#so. like. oh no how terrible people might be faced with a future of taking meds forever

[iridescentoracle]

The thing that really gets me about the "but you'll have to be on medication for the rest of your life!!" argument is like. well. yeah? Sometimes you have a condition that doesn't have a cure, but there's medication that will mitigate your symptoms so you can live a happy, normal life as long as you keep taking the medication forever, and it's mildly inconvenient but the results are more than worth the effort. Like, big whoop, I've got hayfever too.

calling trans people "forever patients" or w/e says a lot about how transphobes view disabled people as well, like yeah some people need medical intervention to live or to not kill themselves and sometimes they will need that care for the rest of their lives, sorry i guess

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [5] - Dusk

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Some evenings come with threats.

Word Count: 4242 

CW: Violence, explicit language, blood, threats

Series Masterlist

“I have no idea why you don’t like him.”

“Well, that makes two of us because I have no idea why you like him.”

You rolled your eyes at Jamie as you grabbed the coffee pot, then filled his cup while he pointed at you with his fork. The diner wasn’t very busy yet; you had the time to focus your full attention on him after taking a couple of orders to the tables, so you leaned on the counter, then stole a fry off his plate.

“Logan is nice.”

“Oh Logan is nice?” he repeated with a scoff. “He’s a giant ball of macho bullshit with no brains, that’s what he is.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh come on Jamie!”

“I’m serious,” he said as you crossed your arms to shoot him a lighthearted glare.

“You know, I wasn’t like this when you introduced Nik to me.”

“Nik is my soulmate,” he said without hesitation. “I doubt the brute caveman is your soulmate.”

“He's not a caveman.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“He just…he doesn’t look very friendly,” you said in a rush to defend him. “I’m aware of it but he’s been to wars and stuff, so it’s kinda expected—”

“Which is another red flag, sunshine,” Jamie insisted. “When was he born, you said?”

“1832.”

“You have a crush on Dracula: Lumberjack Edition?”

“He doesn’t give off vampire vibes!”

“No, he gives off werewolf vibes,” he said. “And just in case a certain popular franchise has escaped your notice, they’re both equally bad.”

You scrunched your nose up at him, still leaning to the counter while he sipped his coffee.

“What happened to the guy Nik set you up with?”

“Oh that date was a disaster,” you said with a shrug. “He talked about himself the whole time. I barely got two words in.”

“I hate when they do that,” he grumbled, making you smile.

“I swear to you Logan is not a bad guy,” you said. “He’s the furthest thing from that—which by the way, we might be just arguing over nothing. I honestly doubt he sees me that way.”

He shot you a look of disbelief.

“Sunshine.”

“No I really don’t think—”

“A lot of people you cross paths with see you that way.”

“You and Julie both say that but that’s because you’re my best friends.”

“No, that’s because we see how people look at you,” he said. “Unlike you.”

“Yeah but Logan—”

“Logan will make a move on you one of these days, and I think you should turn him down when he does.”

You wiggled your brows. “It’d be a bit difficult to turn him down while I’m climbing him like a tree.”

“Fuck him once and leave him.”

“I already decided what our future cabin in the woods will be like.”

He let out a groan, burying his face into his hands, making you giggle.

“If Logan and I start dating and that’s a huge if, considering I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me that way,” you said. “We’ll go on a double date with you and Nik, and you will see he’s actually the nicest guy in the entire world.”

“I hope he’s terrible in bed so that you will snap out of this,” he motioned at you as his phone vibrated, making him check it before he took a huge sip of his coffee, then stood up.

“Thank you so much for letting me borrow your car by the way,” he said. “It’s just that, Nik’s grandma needs a ride to the airport and…”

“It’s totally fine,” you said with a wave of your hand. “Don’t even mention it.”

“I’ll bring it tonight to your place.”

“Like I said, it’s totally fine,” you said. “Tell Nik’s grandma I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said, leaning over the counter to kiss your cheek, then walked out of the diner. You grabbed his plate and mug, but as soon as you entered the kitchen, the boss’ office door opened and he peeked his head out.

“Hey,” he said. “Bad news, Stacey can’t make it, she has the flu. Do you think you could close tonight?”

Shit.

Of course you had to close when you didn’t have a car.

You pressed your lips together, then forced yourself to smile before nodding your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “I can close tonight, no problem.”

                                                  *

Today was not going as planned, at all.

Creepy customers weren’t exactly new to you. You were pretty sure that everyone in service industry had to deal with them at one point or another, God knew you did. But usually, once you turned them down, they finished their meals and left without leaving you a tip.

They didn’t just sit there at the booth, staring at you for almost an hour.

Paul was by the grill as you walked into the kitchen and heaved a sigh, pressing your palms into your eyes, your heart beating in your throat.

It was fine. If he stayed there towards the closing time, you were just going to ask Paul to handle him, he was pretty good at that. He would deal with him, and afterwards you would just call a cab and go home and forget about today.

“You okay?” Paul asked and you dropped your hands, then nodded, clearing your throat.

“Um—yeah. Just tired I guess.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh,” you said. “Slow day but I went to bed late, so…”  

He grinned. “Your new boyfriend is keeping you up late?”

You let out a small laugh. “It’s nothing like that.”

“No?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t even know if he likes me that way to be honest.”

“What, he just came to drive you home the other day out of the goodness in his heart?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. He’s nice.”

“Honey, I’m terribly sorry to shatter your trust in the goodness of us men, but we usually don’t do that just for any girl.”

