing James' car out of the driveway and the house dark, he was still home. The soft sound of the TV buzzing was easy to hear as I unlocked the door, walking in to see him on the couch, leaning against the couch arm and holding his head up with his hand. He was too engrossed in whatever he was watching to nice me walk in, so I tried to have him notice my presence.

“Im back, Jamie,” I said softly to not startle him, my voice filled with love as I moved to sit next to him, he looked over at me, like a confused puppy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gently stroking his back, though he moved from my touch.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm fine. Busy right now, yeah?” He mumbled as a response as he resumed watching TV once more, brushing me off with his simple, cold words. I knew I had to respect his space and not probe at him, so I just nodded with a sigh and got up, slipping off my shoes and setting my bags down,

“Are you hungry?” I asked, digging through the fridge to get things to make dinner. He didn't answer. “James, are you hungry? I can make dinner,” I offered again, noticing the cleared plate that I had made him for breakfast, the note missing. I assumed he threw it away, just like the others. I never saw them in the trash cans, but after everything piles up, you can just assume. I heard James sigh from the couch, “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Breakfast was cold, so I threw most of it away anyways,” He admitted, and I felt a small ache in my heart. I thought he liked the dish since there was none left on his plate, but clearly he proved me different. Why I even put effort in these things, I don't know. THats a lie, I do. I love him, and want him to know it, to feel it. I should’ve been doing this as part of my own insecurities, but to make sure he knows I'm there for him, always.

I thought of what to make for dinner, seeing if he had eaten anything since breakfast, only finding empty beer bottles and a half eaten bag of chips. It was probably only the alcohol making him act like this. I decided to make steak with potatoes, something he normally liked and said I made pretty well. It was easy to make, and I know it was one of his favorites I made him, but normally I would wait for a bigger step in life, like celebrating something about the band, or something in my career, but I knew he deserved it still.

I finished after 45 minutes, preparing the plate to be gorgeous, something I wish I could hear from his lips for once. But, he loved me. I know he thinks I'm gorgeous, he wouldn't have to tell me. Right?

“Jamie, the food's ready, I made steak,” I said warmly with a smile, setting a dinner table for us. I didn't get a response, just a grunt as he stood from the couch and walked his near empty bottle of beer, finishing it off and grabbing another from the fridge. I sat at the table, waiting for him to come and join me. His eyes landed on the plate, pulling out the chair to sit down. I couldn't read his emotions, he didn't look too happy, but he didn't look mad. He just looked.. plain. James grabbed his fork and began to eat, the metal scraping against the porcelain plate, waiting for his nod of approval. It never came. He didn't talk, but not in a way like he was mad. He just didn't speak. But he didn't need to, he didn't need to say the things I knew already. I took a breath and began to eat, and it might've been one of the best I had cooked in awhile. Perfect tenderness, juiciness, seasoning, and cooked perfectly, something you could get at a restaurant, now in our home. 

“What do you think, baby? I think it's pretty good, no?” I inquired, seeking the validation I craved from him. He just shrugged.

“It's fine, I guess. It could've been better.”

It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't. He just didn't like the dinner I cooked. The dinner I poured my time into. The dinner I made was special. Special for him. But, what did I know? I doubt he meant it. That's why it definitely shouldn't have hurt. He was drinking. ITs just the alcohol making him act like this. He would never say something like that to me. Why did tears prick at my eyes. Why did it actually hurt?

“Oh, uhm…. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time, do you want me to make you something else..?” I choked out, fighting back my tears.

“No, don't waste your time making something mediocre, yeah?” James insisted, insulting me bitterly once again.

I took a shaky breath, another sting to my heart. Hes. Drunk. This can't be what he means, right?

Or so I thought.

“Alright, uh, do you wanna cuddle on the couch..? We can watch anything you want? Or not watch anything, just sit together.” I offered again, pleading to get love from my partner.

“I was probably gonna go to bed. You mind cleaning up?” He pushed me away again, and every word stung. I want him to see me, to notice me, just to love me. But I reminded myself again and again, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it. I'm just being sensitive and pathetic. Maybe it's just my hormones.

I nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, yeah, go ahead and  go to bed, I'll clean up and join you in a bit, ok?” I informed him and he just nodded and got up, walking to the bedroom, still carrying his battle with him. My eyes stung, and once he was out of sight, I felt tears streak my face, but I continued to fight them away. I quickly got up to clear James’ and my own plate, then  cleaning the kitchen, washing everything with great care to keep it tidy.

I came into the bedroom, James half asleep under the sheets. His hair was astray as he slept near the edge, his limbs tight together. The now empty beer bottle sat on the nightstand, another reminder of James’ habits. I glanced around before getting changed into my sleep clothes, a nice little night dress James had gotten me for Valentines Day earlier that year. It was nice and pink with some fluffy pieces at the bottom and lace dancing across it. It flowed nicely and hugged my body in the right places, going down to a bit above my knees. It had some other pieces, like stockings and a garter. In reality, it was more so lingerie than a bed set. But, it was one of James’ favorites for me to wear. Maybe this would make him open up more, or just show me the love I'm craving. I crawled in beside him, though I doubt he noticed the weight accompanying him, trying to cuddle closer, pressing myself against his back.

“Jamie?” I asked softly, kissing the back of his head.

“Hm.” James answered in a sleepy tone, barely aware of my presence.

“You doing ok? You've been acting differently…” I kept a quiet tone, my hands gently running down his arms and back as I pondered on what may be hurting him so much.

He took a deep and large breath, sighing, “Yeah, I'm fine… why do you ask..?” James mumbled in response.

“Nothing, you just seem off, I guess,” I rushed out. I didn't want to upset him, but he just seemed so soft and sweet, something I hadn't seen from him awhile.

“Oh, well, alright then… love you..” He mumbled out, slowly succumbing to sleep after saying the words I knew were true.

Or so I thought.

The office today was exhausting. Absurdly exhausting. And infuriating. A stuck up and snotty boss whos full of himself ordering me around to do his mundane dirty work, my co workers giving me side glances of judgment for my more rushed than normal appearance, not having as much time this morning as I had to help James with yet another hangover, getting him to the bathroom in time before he painted our bed green in vomit, making him some foods to keep him comfortable and having to buy more pain killers, my 3rd trip this month, all before heading to work. All I wanted was to come home, sleep, relax, and be held by the love of my life. 

As simple as an office job 9-5 may seem, how it is not. No one else wants to do their own work, always needing some kind of assistance, and of course, I none the wiser, agree to help them.

It was another late evening with heavy traffic, not allowing me to come home until seven, again. I had stopped at the market, grabbing food and other supplies we were running low on. And more beer. 

The door to the house was locked, something that had been happening more and more as I came home, only growing worries on James' worsening habits, the idea of drugs coming to mind, but I tried to shake it from my head, just wanting a nice time at home. 

I unlocked the door, the house quiet except for the soft strum of a guitar in James’ mini studio, which was just an extra bedroom we had turned into a spot for him to store his instruments and for his practeing. We hoped one day for it to become a nursery, a room for our future child.

I followed the music, the half open door allowing me to peek at James, hunched over one of his explorers, fiddling with the strings as he danced around the fretboard with his talented fingers. I smiled at the sweet sight, slowly entering the room.

“Whatcha working on?” I asked, announcing my arrival home. James looked up at me, at first a smile on his face, but he quickly dropped it. His actions only confused me further.

“Uhm, not much, just… a couple riffs and stuff for the new album..” He answered, still picking at the strings with something unreadable in his eyes.

I nodded, smiling at him, “It sounds good, I'm excited to hear it,” I responded before speaking again, “Work was so exhausting today, I don't know how I put up with it anymore,” I said with a laughy sigh, trying to lighten the statement.

James just shrugged. “I mean, I don't really see how a nine to five can really be that tiring,” He disputed, but his tone sounded unsure, shaky like how it did when we first met. But there was a force, an anger of some kind.

I was even more lost with his shift in attitude, “Well, what do you mean? You don't work one, you wouldn't know,” I argued back with more aggression than I meant.

“Yeah, I don't work one. Your job is light and relaxing feather work compared to the shit I do. You are out doing twelve hours a day for months on end at a studio, being out for a year just to tour and shit, you don't make anything working that job, I'm the one paying the bills with my money.” James spat, cold and bitter. His words rung in my ears, repeating each syllable like a painful stab. My brain scrambled for reasons to understand his reaction and response to my complaint of work.

James' piercing blue eyes still starred up and me, my mouth agape in shock. Why would he act like this? He loved me. He just told me he did the other week before we went to bed. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. What is wrong in his life that I don't know about, that he wont tell me about.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might explain this behavior of his. Truly, anything that would help explain such a swift and sudden change in his mood, but deep down ZI knew, I was just looking for bottles, cans, cups, glasses, anything that would contain the fizzy and bitter liquid he loved. The only thing I could find was a half empty bottle, freshly opened next to the chair he sat in. That's it, that's why he's acting like this. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.

Or so I thought.

Even with my new found reasoning, his words still hurt a great amount, the pain struggling to leave. A simple insult, just telling me how I don't work as hard as him, that my job isn't as crucial as his. I took a breath, trying to control and reign in my emotions before I could meltdown in front of him for such a stupid reason. Drunken words, not filled or backed by any true thoughts. Right?

But they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.

“I- well,” I tried to speak, but I couldn't come up with the words. What would I say? I didn't want to make him any more upset than he seemed to be, but I didn't want to submit to him so easily, especially after such disrespect. But I knew better. I don't lash out, I keep him happy. We will work this out together, we have to.

“I'm just gonna go to bed,” I muttered under my breath, fighting back tears that needed to spill out, James rude comments only adding fuel to the fire that had been burning in me all day. Not a fire of anger, passion or desire, but a fire of hurt. Once I shut the bedroom door behind me silently, I broke. The bottle shattered, and my tears overflowed my face, covering my mouth as I cried, trying to calm myself down as I got ready for bed at such an early hour, even forgetting to make James something for dinner.

It was my day off, a relaxing Saturday I could use to have some me time, as James was gonna be out with the band all day as the brainstormed for the new album, which was still taking its baby steps into production, nowhere near any concept for songs yet. At Least that I knew of. 

James had been really tense this week, and I had tried everything to get him to relax and cheer up. Taking him out to his favorite restaurants after I came home, making him home cooked meals, getting him gifts and all things. Though there was one thing I hadn't tried. Sex.

I spent all day dolling myself up, wanting to be as bare and beautiful as possible for James. I shaved everywhere, leaving not a single trace of hair anywhere except for my head,, of course. I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my body, putting on James’ favorite set we bought together, doing my makeup just the way he liked it, lighting the candles he got for my birthday, and dousing myself in his favorite perfume I owned. All the lights were out, except for the lowlights of the candles in the bedroom. I laid on the mattress, waiting for James to come home, hoping this would finally get him to unwind from his stress.

I heard James’ keys jingle in the door, and I could feel myself getting more and more excited for his arrival. This would be one of the few times I would have him sober, as when they worked on material they rarely drank or did anything crazy, thankfully. His shoes thudded on the wooden floors, a sigh escaping his lips as I heard him slowly walk towards the bedroom.

“Are you home?” He called out to me before approaching the bedroom door, taking in the sight of me and the room I had spent the evening preparing for this moment.

“Hey baby,” I mused with a smirk, looking up at him with loving eyes. His eyes met mine, looking warm for the first time in awhile.

“What's all this for?” He asked,  still taking in the well decorated bedroom and my sexy form.

“Wanted to help you relax… you've been so stressed,” I replied, grabbing his hand to try and bring him closer, to get into the bed with me.

It didn't take much more conniving, and James had given in pretty quickly to my offer. He was being more loud than normal, probably because we hadn't had the chance to be intimate like this in awhile. I loved this so much. Well, I loved being close to James again. He wasn't hitting the right spots or focussing on pleasuring me much, but that's fine, he's the one who needed to relax anyways, and I have enough time on my hands if I wanted to please myself, I guess. It didn't take long for him to come, pulling out and painting himself on my abdomen and my breath labored, coming down from…. Well, not an orgasm, but being close to one. James was beat after that, and I don't blame him for that. He had been so busy recently, I was happy we just got to share a moment like this together again. 

I laid close to him under the sheets as we both recovered, James already half asleep. I had his hand in mine, kissing each knuckle of his and more, pouting all of my love into that moment. I looked up, having felt James’ eyes on me for a while. I met his blues, and there was a slight guilt in them, a gestation and regret. But, it didn't last long as he blinked it all away, taking another breath. 

“How are you feeling now? Did it make it any better?” I asked, my voice heavy with sleep as I lazily continued to press kisses to his hand.

“I mean, yeah, I guess… It wasn't like, amazing though… I've had better, normally the groupies can do a bit more than that, y’know?” James said cooly, acting as if the words he just said didn't mean anything and had no weight to them.

“What?” Was all I could muster out, the tears already filling my eyes as I tried to process all of this.

“You heard me, the groupies normally do better.” 

The words came so normally from his mouth, as if he was just telling me the date and time. But no, he was comparing me to prostitutes, previous women he has slept with. I began to cry, not just out of hurt and sadness, but this time anger. How could he say something like that to me?

And then the worst part hit.

He was sober.

Something I would've wanted more than anything else just a few days ago is now what is causing this experience to be even worse than it is with the horrible comparison and insults James had spewn at me. He meant it. Alcohol was toying with his brain, making him into the aggravated man I had grown to know quite well over the years.

“Are… are you serious? After everything? I put myself through hell to deal with this, to go to work, to do EVERYTHING for you! I have tried so hard James. And Yet you still compare me to them?! Sluts with prices on their heads?!” I cried, anger and hurt filling the fire in my eyes, and I could swear I saw Jamw\es’ cold attitude falter for just a moment. Maybe it was what I was hoping for, that it was all an act, that he truly did love me deep down, but maybe he didn't. Maybe this is the truth I had been hiding from all these months.

James didn't res;ond, just sighing with a shrug.

That's what pushed me over the edge.

“Are you fucki ng serious? You're not even gonna try and fight for this? Get out of here! We're done. Since you don't appreciate anything I do for you nowadays, I don't want you in here anymore. Pack your shit and leave.” I cursed at him as I continued to sob, processing the moments that passed, feeling as if the earth was slowing, each second hitting me hard and heavy.

I could see a slight guilt in James’ eyes, and as much I wanted to believe it was true, I couldn't give it in myself to do that anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. He nodded, staying silent as I cried, slipping on his clothes and grabbing some things he'd need for the night.

“I loved you because you loved me, or so I thought you loved me, truly you don't give a shit!” I called out again, hearing James breath hitch at my harsh words, but he just left. No goodbye, the final words spoken to us only filled with hate and hurt, though millions went unspoken.

— —- — —> A FEW MONTHS LATER…

Not a lot has happened since I broke up with James, but a lot has changed. Maybe for the better. I miss him terribly, but a lot of weight is off of my shoulders now. I'm no longer worrying about having to make elaborate meals for him, or to do everything in my power to make him happy as [possible, watching my words at all times to make sure I wont say anything that might upset him. It was a large change. The house is still cold like how it was with him, but its a different kind of cold. There is no warmth of another body. Its quiet, no more TV static and laughter or guitar. Work had only gotten more tiring, but I had recently gotten promoted, something I had wanted for a long, long time.

I haven't spoken to James since we broke up. I know he had come by the next day, as when he left that night he only took clothes to last him the night, and when I came home from work, all of his belongings were gone, and his spare key was left on the counter, all of his music gear out of the house, leaving me a now empty room, not to house his guitars, and no longer holding the hopes and dreams of a future child.

Or so I thought all of his stuff was gone.

I came home after work, the house dark and silent, turning on the lights before going into the former music room, which had now become my office for the time being, as I needed one for the promotion, to be able to have a comfortable spot where I could do other work tasks from home. I set down my purse, sitting in my computer chair and sliding off my heels. I saw something in the corner of my eye, something that somehow had never caught my eye all these months. 

An ashtray, repurposed to hold James’ many guitar picks. It was behind a lamp that was in the corner of the room on an end table. There was more than just guitar pics, but one of his rings. Like the ones he always wore on stage, the cool reflective metal that shone brightly under the spotlight. I paused, only having gotten one heel off, so confused as to how I never noticed. I sat in this same chair, facing the same direction, taking my heels off the same each day. I quickly got the other off before walking towards the table, picking up the ashtray, having remnants of cigarette butts and ash, some of which covered the pics. There had to be at least 20 of those pics, I don't know how James could forget such a thing, along with one of his more favorite rings. He wore it when we met, but I never made the connection as to that being the reason he left it. I missed him, yes, but having these almost made it worse. Like the world was teasing me that he is gone, that I won't be able to be held by him again, because he doesnt love me anymore. How I still love him, I don't know. Part of me still wants to believe he never meant any of it, but the chances of that being true is slim now. But, I didn't have the heart to call him, to return them to him. He would have come to get them by now, right? 

I picked up the cold metal, holding it in my hand before slipping it on my ring finger. It was too large, slipping off quite easily. I tried the next, my middle finger, and it fit well enough to not fall off. It felt so wrong to wear, but it made me feel closer to him. I hated it, but I loved it. A little piece of him to be with me always. ‘God, I sound like a wife mourning her husband who died in a war.’ Was all I could think to myself, setting back down the ash tray and taking off the ring before sitting back down in my office chair, trying to shake my head of the matter so I could focus on the important task at hand, work.

I spent about two hours on the assignment before finishing it among other things, now exhausted even further. I stumbled towards the bedroom, changing into my pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Since the break up, I have refused to wear or even look at the clothes sJames had bought me. I didn't feel any desire to wear those things now that I knew he would be the one to see me in them. I never really wanted to wear clothes like that, but knowing he liked it made me like it. Now that he's gone, so is that enjoyment. I layed down on the mattress, sinking down as it swallowed me and the day whole. I had gotten used to the loneliness of sleeping alone, even after having a body next to me for the last four years. Maybe it was an easier adjustment as towards the end it was like sleeping next to no one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last few months are hard to describe. I can't explain it, I really can't. I've never been more lonely in my life, drowning all of my sorrows in the bitter bottles that wasted away each night and day. I've tried putting my energy elsewhere, focusing more on the band than I was earlier, trying to pour my emotions into guitar and lyrics, but nothing works. Nothing matches what I once had. What I threw away. What I ruined. Though, all my life, through all my struggles, there was one thing I learned.

Mask your emotions, hide your turmoil. It's something I had quickly gotten good at from a young age.

Or so I thought.

I went out for drinks with Lars to discuss lyrics and other parts of music for the record, as we normally had for our other productions and everything. We had another few weeks before we went into the studio, where we planned to record for many months, wanting this release to be the best we ever had. 

Before I had even gone out to the bar with Lars, I had already had a few bars at home, or what I had tried to make into my home. It was a home, yeah, but it didn't feel homey. There was no warmth or touch to it to make it seem whimsical or joyful. I know I have a problem, but what is there I can do. 

When I got there, Lars’s car was already outside, and I knew I was late by thirty minutes, having to build up the motivation to leave the house for a reason other than food, so trying to get up and socialize and talk about important stuff was not on my top choices to do.

I trudged in, my eyes darting around for the Danish, who was never that hard to find. And as I expected, I found him somewhat quickly, taking a seat next to him and ordering a drink for myself.

“Hey man, where the fock have you been? Been waiting here ages for ya,” Lars commented with his laugh, sipping on his own drink.

I just shrugged, “Sorry man, there was just…” I tried to think of a reasonable excuse, but none could come to mind. “Traffic, y’know, it gets bad around five or six, all those people getting off of work,” I explained, thinking I was an expert at this facade.

“Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to work now, yeah?” Lars tried to believe me, but it was clear he knew there was something more to what I said. 

I just nodded, “Yeah,” I answered, and Lars took out his notepad where he already had some ideas for songs. The mask was as strong as stone, no way to see in.

Or so I thought.

 Lars looked back to me, a thought popping back in his mind, “Traffic? There's normally not much in this area, I mean before you moved out of that place, shit, traffic was bad, but here? No way,” Lars questioned me, no longer believing a word I had said. 

“Well, I guess it was just different today…” I muttered, “Let's just start now, leave it be,”. Lars agreed reluctantly, and soon we were sharing ideas sas I jotted down lyrics, Lars taking turns as we debated on the new project.

Of course, as we worked, we were drinking. Me more than him, and it was getting me tipsy, and then drunk. Normally we wouldn't get drunk during lyric writing, just a bit.. Wobbly, I guess. We were just reviewing the lyrics for the third song we were jotting up and I had ordered another drink.

“Jesus man, you only focused on drinking? We got shit to do!” Lars complained to me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry, got my priorities here…” I joked, and Lars only gave a pity laugh.

“Is something up? You've been acting weird as hell for the last few months. We barely see you anymore, and when we do, you're late.” He informed me firmly, clearly not wanting to put up with my demeanor much longer.

“I'm fine, didn't I already tell you that?” I responded, and at this point I just wanted to go home. “Well, you can tell me it a million fuckin’ times and that doesnyt mean Ill believe you,” He rebuttled, and I sighed. “So, what's up with you?”

I didn't want to answer, well sober me would've deflected. But drunk me? He doesn't have much of a filter. Who does when they're drunk anyways?

“Nothings up with me, just dealing with shit…” I answered, taking another sip of my drink.

“Ok, well dealing with what?” 

“The breakup, and everything,” I answered, my eyes avoiding Lars’s own.

“Ohh, yeah, I see. What happened anyways? You never went into detail, just saying she kicked you out in the middle of the night. The fuck did you do to her?” He laughed, but the sting of the memories still remained.

“I.. well, I told her she was a shit cook, lazy, didnt work as hard me, and that groupies fuck better,” I admitted. Lars' face changed from a small smile to a look of shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“What would make you say something like that?! That's totally messed up!” I knew this would be shocking, especially coming from me to say something like that. But I didn't expect him to be this shocked.

“No, I did it for a reason, I'm not just some asshole! I didn't want to break up with her, and I didnt want her to break up with me, but I knew I had to get her to break up with me. I keep drinking, and it makes me into… I don't know, I'm a different person and I don't want to hurt her. The only option was to force her to break up with me.” I tried to explain, but Lars was quick to respond.

“Only option?! Have you heard of rehab? Getting help? Did she just let you waste away?”

“I didn't want to go to rehab either, and no, she did try to help, but I don't want help…” It was getting embarrassing at this point, showing how weak I had become.

“James, not everything is about what you want! There's things you need to do, but you don't want to. Those are just as important.” He paused, hoping my worlds would process through me as he thought of an idea. “How about this, clean up your act a bit and I'll get her back over here and you can go back to paradise, alright?” Lars offered and I perked up a bit.

“How the hell do you expect her to come back to me after all of that?”

“I never said she'd come back to you, I said I can get her over here, make you guys talk or something.” He corrected me, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Well how are you gonna get her to come here? She probably hates me at this point,” 

“I have my ways, we were closer friends than you probably remember,” Lars’ words didn't help. He could never explain his plan, and that's what always ticked me off about him.

“Fine, whatever, work your midget magic or something,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just do whatever it is, alright?” 

“Fine.”

— — — — > A WEEK LATER…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time moves slow these days. But not in a bad way, it was nice that life was hitting the breaks a bit instead of the pedal. Though, that joy wouldn't last long.

I sat in my office chair at work, working on some papers my boss had handed me a few minutes ago. He was giving me stack after stack after stack of papers today, all coming with my promotion I got a bit back. More money means more work, and more work means more money, so I guess it isn't all too bad in the long run. I glanced up from my paper, eyeing the now double repurposed ashtray, one being made for the intents of cigarette butts, then guitar pics, and now it held my keys and some other trinkets, including one singular guitar pic of James, one of his favorites. 

I was startled out of my thoughts by hearing the office phone ring, quickly reaching to grab it, assuming it was a customer call.

“Hi, this is Capital Advisors, how can I help you?” I offered in a cheery tone, but the voice I heard response was not what I had expected.

“Hey man, look, it's Lars, something happened to James, you mind heading down to the studio?”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, Lars and I were close, but we haven't talked much since James and I’s break up. My words caught in my throat, processing the second half. “Something happened to James? What happened? Is he ok?” Even though he proved himself worthy of a break up, I still couldn't shake my love and worry for him.

“Uhhhh, yeah, no, sure he's fine, but you just needa come to the studio?” Lars rambled, not sure how to keep up his lie.

“Ok, yeah, of course, when do I need to be there?” My mind was racing, Lars wasn't being direct with what happened, so my mind could only think of the worst. He always poland things off to make them not seem as bad as they were. What if James fell and hurt himself? Overdosed on something? Only darker thoughts hit my mind.

“Like, now, this can't wait,” Lars demanded, and I had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah, I will be there as soon as I can, ok? Tell him I’ll be there soon, I don't want him to worry,” I gave in and then Lars thanked me and hung up. 

Now I don't know what to do. My boss wasn't the type of person to just let me leave whenever I want, and I had already promised to Lars I would be there immediately. Though, my worries got the best of me and I quickly began to gather my stuff together. I grabbed my keys and my purse, quickly heading to my boss's office. 

I always hated going in here, it was freezing since the AC was always blasted, and it reeked of musty air freshener. I gently knocked on the door before I heard his baritone voice respond, telling me to come in. I entered, seeing him sitting there, filing papers. 

“Can I help you?” He said in a monotone voice, opening and shutting cabinets.

“Yes, I need to leave, like right now. ITs an emergency, family matter,” I tried to briefly explain, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a new response.

“Emergency? Of what? Is someone dying?” His eyes looked up from his papers, meeting mine as he waited for an answer.

“I… Well, I don't know,” I muttered, and it was true, I really didn't. With Lars’ vagueness, I tru;y didn't have a reason to not assume James was already on his deathbed.

“How can you not know?” He questioned me as if I was stupid, then noticing my pale and shaky look of true worry, “Fine, yes, you can go, but you're leaving three hours early. I want you working those hours back tomorrow. Understood?” He finally made an offer, and I quickly accepted without hesitation.

“Yes, thank you, and I'm sorry,” I responded with a smile and a nod, quickly leaving the office and getting to my car as fast as possible. Lars never specified where exactly the studio was, but I had been there a few times with James to hear them practice and record. I did my best to remember the way there, speeding in some places and having to make a couple U turns to figure out the exact spot. The whole time my head was buzzing, I could not think of one normal reason as to why James would want me there. He clearly didn’t like me much towards the end, even though I still like to think he never meant it and that it was only the alcohol talking, but I was probably wrong. Why did I still care so much after being so wrongfully disrespected? Part of me still loved him. Still wanted to wake up next to him every morning, hear the faint strumming of a guitar whenever I came home from work. Now those days were gone, and never looked like they would return. I still worried for the worst for James, endless horrid possibilities arising in my brain, all trying to piece the puzzle together.

When I finally pulled up, I saw two other cars out in front, not seeing James’ car, assuming Lars gave him a ride and KIrk giving Jason one. No cop cars or ambulances or fire trucks, so he isn't dying, or maybe they already left. Maybe I was too late? 

I quickly got out of the car, almost running to the studio door, knocking until Lars came and opened it for me.

“Hey! There you are, took ya long eno-” Lars was quickly cut off by my own anxieties.

“Where is he? Is he ok? Was I not fast enough?” I quickly voiced out, my eyes darting around the inside and searching for him.

“Yeah, relax. He's fine. He's inside-”

“If he's fine then why did you make me come here from work?! I thought he was dying or something crazy,” I cut him off, questioning his efforts.

“No, none of that, you worry too much. He just wants to talk with you,” Lars answered, and my previous worries and a new suspicion grew in me.

“Just want to talk? Last time I talked with him he was critiquing me! He hates me! He doesn't want anything to do with me!” I voiced the feelings that had been clawing at me for months, never having anyone to tell them to.

“Or so you think. Look, just talk to him, that's all this is, ok?” Lars grew tired of my attitude and clearly I would have to give in soon.

“I want to, I want to talk to him, but I doubt he wants to talk to me,” I responded, trying to further explain my hesitations.

“I just told you that he wants to talk to you! Go in there, please!” Lars pleaded with me, and I sighed, finally agreeing.

“Ok, ok, I will,” I answered, beginning to head into the studio.

“Thank you! He's just down the hall, in that room with the sound equipment and everything,” Lars informed me, and I followed him, seeing James hunched over a table, scribbling down on a piece of paper. My heart was racing now. I hadn't seen him since that night. I didn't know what I would say to him, I was worried what he would say to me.

Then he looked up at me.

His cold, piercing blue eyes, a newfound softness in them as our eyes met. I avoided his eyes, but felt his lingering on me. Lars guided me in, shutting the door behind himself, leaving us alone. I was unsure of what to say, my eyes lingering on the floor, hearing James set down his pen.

“Uh… hi…” He started, probably just as unsure as I was.

“Hi,” I responded back shyly, avoiding his gaze, though I could still feel his own on me. The sound of footsteps approached me, instantly recognizing them as James’, and then I heard a click. Lars had locked us in here, now forced to talk.

“I.. I'm sorry, I really am,” He mumbled, and I looked up at him, seeing a true guilt in his eyes, “I wish I didn't do it, that I didn't say those things, that I didn't make you hurt so much like that… I should’ve been much more, well, mature about it. I feel like shit for everything,” James explained to me, but this only caused me to have more and more questions.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper as a wave of various emotions crashed down on me. “I had reasons for what I did, I just wish I went about it differently. I wish I had listened to you when you had offered me help. I didn't want to hurt you with my habits, and I couldn't break up with you, I didn't want to be the one to do that, so… so I tried to make you break up with me, and you did. Everything I said, it was a lie. I never meant it. You're a great cook, you work hard, you're just… you're amazing, you're too good for me.” James confessed, and I could feel a bit of the cold melt away, though still a hurt in my heart.

“Then why make me come and tell me all of this? This would only pour salt in that wound, no?” I was still confused at why he would make such an effort, but I still found it touching.

“Because I still love you. I want things back the way they were. I swear on everything, I've changed. I miss you more than anything-” I cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips, and he melted into me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting and loving embrace.

After James pulled away, he looked me in my eyes, “How could you forgive me for saying all of that to you?” He began, “Id think you would just… hate me, I was a total jerk,”

“Or so you'd think. I still love you and miss you more than you could imagine,” I responded with a  small smile, and James matched mine, kissing me again. “Can… can I show you how much I've missed you?” James asked in a mumbled tone, clearly a bit embarrassed. My cheeks heated up at his offer and I giggled, nodding as our lips met a third time, a new hunger and desire now displayed. Slowly, he walked me to the table until I had backed up into it, his hands trailing up my sides until we broke away, his lips now going down my neck, eliciting a needy whine from the back of my throat, my hands pulling him closer, snaking under his shirt to trace his skin. 

James’s fingers slipped under my shirt, working to get it off of my head, leaving my neck for only a second to remove the fabric before attaching himself to my sensitive flesh, feeling him suck and nibble, definitely leaving bruises. He gave a more harsh bite, causing me to whimper, then soothing it over with his tongue before pulling away. Soon his gaze focused on my breasts, still confined with my bra. His eyes met mine again, “Can I take it off?” He asked ,already reaching around my back to work on the clasp, which had become an easy task for him. I nodded, and soon the garment was now on the floor with my shirt. The cold air caused my nipples to erect immediately, and James’ eyes were locked on them, cupping the in his hands as he squeezed them and pinched at my nipples, making me make high needy sounds, causing him to smirk, kissing around the soft flesh, teasing me with every movement he made. 

I began to claw at his shirt, trying to take it off of him, so he reluctantly pulled away from my chest, removing his own shirt, giving me a view I had missed more than I care to admit. My eyes dragged slowly over the newly exposed skin, and his lips crashed down on mine again, pushing me back so far I was now laying down on the table, the cold wood causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I tugged at James’ pants, feeling myself grow wetter at the moment. He slipped down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers as you pulled down my skirt, leaving me in only my panties. I could see the bulge in his final layer grow at the new sight, and then he got on his knees, gripping the sides of my aunties and taking them off in a swift motion, leaving my glistening folds exposed to his hungry view.. His warm lips teased my thighs, kissing around the area I needed him most, making me writhe with desire. Eventually, his tongue found my center, giving it soft licks at first, parting my folds with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and James took it as his sign to keep going, burying his face between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my hole, probing at it with his tongue as his nose nudged my sensitive clit. My hand snaked into his long blonde locks, gripping his scalp tightly as I pulled him closer. I could hear him groan into my flesh, causing a vibration to coarse through me, making me moan again as I came closer to my first high. Eventually James moved further up, giving more attention to my aching clit, giving it gentle licks first to tease me before sucking it into his mouth, biting it softly, making me squeal from his ministrations.

“Jamei, fuck, Im gonna cum,” I whined out, tugging on hair harder, causing him to let out another low groan as he continued to feast on me. “Cum for me pretty girl,” He mumbled into my flesh, and like that my orgasm washed over me, a breathy moan falling my lips, feeling my core pulsate , releasing my grip on James’ head, allowing him to pull back.

James chin was drenched in my essence and his spit, some caught in his facial hair, wiping it off on the back of his hand. I dont think Ive seen anything hotter. His eyes landed on mine, and I noticed a lustful darkness in them, kissing me again as our tongues tangled in a battle for dominance, James winning in the end, and soon his boxers were on the ground, both of us bare in front of each other again.

JAmes broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, leaving new hickeys and bruises in his wake as they now peppered my neck. I felt his tip at my entrance and I squirmed, his lips leaving my bruised flesh. “You ready, baby?” He asked, taking my hand in his, and I nodded, feeling him slowly push into me, the stretching sensation stinging my insides, a delicious stretch my body had missed as I tried to accommodate his size. Once he was to the hilt, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, squeezing his hand tightly.

I gave him a look of a need, and he gook note, slowly beginning to pump his hips, untwining our fingers as he positioned himself with better support, placing his arms on either side of my head. With every thrust a moan escaped my throat, tears pricking at my eyes from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight… haven't had anything since me, hmmm?” James whispered to me, and I could only whine in response, his calloused fingers sneaking down to my clit, brushing the bud lightly with the pad of thumb, and I began to squirm around his cock, feeling his thrusts increase with speed, more grunts falling from James.

The table I laid on creaked beneath from our frevorus movements of need, completely forgetting we were still in the studio. The band was still in that studio. This room wasn't for recording, very little sound blockers. Anyone in this building could hear us. The thought didn't pass my mind once throughout the whole experience, only focused and becoming closer with James once again, not just in body, but in our connection reforming with every minstration from either of us.

James' thrusts grew relentless, only increasing the pleasure for both of us as he chased his own high, helping me with mine, continuing to toy with and stroke my clit, moans and whines leaving me with any movement he made. “So pretty like this, baby, taking me so well,” He groaned, his small grunts and moans filling my ears like sweet music. I began to buck my hips, knowing that my orgasm was approaching, James not far behind, his vocal expression of pleasure growing in number and volume, mixing with my own mewls and moans, that and the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, my nails clawing his back.

My eyes began to roll back, James’ name falling from my lips a thousand times as my legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him deeper to finally bring me to edge. James noticed and thrusted harder, hitting that special spot with every movement, making me have to cover my mouth with my hand, the unholy noises escaping me growing too loud for us to stay secret. James disapproved, “Mmmm, don't do that baby, let me hear you cum around my cock,” He cooed, and that was all the encouragement I needed to come over the edge, a high pitched moan coming from me, feeling my walls clamp down on James’ length, pulsating as waves of pleasure cascaded over me. James helped me ride through it, still rubbing my sensitive nub, his thrusts losing rhythm as he approached his own high.

“Fuck, sweetie, gonna cum inside you…” He grunted, his pace increasing as his movement became erratic with pleasure. “Take it, take it like a good girl, baby,” He moaned, his load shooting deep inside of me and painting my walls white with his seed. His hips sputtered, bucking into me as he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty foreheads clinging together as we both recovered from the intense orgasms, trying to catch our breath. James pressed soft, lazy kisses around my face, reminding me how much he loved me and how he'd never hurt me again if given the chance.

After a moment, we both had come down from our highs, James’ softening member sliding out of me with a pop. He looked down at the mess between my thighs, all evidence of our pleasure with each other. “Youre fuckin’ perfect,” He muttered, his eyes dragging over me.

“Are the groupies still better?” I teased him, remembering our bickering that was one real, or so I thought it was real fighting.

“Oh, hell no, they don't stand a chance to this,” He responded with a smile, and I smiled back.

We cleaned up, slipping back on our clothes so we were somewhat presentable. Only now did the realization that we were never once alone in this studio and the rest of the band was outside had hit me. A wave of embarrassment flowed over me, my cheeks flushing even more than they were before given the previous activities. Both James and I looked quite disheveled, our hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. I tried to shake off whatever nervousness I had in me as James put his arm around me. We went to reach for the door handle, only to find out it was still locked. Now it would be even more awkward. James knocked on the door from the inside, calling out to Lars, or anyone else in the studio.

“Guys? Lars? Can someone unlock the door?” And it wasn't long before footsteps approached, hearing a key click as the door swung open, Lars, more curious than ever eyed both my own and James’ appearance, noticing the hickeys, the slight wobble I gave, and any other imperfections that we might have displayed.

“I take it you two worked things out?”

— — — — > A FEW WEEKS LATER…

It had taken some time, a lot of talking, and more than just one hook up for James and I to work out any other issues that we had with each other. We met up a lot in the recent weeks after that, discussing different ways on how to help James with his drinking, and just trying to regain eachothers trust.

Soon enough though, James had moved back in with me. I kept my office space, but now the room was split in two halves. I worked in one half, while James did his guitar work in the other half. It was a fairly large room, so we both had our own spaces and rarely bothered each other. If I had a work call or anything that required silence, James would just migrate to the living room.

It was the same old schedule we had all those months ago, and I was now returning from work. It was Friday, now I would have plenty of time to relax and be with James. I pulled into the driveway, parking and getting out of my car as I walked up to the porch, the click of my heels following my steps on the cement. The lights were on, the door unlocked. I could hear a faint strumming coming from inside, meaning James was hard at work on new material for the album. It was my favorite thing to listen to while doing work assignments at home.

I walked in with a huff, setting down my purse and keys on the counter before heading to the shared office space. James wasn't playing much, just sounded like scales and chords for his warm ups. “How was work, baby?” James greeted me, still focused on his guitar. “It was a bit tiring, but it was good. I think my boss is starting to like me,” I answered, settling into my chair. He nodded in response, going back to fiddling with the strings.

It wasn't until a little later a soft, sweet and melodic tune had hit my ears. Much different than what Metallica normally plates. James hummed along to it, almost like he had lyrics already written out. But knowing him, he probably did.

“What are you playing? It sounds really nice,” I started, listening to a few more notes before continuing, “It's not what you guys normally play,” I commented, and James let out a deep hum in response. “Just something new I'm working on,” He replied, and I nodded, getting back to work.

Only this time, I couldn't focus. Normally James’s music helped me to focus, becoming a comforting background noise. This time though, I couldn't get my mind off of that melody. He kept going, and each second I kept getting more and more captivated by it. 

“That songs really pretty, I like it,” I said, scribbling down whatever notes I couldnt on a piece of paper. “Thanks, it's actually, uhm..” He trailed off, and I knew something was up. I spun around in my chair, going to face him. “It's what?” I asked, confused by his shy demeanor. 

“It's called ‘Nothing Else Matters’,” He stated, finally stopping picking at the strings. “Nothing Else Matters?” I repeated, connecting whatever the lyrics might be in my head to the melody. Normally their slower, melodic songs were dark and heavy topics, so I expected the same with this one.

“Yeah,” James answered, “I wrote the lyrics about you, actually,” He muttered softly, though I still picked it up. “About me?” I questioned, slightly shocked. “Yeah… I've thought a lot about, well, everything recently. Ever since that point a few months back I've reflected and everything… Rumors spread, and I just want everyone out there to get the right idea,” He paused, searching for the right words, “I want people out there to know that you're all I care about, you mean more than the world to me, and I want everyone to know that,” He stated, his tone true and emotional. I had never heard him say sweeter words to me, and I knew that he was speaking nothing other than the truth, I could see it in his eyes, there's a way to read people, and James wasn't easy to read, but you soon could learn the lingo.

“That means a lot to me, Jamie,” I answered, smiling at him. I got up from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, leaning against him. “Thank you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You don't need to thank me, sweetheart,” James responded, wrapping his arm around me.

And now, I knew my whole world was whole again. What was once hatred, or so I thought was hatred, was once again love, everything as it should be.

[shallowseeker]

Election: So, obviously, I am very nervous about the election. Almost every organ system that I have is affected by my illness, and one side wants to dismantle the care I deserve. So, I feel a little sick just thinking about it.

Even with COVID, I feel like my heart is finally beating right again, and I don't wanna feel nervous about having access to care, you know? Ahhh.

///

Food: I have NOT made good on my promise to myself to buy cinnamon rolls. I had wanted to eat them all while we wait together on Tuesday...

But the place I order them from is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so I missed my window to pick them up!

So tomorrow I may venture out and get either this or this

I started coughing and fevering again two days ago, but not testing positive, so if I put on the mask and am very careful, I feel like it's a reasonable errand run.

(I feel like it could be my primary illness actin' up, cause my lungs are technically already scarred even before covid. I have to go for a CXR anyway on Monday afternoon so... gonna get one of these to cook. Still gonna wash my hands and be careful. My nightmare is getting others sick, I think.)

///

Fic: I did write the first chapter of the fic I promised. It's currently hanging out on Google docs, if anyone wants to help me proofread it, but I'll post Monday warts and all. :D

It's very long, like... almosst 19K and this is just part one! Part two is currently at 15K but will need sooo much editing before it's even ready (and ofc even if the election goes south, I will definitely finish it I promise).

Blackout on the eastern seaboard Chapter one: A one-time victory celebration (DEAN POV) Ft. Dean Winchester, Castiel Still riding high on their near-fatal run-in with Raphael, Dean decides to make it up to Cas for screwing things up with Chastity. Alternate Free to Be Me and You (season 5, episode 3). Notes: In this world, John is alive. But his presence has the opposite effect than what you’d think, pushing Dean further in Castiel’s arms.

How are y'all holding up? I think maybe everyone's nervous, even and especially those of you in other countries.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[ray-ray-writings]

Oh Boy!-BadBoyHalo

One of you lovelies requested a part two to Oh Baby! So here you go! I hope I do it justice and that you enjoy! 

This is a BadBoyHalo x gn!reader. Again this is pretty heavily fem but I know there are people that do get pregnant that do not identify as a woman, and for that reason this is gender neutral. Also, COVID-19? We don’t know her in this fic. 

How Darryl and Y/N tell their families, friends, and fans that they’re expecting. 

Y/N’s POV

After Darryl and I celebrated our good news, we decided it would be best to make a doctor’s appointment to check how far along I was and make sure everything was alright in my uterus. The doctor determined I was 6-7 weeks along and everything was going fine. Darryl and I once again celebrated by ordering food from one of our favorite places. 

“When do you think we can tell  people?” Darryl asked excitedly, picking at his food. I chuckled as I swallowed the food in my mouth before answering, “Well I definitely want to make sure that I get out of the first trimester before we tell anyone. I just want to be extra careful incase things go wrong,” I explained softly, a hand falling to rest on my stomach. Darryl nodded understandingly, “That makes total sense and I agree.” “Maybe when I hit 14 weeks we can tell our parents. And then maybe you could even invite the boys down at around 16 weeks and we can tell them in person,” I stated, shoving another forkful of food in my mouth. 

Darryl let out a small gasp, “You’d let the boys come over and stay with us?” I giggled and nodded, “Of course! They’re some of your best friends and the most important people in your life. You know, we could even have our gender reveal party while they’re here! We could record some of it and upload it somewhere and announce it to your fans, if that’s something you want to do!” I stated excitedly, my mind already racing with ideas. A soft smile fell on Darryl’s lips. He quickly leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to my lips. “That sounds perfect baby. I’ll talk to them about it tomorrow!” He exclaimed giddily. “Sounds good!” 

*Time skip. Many weeks later*

Keeping the secret was really hard for the two of us. But somehow Darryl and I managed. We did have a few close calls. A few slips of the tongue that caused raised eyebrows and hushed whispers, but we always managed to recover from the small mistakes. 

I was so excited to finally be out of the first trimester. Darryl and I planned a dinner for both of our parents. We invited them over under the pretense that we simply wanted to see them and catch up. The four didn’t seem to bat an eye. They came over and enjoyed a really nice meal with a very sweet dessert. After we finished our plates, I offered to brew some coffee for our parents. When everyone agreed, I immediately made my way into the kitchen, Darryl following close behind me. We had to keep our giggles quiet as we poured coffee into the four new mugs we had purchased. 

Yesterday, Darryl and I went out and bought four new mugs. But not just any four mugs. On each of the four mugs, the phrase, “Grandparent. Established: 2021” was written. Bad and I thought this was the best and funniest way to announce it to them, as well as giving each a cute little gift. 

Darryl and I quickly carried the mugs back into the dining room, making sure to cover the labels of the mugs so no one would see before they all were revealed. The mugs were removed from our hands and the four began sipping on their hot drinks. Darryl and I watched with glee as their eyes got wide as they caught sight of the writing on the mugs. All heads snapped to us as we began to giggle at their reaction. “Are you serious?” Darryl’s mom squealed. I simply turned to the side to show off my small baby bump causing the four to gasp in surprise. “Surprise!” The two of us exclaimed together. The four parents stood up and rushed over, wrapping their arms around us in a tight hug. Happy tears fell from everyone’s eyes as we basked in the announcement. The rest of the night was spent sitting around the table talking and laughing. It was an amazing night for everyone. 

*Time skip. Two weeks later*

Today was the day! The boys would be here any moment! Darryl had left early in the morning to pick the boys, Dream, Sapnap, and George, up from the airport. I would have gone with him, but I felt a little too ill. The morning sickness had died down a bit ever since I left the first trimester, but there were definitely days I still felt sick to my stomach. That being said, it did give me enough time to cook up a big breakfast for everyone to enjoy. They had said in the group chat that no one really had time to eat. 

It was perfect timing because as I finished the last pancake, the door swung open. “Honey! We’re home!” Four voices teasingly called from the front door. I quickly turned off the stove and rushed to the door. “BOYS!” I exclaimed in excitement, wrapping my arms around all three in a big hug. “Y/N!” They cheered back, immediately returning the hug. “You’re just in time! I just finished breakfast, come, come!” I babbled, grabbing someone’s hand and pulling them with me. 

The four boys followed me into the kitchen and quickly gaped at the sight. “You didn’t have to do all of this” Darryl whispered, moving forward and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I smiled and shrugged, “I wanted to.” Clay, Nick, and George quickly grabbed plates and piled theirs high of the breakfast foods. “Plus, it makes our announcement a little smoother” I murmured to Darryl as the two of us followed behind the three. 

Once all plates were piled, we moved to the dining room and began eating. We talked and laughed as we caught up with one another, discussing how their flights and things like that. Our discussion was interrupted by a loud beeping from the oven, causing us to jump. 

“Oh gosh! I have a bun in the oven!” I exclaimed standing up and rushing to the kitchen to turn off the stove timer. As I approached the dining room once more, I could hear the boys laughing and when I appeared, they began teasing me. “You’re so forgetful Y/N,” Clay teased, taking a bite of pancake. “Yeah how could you forget your oven’s on?” George also poked, taking a sip of his juice. “Hey, don’t be mean to Y/N! I’ve left buns in the oven before.” Darryl defended, giving me a slight wink. “Oh I remember that!” I exclaimed, “We’re still dealing with that today… And then for the rest of our lives as well.” The three boys fell silent at my statement. Confusion fell onto each of their faces, “What? What does that mean?” Nick questioned. I couldn’t help the grin that covered my face as I rested my hand on my stomach and turned sideways. 

An audible gasp left the three boy’s lips. “No way!” Clay uttered, “No way!” “Way!” I responded, turning to face forward and walk to my chair. “We’re going to be uncles?” Nick questioned softly. Tears pricked in my eyes at the question, but I nodded excitedly. “Yeah, you’re going to be uncles.” The sound of chairs scraping against the floor greeted me before three bodies slammed into me, hugging me tightly. I giggled as I attempted to wrap my arms around everyone to hug them back. Darryl’s chair scraped against the floor and soon his arms wrapped around us as well. 

We stood there for a while, just hugging. Our food was getting cold, but none of us cared. “Do you know the gender?” George asked, pulling his head back a bit. I smiled making eye contact. “I don’t, but our mommas do. They’re in charge of the gender reveal, which is this Saturday. We planned it so that you three could be here for it.” I answered with a grin. The boys seemed to be touched at what I had to say. “You didn’t have to plan your baby’s reveal around us,” Clay uttered softly. I simply scoffed and shook my head, “Of course I did. You’re a part of our family. You’re way too important not to include in this type of stuff,” I answered honestly. Tears seemed to form in everyone’s eyes at my response. “You’re our family too, Bad, Y/N. We love you” “We love you too.” 

*Time skip to Saturday*

Today was the day. We find out what gender our baby is today. I couldn’t help but grin as I watched everyone interact at the party. Darryl and I decided to combine the baby shower with the gender reveal so everyone could get together for one big party. It was also so that the Dream Team could be here for both without having to go home and then turn back around to come for a different party. Besides, they would already be coming back down a month or two after I gave birth so they could actually meet their niece or nephew. 

Darryl’s arms wrapping around me, startled me out of my slight daze. “We’re ready to cut the cake whenever you are,” He murmured, pressing a kiss into the side of my head. I hummed in response and turned to him, “I’m ready”. He ushered me to the table where the cake that our mothers had made. Our moms made a cute cake that was white on the outside with pink and blue decorations on the outside, with “Boy or girl?” Written on the top. “Gather round for the cake cutting!” Darryl called out. 

“Do you really have no preference?” Darryl questioned as everyone made their way over to the front of the table. I smiled and shook my head no, “I honestly don’t care, as long as our baby remains healthy, I’m okay with whatever they turn out to be.” Darryl hummed, kissing the side of my head once more, “I completely agree baby.” Once we made sure that everyone was ready, the two of us picked up the knife together. Darryl’s hands rested over mine as our hands hovered over the cake. The knife cut into the cake easily, a piece was quickly cut. I took a deep breath as we let go of the knife. Darryl reached over and grabbed a spatula to move the cake piece. 

“Ready?” He exclaimed to the crowd. Shouts of affirmation resonated back. Darryl slowly moved the piece out of the way causing blue M&M’s to fall from the center of the cake. Everyone that had gathered around burst into cheers at the reveal. I wrapped my arms around Darryl’s neck after he set the cake down on a plate. His arms came to rest around my waist. “It’s a boy!” I whispered, “It’s a boy Darryl. We’re going to have a baby boy.” “That we are, sweetheart.” 

The two of us let go of our hug and turned back to the crowd. “Well come get some cake!” I exclaimed, motioning for everyone to come forward. Nick, Clay, and George were the first to charge forward. Excited babbles fell from their mouths about having another boys join them. They chattered about how they were going to teach them everything there was to know about Minecraft, not that they couldn’t do that with a girl, but they couldn’t help but be so excited about a boy. A grin fell on my lips and my hand fell to my tummy as I listened to the four babble about everything they were going to do with our baby. Only one thought came to my mind as their words rang in my ears… Oh boy! 