“Yeah but Logan is nice,” you insisted. “Not to mention, he’s out of my league.”

“Did you break all the mirrors in your place or something?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Paul.”

“Take it from a guy, Logan definitely wants to…” he wiggled his brows and you grabbed the table cloth, then tossed it at him for him to catch it in the air.

“That’s absolutely not true.”

“So your crush isn’t keeping you up, then what is?”

“Have you met me?” you asked him. “I run on stress.”

“You know what’s good for stress, right?” he asked with a smirk but as soon as he stole a look out of the small kitchen window into the diner, then pulled his brows together. “Did I Beetlejuice this motherfucker or something?”

“What?” you asked, turning your head to follow his line of sight, then gasped when you saw Logan walking to the counter to sit on a stool.

At first you were surprised at the relief that hit you out of nowhere so fast that it made your head spin, because normally whenever you were around Logan, your heart would be making flips, adrenaline rushing through you. It took you a moment to understand what it was, and once you did, you let out a breath.

It was safety.

Somehow, something in your body knew Logan being there meant you were completely safe.

You let out a breath and pushed open the door to step outside, then approached the counter.

“Hey,” you said, still slightly dizzy and Logan’s hazel eyes searched your face, his frown deepening.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“I could hear your heartbeat from a mile away,” he said. “What’s going on?”

You blinked a couple of times. “You recognize my heartbeat?”

“Yeah,” he said as if it was completely normal. “And I smelled your fear. So what’s going on?”

“You what?” you asked. “I smell like fear?”

“Not normally, but you do right now,” he said impatiently. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, trying to focus as you stole a look at the booth the creep was still sitting in, Logan turning his head to follow your glances.

“He, um…” you said, lowering your voice. “He wanted to know when I get off work, and—and I said no and he’s been sitting there for an hour, just staring.”

Logan’s eyebrows rose as if he was surprised by the guy’s audacity.

“And I close the diner tonight,” you whispered. “And I gave the car to Jamie because his boyfriend’s grandma has been staying with them, and she’s really nice except for when she made that one comment about me giving it up too—” you stopped yourself. “Sorry. Um, I don’t—”

“How about I drive you home tonight?” he cut you off, making you pull your brows together.

“You’d do that?”

The look he gave you was almost reprimanding as if he was offended by you asking a question when the answer was clear as day and you let out a relieved breath.

“Logan I…” you trailed off. “I don’t know how to thank you, you’re—you’re amazing, really.”

“You have no reason to thank me, princess,” he said, making your heart skip a beat.

“I have many reasons.”

“No, and don’t worry about that asshole,” he said, nodding in the direction of the booth before turning to you, “but you need to call me when this sort of bullshit happens.”

“I don’t have your number,” you said and he paused for a moment as if he hadn’t thought about that.

“Right,” he said, taking his phone out of his pocket before holding it out for you and you smiled, then took it from him. You entered your phone number, then sent yourself a quick text before handing him the phone back.

“There,” you said with a grin. “Now we have each other’s numbers. Technology isn’t so bad, huh?”

He gave you a small smile and you cleared your throat.

“So what can I get you?” you asked, shifting your weight from one foot to other in excitement, and he frowned for a moment.

“Any chance you’ve got some of that pie from earlier?”

“Sure!” you said. “I’ll be right back.”

You went into the kitchen and made your way to the counter to get out the pie, then cut a big slice to put it on the plate.

“Look at that, your mood is fixed for some reason,” Paul teased you and you scrunched up your nose at him, then grabbed the chocolate sauce bottle. You carefully drew the shape on the plate, your tongue sticking out from the corner of your mouth.

“So let me guess, he’s still not your boyfriend?”

You gave him a chiding look. “Don’t.”

“Hey, I’m asking to see if I need to set you up with one of my friends.”

“Oh I’ve met your friends,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll respectfully decline, thank you.”

“They’re pretty cool guys.”

“I guess I’m not cool,” you told him and picked up the plate, then pushed open the kitchen door to make your way to Logan who was sitting on the stool by the counter.

“There you go,” you said and put the plate in front of him. “You may be curious about what that shape is on the plate is.”

“Was just about to ask you about that.”

“That’s a cigar,” you pointed at it. “And there’s an X over it because cigars suck. And that’s a frowny face right next to it because to repeat, cigars suck.”

“I see,” he said with a small grin. “A very clear message.”

“Isn’t it?” you asked, stealing a look at the booth to check on the creep but the booth was completely empty. You blinked a couple of times before you turned to Logan.

“Logan?”

“Hm?”

“Where did that man go?”

He grabbed his fork. “He left.”

“…Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Your frown deepened. “Did you say something to him?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just a small warning, that’s all.”

You could feel the relief filling your system as a smile warmed your face, making you bite at your lip.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered as he dug into the pie while you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms on it.

“So you were around then?” you asked. “When you heard my heartbeat?”

“Mm hm.”

“How do you know it’s my heartbeat and not someone else’s?”

“I recognize it,” he said, making you raise your brows.

“Is that—” you started but were distracted by a customer asking for a refill, so you grabbed the coffee pot, went to refill his coffee and walked behind the counter again. You pulled out a mug to fill Logan coffee, then put it in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Is that what you did during the French Revolution as well?”

“To repeat, I haven’t—” he started but then his lips curled into a smile upon seeing the teasing glint in your eyes. “Right. Seriously, what is this fascination with French Revolution?”

“I was weirdly into historical documentaries while pregnant with Theo,” you said. “Kinda stuck.”

“Ah.”

“Speaking of all that though, what was 19th century like?”