*Bonus*

The day after the gender reveal, Darryl posted a photo of the two of us hugging after we cut the cake. It was a picture that I didn’t know existed, but was so glad it did. The response was overwhelming. The fans exploded at the announcement. Many comments and tweets were so supportive of the two of us having a baby together, claiming it would be the best and cutest kid ever, which I couldn’t help but agree with. Fans being excited about the baby just made me even more excited, I couldn’t wait to hold my baby boy in my arms.

 There you go! I really hope you enjoyed, if so please be sure to leave a like!!

[seanfalco]

I Caught Fire | Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k Prompt: (I can’t find the original prompt, but it was from the I wish you’d write a fic where... series) Klaus & y/n’s first time Requested by: Anonymous Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, awkward sex, oral sex a/n: This was sitting in my to write list for a while (I’m so sorry!)  Takes place in the PwF’verse, an extra scene from Klaus’s POV that takes place during Chapter 2 of Playing with Fire

It was strange being back at the mansion, all the memories from his youth he’d forgotten or purposefully blocked out kept sneaking up on him, rushing back to choke him at the most inappropriate moments.

Rubbing his kohl smudged eyes, Klaus reached for his clothes strewn abandoned across the parlor floor from the night before when he’d collapsed to the leather couch in naught but his underwear… was it even his?  He wondered for a moment, glancing down at the colourful leopard spotted pattern.  He honestly couldn’t seem to remember where it’d come from.

Shrugging, he dressed, ignoring Ben, and headed for his old room, where more memories were surely waiting for him.

As he stepped across the threshold he found, bingo! he was right, and he bit his lip as the memories assailed him, almost as annoying as the ghosts that hounded him and he wondered if he were high enough if he could drown those memories out too. 

These ones actually weren’t bad per se, but the pain they brought hurt so much worse.

“Ugh,” Klaus groaned heavily, throwing himself down on the bed and draping his arm over his face.  As tempting as it was, he didn’t exactly want to think about his first kiss, which had happened right where he lay, or the fact that the woman it had happened with happened to be downstairs at this very moment, and despite her hostility yesterday (which frankly, he deserved) he still wanted to kiss her.

Lifting his arm he sighed as his eyes found the scribbled lyrics on the wall nearby and his thoughts drifted to the very last time either of them had set foot in this room and what had come after. 

——

[ Twelve Years Ago ]

“You don’t hafta do this y’know.  The old man kicked me out, not you,” Klaus exclaimed as [y/n] ambled next to him, her bag of belongings slung over her shoulder, while he dragged his behind him.

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed, “stick around that hellhole without you?  No, thank you.  You obviously don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she exclaimed, nudging him with her shoulder as he leaned into her.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, my lovely partner in crime,” Klaus announced, pausing to reach into his jacket pocket, “because check what I nicked before we left,” he exclaimed, holding out the rather valuable trinkets he’d taken from the living room cabinet.

“And what’re you gunna do with those? [y/n] asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Pawn them, duh,” he exclaimed, dropping the valuables back in his pocket and slinging his arm around [y/n]’s shoulder.

The money they got from their ill gotten gains was enough to pay for an upscale motel room for a couple nights -- long enough to figure out what to do from there, as well as a small baggie of pills Klaus carefully tucked into his jacket pocket.

“Ooh, swanky,” Klaus exclaimed as he pushed open the door to their room, and stepping inside, turned to make a flourish as he pulled [y/n] in after him.

“My dear, welcome to our palace!  Well, for the next five days, at least.”

[y/n]’s laughter warmed him and he grinned as he followed her in further, flopping down on the bed next to her as he bounced on it lightly where she sat.

“Hey, at least it’s comfortable,” she exclaimed, flopping back as well before turning her face to him.  “Now what d’you wanna do?”

“Order some take out, I’m starving,” Klaus replied, his stomach growling pointedly.

A couple hours later, empty takeout containers littered the dresser and nightstand while [y/n] and Klaus watched tv in a heap, content and comfortable.

“Hey [y/n],” Klaus murmured suddenly, catching her attention and she turned to him, propping her chin in her hand.  

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admitted, reaching out to take her hand and she smiled.

“Me too.  There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she murmured, threading her fingers with his.

For a long moment they merely stared at each other, Klaus’s pulse pounding in his ears as he wet his lips.  She was so close, all he had to do was lean in…

“Klaus,” [y/n] whispered, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Yeah?” he breathed, not daring to move.

“D’you wanna make out?” she asked, her lips curling impishly, drawing a grin to his face as well.

“You read my mind, sweetheart,” Klaus exclaimed, and before he knew it she was kissing him, her hands balled in his shirt, pulling him closer and he obliged, rolling atop her as his lips moved insistently against hers.

Acting on instinct, he drew his knee up between her legs as he hovered over her and she moaned into his mouth as she ground against his thigh, her tongue darting out to meet his in a somewhat sloppy dance.

Each time [y/n] writhed against him, Klaus could feel the crotch of his jeans grow tighter and he groaned, [y/n]’s soft moans in his ears certainly not helping matters.

“[y/n],” he murmured, pulling back to catch his breath, his voice husky.

“Hmm?” she hummed, shifting under him as she plucked at his shirt.

“Do you wanna, oh, I dunno…” Klaus trailed off, suddenly feeling foolish.

“Do I wanna… what?” she replied softly, biting her lip as she gazed up at him knowingly, clearly wanting him to say it.

“Nah, you wouldn’t want to,” he mused teasingly, a mischievous smirk tugging at his swollen lips at the pout that flashed across [y/n]’s face.

“Klaus!” she huffed, slipping her hands up under his shirt to run up his chest, sending a fresh wave of arousal through him.

“Oh, alright,” he relented, grinning hesitantly, “d’you wanna fool around?” he asked, holding his breath.

“I thought you’d never ask,” [y/n] breathed and Klaus groaned, half sitting up to help her push his shirt up over his head before his lips once more crashed against hers with a fresh sense of urgency.  As their tongues warred, hands groped, searching for flesh and tearing at clothes until they’d both undressed, [y/n] laid blessedly bare before him.

Klaus paused, letting his gaze roam over her, taking a moment to really see her, memorizing her every curve and swell.  He’d never seen her like this before, completely unclothed, and now that he had, he wished she never had to dress again.

“What?” [y/n] asked, flushing as she noticed him staring, attempting to cover herself with her arms, but he caught her wrists, lifting them so he could see her unhindered.

“No, don’t hide,” he murmured, awe coating his words and [y/n] turned her face to the side in embarrassment.

“Klaus!”

“What?” he asked, gently nudging her chin back toward him.  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, catching her eyes.  “It’s a shame to cover this work of art!” he exclaimed, slowly running his hands down her warm skin, wanting to feel every inch of her.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she arched into his touch and he didn’t fail to notice the appraising way her half lidded eyes traversed his body in turn, causing him to blush this time.

His physique had never really been something he’d been proud of, thinking himself rather tall and gangly growing up, but the way [y/n] looked at him… he felt desirable.

“So, we gunna do this or what?” [y/n] asked, sighing as Klaus leant forward to kiss her again.

“Hell yeah,” he replied with a smirk, his hand trailing southward, to slip between her thighs, his fingers brushing her sex as she gasped.

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he exclaimed with a groan, his cock twitching at just the thought of being buried in those slick folds soon enough.

“Wait!” [y/n] gasped, her eyes snapping open as if she’d just remembered something.

“What?  Something wrong?” he asked, worry clutching him that maybe she’d changed her mind already.

“No!” she exclaimed quickly, noticing the panic on his face.  “Just, uh… do you have a condom?” she asked.

Fuck.  Klaus’s dark limned eyes widened in horror, his mouth falling open.  “I don’t…” he admitted.  Was he really gunna get this far only to be cockblocked by his lack of condoms?

[y/n]’s laughter tore him out of his thoughts and he gaped at her.  “What the fuck’s so funny?” he yelped, his lips drawing into a pout which only made her laugh harder.

Pushing herself up, she placed a peck to his stunned lips -- wait, was she leaving?!  Reaching over the side of the bed, she grabbed her bag and began rummaging through it.

“What’re you doing?” he demanded weakly, confused, until [y/n] straightened, a small foil packet between her fingers.  

“Getting this,” she answered, flashing him a smirk.

“Why do you have a condom?” Klaus exclaimed, his brows drawing down as [y/n] giggled, patting his cheek.

“Because I had a feeling this would happen.”

“Wait, how long have you had that?  And how many do you have?” he asked incredulously, watching her eyes dart away.

“Does it matter?” she countered, but Klaus wasn’t ready to let this drop, crawling closer to where she knelt, pulling her into his arms.  “Just how long have you been thinking about jumping my bones, huh?” he pressed, amusement filling him at the evasive look in her eyes and the way her cheeks warmed.

“Klaus,” she groaned.

“No, I’m curious,” he exclaimed with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers.

“A while, okay?” she mumbled, “and I may have bought a whole… box of them.”

“Oooooh,” Klaus exclaimed, laughter tinging his voice as he eased her to her back, plucking the condom wrapper from her hand as he stole a deep kiss.  “What would I do without you, my dear?” he exclaimed with a wink as he straightened.

Fumbling with the wrapper, his tongue peeked out between his teeth in concentration.  

“Do you need some help, Klaus?” [y/n] asked, fighting back a smile as she watched him struggle.

“I’ve got it!” he huffed, a little petulantly, which only made [y/n]’s grin grow and she took him by surprise as she sat back up, her hand wrapping round his cock, giving it an experimental stroke and Klaus nearly dropped the condom as the wrapper tore open, an involuntary moan springing from his lips.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped feebly.  

Giggling softly, [y/n] grabbed the condom, biting her lip as she pinched the end and slowly rolled the sides down his cock til he was covered.

“There, now you’re good to go,” she murmured with a smirk as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down atop her.

In this position -- [y/n] naked below him, his cock wrapped in a condom, hovering at her entrance, it finally hit him what was about to happen and a wave of nerves washed over him.  What if he was bad?  What if he hurt her?  What if this changed things between them forever?

“A-are you ready?” he asked, noticing the apprehension radiating from her as well, but when his eyes found hers she nodded without hesitation.

“I’m ready.  I want this.  I want you,” she said, her voice firmer than his had been.

“Okay, well here we go then,” he exclaimed with a nervous laugh, his cock slipping as he tried to press into her, forcing him to reach between them and guide his overeager cock to her slick folds, his heart leaping into his throat at the way her breath hitched.

“You okay?” he asked, stopping abruptly.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, though she grimaced slightly as he continued to slide into her, the tightness of her walls clenching around him nearly more than he could handle.

“You sure?” Klaus pressed, his voice hoarse, before swallowing.

“Just, go slow,” she whispered, letting out a shuddering breath, her fingers clutching at his forearms.

Klaus nodded, taking a deep breath before moving again, his eyes nearly rolling up into his head at the sensation.  He’d never imagined being inside her would feel this good.  If he wasn’t careful he’d blow his load before even getting properly started and that was the last thing he wanted.  He wanted to make her feel good, to hear her screaming his name as she writhed beneath him, lost in a haze of pleasure he created. 

“God, you feel amazing, [y/n],” he gasped, pausing as he finally sheathed her completely, gazing down at her as he hovered somewhat stiffly over her.  “You still alright?”

She nodded, her hands sliding up his arms to hold his face, her thumb stroking his cheek as she wrapped her legs around his waist.  “Fuck me, Klaus.  Please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Klaus said incredulously and he began to move.  Slowly.  Awkwardly.  Pulling out too far only to have to guide himself back in haltingly before resuming, thrusting slowly as he watched [y/n]’s face fervently, his heart pounding in his ears, pride filling him with each moan she let slip.

Her sounds egged him on and she began to roll her hips in time, meeting each thrust, his movements strengthening, his pace quickening as confidence filled him, losing himself in his pleasure until he realized with horror that all too soon he was about to come... and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, dropping his face to her neck as he came, his muscles tensing before he reluctantly lifted his face with a grimace.

“Did you just…?” [y/n] asked, frowning slightly and Klaus cleared his throat.

“Uh… yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, noticing the disappointment on her face, though she tried hard to hide it as he pushed himself up, discarding the used condom in the trash can next to the bed.  Biting his lip, he thought quickly, wanting to salvage the situation.  Things had not gone how he wanted at all and he didn’t want to leave [y/n] hanging for their first time.

Before she could sit up, Klaus turned back to her, holding her down as a thought came to him, his gaze roaming her body.

“Klaus?” she asked, confusion lacing her voice though hope flashed across her face for a moment.

“Oh no you don’t,” he chastised lightly, parting her legs and positioning himself between them.  “Did you really think I wasn’t gunna make sure you came too?” he asked, bringing an embarrassed grin to her lips and she covered her face with her hands.

“Yeah, no way, [y/n],” he exclaimed, teasing her folds with his fingers as he leaned over to plant a trail of kisses down her chest, taking the time now to memorize her body with his mouth, unsure if he was doing it right, but doing what felt good.

The supple feel of her warm flesh beneath his lips was nice, but the sounds she made as he neared his destination were enough to send arousal coursing through him again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good to go again soon, but first... there’s something I wanna try,” he mused against her skin, a nervous flutter filling his stomach at the thought of what he was about to do, hoping he’d be better at it than his first attempt at sex.

When his lips brushed against her sex she gasped, the sound sending a shiver through him and when his tongue hesitantly swiped up her folds to her clit she tensed beneath him, her hands clenching in the sheets.

“Fuck, Klaus--!” she moaned, her hips rolling against his face and he grinned at her response.

Fuck, but she tasted so good.  He’d never imagined that something could taste this heavenly.

Lapping eagerly, Klaus took his guide from her, trying several approaches before finding what she seemed to like, refocusing his efforts there til she was squirming beneath him, her hands moving from the sheets to bury in his short unruly curls.

His jaw was starting to tire, but he could tell she was close and he’d be damned if he gave up before finishing her, wanting desperately to watch her come undone, her moans alone driving him crazy.  Pausing for a moment to catch his breath Klaus dove back in, spreading her folds with one hands as he reached up her body to grope her breast roughly as he practically buried his face in her cunt, lapping broad unrelenting strokes against her clit as her cries grew louder, his cock growing hard again as he ground his hips against the bedding below him.

“Klaus, I’m--!” she didn’t even get the words out before she threw her head back with a high pitched whine, her whole body arching off the bed, pressing her cunt harder against his mouth, but he didn’t stop until she finally went limp beneath him, wanting to make sure she’d came.

Lifting his head, his face coated with her slick he met her gaze as she looked down at him, reaching for him, and Klaus quickly crawled back up to her, wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand before laying next to her and pulling her into his arms.

“Klaus, that was…” she murmured, taking a deep breath as her eyes fluttered shut, her forehead pressing to his, “that was fucking amazing.”

“You like that?” he asked, pride filling him.  

“I really like that,” she answered, grinning up at him.

“Good,” he replied, squeezing her tighter.  “I didn’t completely fail.”

“Hey now,” she murmured, holding his face tightly between her hands.  “Don’t say that.”

“But--” he yelped, quickly quieting under her stern look.

“From what I can feel, you’re gunna be good to go again soon,” she pointed out, rubbing her thigh against his hardening cock and he flushed.  “Did it turn you on that much to eat me out?” she asked and Klaus quieted her with a kiss.

“Maybe,” he admitted, clearing his throat.  “But you’re right, I’ll be good to go again very soon, as long as you wanna give it another go?” he asked hesitantly.

“I do have a whole box of condoms,” [y/n] mused, raising her eyebrows as she regarded him, a grin playing at her lips.

“You do, don’t you,” Klaus agreed, smirking in turn.  “And we have this motel room for the next few days,” he pointed out, to which she nodded.  “I bet by the time we check out, we’ll be really good at this.”

[y/n] laughed, letting Klaus roll her to her back again, sighing as he plied her with kisses.

——

Opening his eyes, Klaus groaned, pushing himself up off his childhood bed with a grimace.  Now that [y/n] was definitely on his mind, he needed more than ever to find something to help dull those thoughts.  Shoving his hands in his coat pockets he rummaged through them, hoping there was at least one pill left.  

Finding none, he pushed himself up completely before ambling to the door and peering down the hall both ways.

Maybe he could find something else to pawn.

Heading in the direction of Five’s old room, he set to work scouring every nook and cranny for something, anything valuable -- needing just a little cash to chase a high.  Little did he know that the woman he was so desperately trying to get off his mind was about to catch him in the act, rendering any hope of escape completely useless.  

But really, he’d be lying if that wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

————————

Klaus Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @unlistedpond @remibarnes22 @slutforrobbiebro

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Mistaken: Avengers x Reader (1/?)

S.S: So I’ve seen alot of pov’s on TikTok with the Lucifer audio and I thought it’d make a good story so Im trying it out. There will be a few parts on this I think. I tend to make fics that can be one-shots into a series story instead... So let me know what you think!

Warnings: Blood, self deprication, mention of panic attack.... nothing else in this part I dont think.

Word Count: 827

MASTERLIST  Pt2

==================================================

It was a gruely and mistake-ridden mission. Nobody got home unscathed, mentally or physically. The sight of crying mothers and children, bloodied bodies littering the streets and buildings in crumbles were never something a person could get used to. Not even the Avengers.

The ride back to the compound after the latest Hydra attack on a small town just outside Budapest was eerily quiet. The sound of the engine filled the silence, the gears in each of our heads turning as we tried to figure out what happened.

My mind whirled around the different possibilities. One moment I was helping people get to a safe location, away from the fight, and an odd feeling overwhelmed my senses and everything went black. When I woke up the town was in shambles. 

How can I protect the people of the world if I can’t even protect myself or my team? Maybe it was my fault the town was in shambles. My powers were proficient, controlled and similar to Wanda’s but supposedly more powerful, yet I haven't unlocked that yet. Maybe something happened and it affected me and I was the cause. 

What if I destroyed that small town? 

Killed hundreds of innocent lives. 

Maybe I was the monster in this situation.

The Quinjet landed after a painfully long trip of wariness. Tony, Steve, Bruce and Nat were the first off the jet to get to the bottom of the incident. Clint stayed in the piloting seat to do recap on the Quinjet, making sure there were no damages. Bucky, Sam and Wanda walked out together in silence, each still trying to understand what happened. I waited for a moment before exiting the aircraft, the fear running through my mind that it had been my fault.

After a shower, change of clothes and a verification that my injuries were minor enough to not need medical attention I made my way down to the lab to see if Tony had found anything. The sight of the team surrounding one of his screens with varying looks of concern and distress worried me beyond ends. I carefully pushed open the glass doors, eliciting a few looks my way followed by looks of pity and flashes of resentment.

“Did you find what happened?” my voice was timid, terrified about the answer.

“Yea. Yes we did,” Tony sounded exhausted and disappointed.

“OK, well what happened? I don't remember anything,” I moved towards the screen that repeated the same clip every few seconds.

My breath hitched in my throat and I felt my heart drop as tears pricked my eyes. Replaying on the screen was an image of me, lifted in the air, glowing the color of gold. A sudden burst of golden sun energy burst from my body, destroying the building in its path. There was no other culprit in sight other than me.

It was my fault. 

I destroyed the village that we were supposed to save. 

I was the problem.

Tears trailed down my face as my breathing became erratic and panic ensued. I stepped back colliding with one of the lab tables. The looks from my teammates became increasingly worried, yet the look of disappointment and betrayal overrode each feature.

“Can you explain this? At all?” Steve questions, his gaze is on his shoes rather than me.

“I didn’t mean to do that. I swear! I blacked out after a shockwave. I don't remember anything,” I cried feeling as if I was bargaining for my life.

“But you did! That's the issue right now. That is you, clearly on the screen, destroying the village.” Tony’s voice was harsh and cold. “Officials will be after you, and I can't say that we'll be able to protect you from that.

The panic that was already running through my veins increased as the glares from teammates continued to harden.

“I didn’t mean to.” I whispered despite the urge to scream. Silence filled the room and the sound of my heartbeat resounded in my ear. I backed up towards the door, running out and back to my room.

I slammed my door behind me, sinking to the floor in tears. Thousands of thoughts ran through my mind. The only thing that stuck was that I was a monster and I needed to run and hide. 

Immediately wiping away the blurring tears, I grabbed my backpack, dumbing the few books from the large pouch onto my bed. Stuffing clothes into the pouch and a few other necessities before zipping it closed. I grabbed an old jean jacket, fixed my hair to pull under a beanie and put on my glasses from my dresser. 

I slung the black pack onto my shoulders before making a hasty escape out of the compound into the foliage leaving my phone behind, never to be found.

===================================================

S.S: Tell me what you think. Ill post another part in just a bit. Just have to finsih it! Again let me know if you uys like reading in first or second person. I write in first, obviously, but I know how inthraling it can be to read in second person. And please dont be afraid to request anything!

[emptymasks]

Yancy being totally flustered and ruined by Illinois calling him pet names is totally valid but you know what’s better? The first time Yance feels comfortable enough and happy enough to be like ‘Aww, Illi, ain’t you a doll?’ and Illinois stops dead because HE does the pet names and complimenting, HE does the charming. No one charms him. But his heart is Bang Bang Banging and Yancy has a 404 adventurer on his hands.

ain’t you a doll // yancy x illinois 

Pairing: Yancy x Illinois

Words: 1089

Rating: General Audiences

Read on Ao3

Tags: Fluff | Tooth-Rotting Fluff | Fluff and Humor | Domestic Fluff | Romantic Fluff | just a lot of fluff | Romance | Dating | Dates | Pet Names | POV Third Person | Touch-Starved

Notes (more notes at the end): finally got around to writing something for these two. i put the call out for prompts for yancy/illinois two and a half weeks ago and im finally writing about them. i jsut finally felt inspired and woo boy this got really soft i was dying writing them holding hands. 

@wexeatxthexrude thank you so much for the prompt

edit: fixed the formatting issue, damn you tumblr why do you like to warp my fics. thanks to those that let me know.

Another adventure successfully and mostly safely completed, and anotherpriceless artefact soundly and more than mostly safely delivered to the museum.

This wasn’t the first adventure Yancy had tagged along on, but this was thefirst time he’d come with Illinois to the museum to deliver what they’dretrieved and Illinois felt stupid for worrying about whether Yancy was goingto like it or not. Of course he was going to like it, I mean thisplace had the most complete triceratops skeleton in the world! Okay… that’sone of the reasons he liked it, didn’t mean Yancy would. Illinoisforgot a lot of the time that not everyone found old fossils and relics andremains as interesting or cool as he did.

Luckily, Yancy had been enthralled as Illinois walked him around theexhibits and gave him his own exclusive, honorary tour, that was packed withway more information, and much more accurate information, than the museum’sofficial tour guides could ever offer, and hey he also heard this exclusivetour had the best looking guide.

And also luckily Yancy hadn’t gotten bored or fed up of him rambling andgetting over-excited, he’d just listened to everything and smiled and been sosupportive Illinois hadn’t felt this… it felt too early to say ‘loved’…admired maybe… He hadn’t felt this ‘unnameable positive emotion that made hischest feel warm and tight’ in a long time.

“Hey you know, there’s a cafe next to the lobby in here, and when it’snice and hot like this they sell ice cream, you want to grab any? Mytreat?” He asked Yancy once he’d finally finished leading him around theexhibits.

“Aww, Illy, ain’t you a doll.”

Illinois froze.

What… just happened?

Did Yancy just… call him a pet name?

No, no, no, that was his job, he was meant to be the onefull of compliments and pet names. He charmed people, people didn’tcharm him.

People didn’t… When was the last time anyone had charmed him?Illinois tried to think back and sure he knew when people were looking at himlike they wanted to do something to him, or wanted him to do something to them,but no one really flirted with him unless the occasional confident soul shot afew lines back at him as he winked and smiled.

But no one called him pet names, people didn’t call him pet names, Yancyhadn’t ever called him by a pet name before. Yancy was cute and softer, whileIllinois was stoic and cocky and tough, not that Yancy wasn’t tough but… Theway Yancy had said that…

It was just a pet name, just one word, why the hell was he freaking out somuch? He felt the urge to put a hand on his chest to see if his heart reallywas having as much of a fit as he thought it was. His cheeks felt hot, had theyalways felt that hot? It was fairly warm in here but the museum did have airconditioning but it was the summer so-

Something flashed across his face.

There it was again.

It was Yancy’s hand.

“Ill? I didn’t break yous, did I?” Yancy was a lot closer than hehad been before, when did he move? Oh god Illinois prayed to whatever strangedeity might shine down on him that he hadn’t just been standing here for whoknows how long staring into space.

“No, no,” Illinois cringed and coughed as he heard his voice comeout almost squeaky. “Not at all darlin’ you just, uh, took me bysurprise with that is all.”

“With what?” Yancy tilted his head to the side.

Okay maybe he could get away with pretending this never happened. “Oh,nothing, don’t worry about it, but I was saying wasn’t I that I would-”

“It’s cause I called yous ‘doll’ ain’t it?” Yancy was grinning butthere was an insecurity there as if he was afraid of being embarrassed if hewas wrong.

“I, uh,” Illinois shook his head. “Alright, you caught me. Ijust… didn’t expect the pet name is all.”

“Yous seemed to short circuit on me for a second there. How not used toit are you?” Yancy laughed and Illinois dug thumbs under his belt andbalanced back on his heels as he ducked his head (something he was starting tolearn was a nervous tick of his, not that he got nervous of course). “Oh,real not used to it huh?” And Yancy knew what his body language meant andthat was something unusual but… sweet. Not many people had stuck around(whether by their own choice or… not their own choice) long enough to get toknow him this well.

“I suppose I’m used to being the charmer but not the charmee,”Illinois joked, or at least tried to, it must have not worked considering theserious expression on Yancy’s face. “Yance? That’s not… weird, right?How I reacted, I mean.”