Logan took a sip of his coffee. “Foggy.”

“…Very descriptive, Dickens,” you said with a nod of your head. “Professor X should have you teach literature, you’d do wonders in prose.”

 That made him chuckle before he took his fork into his mouth, and you smiled at him before walking to another table to take their order.

                                             *

As the sky went dark and the closing time got closer, you realized that you hadn’t even been paying attention to the time. Paul had left an hour ago, so had all the customers but you were so lost in the excitement of spending time with Logan that if it weren’t for your phone vibrating on the counter, you wouldn’t have even noticed it was past the closing time.

“But yeah, he literally brought a kitten home from the street,” you said with a smile as you walked to get your coat. “The said kitten is now Nik and Jamie’s beloved son, but—what are you doing?”

Logan pulled out his wallet and motioned at the empty plate and the coffee mug, making you narrow your eyes.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Princess—”

“I will threaten you, I don’t care if you’re invincible and like 200 years old.”

He tilted his head. “You’re threatening me with threatening me?”

“Yes,” you said. “I will kill you with kindness and also this knife I found in the kitchen if you try to pay for it.”

“You’re terrible at threatening people.”

“I know, I’m working on it,” you muttered as you grabbed the plate and the mug to put it on the counter of the kitchen through the small window, and by the time you turned around he had already placed some cash on where the plate just was.

“Logan!”

“Technically I’m not paying for it, I’m leaving a tip.”

“That tip is more than the check.”

“Well that’s—” he started before his head whipped around, the playful smile wiping off of his face as a car pulled over in front of the diner. He gritted his teeth, making you pull your brows together.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he said. “Just do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll step outside for a moment,” he said. “Stay here.”

Your heart started pounding in your chest. “What—what’s going on?”

“I swear to you, it’ll take only a moment,” he said, his voice completely calm as he stood up from the stool. “Don’t step outside, okay?”

 “Hey asshole, I don’t appreciate being threatened!” A shout came from outside and you took a step back, panic making you dizzy upon recognizing the voice; it had to be the guy from earlier. “So I brought some friends! How about we show you some manners and then entertain your girl?”

You could feel your blood freezing in your veins and you grabbed your phone. “I’ll—I’ll call the cops—”

“Don’t,” Logan said. “They’ll only get in the way. I got it.”

“Logan…” you started but a metallic noise reached your ears as metal claws sprouted from his knuckles, making your eyes widen.

“What…”

“Stay here.”

“I-but—” you stammered but he had already walked out of the door, making you cover your mouth. Fear pounded through your system, your eyes filling with tears as you sniffled, then grabbed the knife on the counter and took a step to the closed door, but blood splattered over the huge window, soon followed by the panicked yelling of the newcomers. Your stomach churned as you swallowed thickly, then you wiped at your eyes and rushed to the door with the knife in your hand before you swung it open.

The view you were presented with looked like something out of a movie. Two of the guys writhing on the ground, one of the crawling to the car while the other looked like he was crying. The man from earlier was also on the ground, holding onto his face but you could see the blood dripping through his fingers as Logan retracted his claws, then held him from the back of his jacket and lifted him up.

“You’ve got something to say to her?” he growled, and the man let out a sob, then lowered his hands, your breath catching in your throat upon seeing the gashes on his face.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” he managed to whimper through pain and Logan dropped him on his face unceremoniously, then turned to you.

“What’s the knife for?” he asked and you blinked a couple of times, forcing yourself to drag your gaze from the man.

“I was coming to save you,” you told Logan, making the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Yeah?” he asked as if humoring you and you nodded, then took a look at the men on the ground.

“Come on,” Logan said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Let me take you home.”

You felt like you were in a haze as you rushed inside to put the knife back, grabbed your phone off the counter, then shut down the lights and closed the door behind you, locked it and turned to Logan again.

“…Shouldn’t we call someone?”

“Nope.”

“But what if you get in trouble because of—”

“I won’t,” Logan answered, gently leading you to the motorcycle, his hand on the small of your back. He put the helmet on your head and you got behind him on the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold onto him tight.

The road to your home felt almost surreal. The panic still hadn’t left your system yet, your mind going overdrive with everything that could have gone wrong, or would go wrong if those creeps had decided to press charges on Logan. Even though he didn’t look worried at all, you were beginning to think you worried enough for the both of you.

And if something had happened to him, if they had gotten to him before he could beat them—

No.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to think about it.

You hadn’t even realized that your cheeks were wet with tears when he pulled over in front of your house, his head turning to the side when he heard you sniffling. You swung your leg over the seat to sit sideways on it and he got off the motorcycle to help you take off the helmet but as soon as he did, you pressed your palms on your eyes, biting inside your cheek to keep yourself under control.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, sniffling again as you lowered your hands before a shaky sigh left your lips. He lifted your chin with a curled finger, your eyes shooting up to his, your heart skipping a beat as he gently wiped at the tear under your eye.

“I’m sorry for scaring you off.”

The change in his tone was impossible to miss. That growl that had spilled from his lips while talking to that man was completely gone and now his deep voice was soft like honey, making you feel all warm inside. You blinked back the tears and shook your head fervently.

“You didn’t,” you said. “That’s not what’s happening.”

“But you’re scared.”

“Not of you,” you said, shaking your head again as you bit at your nail. “For you.”

That made him pull his brows together in confusion and you let out a breath.

“Logan, there were three people there,” you insisted. “They could’ve easily overpowered you—”

“That’s impossible.”

“They could’ve killed you!”

“Also impossible,” he said, a small chuckle escaping from his lips as if the idea was too absurd. “I told you before. I heal.”

“I’m sure there are exceptions to that, if they came up with a way—”

“Unless those guys were keeping a fully functioning high technology lab underneath the diner, they couldn’t,” he said. “Me getting hurt was not a possibility there, and the only reason they’re alive is because you were there. That’s it.”

You sniffled again.

“But did I make you betray a principle or something?”

“What?”

“Because the secretary of Mutant Affairs held a press conference the other day and he—”

“Hank?”

“Hank McCoy, yes. You know him?”

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Well, he talked about how mutants have this principle—”

A dry chuckle climbed up his throat.

“I don’t have any principles when it comes to assholes like those,” he said, a shadow crossing his handsome face. “But nobody gets to hurt you or threaten you. That’s the principle here.”

Your head was spinning again for a completely different reason and you took a trembling breath, stealing a look at the building behind you before looking up to his hazel eyes, your heart beating in your throat.

“Would you like to—” you started but before you could invite him to your apartment, a car flashed its headlights at you two, making you turn your head to look at it.

Oh.

Your car.

Jamie was in the driver’s seat and he frowned slightly before he stopped the car and Nik leaned out from the open passenger seat window.

“Hey Sunshine!” he said. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

You closed your eyes for a moment before opening them again, then licked your lips.

“It’s on mute, I didn’t hear,” you said. “Uh, Logan, this is Nik, Jamie’s boyfriend. Nik, this is Logan, my…my friend.”

Nik gave him a grin as he eyed him up and down.

“Nice to meet you Logan,” he said before turning to you. “Get in, we’re taking you out to dinner. Your friend can come too if he’d like.”

You glanced up at Logan, biting at your lip and he took a deep breath, then cleared his throat as if trying to snap out of a haze.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am,” you said. “I just didn’t know they were coming—but um, would you like to join us? Nik is an expert when it comes to restaurants, he knows all the great ones.”

Logan shook his head.

“I’d better go,” he said. “It’ll be easier to track those guys down while they’re still bleeding.”

You blinked a couple of times. “What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll make sure they understand they shouldn’t cross paths with you ever again,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “That’s all.”

You hesitated only for a moment before you stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him, resting your forehead against his hard chest, the scent of pines and smoke surrounding you in the most pleasant way. He cradled the back of your head with one hand while his other arm sneaked around your waist and he nuzzled his nose into your hair to inhale deeply, making your heartbeat faster. Even though you felt like you could happily spend your whole life in his arms, you knew you had to step back especially with Jamie and Nik right there, so you slowly pulled back to look up at him. His hazel gaze went down to your lips for a moment before snapping back to your eyes and you swallowed thickly.

“Thanks,” you managed to say. “For…you know.”

“No problem, princess,” he said softly and stepped back as well, then nodded in Jamie’s direction before getting on the motorcycle.

“Be careful,” he said and you let out a small laugh.

“Likewise,” you said before he drove off and you shifted your weight before making your way to the car. You opened the door and got in the backseat, then slammed the door shut as Nik turned to look at you over his shoulder.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi Nik. Hi Jamie.”

“So that was Logan?” Nik asked and Jamie scoffed as he started the car.

“Yep. That’s the asshole I told you about.”

“Well, neither of you told me he was that hot,” Nik pointed out, grinning at you. “Did we interrupt something?”

You wiped at your nose, then shook your head. “Um, no.”

Jamie took a look at you from the rear mirror, then frowned.

“If that asshole made you cry, I swear—”

“He didn’t,” you said in a rush and buckled your seat belt. “I’ll tell you on the way. What are we eating?”

6 - Middle of the Night

[generalsmemories]

How do I tell my husband he got scammed into buying a lion?

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ summary: during one autumn afternoon you're suddenly faced with another one of your husband's impulsive purchases. only that this time it's a living being.

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, humor, might be a bit ooc

✧ a/n: hello there hsr fandom! i have unfortunately lost the battle against myself on making another sideblog for jing yuan, the man who has singlehandedly occupied my mind since his first appearance in the beta. i do hope that this will actually appear in the tags, but every infomation you would need if you want to request something is all up on the blog if you so wish! i hope we can have a pleasant time together !!

also this is not beta-read, we die like how fast my resolve to not create a jing yuan blog died.

Being the spouse of the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu comes with it's share of benefits and disadvantages. For one you're regarded at a higher position than most of it's citizens, often being stopped on the side of the road when taking a walk to exchange numerous pleasantries with merchants from outside of Xianzhou, various store owners or cloud knights on duty.

Another factor is shouldering the burden your husband has on his shoulder, an oath you had taken yourself the day you accepted Jing Yuan's nth proposal. You considered that a fair trade with his vast knowledge and insight into a possible future and doing everything behind the scene to avoid colliding headfirst into said problem. A feat that attracted you towards the general in the first place, minus his dashing looks of course.

The biggest disadvantage of publicly announcing that you were indeed the Arbiter-General's significant other was doing everything within your power to not throw your husband's famous title away for a newer, more terrible one. (more utc!)

Because as you see him walking up the steps of the Seat of Divine Foresight, your gaze is not locked with your husband's smiling face, rather it's fixated on the small being he has cradled in his arms. The soft smile you had quickly spreading into a more nervous and confused smile as you glance over at Qingzu, the counselor looking at you with just as much confusion.

How in the world did you manage to leave him alone out in the market area for an hour and he comes back with a lion cub?