Yancy’s eyes stayed serious but he smiled. “Oh not at all, doll.I'ms just thinking what I can dos with this information.” And he smirked,Illinois hadn’t even known Yancy knew how to smirk. “So, what was thatyous were saying about getting us ice cream, sweetheart?”

Oh no. This was bad. This was very, very bad. Yancy had too much power.

He his face heating up had nothing to do with the room temperature thistime. His hand found it’s way up and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah,” He tried to shake the feelings off. “I’ll lead theway.”

Yancy, shyly but slyly leaned into him as they walked and brushed theirhands together. Illinois almost jumped, but pushed his hand back into Yancy andhe saw how Yancy’s face lit up from the corner of his eye. Something like thiswas a big step for both of them, both touch-starved from their time alone, butYancy was also so used to people touching him because they were hurting him.Illinois was making sure that never happened again, and was trying his best notto mess things up.

Yancy smiled and held his hand and squeezed it and just looked so darn cutethat Illinois turned his head to the side and slid his hand over his stubbleand over his mouth.

“Yous alright, Noisy?”

“I’m fine, Yancy.” Illinois sighed and dropped his hand, failingto fight the smile off his face.

“Alright,” Yancy cocked his head and grinned. “Doll.”

Tag list: @theshysepticeye @the-marvel-encyclopedia @gabby-doo @actrmrk @smol-gay-nerd184 @salmonisforthebagel (let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for my ahwm fics, also let me know if you want to be taken off the tag list)

More notes:

and if you guys could please help me out and and reblog this promo post for the heist charms, stickers and pins i’m making and selling that would mean the world! there’s also the link in there to my Etsy shop where you can buy them plugging that again because i need moneys

also if you want to see the heist art i keep drawing you can follow me on instagram and twitter

[ladyalice101]

jonsa fic recs

alright, i’ve had a couple requests for recs, so here is my list. these are all fairly recent fics, all written this year i think. all of them are from my bookmarks on ao3, but i picked the recent ones which are my god-tier recs, my oh-my-god-i-love-this-so-much-i-think-i’m-going-to-die, the ones i reread. they have very little in common, but if you don’t find anything on here that tickles your fancy, then feel free to check out my bookmarks. i have just over 100 on there, and every single one on there are fics that i think are absolutely phenomenal.

for @abi117 @why-cant-i-be-careless and @orangeflavoryawp

canon divergent

Victory by moutainsbeyondmountains. one-shot, 5489k.

“You won already, Your Grace,” Tyrion said mournfully. “Enjoy your victory. There are no lands left to conquer. And there are no more dragons.”

if you read no other fic on this list, read this one. seriously. it’s d.ny pov, and glorious. genuinely, i couldn’t give this high enough praise. i reread this A LOT. like, a lot a lot. i could probably quote this fic.

I Want Something so Impure by @asilentfrenzy. one-shot, 10166k.

“You have caused this, you and your queen. You allowed her to speak to me that way, allowed her to order my obedience in my own home as if I’m to be her new dog to train. I am the Lady of Winterfell, and your inbred aunt has no right to-”

“Aye, you are the Lady of Winterfell,” he growled, his eyes flashing with an added flame of fury at the mention of the woman’s newly found relations to him. “The same Lady of Winterfell who not too long ago advised me to be smart, yet it seems that you can’t follow your own advice.”

“Be smart,” she repeated, filling her face with a look of mocking humor. “By kneeling? By allowing her to seize my title and command my people? Perhaps I should offer her these chambers as well. Better, I’ll just offer them to you again, seeing as I’m sure you’ll be sharing a bed. Shall I fuck her as well? As I want to be just as smart as you, Jon.”

so if you couldn’t tell from the summary, this one is sassy af. it features darkish/dominant!jon, which is my jam, and is pretty much just 10k of smut, which is also my jam.

it’s a small crime, and i’ve got no excuse by mxash. 5/5, 8214k.

“did you see her?” sansa snarled, a hand come to pull at his collar, pulling his mouth down only hairs from her own. “your targaryen queen has dressed as though she was a whore to catch your eye.” jon smirked as she bit his lip. what was this? dany had almost recoiled in her disgust and shock, but she hadn’t been able to pull herself away from the horrific sight. my lover and his own sister.

this one serves some dark!jonsa realness, and it deserves more comments/kudos. it is written entirely in lowercase, but don’t let that distract you. the characters are dark, and devoted, and who doesn’t love d.ny catching jon and sansa fucking? seriously, this one is a must-read.

Dark in Bloom by @orangeflavoryawp​. oneshot, 8304k.

"His gravity wavers, the axis of his world tilted to the measure of her lips." - Jon and Sansa. The stain of desire bleeds slowly between them.

yeah orange, i’m reccing one of your own fics to you. seriously though, this is just like ... mindblowing. i cannot overstate how much i love this one. i literally will just randomly remember it sometimes, when i’m just going about my daily business, and i’m like “shit, that fic by orange was a masterpiece. love it.” so, yeah, if that doesn’t tell you how much i love it, then idk what will.

what i’m asking by @amymel86​. oneshot, 1173k.

"I'm not here to talk about that," Theon says, setting off another, thankfully smaller coughing fit. "I'm here to talk about Sansa."

Jon can feel the blood drain from his face. "Is she ill?"

Theon shakes his head, lifting his eyes to Jon as he coughs into his fist. "No," he finally says, his lungs giving him a small reprieve. "The Queen is in her prime. Which is why you are needed."

okay, ya’ll obvi know of amy. she writes so much fantastic fic. but i feel like this one kind of flew under the radar? which is a CRIME tbh. this fic was so ... it was so heartbreaking, but in the best way. it’s not that divergent from canon, bc the main thing that is truly different is that theon lives. seriously love this fic.

A Toss of the Coin by Paige242. one-shot, 3793.

Years after the war, the Queen in the North and the pardoned Queenslayer welcome their first child. Old traits emerge, and Jon worries about this Dragon in a den of Wolves.

ok, so this is a future fic where jon and sansa married. i don’t even know how to describe this one. it isn’t jonsa focused, but that doesn’t make it any less brilliant. it is so unique, and i’m yet to read another fic that explores the idea of one of jonsa’s kids inheriting some targaryen madness. there IS a part two, which was just as amazing. pls do yourself a favour and read this!

Choose by @esther-dot​. oneshot, 5630k

“I know the cost of our loves. I know too well how they fall on the scale, one outweighing the other. I know what you tried to tell me. I know.” She was looking at him now, and he was afraid, but he would say the words that he had been unable to silence. “I never had the chance to choose you, but I would. I would choose you every time.”

THE DIALOGUE IN THIS IS INCREDIBLE. i just reread this to try and find my fave quote, but i actually can’t even pick. there are just so many amazing conversations, between sansa and jon, sansa and d.ny, arya and jon .. ugh, the list goes on. love this, please read.

Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge by alltheshinywords. one-shot, 3187k.

Post 8x03, slightly AU. Tormund and Jaime inexplicably find themselves becoming matchmakers when they notice a certain chemistry between Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. Extreme fluff and silliness.

this one is the least angsty on the list, and honestly it’s just such a good time. i remember reading this while s8 was airing, and honestly it was just so light hearted that i laughed out loud several times, despite being heartbroken over what happening in the show.

canon, but alternative universe

leave behind a love story by aetherae. one-shot, 9562k.

Maybe if things had been different, they wouldn't be like this. They would be worse.

ok, so, despite the summary, i naively went into this expecting a happy ending. yeah, so, no. however, this was one of the most interesting fics i’ve read in a while, because each universe it explored was so different to the ones i usually see floating around. and the writing was SUPERB.

i fell in love with a war (and nobody told me it ended) by mountainsbeyondmountains. one-shot, 18752k.

In which the North and the South have been at war for years, and Sansa unexpectedly finds herself on the run with a certain Targaryen bastard.

this is an avatar/bender au, and it is GLORIOUS. after i read this, i promptly devoured every other fic this author has written bc i loved it so much. the bending is just a backdrop to the amazing enemies-lovers this fic delivers.

modern au

Fuel and Fire by @zarahjoyce​. currently 4608k, 4/?, WIP.

"You see?" Sansa says, smiling now. "If you really have to have a room far away from me, seems like you need to move into a different hotel." As an afterthought she adds, "Or to another planet."

"Bet you'd just love that, wouldn't you?" Jon asks her.

"Loads," she snarls.

He takes a deep breath, all the while just looking at her.

Truth be told Jon will give anything in the world to be able to just-- just--

-

Jon and Sansa, and all the tropes applicable to them.

All. The. Tropes.

ok so zarah in general writes AMAZING fic, they’re always so creative and inventive and i’m always genuinely shook by the fic they write. but like, this one is the god tier one BC TROPES.

when we kiss: mmmm, fire by @dancemajicdance​. 8/8, 39705k.

Sansa might be seeing someone casually, but thanks to Arya, Robb, and Theon, it’s Jon who’s got the inside track on how to get Sansa to take him seriously.

aka: the one where jon finds out that sansa has a daddy kink, and he uses it to seduce her away from the dating scene and into his arms, heeeey-oh!

yes yes, it’s a daddy kink fic, and it’s fucking glorious alright. if that’s not your thing though (even though i’m pretty sure this fic is EVERYONE’S thing) then please, for the love of god, check out the rest of their stuff on ao3. you won’t regret it. even though they don’t write much jonsa anymore, the prolific contributions they HAVE made will go down in history as some of the best jonsa ever written imo.

As Long As We're Going Down by @alienor-woods​. 9/12, currently 42228k, WIP.

Four years after Stannis Baratheon wins the Battle of the Blackwater, Sansa Stark finds herself summoned back to King's Landing to serve as a bridesmaid at Crown Princess Shireen's wedding. When King Stannis tries to marry Sansa off to his illegitimate nephew, Edric, she thinks quick and tells him she's already married--

--to her bodyguard, Jon Snow.

i actually don’t know how to explain how much i love this. it’s written so beautifully, and it’s so realistic and just ugh. read it. the adaption to modern royalty is the best i’ve ever read, and the characters are very raw, and very realistic. (also, yes, the characters have gotten together at this point in the story, in case you were scared of committing to a wip without the satisfaction of some hot and heavy scenes).

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

Just so you know how bad I tried to make this be (and failed), I was watching Run with the Wind's infamous 20th episode.

Wassup BTHB crowd, it's ya boi Fly, back at it with a new hit piece. I'm glad to be taking part in this challenge, because it"s always fun to match characters/pairings to some tasty prompts and go wild with them. This one is fairly simple vecause it's a warm-up round and I didn't have that much to say (rip my insp, I'll never be able to match that level of pain), but it's always so fun to write Tsunami and Tachimukai being bros. I feel like we just don't have enough of them as platonic bros. We need more of that and I guess I'll be providing.

It's also only my second time writing in Tsunami's POV, I'm realizing (the first being a crack fic I posted earlier this week). It's a shame, really, because he's really cool to write, and coming up with all sorts of things about his siblings is a ton of fun. I hope to be able to shove some more of that into my card because I need to feed myself.

Also, yeah, I know: "gee Fly, you're writing about the abandonment issues you've slapped onto Tachimukai again?". Yes, yes I am. I've got no excuse, I just find that shit interesting to write. It be like that sometimes.

---------

Feverish Reflections

Summary: Tsunami struggles to break a fever in the middle of the night.

Fandom: Inazuma Eleven (OG continuity/college AU)

Wordcount: 3K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

------

Truth be told, Tsunami is used to taking care of people. How couldn’t he? He’s the oldest of six, of course he’s learnt to take care of an oopsie or two. He’s helped his parents with sick brothers and hurt sisters countless times before, when he still lived in Okinawa. He’s still giving advice to his younger siblings whenever they text him the wacky hijinks they got into and their consequences to this day, so you can bet he knows what he’s doing when he sees someone is in trouble, no matter what people may think.

He’s been in situations where he’s saved some close calls. A teammate twisted an ankle? He’d be the first on the move upon realizing. Norika got a concussion after someone on the team accidentally shot a little too strongly and she got it in the face? He knew what to do because Etsuko was a wild child, even wilder than him actually, and had done that to herself once. Being the eldest (or damn near so) in so many of his social circles along the years helped him become like that; a fact he’s prided himself in a little.

Tonight is… a bit of an exception to that rule, though.

.

There’s actually one thing he’s never been familiar with, and it’s fever spikes. Illnesses didn’t hit his family had enough for that case to ever rise up and, even during the few training camps or school trips he’s been on, the worst it’d get would just prompt the teachers to intervene while he’d be trying to keep someone in check. Usually, he’d have brushed it off as the sort of things that he’d be a bit careful about would it happen to him or, if it was about others, to make sure to get someone qualified to deal with it alongside him.

It’d have been all fine, would have it been any other day. He’d just make sure the sick person wouldn’t try to struggle against help or just help around as someone else would take care of what he didn’t know. Sure, he did have the occasion to side-eye some of their deeds; but saying he managed to see much before being kicked out of a bedroom or taken away from a scene by a doctor or a nurse would be a overplaying his competence and knowledge on this.

 The thing is, right now, he’s on his own trying to deal with whatever his roommate let himself get possessed by.

 It’s not even that he hadn’t seen it coming. He may not have, before university, gotten the occasion to know Tachimukai that much, especially since they had both changed since their golden middle school days (they were fifteen and thirteen – you can’t blame then for having at least been through some things in five years); but until now, despite what had happened during their high school years, he was pretty sure he had a firm grasp on his roommate’s personality and habits. Living with someone for a couple months does that to you.

He had seen coming, to some extent, the very thing he’s facing right now. If there’s one thing that’s always been clear about Tachimukai, it’s how much of a hard worker he is, even to the point of self-destruction at times. He’s the kind of guy who only half-listens to you when you tell him that he’s getting tired and should probably get some rest just because he hasn’t finished what he’s doing. He’s also the kind to be dumb enough not to sleep a cold off because he’s got that work shift he’s got to take and that assignment he needs to give back and that book he needs to read and write a report about for whatever class whose name he couldn’t even remember – that kind of guy.

That kind of guy who, right now, is scaring the shit out of him.

It didn’t need to get to this point, but it did, because that’s just how things are in his life: stuff happens and he’s got to deal with it, even if he doesn’t like it. He can wish all he wants he could’ve stopped his best friend from literally burning himself out and getting sent to bed jail, but that won’t break his fever and that sure won’t make the night go by any faster to sulk in both of their guilts. He’ll just do what a good big brother does and scold him once he’s conscious enough to know what he’s being told without it entering from one side, getting garbled, and leaving by the other.

Actually, what scares him the most about their current situation is that Tachimukai is barely coherent… that is, when he’s even trying to speak. Most of the time Tsunami attempts to start a conversation so he’s sure he’s not having a comatose roommate on his hands, a situation to which he really has no solution except calling an ambulance and praying, all he gets in return are some unfinished sentences and words he can’t even understand – if they’re words to begin with and not just a mishmash of syllables strung together by the loosest thread in town. It gives him that sensation that he’s losing someone to the claws of something he doesn’t know.

 He could be calling for an ambulance or for any sort of help (he believes Nosaka – who’s got some medical knowledge since that’s his major and all – lives only three or four buildings away and could at least give him a tip or two, he’d say), but that’d mean he’d have to leave the room and, well… He may be awake in the middle of the night and hunched over a bed like his mother would be when either of his siblings was sick and he’d try to get a sneak-peek of what was happening to them, it still doesn’t mean he’s willing to abandon this for some semblance of comfort.

Or, at least, he can’t leave the room for longer than a minute or two. He’s wanted to grab his phone that he left charging in his room for a little while, but that’d mean having to leave, and that’s… really not something he wants to do. Not when he’s seen what Tachimukai can somehow pull even when he’s sicker than a dog and afflicted with temperatures only heaters should be allowed to reach. Not when he’s… been the elder brother of five.

 Tsunami has seen some of the worst things happen to his siblings. Tetsunosuke has always been sickly and would often fall to the latest strain of the flu circulating at school, then spreading it to their other siblings while himself getting put through misery by the virus. Shinjuko would hallucinate the spirits of the dead and hear voices that weren’t there. Yoko would pull away from their own parents, clawing her way out, scratching herself away from their embrace because she was suffocating and scared the spirits of her nightmares would strangle her.

It’s all coming back to him now. The sand-pale skin, the laboured breathing, the half-closed foggy eyes – it’s all here. He’s seen them all on his siblings’ desperate faces, reflected in his father’s glasses, reflected by the mirror as little Jousuke tried to get a look at what was happening while, unlike them, he’d never waver, never fall sick. He managed to forget it all until now; but now, he’s helplessly watching his own best friend go through the same incarnated nightmare. It’s a horrifying display of what humans can get through and… he wishes it on nobody, not even on his worst enemy.

 He can’t get that damn fever to break. He’s been refreshing the cloth on his friend’s forehead continuously, making sure it’s as cold as possible without seeming like it’d cause frostbite (he’s gotten it before – he’d rather avoid it as much as he can, thank you), but it doesn’t do anything: the symptoms don’t weaken and he wonders when the spike is going to finally end, if it’s going to end. He’d usually try to be more optimistic than that, but he’s in very unfamiliar territories and the flashbacks from his childhood keep coming back when he tries to shove them away and focus on what’s at hand.

He knows he won’t be able to reduce it with just some cold water: he needs to get the medicine in the bathroom. Sure, it doesn’t seem like Tachimukai is conscious enough to even drink water, but just having the medicine will make him feel a little safer. Plus, he’d like to grab his phone so he can call someone in case things get extra bad (though, honestly, he doesn’t know who he’d call considering it’s like three in the morning and he hasn’t been hearing any party nearby), and he’d rather have medicine on hand for other things. Maybe give himself a pillow so the chair is more comfortable…

 As soon as he gets up, however, something grabs his shirt and tries to pull him back down and into his seat. He looks back down to see the slightly horrifying vision of a hazed, cloudy-eyed boy who suddenly looks far younger than he usually does, as if slipping back into his past self, clearly in pain but trying to say something nonetheless. A wave of cold sweat goes down his back from the vision alone… but it does mean his friend may now be the right amount of conscious to know what he’s doing or where he even is.

But that’s when Tachimukai says the first understandable thing he’s said since their hell of a night began and it’s one whose tone Tsunami doesn’t like much. It’s said in a weak, raspy tone that’s so unfamiliar to his ears, slow and almost detached, with syllables that have trouble forming because the poor guy must be dehydrated beyond what both of them can imagine at the moment; but what he can’t doubt is that it’s a cry of despair.

 “Please…” He sucks a hitched breath in, eyes wet and tears pouring from them. “Please don’t leave me…”

 Jousuke knows that tone, that expression, that feeling he gets overwhelmed with. Ryuunosuke’s face flashes before his eyes for a moment before he’s sitting back down, hands cupping his friend’s shoulders, watching unfocused irises desperately try to adjust. Even through his hair, he can sense the fever raging under the skin. He doesn’t mind the gross sweatiness of a sick person’s hair, especially when he finally has the hope to communicate. It feels like it’s been days.

“Tachimukai, can you understand me?!” He shouldn’t be yelling, but it’s stronger than him.

“Why’re you l’vin…?”

That accent is… Is that Fukuoka dialect? He’s not sure if he’s ever heard Tachimukai speak in it. He may have kept a lot of his Okinawan accent himself, but his friend? He’s spoken like a Tokyoite as far as he’s known. It’s such a weird thing to hear him relapse into a dialect. He can’t remember that happening even five years ago. He has a vague memory of hearing it at his graduation ceremony, though.

“I’m just gonna fetch some things. I ain’t leaving you like that.”

 The grip on his shirt loosens a little as the fog in his friend’s eyes disappears a little, not letting up entirely, but clearing just enough to finally look like he’s back to some extent of reason. It’s his one chance, he’d say.

“You mind if I just go grab my phone and some medicine for you? I promise I’ll be back in seconds.”

“A-ah, no, go for it, I…”

“I’m also bringing you a glass of water, dude. You sound like you’ve just gone through the desert.”

 He holds his promise and runs outside the bedroom into his, almost dropping his phone as he grabs it from his nightstand, then rushing to the bathroom to get a box of medicine that looks like it could be useful in their current situation and, finally, get a full bottle of water and a glass. He must have run it all in less than twenty seconds considering he’s somehow a bit out of breath from the ordeal; but it’s fine. It’ll be all fine.

When he comes back, nothing has changed much, aside from his friend’s eyes who have finally cleared from most of the smog. The latter is sitting up, breathing still heavy and shuddering under its own weight, skin tone still pale with red splotches on the cheeks; but man, he seems conscious, and that’s more than enough for now. After what he’s just been through (he checks on his phone: he was there for at least a very long half an hour), he can’t ask for much else than some sort of relief.

 Tsunami sits back down on the chair, pours his friend a glass of water and hands it to him.

“You must have a throat drier than the desert, so here you go, pal.”

As if starving for anything to drink (which he probably is, let’s be real here), Tachimukai anxiously takes it, hands trembling. Yeah, he may look less like he’s dying; he’s still not looking good by any means.

“I’ve also got you some fever reducers in case this happens again because, man, you scared the crap out of me.” Tsunami pours a second glass and hands his flatmate a pill. “Let’s spare us the trouble, okay?”

“Sorry for the trouble. I didn’t think it’d… get this bad.”

Okay, second good sign: the Fukuoka dialect has gone away too. He’d have usually not minded it, but if it mostly appears when Tachimukai is hotter than a furnace and hallucinating whatever he was seeing earlier, he’d rather not see it come back for a while – or ever, actually.

“Don’t stress it. I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask to be in that state.” Actually… “Just don’t get yourself that sick, next time. That’s all.”

“…You should go back to bed, Tsunami. I’ll be fine.

Too bad he doesn’t feel like he can go back to sleep, not when it was interrupted by this fiasco.

“That’s bold of you to say when you were the one begging me to stay, Tachi.”

 His friend stares back at him, at first confused, then anxiously. He looks down almost right afterwards, hair hiding most of his face.

“…I said that?”

“You don’t remember?” Well, come to think of it… “Ain’t really a surprise, actually. You looked like you had seen death.”

“N-no, I don’t remember much… All I can guess is that I’ve caused you some problems.”

“Do you just… get that sort of fevers often?”

Tachi (the new nickname flows better on his tongue, Tsunami must admit) takes a little while to reply, as if thinking his answer through.

“It’s been a while since the last one, I think? They only happen when I’ve been tired for long periods of times. I should be fine by tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?”

A little smile. What he wouldn’t do for that little one to stay on…

“The fact you’ve helped me makes me sure, yes.”

“I suppose that’s a good sign, then! Still, can I ask you something real quick, Tachi? I’m sure you want to sleep and all, but… There’s something that’s been on my mind.”

“What’d that be?”

“For a while, you only said incoherent things, but at some point, you clearly asked me not to leave you. You seemed desperate, so…” His voice trails. “…Tachimukai? Is there something wrong?”

 His friend has shrivelled on himself, almost like a hurt animal. He doesn’t like it a single bit, but… there’s no use in rushing, as much as his instincts want him to jump ahead and fix the uneasiness that’s settling in.

“I think I’m… so scared to be left alone again at times like that, that my fever started to speak for me. It must’ve felt weird for you to hear me say such a childish thing all of a sudden, but…”

“But what? It’s not childish to ask for someone to stay by your side while you’re having a terrible time. Hell, you’ve not seen yourself while you were in that state, but I’d have never left you alone for more than a couple seconds.”

“But—”

“What makes you think that asking for company is a bad thing, Tachi?”

“…I’d assume the fact I was left on my own for so long that I started to think I was automatically a burden. It hasn’t left yet. I just… expressed it when I’d have usually kept it to myself. Again, sorry for all the trouble, I’m not easy to deal with when I’m that sick and—”

“If you apologize one more time, I swear I’ll knock you out so you get some sleep, dude.”

 Tachi recoils back, but chuckles right afterwards.

“Dude, you’re sick. It’s time you think about yourself and realize I don’t mind helping you out. I’ve never minded, in fact, ever since we were in Raimon.”

The smile he gives him is a genuine one and, even if it’s a little pained and very much tired, it’s still the highlight of his night.

“I suppose that’s true… I should’ve known you of all people wouldn’t leave me, Tsunami.”

“That’s more like it! Now get some sleep. I…” A yawn escapes from his mouth, almost unhinging his jaw in the process (that may be dramatizing it, but it’s not that far from it). “I need my beauty sleep too. If you need help, text me, ’kay? G’dnight.”

“Works for me. Goodnight, Tsunami.”

 Before he can truly leave, though, Jousuke feels one last pull on his shirt.

“Oh, and… thank you for sticking with me. Really.”

Time to give his best (tired) teethy grin.

“I could tell you the same, you know!” He ruffles his friend’s hair with his hand. “See you later.”

On that, Tsunami finally leaves, heart lighter than in the evening, holding onto his phone like a necessary timeline even as he goes bad to bed.

[theartfuldodger26]

Fandom ask

Thank you, @bellamort1993 for sending me Harry Potter, Bellamort and Bellatrix as prompts. Feel free to do the same (or different to your choosing).

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character:  Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort. No, I don’t have one favourite. Bella is the closest to my heart, but apparently I waste the most brainmatter on Tom/Voldemort, so *shrugs* Harry is my favourite light character, he’s an admirable person.

Least Favorite character:  Umbridge, as is universally accepted.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Bellamort (which is canon, bitches) Delphi/Harry (it will become canon, you just wait for TCC part3) Tomarry but not Harrymort(nearly counts as canon judging by how often Harry comments on Tom’s looks) Drarry  Delphi/Victoire

Character I find most attractive: Bellatrix, hands down. Then Voldemort can do things to me too, but Bella would be my first choice. 