"[Name], darling! Look at this grimalkin that a merchant had!"

A what now?

"... A grimalkin, you say?" Every book that has recorded history had specified that the grimalkin species had gone extinct, and you were well aware that your husband knew this fact. And yet here you were, faced with his smile directed down towards what you can clearly tell is a lion cub, his thumb pressing down at its paws affectionately.

You're starting to think that Yanqing's impulsive purchases with his sword collection aligns with your own husband's impulsiveness.

Coughing loudly into your hand, you take a deep breath before descending down the stairs to be on the same level as Jing Yuan, peering down onto the cub's face. It was indeed cute, and judging by how enamored Jing Yuan is, you can clearly tell that it's small stature is what attracted him to it in the first place.

Oh he's going to be crushed when it grows up, "It's adorable, Jing Yuan," you settle on saying, waving a finger over the lion's grimalkin face, the animal lifting its paws to try to grab it. You shoot a look towards Qingzu, a silent command for her to look into which outer merchant was now scamming people into buying literal lions. The counselor quickly excusing herself to look into the matter immediately, Jing Yuan only giving her a smile and a wave of his hand as she scurries down the stairs.

"Right? I decided to name it Mimi," he muses, and your heart breaks a tiny bit for him, but there are more pressing matters at hand than the fact that your husband once again got scammed because he was most likely bored out of his mind.

You would rather that the Xianzhou citizens know him as "The Dozing General" instead of the general that gets scammed a few times too many. How does one even go on about trying to tell their husband that the grimalkin in his arms is actually a lion?

"A fitting name indeed," you mutter, raising a hand to caress Jing Yuan's cheek, a simple gesture to make the general direct his attention to you. However, you could still see that his guard was slightly up with you. You only chuckle at that, leaning in to slide your lips over his own, Jing Yuan wasting no time to press back.

Another well hidden secret reserved for the walls of the Divine Foresight is the fact your husband is incredibly weak for his own spouse.

"... Want to tell me how much you paid for Mimi, dear?" you ask in a whisper when your lips part, thumb caressing over the mole under his eye.

Jing Yuan merely smiles, twisting his head to press his lips against your hand instead, "It was from my personal wallet, dear. Please don't fret over the small details."

"Darling, I hope you're aware that the small details would be the necessary funding for accomodation, toys and food, right?" you say with a chuckle, your husband freezing with his ministrations upon remembering that fact.

Oh well, you want to see how long it takes before your husband comes to realization that it's a lion. You just have to be extra vigilant towards the numerous fundings in the meantime.

While scrolling through your schedule for the next morning, your phone dings with a message from Qingzu. You quickly look down at Mimi whose resting on your belly and then at Jing Yuan whose sleeping self is still snoring away by your shoulder before letting out a small sigh in relief that the loud noise didn't awake any of them.

Qingzu:

Do I even have a say in this?

Was the message sent by Qingzu, attatched to it is a picture taken of what you can only presume is one of Jing Yuan's "diaries". The contents of it making you let out a low laugh, the shaking making said man beside you grumble before pressing his face into your neck.

Attatched image:

"Eventually, I paid hefty sum for the grimalkin, named it "Mimi", and took it home. Only that I'm too busy with official business and have little time to take care of Mimi. After thinking it over, chores like feeding it and changing its water should also be entrusted to Qingzu. I do wonder why [Name] looked so distraught when they first saw Mimi though. Maybe they didn't think I would favor the petite and small animals instead of the usual large and strong ones?"

[Name]:

So Qingzu, do you have an idea what the easiest way to tell someone they got scammed is?

Qingzu:

That is the role of the spouse, not the counselor.

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter 4: New and Old Problems Alike

Retired!Ghoap x Fem!Fat!Reader

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

MDNI | cw: fainting, some medical inaccuracies

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

You haven’t texted them, even three days later. That little sticky note haunts the surface of your kitchen counter. It taunts you - tells you that you should text them and at least give them your number. That you’re being a terrible neighbor. They might need you too, after all. Even though you can’t figure out why they might for the life of you. On the other hand, you can’t help but feel wary about it. Men don’t take an interest in you - people in general rarely take interest. It’s hard not to feel suspicious, as pure as you’re sure their intentions probably are.

More so than any of that, you don’t know what to say. If it had been day one you could have just put your name, but now you feel like you need to explain. Or at least be funny or something. Tossing and turning on your designated rest day about what the hell you should do.

You’re overthinking it. You know that. You can’t stop, either.

They just seem so cool - so put together. So unlike you. You want to impress them. You don’t want to ruin the first possibility of friends in this new life you’re building for yourself.

Eventually you work up the courage to send off an initial text to each of them. Just to give them your name to save if they so choose - plus an extra thank you to Simon for giving you their numbers in the first place. Something simple and borderline cold. Too cold, maybe? Maybe you sound irritated. You hope not. You just want them to like you. Friends in new places are hard and to have someone around you who gets how it feels to need accommodations would just feel so… lovely. Your phone may or may not go flying onto your bed while you bury your face in your hands out of sheer nervousness.

You don’t expect it to chime about a minute later. Right as you’re staring to calm down, of course. It sends your heart violently pounding all over again.

J >> Bonnie lass!

J >> So glad u texted!!

>> Sorry it took so long lol

Oh, you could just slap yourself. You don’t have anything better than that? At all? Christ.

J >> Nah Nah

J >> No worries

J >> Actually I was wondering if u would mind if I came by tomorrow

J >> Just to chat

J >> need an excuse to get out of the house

“How the hell does he type that fast?” You scoff to yourself.

>> Yeah, come by anytime.

>> totally

>> yea sounds cool

>> rad, man

A message from Simon pops up mid your internal battle with how to respond, replying with a simple thumbs up. Very in character, you think. He knows how to be nonchalant. What would Simon say? Something casual, maybe a little formal.

>> If you like. You’re always welcome.

Okay maybe that was too much like Simon. You sigh heavily m before adding,

>> I’m trying out a new blueberry loaf

>> If you want to test for me :)

Better. That’s a little better. With another heavy sigh you decide to drop your phone into your nightstand for the rest of the day. Your heart really cannot handle this much emotional pressure.

~~~

You sort of end up just forgetting about the texts. With your phone out of sight and out of mind upstairs in your apartment it almost catches you off guard when Johnny comes striding through the door just before close. He’s dressed more casually than the last couple of times you saw him - having broken out the summer shorts and a graphic tee for some band you don’t recognize. It suits him, though.

“Hey, bon.” He grins.

“Hey.” You smile back, finishing with putting up your stocking baskets before dusting off your hands and turning around. “Simon closing up?”

“Aye.”

You hum. “Come on back, I’ll get you a slice of that loaf I mentioned.”

Johnny follows you quietly. Uncharacteristically quietly. That’s okay - you don’t have a problem with hanging out in silence. It doesn’t feel tense, surprisingly enough. He leaves Riley out front again. Should you get her a dog bed? Maybe if he comes by consistently. That would be nice. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“It’s sort of a pound cake but fluffier. I might make an icing for it but I don’t know if that would be too sweet…” You trail off, focusing on plating up the piece. You’re not sure what compels you to try and make it pretty for him. Probably something you could blame on your grandmother. She did have an obsession with presentation.

Johnny hums loudly after taking a bite, talking around the mouthful. “Y’should totally make an icing.” He swallows roughly. “Si would go crazy fer this.”

“Oh?” You smile. “I’ll send some home with you.”

There’s a lapse of silence while Johnny chews on his slice of bread and you pack up some in a paper bag for him to take home. The only sounds in the room comprised of your cutting and folding and the hum of the cooling oven.

“You’re being weirdly quiet.” You blurt, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. “I, uh, I mean that isn’t a bad thing! I don’t mind… I just, uh, was… sorry, never mind…”

“Well I did come wit’ a bit of an ulterior motive…” Johnny admits, glancing off to the side shyly. It’s a show, you think. Johnny doesn’t seem the type of man to have felt shy a day in his life.

You tilt your head. “Oh?”

He dusts off his hands and grins. “Let us take ye out! In celebration of yer first full month.”

Has it been a month already? “Oh - no, no you don’t have to-“

“C’mon! It’s a big accomplishment.” His smile is so bright that you almost believe his idea that you’ve done something great.

“…alright.” You give a tentative smile. It’s hard to believe they like you enough to want to hang out casually in the evening. Hard to imagine anyone liking you that much but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There’s a pub down the street - the one on the corner. Want tae meet us there around six?” Johnny gives you that lovely smile. How could you ever say no to a smile like that?

“Okay.”

You spend far too long changing in and out of clothes and fussing with your hair. Up-do’s and buns and braids. A tank top then a sweater then a t-shirt. There’s no reason to feel this stressed over it. It’s not a date or anything. Besides, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Either way you look like a frumpy dumpling. Eventually you land on jeans and one of your designated ‘going out tops.’ At least it’s a good excuse to wear something other than work clothes or loungewear.

Excitement and anxiety thrum under your skin like electricity as you make your way down the street. You feel painfully nauseous - stopping once or twice just to make sure you aren’t about to throw up for real.

The pub is surprisingly quiet when you enter. Obviously somewhere only real locals hang out - there’s no theme or really any decor in general. Just a bar, some booths and a couple pool tables. You scan the floor a few times, not seeing either Johnny or Simon (not that they would be hard to miss). Eventually you just grab a soda from the bar and slide into one of the booths closer to the back. A quiet spot facing the door where you can easily watch for them.

As time ticks on you begin to grow increasingly nervous. Did you get the time wrong? No, no you triple checked. You even wrote it down in your planner. Your leg begins to bounce furiously, heart nearly beating out of your chest. Did they decide to ditch? You wouldn’t really blame them. They’re way out of your league when it comes to friends. Maybe Johnny had an emergency? Should you call Simon? If he had an emergency it would make sense that they would forget to notice you. What if something really bad happened? What if-

The front door opens and Simon’s wide frame strides through, holding the door for Johnny and Riley to come in behind him. You let out a quiet sigh of relief, willing your leg to stop bouncing with a pinch to your thigh. Why are you always so damn dramatic?

Johnny lights up with an ear to ear grin when he spots you, bee-lining for the booth while Simon casually walks up to the bar. It’s almost comedic, the way he dwarfs the counter. Johnny leans on the side of the booth, waiting for Simon, you think.

“Glad ye could come out.” He looks you over, eyes flicking from your plain top to the very practical, not at all stylish up do that you landed on for the evening.

You do your best not to squirm under his gaze. “Me too…”

Simon comes back with two beers in hand and slides them onto the table. He scoots into the inner booth to give Johnny the outer edge. Riley happily sits beside his leg and practically grins at you in a near mirror image of Johnny’s. You’d never do it while she’s on the job, of course, but part of you wants to give her a pat on the head and coo at her for being so polite.

Johnny gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry we were a bit late-”

“Johnny redid his hair about five times.” Simon butts in, not reacting at all to Johnny’s sputtering protest. He glances at your half-drunk soda. “Want me t’ grab you a beer?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just stick to coke.”

They blink at you. Simon cocks his head slightly. “You sure?”

You chew your lip. “Uh, alcohol tends to aggravate my symptoms is all...”

“Then why’d ye agree to drinks? We coulda gone somewhere else.” Johnny frowns.

You shrug. “I don’t mind. I… maybe this is over sharing but I’d rather go out and be kind of normal than just… not ever. Y’know?”

His expression softens. For having such icy blue eyes they are so, so warm. “I get it.”

“How’d you two meet anyway?” You blurt, taking a left turn to get the conversation off of you. It’s the first question that comes to mind. Maybe it’s rude - maybe you’re prying too much already.

“Military.” Simon grunts. “SAS.”

“Si retired wit’ me after I was discharged.” Johnny points to his scar the same way he did when you first met. “Russians scrambled my egg a bit.”

“Couldn’t do the time apart…” Simon murmurs, eyes locked on Johnny’s face. It’s vulnerable. More than he’s used to - you can see it in the way he tenses after saying it.

Something passes between them that a deep, wounded part of you desperately wishes to understand.

You can’t help but start giggling to yourself. They both give you an incredulous look. “Sorry, sorry - it’s just, that’s like… totally a romance book premise. It’s sweet. Really.”

“Och, aye. Wouldn’t know it t’ look at him but Si’s a real romantic.” Johnny bats his eyes at the other man, who just rolls his in response. The corner of his scarred mouth quirks up subtly.

“SAS…” You repeat, staring at your drink. “That’s like Navy Seal shit, right?”

“We worked with them a few times, yes.” Simon nods. There’s an air of ‘do not ask anything more specific’ in his voice.

“Huh.” You take that for what it is and sit back, squinting at them. “You don’t look it, honestly.”

Johnny laughs. “Tha’s just cause ye havennae seen Simon with his gear on. The Ghost.” He wiggles his fingers along as he makes a stupid, spooky sound effect. “I domesticated him.”

Simon scoffs but doesn’t deny it, just takes a quiet sip of his beer.

“Riley’s a vet, too.” Johnny pats her head. “Got too skittish around loud noises but she transitioned into a service dog nicely.”

“Now she’s just spoiled.” Simon rolls his eyes in faux annoyance. You get the strong feeling that he’s the one doing the spoiling.

You find yourself relaxing as the night goes on. Slouching in your seat rather than sitting ramrod straight and nervously twiddling your thumbs. They never press you to drink, never insist that you’ll be fine with just one. They take your statement as fact and it isn’t brought up again. That shouldn’t be as significant as it is, now that you think about it.

Johnny’s words begin to slur a little bit on his fourth, no maybe fifth, beer. You aren’t sure. It’s very cute, the little blush that forms across his cheeks. Simon loosens up, too. He slings an arm around the back of the booth and Johnny readily tucks himself into the open spot. You find yourself wondering about their military career again. You can’t picture either of them committing violence - especially Simon. Sure, he’s big and gruff but he looks at Johnny so, so softly.

Simon is the one to call it a night - though you have a feeling its because you nodded off a couple times. Not out of boredom, you try really, really hard to pay attention to Johnny rambling about the chemistry of different explosives. He makes it interesting, somehow. Really it’s just that you’ve been awake for… holy shit almost twenty hours!

“D’you need a ride?” Simon asks as you exit the pub, hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know how to interpret the look he’s giving you. It’s intense, but not annoyed or displeased. He has such a weird knack for unreadable but distinct expressions. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to get good at deciphering them.

You jump when Johnny takes both your hands in, kissing the backs of them with a sloppy, drunk smile. “Thank ye fer comin’ out. “

Somehow your face feels hotter than a damn oven. You tuck your hands to your chest, kicking shyly at the sidewalk. “Th-thanks for the invite. We, uh, we could do it again sometime?”

You glance up hopefully, praying that you didn’t misread the situation. You’ve done that before - thought people liked you more than they did. Johnny just grins wider somehow and nods excitedly.

You watch them walk off in the other direction, hand in hand. Johnny giggles about something loudly and you can see Simon’s shoulders shake with a far more silent laugh. All the way until they disappear down the street.

The sheer amount that the image hurts your heart makes you feel evil.