Character I would marry: No one, I’m happy by myself. Delphi can be my angsty fuck buddy with whom we meet every once in a while, bitch, get drunk, cry and fuck. 

Character I would be best friends with: Harry, tho I’m not the best of friends and his friends do have a high mortality rate for my taste. I wouldn’t mind if Voldemort killed me tho, so *shrugs*

a random thought: The wizarding world makes zero sense in so many places. They haven’t had an Industrial Revolution and they seem to be stuck in the Middle Ages in many ways, even if they dont seem extremely Christian as these times actually were. It’s really confusing. As for their economy? How does that even work if you can conjure a chair out of thin air, or replicate food? 

An unpopular opinion:  Idk what’s unpopular these days. Aside from Albus’ name, I actually liked the Epilogue. In contrast to what people thing, it doesn;t show *everything* that happened after the war, meaning it’s no obliged to show the PTSD and the fights and the pain. It just passes the message: depsite everything, in the end they were happy. Not always and not easily, but they lived, and built and did good. And that’s not always possible with survivors. It’s our job as fans to add the rest, all the author needed to do was say ‘yes, they made it out okay.”

My Canon OTP: BELLAMORT Seriously, I have screenshoted the details of TCC where it shows they’re canon. 

My Non-canon OTP: Harry/Delphi

Most Badass Character: Bellatrix, handsdown.  McGonagall out of the good people. 

Most Epic Villain: Voldemort, we’d have no books without him. He can be dumb, but it’s cute.

Pairing I am not a fan of: I’m not huge in non-canon Hermione ships, and anything with Snape is gross.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): ...Snape? Not his character, but the light she gave him by naming Harry’s kid after him. It appeared she was clear on him not being an admirable person, but then he’s the bravest bloke ever? No, ma’am. 

Favourite Friendship: The Golden Trio, they work as a three-man-group better, I won’t devide them. 

Character I most identify with: PostAzkaban!Bellatrix feels she’s letting her master and herself down, and so do it. I keep looking for my former self. Who wasn’t much after all, but had some qualities I should recultivate. 

Character I wish I could be: ... I’d like to have some Bellamort qualities that I lack, but in general I’m fine working on myself.  

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them:  After I finished the books, so that’s since 2007, 13 cool, angsty years. 

My thoughts: I love them, they’re my evil babies. In fact, I don’t even have reasons for loving them, as most shippers do, I’d just die for them. 

What makes me happy about them: That theyre complicately made for each other in their unique goth way. And that in the end they had a kid, which I think helped Voldemort out a lot with his issues with intimacy and emotions. 

What makes me sad about them:  That they died *sobs hysterically*. Also that they’re proud idiots who don’t communicate well. Also in the books they have like two scenes together. (HE SCREAMED THO)

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: Seeing Bella’s character butchered down to a snivelling, slavish idiot, though these aren’t Bellamort fics usually.  In Bellamort fics, it feels like a cheat when it says Bellamort but it’s just Bella pining and Voldemort really not caring. I don’t have a problem with the POV, but it needs to be tagged as unrequited. Otherwise I’m open to perspectives. 

Things I look for in fanfic: Good writing, mostly. I’m also a huge fan of Muggle!AU’s, so if you have that, I’ll read it, no questions asked XD

My wishlist: On Amazon? :P I presume this means wishlist on fics/art with these two, but do correct me if I’m wrong. I dont have one, since I write myself, so whatever I want to read, I write. Right now I’m on a bit of a writing hiatus (but don’t take my word for it, my emotional world is fucking rollercoaster), but at some point I’d like to see a mermaid!AU and a lot of exploration between Voldemort and his mother, while Bella holds his hand. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Alone and miserable. I guess Bella would have been okay with Rodolphus, had Tom/Voldemort never been born.  And Voldemort/Tom would have been fine too with some nameless pretty woman he did not love but had to marry to keep face.  But I think that they would have never been truly happy with anyone else. especially Tom, he’d never be really comfortable with anyone. 

My happily ever after for them: VoldemortWins!AU, they conquer Europe, Bella is Minister for War, Voldemort the Emperor. Maybe they have a kid, maybe a couple more or none at all, who cares, the point is they live and fulfull their dreams of revolutionising the Wizarding Wolrd.  I also have a sappy afterlife!AU where for a while Bella is imprisoned at the family castle for having a halfblood little bastard, goes half-insane, as Voldemort searches for her (they had a spat right after they got there), and Delphi kills herself and goes to find her dad in small-child form. They finally get tgether and live death happily ever after in some Norwegian fjord in the frozen tundra. (it’s also my personal happy ending, only it’s cats and snakes)

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character: I love Bella. She’s a bitch and a sadist, but I love her. 

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: The one and only, his majesty the Dark Lord himself. 

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Rodolphus, he’s her only friend.  Also, sad HC: Bella was very close to Andromeda until she got too involved with Voldemort and his cause, and they drifted apart. No one wept harder than Bella after Andy left, and it was her who spent days banging on the Tonks’ door to let them speak to her. Voldy could squeeze tears out of his shirt after she fell asleep crying about it. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: Again, not sure about unpopular.  I believe she suffers from genuine mental illness that tortures her a lot and makes her life (and her shared life with Voldemort too) very hard. Also I find her more self-doubting and reserved than most authors, hard working and largely indifferent to people who aren’t Voldemort. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Actual romantic scene would have been nice, but HE SCREAMED after all. Let’s not ask for too much. 

Favorite friendship for this character: Rodolphus and Andromeda. Recently I’ve started Brotp-ing Sirius with Bella too, before they parted ways. 

My crossover ship: I don’t really have any other fandoms, but I have been exploring the world of the Witcher as of late, so I’d love a showdown between Bella and Yen. It’d be so hot.

Well, this was fun! Thanks, @bellamort1993 for sending the ask. I have this feeling that I’ve replied to this before, but for some reason it’s still in my drafts, so I’m posting it. If you’ve seen it before, I apologise for bothering you... 

[alittleyellowdinosaur]

TUA Thought Experiment

So last night I started thinking, what would the Umbrella Academy be like with alternate powers? Still a massive fuck up? Obviously. But how would their personalities change? I got a little invested in the thought experiment, so I decided, I want to write a fic about this. I want one that follows the show as closely as possible, but very different at the same time. And I thought I’d share my thought process on how I got their powers and how I got the changes to personality that would come with those. So... Enjoy! (This gets long, js)

The Powers

To pick what powers they’d have, I wanted to do something directly opposite to their current powers... Only to realize that, for everyone but Luther, Five and Klaus, I was stumped on how to do that. Is there a direct opposite to throwing shit good? no, no there isn’t. So I decided, let’s start in an opposite-like direction, and go from there. Here’s what I decided:

Luther: Super speed. I think that’s a fairly easy leap from super strength. 

Diego: i started with, okay, he can throw good, so maybe he can... catch good? But that’s not so much a power, just a baseball player. To make it a bit more power-y, I decided, okay, he’s got magnetism, but only for already magnetic things (like not just all metal like Magneto. I’m not making Diego all powerful guys.) So he can like, call magnetic objects to him sort of thing. i’ll make it work. 

Allison: Changing reality with her voice doesn’t have a clear opposite, which sucked. I thought about cancelling things with her voice, but she can do that already so it’s not alternate powers enough. In the end I decided mind reading. Since I do want the fic to follow the main story closely (to a point), I figure being able to read minds will get a similar enough backstory for Allison to work with (ie her manipulative personality) 

Klaus: Klaus was easy. If he can see dead people, then the opposite would be to prevent dead people. So he can heal people. This caused problems with Ben, but I’ll get to him in a minute. I thought about having opposites of his comics powers (levitation and telekinesis), but that got too complicated so he’s just going to have healing abilities. 

Five: Five can time travel, so what’s sort of the opposite of that? Stopping time, a la the Handler. This then posed the problem of ‘where did he go for all those years and how does he know the future?’ so I added clairvoyance into the mix, which I’ll explain later. If Klaus can canonically (in the comics) have multiple powers, Five can to. Fuck off. 

Ben: Here’s the tricky one. I wanted Ben to still be a part of the story, but if Klaus can heal then he can’t see Ben’s ghost. I thought about Klaus being able to see the dead people he couldn’t heal, but that’s too similar to canon. So then, maybe Klaus healed him before he died? But then he wouldn’t hang out with Klaus all the time and it’d change too much. I considered making Ben’s powers allow him to be present, maybe able to appear in dreams or instead of having an eldritch monster in him, he was an eldritch monster (hence this going here in the post, not later). In the end, I decided that Ben would still be dead, Klaus wouldn’t be able to see him, and for powers he’d keep the tentacles. Since he’s not a real player in the story himself, I didn’t feel the need to change that. 

Vanya: I wasn’t sure what powers to give Vanya, as apocalyptic telekinesis doesn’t have a clear opposite, and I still want it to be apocalypse causing. In the end, I decided she could get earth powers. Yes i know, kind of basic and ambiguous, but I was trying to think of “how can she destroy the earth/the moon” and well, the moon is rock, the earth is rock, she gets to control rocks. I’m still going to have sound/music center it, because the violin is just too central to Vanya’s character for me to fuck with it. 

---

The Effects

So we’ve got the new powers, great, great, but how do they affect the characters? How do their backstories change? As I mentioned with Allison, I’m trying to keep this similiar-ish to the canon (so Klaus is still going to be a depressing disaster, just a major trigger warning for him). Obviously things changed, but we’re going to keep it as close to the same as possible. 

Luther: Luther is probably the most similar to canon, in that nothing really changes. He still gets the leader complex, still gets turned into a buff monkey (since I think that was mostly the serum not his powers at play), only with that bit he becomes much more clumsy and shit because he’s not used to running with that bulk. He still gets sent to the moon too. Woo hoo. 

Diego: Again Diego is fairly similar. Stutter, rivalry with Luther, mommy’s boy, all the same. Still goes to the police academy and meets Eudora and fights crime in kink gear. Only difference I see obvious is he probably uses a magnetized knife or bullets or something to fight since he can call it back/manipulate it’s path. 

Allison: She still got really manipulative as a kid, always knowing what people were thinking and such. Since I headcannon that Reginald trained her into thinking she can only change reality with “i heard a rumor” even though she could do it anyways, as like a way to control her, I think he likely did the same with mind reading. So say, now she can only do it when touching someone even if she technically doesn’t need to. She still likely got to be a super star by always knowing what they were looking for/blackmailing, snagged Patrick by being everything he ever wanted in a girlfriend, and manipulated her daughter leading to the divorce and losing custody. Now she wears gloves and long sleeves to prevent touching someone since she doesn’t want to read minds anymore. 

Klaus: Again, trigger warning, this one gets dark. Since he could heal, and his family was being put into dangerous situation when they were like, 10, he probably had immense pressure put on him from family, Reggie, and himself. I imagine for training, Reggie would bring him to hospitals where he’d have to see and heal domestic violence victims, terminally ill children, attempted suicides, burn victims, etc, just horrible things from the time he was young. Reggie probably also hurt him to see if he could heal himself, possibly Grace helping as she could cause pain without permanent damage, and possibly also hurt his siblings for added punishment/’motivation.’ With the pressure and the memories of those he couldn’t save and his siblings suffering, he turned to self harm and self destructive tendencies rather than drugs, as ‘punishment’ for failing. When Ben died and Klaus was unable to save him, he tried to kill himself, only for it not to work as his healing ability kicked in before he could die (see your bitch still got that immortality in there!) Instead he turned to really terrible self destructive tendencies. He wound up in mental health hospitals a LOT which just made things worse as he was surrounded by depressed people who he couldn’t help since he can’t heal mental illness, but he’s still got that ‘i must save everyone or i am worthless’ mindset Reggie gave him. I’ve got more for him, but I kind of want to save some of it for the fic, as he will be the POV character (obvi.) 

Five: Got a vision of the future apocalypse that he tried convince Reginald to take seriously, but he didn’t since Five didn’t get many details except the date (which as we know Reggie already knew). Since Reggie was no help, he left to find out more and stop it on his own, got picked up by the Commission pretty soon after leaving (do you think they WOULDN’T want a person who could stop time/see how different deaths would affect the timeline without long math problems/was crazy smart and excellent at killing? No, they’d swoop him up as soon as he was away from Reggie). He’d eventually come back when he figured out how to tamper with the briefcase they gave him to make it untraceable. Problem was he messed part of it up and it turned him young again (though he was never as old as he got in the series). Delores was another person at the Commission who helped him out. No mannequin fucking in my good Christian household today you hear me? 

Ben: Dead. Torn apart by the tentacles and unable to be healed by Klaus because it’s hard to reattach shredded bodies even with powers. Luther pressured him into using his powers that day, but everyone told him it was okay, so they all feel like they share the blame. I think Klaus probably had a feeling it wouldn’t be...

Vanya: Caused an earthquake as a kiddo when she had to eat oatmeal. Reggie got annoyed because how dare a four year old have a temper tantrum and put her on medication. She got ignored except for by Ben and Five. So about the same. 

The Fic

I haven’t actually started writing the fic yet, again this was just the brainstorming/thought experiment I had at... midnight? one am? Somewhere around then. If you are interested in the idea of this fic, or have any ideas on their powers/plot ideas, please please please leave me a reply or send an ask!! I’d love some feedback and ideas. Whenever I start posting I’ll post the link here as well as on my writing blog @elliot-orion. Thanks for reading!

[bloodgarnet]

MDZS Original Mystery Fic Idea

So I came up with this idea for a mystery plot since I was so impressed with all the fic until I read the novel and realised most of it was just minor alterations on canon :/// (still impressive though). I got pretty far in the outline before I realised it would need a lot of minor character interactions and cultural knowledge which I respectively can’t be bothered with and don’t know shit about lol. The premise was also meant to have a lot of happy trolling WWX but most of the scenes turned out pretty serious… There’s probably a 99% chance I’m never going to write this so posting it publicly as free real estate.

Tags: Case Fic, Memory Alteration, Mystery, Plot Heavy, Romance, True Love

Title: Fortune’s Memory OR One Thousand Worries (*from Chinese proverbs)

Summary: Wei Wuxian successfully manages to convince everyone that he is Mo Xuanyu… through absolutely no merit of his own.

Prologue: WWX reflects after his resurrection that even if MXY forgot to state his wishes, he still did a pretty good job—after all, with a totally untested ritual from the branch of cultivation that he invented, who knows how many things could have gone wrong. /foreboding

WWX’s wrist held by LWJ as JC and he argue. Unexpectedly, JC says this is giving him a headache and decides to leave (jin ling says you too, uncle? JC like you ARE my headache, child). LWJ says WWX is coming with him to gusu but WWX argues it and says he doesn’t want to go to such a place with LWJ, whose eyes go cloudy and he suddenly releases WWX, confused. They part ways, but WWX wonders what the heck just happened—unexpectedly lucky! He’s still interested in all the weird things happening though and decides to meet up with wen ning elsewhere.

Meanwhile, LWJ inexplicably feels a profound sense of loss.

JC goes back to Yunmeng with Jin Ling and has trouble remembering things. He tries to recall the culprit of the ghost general incident but can’t picture his face. He tries to scold jin ling but can’t remember what for; jin ling also has trouble remembering. He tells jin ling to go to his room and if he wants sympathy, go to his mother for that. Jin ling freezes and says what are you even talking about. Jiang Cheng blacks out as jin ling screams.

Lan Xichen talks to Jin Guangyao about how both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang have come down with a mysterious illness which affects their memory—possibly a targeted curse at clan leaders, though perhaps a small smattering of rogue cultivators have also been affected. Sadly, it has even affected the Jin heir, Jin Ling, though his is a bit better. JGY reflects since it’s the opposite way, it can’t be the strength of his golden core but rather maybe his youth that makes him resistant as some spells operate that way. LXC thanks him for the advice and worries that LWJ was recently in contact with JC and JL. JGY comments that these unexpected events are the most dangerous.

WWX meets up with wen ning and they discuss what to do: he frees wen ning from chains and needles and says he could go live life if he wants, but WWX is interested in the ghost arm incident. They get wen ning a disguise and hear from locals that nie huaisang and JC have come down sick. WWX frowns and wonders about the current political climate, who knows how many people would want to take down the sect leaders. Then he hears that LWJ is possibly also ill and feels really bad about it for some reason—that’s what makes him decide to investigate himself, putting this over the ghost arm incident. Wen ning asks how to do that and WWX says they need information now more than anything—they must prepare for the upcoming conference which will discuss what is happening.

JGY attends the conference and notices a strange bird outside. He’s seconds away from touching it when LXC calls him and it flies off. They go inside and discuss the potential epidemic; LXC confesses LWJ seems to show preliminary signs but Clarity seems to be helping him remain stable for now. They discuss it’s potential as a contagious epidemic and agree to have healers share findings as well as a group of famed Lan healers (?) visit the other sects with a small entourage in order to compare patients directly. JGY notes that this subject has totally eclipsed the issue of the ghost hand, which tried to escape Gusu Lan but was caught at the barrier with no casualties but many injuries. Also JC has woken and has a clean slate memory and just seems to be much happier??? They decide to keep the whole thing quiet from the public for now to prevent panicking. Conference ends with JGY accidentally revealing that he’s forgotten something important, so he’s infected too, to LXC’s shock. The bird flies away.

Wwx discusses the situation with wen ning at a restaurant (where wen ning is like thank god my tastebuds are dead lol). Wwx says that the situation is bad but not killing anyone so far which is good. Explains to wen ning that the healers probably know this but it can’t be an epidemic because it hasn’t spread enough; it’s far more likely a targeted attack since it’s really only affecting important people. Lan Sizhui and Jingyi enter the restaurant and WWX hides his face by faceplanting in his noodles lol. WWX and wen ning eavesdrop on their plans to escort the healers back from Nie territory to Gusu Lan, noting that LWJ may have gotten worse in the time they were gone. WWX worries and decides he needs to steal a jade token, but for now they have a convenient target for a little spy.

Sizhui and Jingyi report to LXC with the healers who explain that it IS contagious, a qi transmitted virus, but only from the carrier—likely only one since it hasn’t spread far: so it must be someone who has come into contact with all of the people affected fairly recently. Also it seems like an imbalance of energies causing qi deviation. Sizhui reflects this will be hard since the victims don’t remember anything. LXC says that’s somewhere to start, though, and gets disciples/servants to fetch LWJ from seclusion since it’s not contagious. LWJ joins (sizhui happy!) and says that his illness has not progressed at all. LWJ says that the number of potential carriers is too many but to retrace his steps he might as well seek out the rest of the ghost hand’s body as the hand has conveniently pointed in that direction. Sizhui and Jingyi volunteer to go with him along with some other junior disciples; justification that it can be a low-stress learning exercise if nothing else(?) which is what LWJ was doing originally. Then takes out his sword and strikes down the hidden bird which was trying to steal his token – LXC marvels that LWJ broke a rule (no killing) but LWJ says the bird was already dead.

WWX says, “Shit.” WWX talks to wen ning and says that chasing the hand’s body now is dangerous since LWJ will be there—he wants to investigate the victims too in case there’s a demonic element but has an inexplicable bad feeling. Laughs off concerns about memory because his has always been bad. WWX says that his expertise in this area is lacking though and what they really need is a healer who knows about demonic cultivation and wouldn’t run on sight… oh. Wen Ning is like I mean. WWX like would she kill us?? Hmm. They head to Yiling Burial Mounds.

Dead bird makes everyone realise it’s related to demonic cultivation

Filler scene…? Maybe LWJ POV? Tiger seal? Body parts?

Sizhui and Jingyi realise that someone LWJ met right before this happened (along with JL and JC) is MXY, so they should find him!

Wwx and wen ning arrive at the burial mounds and talk while wwx makes chenqing 2 (joke that’s a JC name! But I can’t think of one now lol). He uses it to summon wen qing with inquiry and ask her about it. She says it’s hard to say but given that no one’s died, it may not even be intentional, maybe just a side effect or symptom of something else. WWX says since there’s no change in political power. It does weaken the sects affected temporarily but a widespread attack like this isn’t so good tactically so it could fit. Wen Qing says she’d need to examine a victim herself but would need a body for that and hers is long gone. WWX like wait you would be okay with me getting yours back? Also idk how to do that?? He explains the ritual he used to come back and she frowns. WWX like to accomplish what you suggest would need more power than I currently have in this body… perhaps by repurposing the tiger seal???

And this is where I stopped because I legit can’t remember what happened to the tiger seal at this point in canon. Probably something about Xue Yang but I skipped over his chapters because I wasn’t interested lol. Since there wasn’t really a point to bringing Wen Qing back, I imagine their plan fails but it brings them into the fold with the other characters, and she stays a ghost and has a tearful goodbye with WN at some point near the end or something. Also having to figure out exactly how the whole Nie Mingjue thing would fall apart with both Nie Huaisang and JGY incapacitated, as well as the whole Qin Su thing... blah. Wanted to change the dead bird thing since I was annoyed at myself for copying a fandom trope but couldn’t think of anything better.

Basically the points I wanted to reach were:

Sizhui and Jingyi note that the spell reveals your ‘true colours’ lol

WWX is eventually caught and interrogation reveals that he also has the virus even tho he has a very weak golden core and they realise he must be a demonic cultivator; some pity because he seems so happy without memories of abuse (his happy antics are even kind of familiar... hmm)

Full clarification that WWX is the virus carrier: it’s a golden core imbalance caused by the imperfect resurrection which infectiously causes qi deviation for people who come into contact with his demonic cultivation and triggered by emotional upheaval which is why JC gets the full thing IMMEDIATELY lol

WWX was trolling at first but then actually DOES forget everything (caused by something with LWJ? Maybe a gay panic lol), but still knows his shit and explains that if it’s an imbalance then the opposing yang/yin energy must be demonic in nature so they should just huff a demonic seal or something lol

^ political statement that demonic cultivation isn’t evil, just ~opposite~

Jin Ling has recovered a bit and says he will talk to MXY but is like wait that’s… not him?? like yes I know he forgot everything but it’s really, really Not Him???

Interrogation of JGY’s spotty memory leads to deduction of what scrolls of WWX’s MXY learnt—body sacrifice and summoning

The cure is demonic energy + confessing your sins and being happy you fucks

And then like the one scene I actually had in mind when I wrote this: WWX confused but yelling MXY is not my name!!! And LWJ, on the brink of forgetting everything, still says, “Wei Ying,” recognising him immediately despite everything. Much shock, so drama.

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 28

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Author’s note: Sorry about the longer wait for this chapter, guys. I hit a bit of a writer’s block with this one, but I hope you enjoy it now that it’s done! Also, real quick, I wanted to thank you all for the support you’ve been showing me on this story. I’m still getting messages from you saying how much you’re liking the fic and I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate it. It really makes this worthwhile :)

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

ONE WEEK LATER

BEAVER HOLLOW

Finishing my drawing of this camp, I flipped to the next page and began writing a few words on it, hopin’ to scribble down some of my thoughts while I had the opportunity to relax for a moment.

The new camp wasn’t as bad as I was expecting it to be -- considerin’ Micah picked it -- but despite all of his assurances, something still felt...off...about the area.

I couldn’t quite place it, but when the caravan arrived at Beaver Hollow, one o’ the first things I noticed was the multiple bloodstains decorating our new home. Micah insisted it weren’t nothing to worry about -- and Dutch seemed more than okay with settling down here -- but it was still pretty obvious that someone else had been livin’ here before we moved in. 

The dried bloodstains, the ominous cave, the random crates of weapons and dynamite that were left behind by the previous owners...it was clear that this wasn’t exactly a “sanctuary.” And there was also the fact that most of the locals avoided Beaver Hollow like the goddamned plague.

I had no idea what made this place so portentous, but regardless of whatever dangers we was gonna have to deal with out here, Beaver Hollow was still a helluva lot better than Shady Belle. It may not’ve had a big manor for us to sleep in, but it also weren’t riddled with old bullet holes, gators, marshlands, and for the first time in a while, we actually had some fresh air to breathe.

Perhaps we’d make a home of this place yet. I just hoped it wouldn’t be for very long.

Putting my pencil down, I shut the journal closed and slipped it back into my satchel, only to be stopped mid-action when I overheard some commotion goin’ on at Pearson’s wagon.

It didn’t look like Pearson himself was involved with whatever was happening, but Eddie had just brought in a deer carcass and was now arguing with Micah at the moment. Things were still civil, and I doubted Eddie would let it escalate too much, but I listened in anyways, hopin’ to at least hear something that would give me a good enough reason to strangle Micah if need be.

“--and Dutch said you was gonna be useful,” Micah retorted, gesturing to the deer. “Look at this thing. It’s almost as skinny as you. Who the hell’s this gonna feed? Jack?”

Eddie sighed in annoyance, stabbing his knife into a wooden table. “Well, I don’t see you feeding anyone. When was the last time you went out hunting in the woods?”

The other man chuckled in a condescending tone, pointing to his head. “I’m too busy helpin’ Dutch come up with plans. Someone’s gotta help the old man, after all, now that Hosea’s gone. He just needs a little...guidance. But we all have to pull our weight, Ryan. We all have to earn our keep. At least...” Micah glanced over at Uncle, “...that was the idea.”

Yanking his knife out the table, Eddie took hold of the deer and started skinnin’ it, doing his absolute best to ignore Micah.

“If you think you can do better, be my guest. Now, shut up and go bother someone else. I have to get this thing ready for Pearson.”

Micah laughed at that and began sauntering in Dutch’s direction, wavin’ a casual goodbye to Eddie as he took his leave.

“Whatever you say, Ryan.”

Waiting for the man to disappear from sight, Tilly suddenly joined the conversation once Micah was outta earshot and tried to reassure Eddie, holdin’ her book close to her chest as she spoke.