~~~

The pub changed something. What, you don’t know. Either way, you fall into an easy pattern with Johnny and Simon over the next couple weeks. Exchanges of food, leftovers or morsels about to turn, little visits back and forth between your shops. Johnny continues to stop by after close, just hanging around with you while Simon closes up shop.

You can’t deny how much you look forward to hearing that door chime followed by a too-loud greeting from Johnny. How your heart flips in your chest when those bright blue eyes peek around the corner into the back room or light up while trying a new recipes you’ve been testing. You’re still a bit awkward - unsure how to react when he throws an arm around your shoulders or listens oh so intently while you talk about nothing important.

Things can’t ever be all sunshine and rainbows, though. Not for you. A new problem has arisen as summer truly sets in - the comfortable spring breezes giving way to nothing but bright, unfiltered sun. One you didn’t expect to impact you this much living this far north.

Heat.

It’s hard to breathe in the back room while you’re baking. Hard to keep your water and salt intake high enough to compensate for how fast you lose them. You might as well get a permanent saline drip attached to you at this point. You definitely didn’t google if that was physically possible. Your budget for liquid IVs and other supplements nearly doubles. Standing over the massive oven in the back room has your head swimming a few times. You end up resting longer on your weekends, unable to keep up like you could in cooler weather.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, the summer here isn’t like back home. It will pass quicker. Plus, you at least have methods of dealing with it now other than crossing your fingers and praying.