“Don’t listen to him, Eddie,” she encouraged. “We all see the work you’re doin’ for this gang. I know Arthur certainly does.”

The pianist softened his voice slightly and wiped some sweat off his brow, taking a break from the skinning.

“Thanks, Tilly...but Micah’s right. This deer hardly has any meat on it. In fact, most of the animals in this region don’t. It’s rare to see a healthy buck in these parts.”

The woman let out a concerned breath. “I hope not. We got a lotta mouths to feed. Anyway...I’ll let you get back to work. And I probably should too, before Grimshaw threatens to tan my hide again.”

“Sure.”

Returnin’ to their chores, Tilly wandered to a different part of the camp while Eddie stayed behind and continued slicing at the deer, causing me to walk over to him now that he was by himself.

I didn’t know what the hell Micah’s problem was with Eddie, but it seemed as if things had grown more tense between ‘em over the past few days. I mean, nobody in the gang was particularly fond of Micah anyways, but it felt especially uncomfortable when those two were near each other. 

Fortunately however, I was around camp most of the time, so Micah usually left Eddie alone. Though I still couldn’t help but wonder where this sudden hatred was comin’ from. Was it ‘cause Eddie was the youngest? Was it because he was close with me? I really didn’t know. Maybe the boy would have some answers.

Walkin’ up behind the pianist, I peeked over his shoulder and displayed a small smile, hoping to cheer him up a little.

“You okay, Eddie?” I asked. “What was that all about?”

Turning around to face me, Eddie stood up from the ground and squinted as the sun hit his eyes, makin’ him look even more annoyed than before.

“Oh, it’s nothing...” he brushed off. “It’s just -- the camp was running low on food so, I went to go hunting earlier, but...” Eddie glanced at the deer, “I dunno, Arthur. This place is strange. All the animals...they look sick. They’re so...weak and fragile.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was fishin’ at the Elysian Pool the other day. Caught a nice pike...but the bastard looked like it had been dead for a week already.”

Eddie cleaned his hands with a rag. “That’s what I’m talking about. Everything looks diseased here. Even the people. Have you been to Butcher Creek yet? The residents there are even worse than the deer.” The pianist let out an uneasy sigh. “You don’t...you don’t suppose there could be some illness going around Roanoke Ridge?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I certainly hope not. Our people are hungry already. Last thing we need’s for them to be sick, too.”

“Then we should stop eating the animals here altogether. We’d be safer sticking to the canned foods, but that stuff costs money. Which is another thing we’re low on.”

I paused out of confusion. “What? What happened to the money we just robbed from the riverboat?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know. Apparently, Dutch has stashed most of it away somewhere...in a...secret box, or something.”

A scoff escaped me. ���Ah, o’ course. He does that with every camp. Just to make sure our money’s safe. But...hey, tell you what. Why don’t you keep skinnin’ that deer, and I’ll head into town? Buy some more provisions. Also see if I can’t find another place to hit in Annesburg.”

The boy quickly put a hand on my chest, stoppin’ me in my tracks.

“Wait, don’t go alone. I’d feel better knowing you were with someone.”

I briefly scanned the camp with my eyes, choosing a partner to come with me.

“Alright,” I agreed. “What about Sadie?”

Eddie chuckled. “Well, she might start another shootout if there are any O’Driscolls in town, but at least I know you’ll be in good hands. Just...be careful, okay? Both of you.”

“Of course.”

Sayin’ goodbye, the pianist pecked a short kiss on my cheek and playfully patted my face, making me turn a bit red since most of the gang could see us here.

“Eddie--!” I mumbled awkwardly. The other man did nothing but laugh.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Anyways,” he gestured outta the camp, “I’ll let you go. Stay safe.”

Nodding at Eddie in response, I began headin’ to the camp’s entrance and called for Sadie along the way, urging her to join me.

“Mrs. Adler!” I exclaimed. “You free? Could use a hand.”

The woman happily accompanied me and followed along at a brisk pace, clearly eager to get outta this dreary forest.

“Sure. What we doing?”

“Nothin’ fancy. Just picking up some supplies in town, lookin’ for tips to investigate. You know the drill.”

Sadie smirked. “Didn’t think you’d ever go shoppin’ with me again after what happened in Rhodes.”

I climbed onto one of the gang’s wagons and helped her onto the seat, taking hold of the reins as a chortle escaped me.

“Oh, you know me, Mrs. Adler. Chaos has a habit o’ finding me anyway. May as well have a friend along when it comes.”

A LITTLE LATER

ANNESBURG

Ridin’ into the gloomy town, Sadie and I already started to see gigantic clouds of smoke blanketing the factories in the distance as they blocked out the white sun and darkened the settlement below, shrouding everything in shadows.

It felt like the entire place was covered in coal dust, and all around me, I could hear folk coughin’ up a storm as they breathed in the toxic air, powerless to prevent the damage they was causing to their lungs. 

And if they weren’t workin’ for the mines, most of the people here preferred to stay inside their drab lil’ houses as a way to escape from all the crime littering the streets. 

As for the ones who were outside though, they all looked lifeless and completely devoid of any vigor. It was like no one here had seen the sun in decades, and judgin’ by the condition of most of Annesburg’s residents, I doubted there was gonna be any money for us to steal.

Well...I still hoped we’d at least find something. 

The gang had been struggling even more ever since that incident with Rodrick, and if we didn’t find a decent score to take soon...we weren’t gonna last for very much longer. It was now or never. We’d have to rob someone eventually...or die off.

“So...” Sadie said, observin’ the dead town, “...any ideas on where to start in a god-awful place like this, Mister Morgan?”

I scoffed, bringing the wagon to a stop. “The exit, probably. Still worth a look though. I imagine these factories require a whole lotta money to stay up and running. Someone’s gotta be funding them.”

She climbed down from the wagon. “True. Well, why don’t you get to searching? In the meantime, I’ll head to the general store and buy some provisions for the camp.”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you back here in a while. Oh, and Mrs. Adler?”

The woman quirked a brow at me. “Yeah?”

I sighed. “...Keep that gun holstered, will you?”

Sadie snickered playfully. “What kind of a woman do you think I am?”

I chuckled, waving her goodbye. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met another like you.”

Wanderin’ around Annesburg’s muddy streets, I carefully investigated the different establishments in this place and listened closely to every group of strangers I passed, hoping to overhear any sorta tip or lead.

So far, it sounded as if the only building worth checkin’ out in this hellhole was the gunsmith. Apparently, the people in this town took better care of their firearms than they did themselves. Spent all their money stockin’ up on weapons and ammo, and didn’t have much need for anything else. 

I supposed it only made sense with the ridiculous amount of crime in Annesburg, but at the same time, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of robbin’ the only guy in this town who had an entire shop full of guns. There had to be something else.

Hugging a corner, I found myself roamin’ towards the harbor as the smell of salt water hit my nose, and an impressive display of boats came into view. I could hear seagulls cawing, boat engines humming, waves splashing against the pier, and most importantly, an interesting discussion seemed to be taking place among the people there.

I took a step back and concealed myself behind a wall, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“I believe I’ve made myself more than clear, Mister Rose. I have no intentions on getting involved with yet another gang. I have enough problems with outlaws as is.”

I froze. Did that man just say Mister Rose? As in Atticus Rose? 

I couldn’t goddamned believe it. What the hell was that bastard doing here?

Peeking around the corner, I squinted through the sunlight and caught a glimpse of the two men participatin’ in this meeting, only to find -- not one -- but two familiar faces talking near one of the boats.

Atticus was here, alright. 

And so was Leviticus Cornwall.

“I would encourage you to reconsider, Mister Cornwall,” Atticus said lowly, his tone drenched in venom. “We may stand on opposite sides of the law, but we share the same goal.”

Leviticus let out an amused scoff and addressed one of his employees, hardly listenin’ to Atticus as he ordered his workers around. 

“What, money? Well, I can assure you, Mister Rose, that everyone in America shares that goal. Janson! Send a telegram to Goldberg in New York. Tell him I won’t borrow at more than three point two percent...”

“Yes, sir.”

“...And double the security on the stagecoach coming in from West Elizabeth! It’ll be two days before it arrives, and I don’t want anyone laying a single finger on it before it reaches Annesburg!”

“Right away, sir!”

Atticus stood by patiently and thoroughly observed the businessman, his expression barely changing as Cornwall brought his attention back to him.

“Like I said,” Leviticus continued, “outlaws are already making a mockery of me, and I’ve spent a considerable fortune trying to help those...useless Pinkertons find them! The last thing I need is to cross paths with another criminal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mister Rose...” the man straightened his tie and began walking away, “I have many things to attend to. Good day.”

But Atticus wasn’t done yet. He simply stayed put and carried on with the discussion, bringin’ up a topic he knew Leviticus wouldn’t be able to ignore.

“Things more important than Dutch van der Linde?”

Cornwall paused at that and glanced over his shoulder, suddenly interested in what Atticus had to say.

“...Van der Linde?” He repeated. “Why? You know something about him?”

Atticus linked his hands together behind his back. “I know he’s in this area. And I also know that now is the perfect time to strike. Dutch is weaker than he’s ever been, Mister Cornwall, but it seems that even now, the law fails to apprehend him. Why not let someone outside the law take him down?”

Leviticus slowly found himself slinkin’ back into the conversation due to Atticus’ persistence and eyed the man up-and-down, his curiosity now piqued. 

“Alright, Mister Rose...” he granted, “you have my attention.”

Atticus stepped closer to Cornwall, almost unable to hide the victorious smirk creepin’ onto his face as he proposed an idea.

Before I could listen to anymore of what they were sayin’ however, someone else suddenly snuck up behind me, causin’ me to instantly reach for my gun.

“Relax!” They whispered in an alarmed tone. “It’s just me. Sadie.”

I sighed out of relief. “Jesus, Sadie. I coulda killed you. What’re you doin’ here?”

She smirked. “I was gonna ask you the same thing. What you listenin’ to?”

Tilting my head in Cornwall’s direction, I averted Sadie’s focus to the pier.

“Both Rose and Cornwall are in town.”

Her eyes widened at the news. “The hell? Ah, shit.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It sounds like they’re teamin’ up against Dutch. They both want him dead.

Sadie shook her head, muttering to herself. “...Son-of-a-bitch. Why is that we can’t take one step without Atticus or his gang showin’ up?”

“I don’t know, but we gotta let Dutch know what’s goin’ on. C’mon, we should head back to camp...before either of them figures out we’re here.”

Mrs. Adler followed me. “I’m right behind you.”

BEAVER HOLLOW

Storming back into camp, Sadie got to work on delivering the provisions to Pearson while I hurried over to Dutch and Micah, admittedly a bit shaken now that I knew Atticus was nearby.

At first, I dismissed Micah’s idea of there bein’ a rat in the gang, but after seeing how quickly Rose seemed to move -- especially when it came to interfering with our plans -- I couldn’t help but concede that he might’ve had a point.

Who would sell us out like that? I mean, sure, not everyone in the gang always saw eye-to-eye with Dutch, but I highly doubted any of them would go as far as to betrayin’ us. 

It couldn’t be Marston. Dutch was like a father to him, same as me. It couldn’t be Williamson either. He practically worshipped the man. And it sure as hell weren’t Eddie. This gang was the closest thing to a family he had left. He wouldn’t risk our lives like that.

I supposed that’d be another question for another time. Right now, I just needed to inform Dutch on what the hell was happening between Atticus and Cornwall, and hopefully, convince him to lay low.

“Dutch!” I called out, approaching his tent.

The man stepped out from the shade and walked up to me, eager to see if I had learned anything as Micah tagged along. 

“Arthur! There you are. Eddie said you was lookin’ for a tip in Annesburg. You find anything useful?”

I hesitated. “...Well, yes, but--”

“--Let’s hear it, then!”

I breezed through the subject, wantin’ to get straight to the point. “...There’s gonna be a stagecoach comin’ from West Elizabeth in two days. I dunno what’s in it, but apparently it’s gonna be under heavy guard. Must be something valuable.”

Dutch picked up on my anxious tone. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I stuttered for a moment, unsure of how to deliver the news. “...This stagecoach belongs to Leviticus Cornwall, Dutch. He’s in town. And so is Atticus. They’re both here.”

The spark in the other man’s gaze instantly vanished at that and I could see his brow crinkling in anger, leadin’ me to worry about how he was gonna react.

“...Is that so?” He questioned darkly, his jaw clenching.

“Unfortunately.” I confirmed. “I saw ‘em with my own two eyes. They wanna kill you, Dutch. It’s what they said.”

Glancing at Micah for a second as he processed the situation, Dutch nodded in an assured manner before turnin’ back to me, clearly not taking this as seriously as I expected him to.

“Then I guess we’re gonna be visiting an old friend,” he said with a grin. “You said the coach arrives in two days?”

An irritated sigh escaped me. “We can’t be robbin’ no Leviticus Cornwall stagecoach, Dutch!”

“Why not?”

I spread my arms out, gesturing to the entire camp. “We have enough attention on us already! We rob someone as big as Leviticus, and all we’ll be doing is signing our death warrant. If we wanna leave this country, we gotta do it as quietly as possible.”

Micah hopped into the conversation, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Oh, what’s happened to you, Morgan? I thought you was a tough boy. Not one of those...gentlemen...trying to protect his ridin’ clothes. But now look at you. You’ve turned yella.”

He chuckled, lookin’ at Dutch. “It’s like I said, boss. That Ryan boy is makin’ him soft.”

I gritted my teeth in annoyance. “All I know is that we’ve lost three of our men in no less than a few weeks. Hosea, Lenny, Strauss -- we keep goin’ on like this and I guarantee we’re gonna lose more.”

Micah put a hand on Dutch’s shoulder. “No, no, no, no. If we wanna leave this country, see, we gotta make a whole lotta noise, Dutch. Think of it as a smoke bomb. While everyone else is all confused and distracted by this mayhem, we’ll just slip away as if nothing happened! Easy as that.”

I glowered at him. “You’re a fool if you think that, Bell. Dutch?”

Staring at the ground in concentration, Dutch considered his options while the two of us waited for a decision, already somewhat suspicious of whose advice he was gonna go with. 

I knew Dutch and Leviticus had a bad history with each other -- and truth be told, I wasn’t fond of the man neither -- but I never thought he’d be so reckless as to consider Micah’s plan of robbing the stagecoach. 

Lord only knew how many men would be guardin’ it. And on top of that, we didn’t even know what the coach was goddamned carrying in the first place! The cargo might’ve been valuable to Cornwall, but was it valuable to us? As far as I was concerned, it could’ve been worth shit. But clearly, that didn’t matter to Dutch. All he cared about right now was takin’ revenge on those he hated, and part of me feared I was slowly makin’ my way onto that list.

I just prayed he would come to his senses soon. For all our sakes.

“Get ready, boys...” Dutch announced, causin’ me to tilt my head in disappointment as he smiled deviously.

“...We’re gonna be rich.”

[thewhiterabbit42]

Candy Capers

Special guest piece (gen fic)

Summary: Your Halloween takes a terrifying turn  Written by:  Rabbit’s manfriend Prompt: bolded but withheld because of spoilers Word Count: ~1k Tags/Warnings: Violence, social commentary (he’s such a troll), 11 year old reader, first person POV, Character death (child), could easily be the opening to an episode of Supernatural A/N:  This is not my usual content, and I would normally not subject my tag’s list to my boyfriend’s shenanigans, but this is totally worth the read.

***Please do not repost, reproduce, or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Even this gem.  Giving credit does NOT count.***   

“The World Health Organization has announced new plans to combat the growing childhood obesity epidemic…”

The sound of the television was a low hum of background noise. I was more interested in finishing my costume so I could go Trick or Treatin’ tonight. I wasn’t able to go last year on account of mom’s failing health. Who makes an 11 year old girl take care their terminally ill mother? On Halloween of all days, a holiday specifically for children. 

I had just sewn the last button on to my angel costume and was eager to show dad all my hard work before hitting up the town.

“Finished!” I said.

“Quiet the fuck down you little brat! I can’t hear the TV!” Dad screamed from his easy chair.

Dad had turned back to drinking once mom finally passed a few days short of her 40th birthday. She was his high school sweetheart and he hadn’t been the same since. We used to go to river every day and watch the steam boats, but now it’s all he can do to get out of bed.

Deflated, I gathered up my costume and candy bag and headed off to my friend Amy’s house. We had planned to meet there and get ready together. She was going to be dressing up as a devil and me, the angel. I don’t even think dad noticed I left, he just continued to yell at the screen about his tax dollars going towards social programs.

When I got to Amy’s, I was greeted by the usual butterflies. I had been having strange feelings about her. We had grown close since mom died, but my school guidance counselor told me these feelings were unnatural and that I would go to hell.  Fitting, that Amy was going to be the devil.

I brushed the feelings aside, chalking them up to girlhood. We were ready to go in what seemed like a flash. I had to pat myself on the back. If mom taught me anything it was my way around a needle and thread. My costume looked amazing, wings adorned with Christmas tinsel and I had even rigged up a small fan to keep them blowing around. I looked like I was flying. Amy was in a typical store bought devil costume. Coming from a wealthy family, she always solved her problems with money.

We started our candy venture on Main Street. We had mapped out the prime houses for candy weeks in advance, however few and far between they were. The town has really gone down the dumps ever since the factory closed. Amy’s parents were able to get out before the crash from their high positions in the company. Some even believed they were the cause of it, but I trust Amy when she says they are innocent.

Dad seemed to have lost everything though. His job, his wife, and he doesn’t seem to want to hold on to his daughter. What money he does have only goes towards beer it seems. If it wasn’t for the school programs, I don’t know what I would eat. If there was another silver lining for tonight, at least my belly would be full of delicious candy.

Amy said goodbye to her mother who had dropped us off in her van and we rushed off to our first house. I was getting so many compliments on my angel costume. Before I knew it, my bag was half full of candy. A couple of houses were even giving out full chocolate bars, those houses were always the best. It was about this time I first noticed the white truck, a sinister snake emblazoned on it side. There were several vehicles out tonight, but for some reason this truck stood out to me. I slyly brought Amy’s attention to the truck, but she brushed it off and told me it was nothing, that I shouldn’t worry.

We visited Mrs. Anderson’s house, moms best friend. She always had great stories to tell about mom, like how she won the state sewing competition shortly before I was born, making a various array of colorful baby onesies that I ended up wearing until I was two. I wish I could say that Mrs. Anderson had a good selection of candy, but she didn’t. I asked her if she had noticed the white truck in the neighborhood, but she laughed me off as having an overactive imagination.

As we left her house, I saw the front end of the white truck peeking out from behind a vehicle. I could not shake the feeling that it was following us...watching us.

To get pretty much anywhere in town, you had to pass the old factory. A creepy sight to behold on any night, but more so on this night. Maybe it was the fog, or maybe it was the mysticism of the holiday, but I was getting terrible vibes. As we were walking by, I began to notice. We had not been out for very long, but the previous kid filled streets now felt empty. Not as if kids had finished their trick or treating and had returned home, no, they were just...gone.

From everything I had seen on television or the movies, I thought it would be loud. But with this there was not even the sound of a horn or the screech of brakes. The white truck slammed into Amy, her lifeless body slammed and skidded across the pavement.

She was dead in an instant.

I stood in silent horror, unable to scream. A man emerged emotionless from the truck. I could now see clearly the snake emblem on the side of the truck, wrapped around a pole over a map of the world. The words “The World Health Organization” on the side.

The man charged maniacally at me, ripping my bag of candy from my hand. I was in shock unable to move as he began to devour pounds and pounds of candy right in front of me. Slurring out what sounded like, “This is for your own good,” and “childhood obesity,” between handfuls. Once finished, the man left...after what seemed like ages I could only mutter a single sentence.

“WHO ate all my candy.”

A/N:  I can’t believe he took one of my fluff prompts and turned it into a dad joke XD  Thank you for everyone for humoring him :)

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes​ @fand0maniac​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @baritonechick​ @lucifer-in-leather​ @blondecoffeecake​  @ourloveisforthelovely​​ @tistai​ @room-with-a-cat​ @authoressskr​ @revwinchester​ @flufy07​ @tardis-is-mine​ @tangle-of-ivy​ @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel ​ @angelofwinchester17 @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim @fandomsrourlives @archangelgabriellives @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mizzezm

[missblanchette]

This Distance Between Us [1/1]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Jinguji Jakurai/Kannonzaka Doppo; Appearances from Hifumi and Ramuda

Rating: PG

Summary: Day by day, Doppo learned that Jinguji Jakurai was more human than god.

Words: 11,287

Notes: Drowning tw in section iii. Implied self-harm tw in section iv. A JakuDoppo relationship study/Jakurai character study via Doppo’s POV! I wrote this before TDD Chapter 3 dropped, so that aspect of Jakurai’s character wasn’t taken into account though I tried to amend this fic as much as possible to include it. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it~!

ko-fi // You can read this on AO3! Thank you all so much for reading!!

❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

i.

With the ban of violence and the rise of rap, the exploits of The Dirty Dawg had spread far and wide. Their voices had commanded the attention of Japan, claiming the land as their own and bringing all those who crossed their way to their knees. For a salary-man like Doppo, however, who was more concerned with his next paycheck than the territory battles, The Dirty Dawg's ascent to power had meant very little to him -- save for the genius doctor who used his hypnosis mic for healing instead of harm. Hifumi had introduced him to the famed ill-DOC with a shove of his phone into his face and a "Look, look, Doppo-chin! Check these guys out!". While The Dirty Dawg's voices harmonized powerfully and shook his core, ill-DOC's low baritone captured him instantly. If listening to him through video had been enough to soothe his fried nerves, Doppo wondered what listening to him live would’ve been like. He never got the opportunity during that era, though, for The Dirty Dawg fell as quickly as they rose.

That said, sometimes it was easy to forget that their reign ever happened.

The screen separating him and ill-DOC disappeared within a span of two years, a sales visit at Shinjuku Central Hospital leading to him becoming his patient. Over time, ill-DOC simply became known as Dr. Jinguji Jakurai to him: his physician, his leader, and (something he was still coming to terms with) his lover. On the day-to-day basis, Jakurai embodied the patience of a saint as he treated the sick and dealt with his and Hifumi's problems; with him and Hifumi as the rogues guarding Jakurai's side, they made up Matenrou, the pack of wolves who defied the cruelty of the world. For all they faced together, Doppo felt like he had a good sense of who Jakurai was -- a genius, a legend, a god. But staring at the photograph of Jakurai smiling along with Amemura Ramuda, Aohitsugi Samatoki, and Yamada Ichiro, Doppo came to realize that there wasn't a lot he actually knew about him.

"Do you need help, Doppo-kun?" Jakurai's voice echoed from the hallway.

Doppo startled and hit his head against the shelf, biting back a yelp as the box he'd picked up collapsed onto the ground again. He'd gone to Jakurai's closet to get a scarf for him since it would get cold later, but he knocked down a box on one of the shelves causing photographs and badges and other trinkets to scatter among the floor.

"Are you okay?" A hand rested on the small of Doppo's back, steadying him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop around. They all fell out and I was trying to pick them up --"

"There’s no need to worry about it," Jakurai said, rubbing his back. The soothing motion faltered, stilted and abrupt, when he caught sight of the photograph he held and Jakurai's azure eyes clouded over. "My, that's an old thing."

Without another word, he reached for it and Doppo handed it to him. He gripped it tightly, as if it were a letter bringing news of a loved one's death, and his lips pursed like reflecting upon an earlier disappointment -- a stark contrast to the radiant grin he wore as Amemura Ramuda pulled him into the group picture.

"You were cool back then," Doppo blurted out. When Jakurai's gaze snapped towards him, Doppo sputtered. "I mean, you're still cool now, but you and The Dirty Dawg made an amazing team."

Jakurai turned back to the photograph, expression unreadable.

"We were," he said, a hint of remorse in his tone. "But I believe Matenrou triumphs in every aspect."

"Do you miss them?" Eyes widening, Doppo slapped a hand to his mouth and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"It's okay, Doppo-kun." His fingers carded through Doppo's hair, languidly and absentmindedly, though not once did his eyes leave the photo. "Thinking about it makes me rather nostalgic --" His lips twisted bitterly. "-- is all."

Silence followed, the ticking of the clock's hands serving as the sole reminder of time flowing on and on.

"Doc -- Jinguji-san," Doppo started, the less formal title still strange on his tongue. "I'm... here for you, if you ever want to talk about it?"

With one last stroke through his hair, Jakurai's hand fell to his shoulder and he patted him. The corners of his lips tugged up. "Thank you, Doppo-kun."

Though his words were kind, they stung regardless; gratitude he’d spoken, hiding a "no, I'd rather not" underneath. There were things Doppo wasn't privy to, certainly, and he would respect that -- yet, compared to all their sessions in the hospital where Doppo had complained about his life, had bared out his emotions, had burdened him with his anguish, Jakurai hardly spoke of his own. Was he so untrustworthy as a person -- as a lover -- that he couldn't share in those thoughts? Though maybe it was his fault for being so heartless and never asking about them in the first place.

"Let's clean this up and get going, shall we?" Jakurai asked before his self-doubts could turn tail to hell. His hand left his shoulder, leaving a chill in its place, and he crouched down to pick up the remnants of his fallen memories.

Shoving the remains of his negativity to the side, Doppo stared at the scene before joining him. Jakurai barely gave the scattered mementos a glance before placing them back in the box, away from sight and away from mind. Through the curtain of his lavender locks, Jakurai's azure irises dulled and his mouth curved downwards -- his face lost within seasons that Doppo couldn't recall.

With everything cleaned up, Jakurai tucked the box back into the darkness of the closet. His previous wistfulness swept away, he smiled at him with a composure much more akin to the Jakurai he'd come to know. Doppo forced himself to return it.

Jakurai had always seemed so far away, but in that moment, he felt unreachable.

ii.

Overtime might as well have been Doppo's regular work hours, considering how often he dipped into it. Always the last to leave, it was because of the coffee running through his body that he was able to catch the last train home. The note Hifumi left him was sweet as always, but as delicious as his dinner looked, Doppo could only manage a few bites before his eyes began to fail him. He barely even had the energy to shower or change his clothes before plopping into bed. Just as he sank into the mattress, he choked on his saliva when he remembered he'd forgotten to respond to Jakurai's message from earlier.

He quickly sent an affirmative for their plans this weekend and locked his phone, dropping it onto his chest while he waited for sleep to claim him. It wasn't long, though, before his phone buzzed and shook him awake. He squinted, the light far too bright though it was on its lowest setting, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset and he smiled at Jakurai's text.

Locking his phone again, Doppo leaned back into his pillow and sleep steadily settled in, but his eyes shot open and snapped towards the clock. 00:58. Much too late for Jakurai to be awake right now, let alone replying to him -- especially when both of them had work in the morning. Fingers fumbling, he opened his phone.

Doppo frowned. His fingers hovered above the keyboard, wanting to say something -- anything -- to comfort him but the words couldn't come. "I'm sorry," he wanted to say, but that wouldn't do any good to help him fall asleep; "that sucks," was his next thought but that came off as callous; "try some sleeping pills," maybe, but that sounded dismissive also. After all Jakurai had done to help him with his insomnia, he couldn't even say something back to him. What a terrible boyfriend he was, not being able to comfort him when he needed him --

A couple seconds passed before his next message.

Doppo read the texts over again. And again to make sure he was reading them correctly. And once more to be doubly sure. Then he rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly to be certain he wasn't hallucinating. Nobody had ever asked him anything like that before; his voice was nothing special, after all, being dismal and weak among Shinjuku's white noise. "Are you serious?" he almost replied, but he was never one to deny Jakurai's requests. With jittery hands, he typed out a "Yeah, that's fine."

For something set on vibrate, his phone blared loudly in the quiet of his room. He almost dropped it, too shaky to get a grip and accept the call, but Doppo's nerves settled down as he heard Jakurai's soft breaths on the other end.

"Hi?" he said, unsure of himself.

"Hello, Doppo-kun." Tiredness seeped through Jakurai's greeting, fondness mixed in it. "How was your day? Is your manager still giving you grief?"

"Yeah, the same as usual..."

The conversation flowed on, reminiscent of their appointments in Jakurai's office but with a more casual air to it. Groans and sighs replaced Doppo's words, too exhausted to actually verbalize his feelings, whereas Jakurai hummed along to every utterance. Nevertheless, Doppo kept his complaints short and to the point because they'd gone through them plenty of times to write an entire anthology about his grievances. As their conversation fell into a lull, he directed the question back to him.

How strange it felt to be on the flip side of things, to be listening to Jakurai instead. Not that Doppo minded at all, taking in everything he said and holding onto it. In the still of night, Jakurai's speech blended together and he paused over his thoughts unlike the formalities and preciseness he spoke with during the daytime; but that didn't change anything about the softness in his voice as he told him of his day -- how his hair had gotten caught in the elevator doors, how one of the children he'd been attending to cried as he gave them an injection, how he'd heard that one of his patients had died.

Stuttering, Doppo offered his condolences as best he could and he could only imagine the sad curl of Jakurai's lips as he thanked him. His patient was an elderly one who suffered from heart pains on top of their insomnia, and Jakurai had been taking care of them ever since he started working at Shinjuku Central Hospital. Death was inevitable, Jakurai told him, but that didn't stop the regret that filled his tone.

They delved into lighter topics afterwards, carrying on like that until their voices lowered into whispers. Yet, neither of them made the move to end the call. Doppo didn't want to, either, no matter how much he yawned, no matter how much he slurred his sentences, no matter how much his eyes drooped...

"Rise and shine, Doppo-chin~ Oh, who's that?"

Eyelids weighing like iron, Doppo could hardly lift them without feeling like his eyeballs would combust into flames. To his right, a low rumble filled his ear like a windy day at Katase Beach. Something slammed down on his shoulder, eliciting a grunt from him, and hovered over his body. Squinting, he saw Hifumi looking at his phone with his mouth agape.

"Ooh, Dr. Jakurai. You guys have been talking for five hours?!"

Doppo's brows knitted together before remembering what happened last night. Never before had he jumped out of bed so fast.

"He's still on? Give that back --"

"Hi, Doc!" Hifumi said, putting the phone on speaker.

The rumble that'd been at his side echoed throughout his room before breaking into choppy breaths and then a loud snort. Hifumi giggled, lifting the phone higher into the air when Doppo reached for it.

"Wakey, wakey, Doc~"

"...Hi...fumi-kun...?" A long yawn came through, followed by a confused mumble. "I... oh dear. What time is it?"

"It's like six, but I bet it's easy to lose track when you and Doppo are having so much fun~"

Glaring, Doppo jumped up and snatched his phone back. Hifumi gave a cat-like smirk.

"Do --" A yawn. "Doppo-kun, my apologies. Did I keep you up?"

Turning speaker mode off, Doppo turned away. Hifumi pounced onto his back, ever persistent, and pressed his ear against the other side of the phone. Doppo couldn't muster up the strength to shove him off.

"No, it's all right, Jinguji-san. I fell asleep, too. I'm... I'm glad you were able to get some rest, though."

"It's thanks to you," Jakurai said. Hiufmi bounced excitedly behind him.

"It's nothing really..." He threw a look at Hifumi, but the tips of his ears grew warm.

"Of course it's something. We have not seen each other in a while, so I'm glad I was able to talk with you at least." Exhaustion dripped through as he spoke, but Doppo could hear the smile in his words.

Slapping his shoulders with the fervor of a hummingbird, Hifumi squealed. Doppo elbowed him and he finally backed off. He meant to say something else, but he saw the current hour -- 6:23 -- and blanched. Shit.

"I feel the same way, Jinguji-san, but, um, I'm sorry, I have to get ready for work now."

"Hm... oh? Oh." He stifled his yawn. "Yes, I suppose I should be getting ready as well," he said with an inkling of reluctance. "I hope you have a good day, Doppo-kun."

"You, too, Jinguji-san."

"Bye, Doc!"

Jakurai laughed. "Bye to you, too, Hifumi-kun."

Ending the call, Doppo spun around to see Hifumi grinning at him.

"Late night calls with Dr. Jakurai, hm~" Hifumi said, waggling his eyebrows.

"It's not a big deal." Averting his gaze, he rubbed the nape of his neck. "Jinguji-san was just having trouble sleeping."

"Aw, so you're like his medicine!"

Doppo's face reddened. "S-Shut up. Don't you have something else to do?"

A hand flying to his mouth, Hifumi gasped. "Breakfast!"

As Hifumi ran back to the kitchen, Doppo took a deep breath as he thought about the workload that awaited him -- another twelve-plus hours of labor, another twenty-four hours of mind-numbing stress. Though typically getting the bare minimum amount of sleep was enough to ruin his day before it started, he found motivation within the phone warm in his hold. Their call fresh in his mind, Doppo knew he wasn't the only one struggling to get up. For Jakurai, he would gladly stay up again and again; for him, too, he would do his best to get through work.

iii.

"Uh, is it always this slow?" Doppo asked, adjusting his hat as the sun steadily climbed higher and higher across the sky. He'd been sitting there at Ichigaya sandwiched between Jakurai and Hifumi for about two and a half hours now, and they'd only managed to catch one measly carp -- a joint effort between him and Jakurai (or rather, Jakurai took control of the rod when he freaked out at the fish's tug) while Hifumi waved the fishing net like a madman. He'd spent hours at work dreaming about this day -- the day he'd finally join Jakurai's and Hifumi's fishing trips -- and... "underwhelming" could only describe so much.

"Some days are slower than others." Smiling sheepishly, Jakurai’s eyes crinkled.

"Yeah, like, sometimes we don't even catch anything at all," Hifumi said, prouder of the fact than he should've been.

"I thought you said you were 'pros.'"

"We are!" Hifumi puffed up his chest, his fishing line swaying from side-to-side. "Like, Doc and I totes know how to use the fishing poles and stuff. It's just a bad fish day today."

Hunching over his knees, Doppo sighed. He and Hifumi must've had different definitions of "pro."

At his right, Jakurai chuckled and Doppo's mood brightened a bit; he couldn't bring himself to be disappointed at the sound of it. True, the trip didn't quite meet his expectations but he had to admit it was a nice change of pace from sleeping the whole day. The pond's ripples wavering to and fro and the light breeze accented Hifumi's and Jakurai's conversation about the deals at the supermarket, the scene lulling the stress and tension of the work week away. To be honest, with the three of them even having the chance to spend time together like this, Doppo couldn't have imagined anything better.

"Oh!" Nearly bouncing out of his seat, Hifumi furiously wheeled the handle. "I caught something!"

"Did you really, or do you think you caught something?" Doppo eyed Hifumi’s line. It wouldn't have been Hifumi’s first false alarm. He had the tendency to shake his rod while speaking, tricking himself into thinking he caught something when he chattered on for too long.

"I did, I really did! Quick, someone get the net!"

Jakurai reacted faster than he did, the warmth at his side dissipating as he stood up to aid Hifumi with his catch. What neither of them noticed, however, was that Doppo sat with his legs outstretched before him, and Jakurai stumbled over them. In a hurry to get out of the way, Doppo dragged his legs back but his feet knocked against Jakurai's as he did so, tipping him over and sending straight into the pond with a large splash!

"Dr. Jakurai!"

"Jinguji-san!"

They ran over to the edge of the platform, watching Jakurai flail helplessly in the water as the carp scattered off in different directions. His head bobbed up and down, eventually falling under and replaced by a froth of bubbles. Sinking deeper and deeper, his long tresses splayed up like seaweed.

"O-Oh my God, t-this is my fault." Hands trembling, Doppo clutched his face. "I tripped Jinguji-san, I made him drown, I --"

Hifumi slapped his shoulder and shook him. "Now's not the time, Doppo-chin! We have to save Dr. Jakurai!"

"How?! Neither of us know how to swim!"

"I dunno! But we have to!"

Dread crept into Doppo's stomach much like Jakurai's body falling to the depths of the pond; all the while, Hifumi yelled at the water as if begging would make it spit Jakurai back out. For a Saturday, there were hardly any fishers around and the ones there were too far away to call over. The tendrils of Jakurai's hair disappeared and an eerie stillness returned to the pond.

Now or never. Ripping off his hat and vest, Doppo shoved them over to Hifumi.

"What are you doing?" Hifumi asked, taking them on the automatic.

"I'm going to save Jinguji-san." Hopefully, the fear in his voice wasn’t too obvious. Toeing off his shoes and socks, Doppo peered down the pond and calculated how deep it was. He might not know how to swim, but he knew how to hold his breath for long periods of time. The perks of not caring about whether he lived or died.

"But you said it, we don't know how to swim!" Hifumi pleaded, continuing to take his clothes.

"I sat it on some of my little brother's swimming lessons before." He took a deep breath --

"Doppo!"

-- and jumped in.

How the hell elementary school kids made swimming look so easy, Doppo didn't know; he could barely kick his legs as he sank through the pond. The carp circled around him as if mocking him for his dumb decision. Not only would he have killed Jakurai, he'd have gotten himself killed, too; he could imagine Jakurai's disappointment in the afterlife when he learned that he'd drowned the both of them. But as he struggled through the water, he spotted Jakurai floating towards the bottom and a surge of energy powered through him. He could fail himself, but he wouldn't fail Jakurai.

With his pathetic doggy paddle, he somehow reached Jakurai. But then came his second challenge: bringing him up. His weight was one thing, but carrying him wasn't an easy feat with a single arm free and his lungs burning. In his peripheral, the carp zipped by as if pushing him back, telling him to give up -- that Jakurai was already dead and it was no use. It only edged him on, Doppo using the last of his strength to break the surface.

In his arm, Jakurai's head lolled onto his shoulder. The chill running through him surely wasn't from the air.

"Doppo, grab on!"

A splash hit the surface, sending more water into his clogged ears. It was the goddamn net. Had he not been desperate to get out, he would've sighed. Still, he held onto it and let Hifumi hoist them in.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Hifumi chanted over and over as they laid Jakurai onto the ground. He hadn't made any sign of movement nor breathing since they surfaced, but Doppo pressed an ear against his chest and heard a faint heartbeat. The dread ebbed away but only crashed back like a tsunami as the whole ordeal wasn't over yet.

"We have to do something, like -- like -- like CPR." Hifumi flittered over Jakurai's body, a blond blur pacing back and forth. "How do you do that? Like this?!"

Balling his hands into fists, Hifumi slammed it hard against Jakurai's stomach. Before Doppo could yell at him, Jakurai spasmed and he threw up water. Hacking his coughs, he struggled to sit up and Doppo hurried to his side.

"I-I-I'm so sorry, Jinguji-san! Are you okay?!" Patting his back, he cringed as the question left his mouth. "I mean, how are you feeling?"

"I'm --" Cough. "I'll be --" Cough. "Fine." Cough.

"Oh my God, Doc, you almost died!" Hifumi threw his arms around Jakurai, practically squeezing the rest of the water out of him. "Who'd fish with me then?!"

"Gee, thanks for remembering me," said Doppo.

"Okay, yeah, but like you'd rather sleep! Besides, Doc catches most of our fish,” Hifumi said, if by "most," he meant "all," and by "all," he meant "one."

Doppo readied a retort, but the sound of Jakurai's scratchy chuckle made him bite it back. Instead, he let Hifumi attend to him while he rummaged through their bag for the towel. Towel procured, he returned and began patting Jakurai dry.

"You're wet, too, Doppo-kun." Jakurai sounded hoarse from all the coughing, but Doppo was thankful to be hearing him at all.

"It's all right, I'll air dry."

"Nonsense, you might catch a cold."

"But --"

Cutting in, Hifumi grabbed the towel and wrapped it around them. Doppo moved in out of instinct, not realizing how close he was to Jakurai until he bumped into his chest. Before he could back away, Hifumi started rubbing their heads.

"See? Now both of you can be dry!"

They looked up at him. With Hifumi drying them off, Jakurai and Doppo shared a smile.

"Very well. We're in your care, Hifumi-kun," Jakurai said with an amused lilt.

"Be careful, okay?"

"Jeez, Doppo-chin, you're acting like I'll tear your hair out!" Making light of his threat, Hifumi rubbed Doppo's head extra hard.

"Oi!"

As Doppo shoved him off, the three of them laughed and fell into a steady rhythm. Hifumi hummed as he worked, and a hand placed itself atop Doppo's. He glanced over at Jakurai, who sat unperturbed as if he hadn't just drowned. Ever so hesitantly, he laid his head on Jakurai's shoulder.

"By the way, Doc, weren't you part of the military?" Hifumi mused as he worked on Jakurai's hair. "Didn't you, like, have to learn how to swim?"

"Ah, doctors weren't required to undergo that type of training," Jakurai said. His eyes fell to the pond, blue hues reflecting off them like waves. "Besides, I... have a tendency to sink like a rock."

"So you suck at swimming."

"Hifumi."

Jakurai chuckled. "You could say that it's not my strong point."

"Haha, y'know what that reminds me of? Doppo really sucked at PE. Like, one time we were playing volleyball and --"

"Jinguji-san doesn't need to know about that!"

"He's your boyfriend, of course he does. So, anyways..."

Groaning, Doppo buried his face into Jakurai's shoulder while Hifumi recounted The Volleyball Incident. When he'd gotten to the part where he gave not one, not two, but three of their classmates bloody noses, Doppo risked a peek up. Jakurai nodded along as Hifumi spoke, an amused smile on his face, but he met his eyes then and leaned in closer.

"I wasn't much better, I have to admit," he said in a whisper meant solely for him. "I gave my teacher a concussion and another classmate a broken arm during a game of basketball once."

Hiding his mouth behind his palm, Doppo snorted. The image of a younger Jakurai stumbling around in a gym and wrecking havoc popped into mind, a contrast to the serene figure he knew today but one he'd keep close. He supposed Jakurai's hands hadn't always been used for healing, but that made that fact all the greater.

iv.

In spite of of Doppo's unlucky streak, there was a tiny silver lining in it in the form of Jakurai. Despite Hifumi's reminders and the news warning of the thunderstorm coming that evening, he'd forgotten his umbrella when he rushed out the apartment. While he'd been lamenting his situation during the last of his overtime hours, Jakurai had messaged him asking if he'd like a ride since he'd be getting out of work soon. With the storm showing no sign of letting up, Jakurai also offered him to stay over at his place because it was closer. Doppo's instincts had told him not to impose any further, but the thunder boomed louder than his hesitation so he took him up on his offer.

Shooting a text to Hifumi that he wouldn't be home tonight, Doppo stretched his back and cringed at the cracks that resounded. He flopped onto the sofa with a hiss, his body protesting as it hit the firm material.

"Are you feeling well, Doppo-kun?" Jakurai's voice drew closer as he returned to the living room, a change of clothes for him in his hands -- Doppo's own clothes that he'd left behind after the first time he stayed over at Jakurai's place. Doppo never understood how wearing your partner's clothes was supposed to be "cute." He only felt embarrassed when he put on Jakurai's lounge wear, the shirt hanging loosely off his frame and the pants running past his feet.

"Just fine," Doppo said, rolling his shoulders and wincing. "My body feels kind of sore, is all."

"I should have some eucalyptus oil to relieve the pain, if you would like to try?"

Doppo opened his mouth to reject his offer, but a sharp pain ran through his back and he clamped it shut. He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. "That'd be great."

Setting his clothes next to him, Jakurai left once again. Doppo figured he might as well get changed now, so he picked up the clothes and made his way to the bathroom. Unbuttoning his shirt, he froze as he saw the heat pads on his shoulders in the mirror, sickly white against his pale skin. He chewed his lip, recalling Hifumi's words from that morning and the chitchat of his co-workers. Instinctively, he tugged his shirt closer.

"Doppo-kun, I have the oil. Would you like me to apply it?"

The door hinges creaked as the door opened and Doppo rushed to press it closed.

"T-Thank you, Jinguji-san, but I got it," Doppo said, peeking his head through the small space he allowed between them. He stuck his fingers out for the bottle, straining to keep his shoulders out of sight.

Jakurai frowned, brows furrowing. He made no move to give it to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, like I said, I'm just sore."

Jakurai tried again to open the door with more force, but Doppo put his weight on it and shoved back. "Is there a reason you won't let me see you?"

"N-No, no reason."

"If there's something wrong, I would be more than glad to take a look at it. It's better to be safe than sorry." There it was: his Doctor Voice, the one that wouldn't let any potential ailment go unchecked. Though typically calming, it nagged Doppo in that moment.

"No! No, it's nothing like that, I... ugh." Counting to ten, Doppo slowly opened the door all the way. He hunched his shoulders in, he rubbed at the pads, and he kept his gaze on the floor. "I'm... wearing heat pads. I know -- I know it's really unattractive. I'm not even thirty yet, but Hifumi called me an 'old man' for wearing them. And the other day I heard my co-workers say they're a major turn off --"

"Doppo-kun."

Doppo's head snapped up and he let out a small "eep!". He covered his eyes, the clamminess of his hands cool against the heat rising to his cheeks, as Jakurai took his sweater off. Although, he couldn't help it if he peeked a little bit. Only enough to see Jakurai's arm muscles tensing and contracting. Doppo widened the spaces between his fingers ever so slightly.

Folding his sweater over his arm, Jakurai pulled his hair back and -- oh. Doppo's mouth hung ajar. On Jakurai's shoulders sat a pair of heat pads, much like the ones he wore on his own. Gently, Jakurai tugged Doppo's hands down.

"I wear them, too, see? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about." Eyes crinkling, he chuckled. "We match."

Doppo huffed out a laugh, though any other thought running through his mind stopped short as his eyes wandered downwards. He'd always imagined Jakurai's body to be as perfect as the lavender locks that flowed down his back, to be free of blemishes, toned, and fit -- a figure befitting a man so heavenly like him. Though toned and fit appeared to be the case, the same couldn't be said of blemish-free. Marks and scars ran through his body, through his abdomen, and through his arms that ranged from muddy reds to matte whites, from short nicks to long gashes, from deeply depressed to highly pronounced.

And yet Jakurai stood there as if none of them existed.

"You have scars?" Doppo asked before he could think. He slapped his mouth. "Sorry, I just noticed them."

"It's okay, I do not mind them." Following his gaze, Jakurai's expression fell into a neutral one. "Most of them are from the war."

Fixated on the wounds that grazed him, Doppo stepped forward; likewise, Jakurai kept quiet as he approached though he showed no sign of apprehension. Fingers trembling, Doppo lifted a hand. "Can I touch them?"

Jakurai inhaled sharply, the sound harsh and strident against the stillness. "Yes, you may."

His fingers hovered over his chest, and Doppo looked up at Jakurai once more. Jakurai nodded.

Slowly, Doppo traced the longest one first -- the jagged one that ran from the lower left side of his abdomen to beneath his right pectoral, outlined in a coarse pink that encased dull white and protruded his skin. He'd gotten it during a melee, Jakurai told him, where he'd been cornered. The other men had been taken out, but one of them survived and lunged at him with a knife. Jakurai managed to defend himself, though barely.

"I thought you weren't allowed to attack medical units?" Doppo asked.

The corners twitching, Jakurai's lips pursed together.

"...There is often no regard for rules in war." He stated it like a fact, simple as that. No wonder, Doppo thought, that women had eradicated violence when they overtook the government.

His fingers traveled up, right to the round wounds about the length of his thumb on Jakurai's bicep. Like a pair of twins, they sat right next to each other, identical in every way what with being faded dark splotches that dipped into his skin. Gun shots, Jakurai told him; he'd been assisting a few wounded soldiers back to the hospital, but the enemy had crossed no-man's land and started firing. All the soldiers who he'd been helping died.

"I never thought you'd get caught in the crossfire..."

"Being in an active war zone means putting one's self amidst the action," Jakurai said, voice even. His azure irises hazed over like a fog.

They continued on like that, with Doppo tracing the scars that marked his body and Jakurai explaining the story behind each one -- each fight he endured, each body he encountered, each soldier he tried to save. Having lived in the relative peace of their homeland his whole life, Doppo shuddered hearing Jakurai recount his experiences; though, in all honesty, whether it was because of the contents of his tales or the tone Jakurai took on, he wasn't sure. He spoke with an indifference to his words, as if disconnecting himself from the events, but a tinge of regret underlain it all.

Doppo was sorry. Sorry that he had to see all of that, sorry that he couldn't do anything to absolve him of the blood stained on his hands, sorry he couldn't relieve him of the anguish he suffered through. But there was little his apologies could do in the first place and so he kept quiet.

Reaching their last stop, Doppo's fingers came to a set of scars on his right wrist. They were different from the others strewn across his body; a multitude of stripes that had carved their way into his skin, each mark precisely made and organized rather than serrated and scattered. Paler than his ivory skin, they held a blotchy, white color to them. Jakurai's wrist spasmed as he made contact with them, his arm jerking in place. His eyes didn't meet his.

"Ah, those are... older scars."

He didn't need to say anything more.

Letting go, Doppo hastily unbuttoned his sleeve and pulled it back. The scars on his left wrist were redder and thicker, angrier and more distinct; they zig-zagged and criss-crossed, their own kind of morbid pattern. Lower down laid some keloids that formed years ago. They were a sight Doppo had long grown used to, a sight he'd grown to hate, a sight that he was tempted to continue working on to this day.

He was sorry. Sorry for being so weak, sorry for being so cowardly, sorry for being so useless. But he pushed his apologies down and he held his wrist next to Jakurai's.

"Mine are, too," Doppo said, voice feeble. Their scars might've looked different, but they weren't unlike each other's.  "...We really do match."

Carefully, Jakurai ran his fingers over the scars. Doppo resisted the urge to rip his hand away, his wrist twitching in his hold. Only Hifumi had ever seen his scars this close, having avoided the matter with his parents as much as he possibly could. But Jakurai's touch was gentle and delicate, caressing the wounds as if they'd re-open at the wrong move and inspecting them with a grim interest.

Jakurai let out a mirthless laugh. Softly, he said, "We make quite the pair, don't we?"

As the storm continued to rage outside, they fell into a silence, sharing unspoken words of a similar sorrow.

v.

Neither he nor Jakurai were the touchy-feely type, much to Hifumi's displeasure. No matter how many times he insisted that they "act more like a couple" and pushed them to get out of their comfort zones, they reserved those gestures for private spaces and intimate moments. In fact, Doppo preferred it that way since it made it easier to keep things between them on the down low -- something they both agreed to early on in their relationship. He received enough attention by having a loud mouth for a best friend and being a member of Matenrou, he didn't need people poking their noses into his business for dating the renowned Jinguji Jakurai either.

But nothing ever worked out Doppo's way.

"Wow~★ So the rumors are true?"

It was his fault that things came to this. His fault for not being discreet in their interactions, his fault for causing rumors to circulate, his fault for suggesting they go to the tea house bordering Shibuya, his fault they ran into Amemura Ramuda -- the very bane of Jakurai's existence. Rarely did Jakurai show any sign of annoyance that Doppo couldn't help but cower at the storm brewing in his azure irises, even if the look wasn't directed at him.

"I believe I do not know what you're talking about, Amemura-kun," Jakurai said, tone curt. No doubt Jakurai was tall, but his height had always served as a comfort, a safe space where Doppo tucked himself underneath his chin within moments of stillness. Right then, however, he loomed over Ramuda's small figure like a wolf cornering the pup that dared cross his path.

"Huh? For real?!" Widening his eyes, Ramuda's hands flew to his cheeks with a pop! Maybe it was because Doppo wasn't used to him, but Ramuda's voice sounded like it'd gotten higher since their last encounter -- grating and pitchy, a noise more annoying than the city’s clamor. "Everyone's talking about it, y'know. They're saying that Matenrou's leader is dating one of his members!"

Ramuda's eyes landed on him, lips curling into a grin that seemed akin to a sneer. Bouncing onto the heels of his feet, Ramuda bent forward to get a better look at him but Jakurai stepped in between them acting as a shield.

"Doppo-kun is my teammate."

"So you're having some team bonding without the other one?" Ramuda stood on his tiptoes, jumping up and down with his hands framing his eyes like binoculars to scan the crowds.

"Hifumi-kun is busy."

"You're just leaving him out? That's so mean, Jakurai!" Ramuda stopped hopping and he crossed his arms, cheeks puffing out as he stuck his chin up towards Jakurai. From behind, Doppo saw how Jakurai clenched his fists and how his veins bulged in his skin. "I bet what you're doing is really, really, really bo~ring, too!"

"That’s none of your business --"

Without warning, Ramuda shoved Jakurai to the side and skipped right up to him. Before Doppo could react, Ramuda grabbed his hands and swung them up-and-down so hard he worried his arms would pop out their sockets. For someone so damn tiny, Ramuda had a strong grip. Peering up at him, Ramuda tilted his head to the side and batted his long, long eyelashes.

"Why don't ya leave that stuffy, old man and join me today, Mr. Salary-man~? I'm sure you'll have tons and tons of fun with my honeys! ♥" His finely manicured nails poking into his palms, he dragged him into the crowd and the one thing keeping Doppo from tripping over his feet was Ramuda's vice grip.

"Um --"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't manhandle my teammate, Amemura-kun," Jakurai cut in. A contrast to his usual gentleness, Jakurai pushed Ramuda away and Doppo's back hit Jakurai's chest as he wrapped his arm around him. Meanwhile, Ramuda stumbled backwards, pink hair bouncing against his shoulders, and he pouted in a way that put spoiled, little girls to shame. Jakurai's grip on him tightened.

"But you're doing the same!" Ramuda whined, hands on his hips. "Besides, you didn't even ask him what he wanted. See what a big meanie you are?!"

Jakurai's chest rose and fell, the exhale of his sigh a heavy weight blowing through his hair. Reluctantly, Jakurai let go of him and his backside grew colder as he left him. Jakurai wore an unreadable expression.

"Well, Doppo-kun." Doppo squirmed in spot, hearing the traces of irritation that leaked through. As if sensing his discomfort, Jakurai's face softened and he continued speaking in a calmer tone. "Do you have anything to say?"

Two pairs of eyes stared at him -- a bitter azure and an icy blue. Doppo's decision had long been made, but that didn't make him any less stressed. The rejection would probably make Ramuda bother Jakurai more which would make Jakurai more upset and it would be all because of him. Mentally berating himself for this whole mess, Doppo turned to Ramuda and dipped his head. He gulped.

"T-Thank you for the offer, Amemura-kun, but I'm sorry, Jingu -- Dr. Jinguji and I already made plans for the day."

He might've been seeing things, but he could've sworn he saw Ramuda's mouth twitch.

"Awww, but you're gonna miss out on sooo much fun!" Face scrunching up, Ramuda's shoulders drooped and he kicked the ground like a child throwing a tantrum. But with the blink of an eye, he perked up and returned his gaze. "But, I totally get it! That dumb-dumb Jakurai doesn't let go of anything, so I guess you'll have to be his prisoner for the day."

Grabbing his collar, Ramuda pulled him down to his level and Doppo's stomach churned at the sugary, saccharine scent of his perfume. He met Jakurai’s eyes, placing a kiss on Doppo's cheek with a particularly loud mwah that drowned out the noise of passersby. He grinned a smile that sent a shiver down Doppo's spine.

"Hit me up if you ever wanna have some fun! Catch ya later, Mr. Salary-man~! ♥"

Ramuda winked at him and stuck his tongue out at Jakurai, running off before either of them could say anything else. Once he'd disappeared into the sea of people, Doppo released the breath he'd been holding and the tension eased out of his body. He thought that spending two decades with Hifumi was exhausting, but a couple of minutes with Ramuda left him deader than dead.

"Are you okay, Doppo-kun?" Jakurai's voice returned to its mild cadence, but a ghost of a scowl lingered on his features. He cupped his face, his thumb stroking the cheek that Ramuda had kissed to wipe off the lip gloss residue. Though, with the force with which he rubbed, he might've been trying to wipe off the kiss altogether.

Fidgeting at his touch, Doppo's eyes shifted from side-to-side. "Yeah, but are you?"

Jakurai's frown deepened.

"Yes," Jakurai said in a clipped tone. "Amemura-kun is just... quite a special character."

Doppo nodded, not daring to press further lest he irritate Jakurai any more. He couldn't fault him, anyways. Even if he didn't know exactly what happened between the two, Amemura Ramuda embodied the cacophony of the city and the chaos of the crowds that pissed him off to no end and that was enough to put him off.

"Anyhow, it's best to forget that happened. Shall we get going?" Not giving him a chance to respond, Jakurai grabbed his hand and pulled him along. While keeping up with Jakurai's strides usually didn't pose a problem, Doppo stumbled over his feet as he followed behind.

"J-Jinguiji-san, we're in public...!"

Jakurai paused and Doppo nearly ran into his back at the sudden stop. Lips quirking up in a rather crooked manner for a gentleman like him, Jakurai turned to him with an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. Doppo's breath caught in his throat.

"There’s no harm if others know that you are my teammate, hm?"

Heat rushed to Doppo's cheeks and he shook his head, not trusting himself with words. Jakurai squeezed his hand, which he returned, and they made their way to their destination. A selfless saint who always gave yet never took was all he'd ever known Jakurai to be, but as Doppo fell in step with him, he wouldn't deny that seeing this side sent a thrill throughout his body.

vi.

Silence and stares weren't normally part of the menu -- especially when the planets aligned to get him out of work on time and let Jakurai join them for dinner -- but Doppo found himself at the center of stunned attention that evening. Hifumi's chopsticks clattered onto his plate, jaw dropping to the table and eyebrows flying up to meet his hairline. Across from him, Jakurai's face bloomed into a red that rivaled the color of Doppo's hair and his bottom lip quivered slightly.

Doppo squinted at them. "What?"

"You said it, Doppo-chin."

"Said what?"

"Doc's name, you said it!"

Doppo looked at him incredulously. "Yeah? It's ‘Jinguji-san’ --"

"No, not like that!" Posture drooping, Hifumi picked up his chopsticks and mimicked Doppo's pose. In fake annoyance, he said, "'Hifumi! What Jakurai and I do at his place is none of your business!'"

Replaying the sentence over and over in his mind, Doppo's eyes bulged wide. Holy shit. He did say that, didn't he? He looked over at Jakurai, who'd buried the lower part of his face with his palm and looked at his half-eaten food as if it was the most interesting thing on the Earth; his usual perfect posture faltered under his gawking.

No matter how many times Jakurai assured him that calling him by his first name was all right, no matter how many times Hifumi urged him on, no matter how many times he told himself that no, it wasn't disrespectful to call your boyfriend by his first name, Doppo always found himself tongue-tied whenever he tried to speak it and fell back to "Jinguji-san." Somehow, he'd beaten out the "Doctor" habit, but crossing the first name boundary seemed about as possible as that damn manager of his cutting him some slack.

Who knew that all it took was an incredibly taxing day at work and a lack of patience?

"I-I'm so sorry, Jinguji-san --"

"Boo!" Hifumi pouted, giving a thumb's down. "You said it already, no going back!"

"You butt out of this --"

"Now, now, let’s settle down," said Jakurai, a warble in his voice. He cleared his throat, the red dusting his cheeks having faded to a bright pink, and schooled his face into a neutral expression -- or as neutral as wobbly lips and an unsteady gaze could be, that was. "Hifumi-kun, let Doppo-kun take things at his own pace. Doppo-kun, it's not everyday we are able to have dinner with Hifumi-kun so let's enjoy it."

Hifumi mumbled an "okay" and grumbled, but as always, he was quick to return to his upbeat attitude and started chattering on about some stray cat he saw on the way home from the supermarket earlier. Doppo, meanwhile, kept quiet and watched as Hifumi and Jakurai carried the conversation. His eyes caught Jakurai's, but Jakurai looked down after a moment's hesitation and gave him a stiff smile. All of a sudden, Doppo didn't feel hungry anymore.  

After they finished dinner, Doppo washed the dishes while Hifumi got ready for work and though he insisted otherwise, Jakurai volunteered to help him. Usually, working in silence wasn't a problem between them, but the awkwardness in the air led to the simple task stretching out for an eternity where Doppo skirted around him -- made worse whenever he brushed up against him or had to say something.

"Sorry, J -- ...sorry."

"J -- Um, can you pass those plates?"

"Did you get those yet, J -- ...yeah."

The last of the dishes settled into the dish rack with a louder clack than necessary. Jakurai turned to him.

"Doppo-kun, you do not need to be so afraid of saying my name." A hint of exasperation lied underneath his calm tone. "Either of them, for that matter."

"I'm sorry," Doppo said as he wiped the counter dry, moving methodically to avoid the look Jakurai gave him. "I just -- I just don't want to overstep any more boundaries."

Jakurai's face softened, though a frown marred his features. "Whoever said there were any?"

"I mean, you're you." Doppo flailed the towel in his direction, drops of water flying off. "You're Dr. Jinguji Jakurai, you're a genius who lowered the death rate on the front lines and you were part of the legendary Dirty Dawg and you're a really great guy in general." He heaved a sigh, the towel falling to his side as he slumped. "And I'm... me."

The dripping of the faucet filled the pause that followed, Doppo fidgeting in spot. His low self-esteem was no secret to either of them, neither were the comparisons he constantly made between them. For every "I don't deserve you," he uttered, Jakurai countered with a "You deserve the world," but his words could only do so much to stave off the nagging voice in the back of his head that told him Jakurai was way out of his league. Some days his reassurances were easier to swallow, others virtually impossible. And now that he'd spoken Jakurai's name as if they were equals of all things, his doubts suffocated him.

Hurriedly, Doppo returned to drying the counter. "It's dumb, I know --"

"Yes, you're you," Jakurai said. He took Doppo's chin and lifted his head up to meet his eyes, gracing him with a smile. "You're Kannonzaka Doppo, a salary-man who works incredibly hard, a member of the battle season’s champion Matenrou, and a very good friend. That's pretty amazing, no?"

Doppo couldn't bring himself to return the smile. "That's nowhere near as impressive as you."

Tenderly, Jakurai stroked Doppo's chin. "Your feats are separate from mine. Mine are not worth more than yours."

"But --"

Jakurai pressed his thumb against Doppo's lips, shushing him. "We're partners, correct? Are we not equals?"

A lump formed in Doppo's throat, his question ringing in his ears. He'd never entertained such an outrageous idea; the very notion of it incomprehensible, unfathomable. Someone as unremarkable as him paled in comparison to Jakurai's glory. Matching the crest of Shinjuku's skyscrapers that pierced the skies, Jakurai stood atop a pedestal kilometers high and all Doppo could do was stop and stare.

But here Jakurai was, the one who he'd admired for so long placing them on the even ground.

His instincts, inevitably, yelled at him to refute him -- that he was just saying things, he was simply placating him, he was merely leading him on. But for as much as his demons twisted Jakurai's words and strangled him with them, Jakurai himself shone a light upon him whilst stuck in a tempest of torments and cleared his mind, if only for a short while; his doubts would probably never leave, but Jakurai always won over all else. If he couldn't trust himself, he could at least trust Jakurai.

The weight on his chest a little bit lighter, Doppo gave a sheepish smile.

"We are, I guess. Thank you... um..." He forced out the name on the tip of his tongue. "...Jakurai."

The serenity on Jakurai's face immediately scrunched up in embarrassment, and he squeezed his eyes shut as red colored his cheeks once again.

"You're welcome, Doppo-kun," he said, choking the sentence out.

"Er, are you okay... Jakurai?"

Covering his face with his hands, he nodded vigorously and the strands of his hair fell out of place.

"...Jaku -- huh?!"

Pulling him into an embrace, Jakurai buried his face into his shoulder. Pressed up against him, the warmth of his blush seeped through his shirt and his unsteady breaths tickled the nape of his neck.

"Forgive me, Doppo-kun," came Jakurai's muffled voice. "Even though I said that you may call me by my name, I’m not used to being addressed so informally."

"T-Then I'll call you 'Jakurai-san' --"

"No." Jakurai shook his head, long locks flying from side-to-side. Softly, he said, "It makes me happy when you call me 'Jakurai.'"

Doppo’s heart thumped, skipping a beat or two at that. In the end, all he wanted was to make Jakurai happy. He'd do his best to never let him down, and he could start with something so bold such as saying his name.

"Okay..." He paused. "Jakurai."

If he strained his ears enough, he could hear Jakurai let out a noise. Doppo grinned and patted his back, a chuckle bubbling within his chest. "Mature" was one of the first words he thought of when it came to Jakurai, but "cute" fit him as well.

"...Jakurai?" Doppo said, the name still strange on his tongue. Nonetheless, it brought him a sense of giddiness he had to admit he enjoyed.

"Yes, Doppo-kun?"

"If I can call you 'Jakurai,' you can just call me 'Doppo.'"

Jakurai's knees buckled underneath his weight and Doppo used all his strength to keep them from toppling over. In the background, Hifumi whooped.

vii.

Another bought of restlessness struck tonight, though Doppo couldn't tell if it was due to his insomnia or from laying beside Jakurai. It wasn't as if this was the first time they'd shared a bed, but his body weighed so heavily, so uncomfortably, that he feared waking him up from his much needed rest with his bare existence. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded sleeping on the futon, or even the couch, but Jakurai insisted that it was fine and he wasn't one to argue with him.

As quietly as possible, Doppo turned over to see Jakurai sleeping away. He laid so still that the only indication he was alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breaths barely audible within the silence of the room. A part of him was tempted to clutch onto the tail of his braid, plaited across his shoulder with not a strand out of place, but he fought the urge so as to not ruin the image of the sleeping beauty. Watching him deep in slumber, Doppo's lips quirked up regardless of his own fatigue. At least one of them was able to get some sleep.

The hands of the clock on Jakurai's side ticked by gratingly, reading 1:03 in an ever present reminder that work was steadily approaching. He watched as the minutes changed, every sixty seconds feeling like sixty lifetimes, before stifling a sigh and carefully pulling himself out of bed. Jakurai mentioned he had sleeping pills somewhere around, if he was remembering correctly. Normally he'd ask first, but he didn't dare wake him for something as small as this. If he could find them, he'd apologize first thing in the morning and buy replacements himself.

As his feet hit the cool, wooden floor, a low murmur made him freeze. He turned back, an apology ready on his tongue -- "Sorry for waking you up," "Sorry for taking things without asking" -- but Jakurai simply laid there the same way he left him. One beat, two beats, three beats, four; the sound didn't come back. Rubbing his ears, Doppo wondered if he was so tired that he'd started hearing things. He pushed himself off the bed when a groan filled the room.

He snapped back to Jakurai, still lying motionless but his features twisted in agitation. Doppo drew closer to his side, another groan escaping Jakurai's lips while his brows furrowed together.

"Jakurai?" Doppo shook his shoulder. His murmurs grew louder and his breathing became more erratic. Chest heaving heavily, his shoulders tensed and his hands clutched the duvet.

"Jakurai." Doppo shook harder, to which Jakurai's head jerked to the side. His braid became tousled as he began fidgeting, strands sticking to the sweat beads rolling down his face and neck. Biting his lip, Doppo watched as his body convulsed. Whatever he was dreaming of only seemed to be getting worse.

Breaking Jakurai's fingers free of their death grip on the duvet, Doppo grabbed his cold, clammy hands and squeezed hard. Hoping the gesture would have the same effect as it did on Hifumi during his nightmares, he tugged up.

"Jakurai!"

Jakurai's eyes shot open with a gasp, darting around the room as if in search for something -- or rather, like something was searching for him -- and his nails dug crater-deep crescents into Doppo's palm. He curled in on himself as he sat up, poised to protect himself as if he were under attack. His mouth hung open, breaths short and rapid, and finally his shaken gaze landed on him.

"...Doppo?"

"I'm here." Doppo squeezed harder. "You were having a nightmare, I think."

Running a hand down his face, the strands of Jakurai’s hair fell loose and clung to his skin which had taken on a deathly, pale hue.

"I... I believe that's right, yes." Nodding, he swallowed hard and his eyes fell to his lap. He shivered, the sensation rippling throughout his nerves and onto Doppo.

"What was it about?" Doppo asked, barely above a whisper. When Jakurai's fingers twitched, he hastily added, "I’m sorry. I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

In the silence of the night, Jakurai's gasps echoed loudly throughout. He sat motionless hunched over his figure, save for the heaving of his chest as he took in air, deeply and desperately. His lavender locks curtained his hooded gaze, sockets holding empty eyes that dulled and slackened. As his breathing steadily returned to a normal rate, his grip on him loosened though he didn't let go. Likewise, Doppo remained equally as still -- scared that any movement would set him off or that any sound would send him into disarray again.

With a small voice, Jakurai broke the quiet.

"It's a dream I have often." Azure irises taking on a faraway look, he stared ahead at nothing in particular.

"...Yeah?" was all Doppo could respond with. Comfort might not be his strong suit, but at the very least, he could listen.

"I may have saved many lives on the battlefield, but I've also taken just as many and failed much more." Try as he might to keep his voice even, it quavered and shook as convulsions racked his body. Inching closer towards him, Doppo rubbed circles onto his hands with his thumbs. Jakurai's jaw clenched, the only response to his touch. "Those lives... in my dreams, they haunt me. The ones I failed curse me for abandoning them and the others try to drag me straight down to hell with them."

Eyelids shutting close, he shuddered. The wrinkles framing his eyes deepened, his cheek bones hollower. Hesitantly, Doppo wrapped an arm around him; after a moment, the other one followed and he embraced him tightly. His presence was all he could offer him, as little as it meant.

The clock's hands ticked on, and Jakurai's arms circled around his waist and he pulled him into his lap. Resting his chin atop his head, the beating of Jakurai's heart hammered wildly against his ear.

"Perhaps that’s my fate and I deserve it." Doppo's heart broke at how resigned he sounded, stomach churning at how weak his words were. Neither suited Jakurai, neither felt right. "I have been called a genius for my work, but sometimes I wonder if I truly am one when there were so many lives I couldn't help."

"That's not your fault," Doppo said, louder than intended. Jakurai's jaw clenched against his head, his hold on him trembling as it tightened. "You're -- You're just one person. You couldn't have possibly saved everyone. Not by yourself." Softly, he continued. "You did what you could and... I think that's enough."

A stillness fell over, and he felt Jakurai's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed his words. He made neither a move nor a sound, but the drumming of his heart slowed to a steadier tempo. An apology bubbled up on Doppo's tongue as the seconds of silence passed -- for overstepping his place, for butting into something he knew next to nothing about -- but Jakurai pressed his lips onto the top of his head before he could spit it out.

"Thank you, Doppo. I needed to hear that." He spoke quietly, but the fragility in his voice dissipated. Sitting back, he still wore an ashen expression, but the storm had left his eyes. Relief washed over Doppo at the small smile Jakurai gave him. Though not the strong and gentle face he was used to seeing, it was better than before.

"You're welcome," Doppo said, thankful for the darkness covering his blush. "I-I'm here for you, if ever you need someone to listen."

Another kiss met his forehead and Jakurai's fingers threaded through his hair, slowly and gingerly. "I know. Now, forgive me for disturbing you. Let's get back to sleep, shall we?"

"Haha, right..."

Deciding to keep his restlessness to himself, he followed Jakurai's lead and laid back down. Here, Doppo found himself in the same position as he was earlier: awake, with sleep far from his grasp. He should've been used to this by now but he suppressed his sigh, not wanting to burden Jakurai any further with his own problems. As he contemplated his previous decision of searching for sleeping pills, Jakurai shifted beside him and their fingers brushed against each other's.

"Doppo..." His name hung in the air, faintly like the sounds of cars driving by in the distance. "May I hold you?"

He waited a beat before hooking their fingers together. "Yeah."

Permission given, Jakurai wasted no time wrapping his arms around Doppo and cradling him. Doppo's head pressed up against his chest, his heartbeats playing a steady rhythm in his ear and his breaths a light breeze through the strands of his hair. Finding a comfortable spot atop his waist, Doppo's arms encircled him and their legs tangled together underneath the duvet. Despite everything, Jakurai's embrace was always warm.

Neither of them managed to fall asleep that night, but they were at least able to find some semblance of peace in each other.

viii.

Date nights where they actually went out were few and far in between considering their schedules, not that Doppo minded. The times where they'd fall asleep on each other on the couch were good enough for him, but he had to admit that going out for once was a nice change of pace. Although, yes, he much preferred the quiet night ins. he didn't care where they went nor what they did so as long as they were together.

Waiting in the living room, he checked his watch -- not out of dread, but out of anticipation for the evening ahead. They'd stopped by Jakurai's place first after finishing their shifts since he had some documents to drop off, though Doppo certainly wasn't complaining about the respite. Sinking into the couch, his eyelids fluttered closed and he pinched himself to stay awake as sleep tempted him. A dull thud came from further in the apartment, shaking the rest of his exhaustion off.

"Jakurai?"

No response.

Standing up and walking towards the bedroom, a sinking feeling fell through Doppo's stomach while he fought off his negative thoughts as best he could.

"Jakurai...? Oh --"

Crouched before his closet, a box had spilled over onto the floor that scattered an array of photographs and badges and other trinkets around Jakurai's feet. They laid there ignored, though, in favor for the photo he held in his hand. From his angle, Doppo couldn't make out the image but he could see the way he pressed his lips together in a fine line and the way his brow creased as he looked at it with hazy eyes.

Doppo fidgeted by the door. "Do you need help?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Jakurai blinked and turned his attention to him.

"My apologies for the delay, I..." He glanced back at the photograph. "I got distracted."

"It's okay," Doppo muttered as he hurried to his side.

He picked up the items with haste, trying his best not to dwell on them -- badges with symbols he couldn't identify, photographs with memories he wasn't privy to, mementos of a life Jakurai led without him in it. They held no meaning to him, though perhaps the lack of meaning was meaning in and of itself; for all they've gone through together, there was still so much he didn't know about him. In his peripheral, Jakurai worked at a much slower pace, or maybe it was more accurate to say not at all. Each emblem he turned over, each photograph he took, each piece of years gone by that he picked up was held with a delicacy that made him think they'd come alive and bite back if handled clumsily.

When he was done with his side, Doppo arranged everything he'd collected into a neat pile much like the many paperwork he'd done at work. Making sure not a thing was out of place, he held them out to him. But, Jakurai didn't take them. His face held a pensive expression, his azure eyes a still sea.

Jakurai clutched the photograph he'd been looking at when he entered the room. "Doppo, you were curious about these before, yes?"

"No," Doppo blurted out. At Jakurai's raised eyebrow, he scratched his chin and chuckled nervously. "Well, maybe a little bit. Just a little! You don't have to share anything you don't want to."

Taking the stack from him, carefully and cautiously, Jakurai sat down on the floor.

"I want to."

Doppo looked back and forth between Jakurai and the remnants of his past. "Are you sure? I mean, you don't have to feel obligated to, or anything."

Jakurai huffed a laugh, lips quirking up with a forlorn touch. "Yes, I'm very sure."

Moving over to make more room, he patted the empty space beside him. The seconds of the clock ticked a full rotation around the dial before Doppo crawled over and sat next to him. Their shoulders leaning against one another's, Jakurai handed him the photograph. It was the same one that he'd seen a while ago -- the group photo of The Dirty Dawg smiling together as if their reign wasn't fated to crash and burn, to destroy each other, to break apart in a matter of months for reasons he never dared to ask. Despite being a thin piece of paper, it weighed heavily between his fingertips.

"If... we're to have some sort of future together, I thought I ought to share these with you." Sitting right beside Jakurai like this, his soft voice reverberated throughout their shared space and vibrated through his touch. His hand covered his as he held the image of The Dirty Dawg as if to support him in the endeavor, a thumb running over the smiling faces. "A fair warning that the story behind them is rather ugly. That is, only if you do not mind listening."

For so long, Doppo had seen Jakurai as this faraway figure -- a genius among the replaceable, a legend among men, a god among mortals who'd simply blessed him with his presence. He'd pulled him out of the cacophony of the city and given him solace amidst the chaos. In a world that punished them for existing and cursed them for fighting back, Jakurai stood as an unwavering pillar, the white of his lab coat a sight he'd always be following but his figure one he'd never walk side-by-side with.

But as time went on, his image of him shifted.

Jinguji Jakurai was indeed a pillar that wavered -- a genius that knew not everything of the world and held finite patience, a legend that faltered and stumbled in the face on intimacy, a god that suffered through haunted memories and bore never fading scars. Yet somehow he stood strong and steadfast, resolute and firm in his beliefs, caring and gentle in his touch in spite of all that he faced. Neither a genius nor a legend nor a god he might be, but rather a man who felt, a man who hurt, a man who loved just as he did.

There were many sides of Jakurai that Doppo had come to see, so many things he'd come to experience. At the same time, the very proof of all the things he still didn't know stared back at him. The unreachable sat within grasp and the space separating them grew smaller and smaller with each passing day.

Shaking his head, Doppo leaned in closer. Perhaps Jakurai wasn't so far out of reach like he'd once thought.

"I don't mind."