“Bonnie!” Johnny suddenly appears in your doorway - that charming smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Ye made it up Main Street yet?”

“No?” You tilt your head and try to ignore the way your vision spots momentarily at the motion. “Why?”

“Ye dinnae hear about the summer festival?” He leans on your counter. You shake your head. “It’s a yearly thing. Not that big a deal but they have some fun games an’ it’s nice tae see everyone out an’ about. Si an’ I are about tae head down. Come wit’?”

You hesitate. The exhaustion in your body tugs at your spine. Your limbs feel heavy. This morning really got to you - out of towners who must have come for the festival flooded your shop the moment it opened on top of your Saturday regulars. Not that you’re complaining, really. It’s easily your best day so far. You want to go with them, though, despite the ache in your back and the sting in your joints. It sounds so fun and it’s never a bad idea to take part in your new community’s festivities.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You smile. You can tough it out for an hour, then come back home. Yeah, just an hour. You’ll be fine.

You hadn’t noticed Simon leaned up at the entrance to your shop. Your eyes lock on his arms. This is the first time you’ve actually seen him in short sleeves. You can’t help but stare at his half-sleeve tattoo - all skulls and bombs and other military motifs. Faded and sun worn. Yeah, if you’d seen that sooner you definitely would have picked up on the whole military thing. You bite your lip to keep from snickering about it.

You can hear the music drifting from the speakers down the street. A few kids run by with balloons and cheap carnival prizes. It almost reminds you of the Spring Fling back home, just missing the extreme American flag theming across every booth and vendor front. Now that you’re looking around, you can actually see several booths that have been sponsored by various businesses in the area. Even the post office has a snow cone stand. The deeper you get into the event, the more flamboyant the decor becomes. Multicolored streamers and pennet flags connect stands, creating an almost canopy effect.

Simon stops rather abruptly at a booth, waiting behind a few teenagers tossing rings onto bottles. You stop with Johnny about two feet away. What’s he thinking? Simon doesn’t seem like the type who would be too entertained by basic carnival games. Even so, he steps forward and passes over a couple bills to the vendor as soon as the teenagers leave.

“Si’s really good at these. Watch.” Johnny grins beside you.

“Aren’t they rigged?” You raise an eyebrow.

Johnny doesn’t answer, eyes locked on his husband as he lines up one of the rings. You have to lean slightly to see around the breadth of the man - the multicolor rings almost cartoonishly small in his hands. Cute. Your eyes get impossibly wide with each toss, every single one landing comfortably on the bottle necks as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. As if this isn’t one of the most commonly rigged carnival games.

“Holy shit…” You mutter, still staring.

“Aye, tha’s a SAS sniper for ye.” Johnny laughs. “Glad tae see it still comes in handy.”

Simon huffs out a quiet laugh at that. Almost more of a sigh if it weren’t for the shaking of his shoulders. You love it - their little dynamic. The bond between them that’s so strong it’s almost visible.

“‘ere.” Simon turns to you suddenly, holding out a cheap little carnival prize. You can’t even begin to decipher what it’s supposed to be - some sort of furry puff ball with big, embroidered anime eyes and two felt antennae sticking up out of it’s purple head… body… thing…

Your face heats. “F-, uh, me?”

He shrugs. “Suits you. Riley will just chew it up if we take it home.”

“Aye. She’s so good with everythin’ but cheap plushies.” Johnny snickers.

You glance down at the dog in question - her dark eyes glued to the toy in Simon’s hand. Her tail thumps against the ground where she sists dutifully, but you can see the desire to snatch the thing away in her twitchy ears and pleading eyes. You snort, taking the stupid thing and tucking it under your arm with the prayer that they don’t notice the heat now spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

“Thanks…” you murmur, already mentally deciding where to add it to the mess of stuffies covering your bed already.

Somehow you end up walking between them down the street - Simon on your left and Johnny on your right with Riley in tow. You stop at a few other games here and there. All pretty basic. Johnny absolutely kills at the dunk booth.

Simon tires his hardest to help you with your terrible aim, “Just visualize it. Y’have t’ account for the arc.”

You get to the point of sticking your tongue out in concentration. Even so you only manage to knock down a couple of the wooden ducks at the ‘Dunk-A-Duck’ stand. You do, however, win one of those rock candy sticks at the guessing booth. You just hand it off to Johnny. It’s probably not best to load up on sugar in your current state.

Johnny excitedly points to different buildings giving you a rundown of the history of his hometown as you walk. Simon seems to barely be listening. He’s probably heard this a thousand times. Prattling on about the old town square, the church bell that a bunch of teenagers spray painted one time (Johnny was not involved, how could you accuse him of that?)

You find yourself focusing on your feet - keeping each step even and fast enough to remain on pace with them. One, two, one, two, one, two. The air begins to thicken. Muggy and heavy on your skin. Your breaths become shallow and fast. You can’t catch it, the air seeming to get stuck in your throat rather than reaching your lungs. Spots begin to dance across your vision. You stumble over nothing.

Not now! Come on! You’ve been doing so well!

Riley presses against your leg acting as a counter weight. Your body moves on instinct to grab whatever you can - hands wrapping around something strong and covered with cloth. An arm solid as rebar. Hopefully it’s someone you know. All you can see are colorless shapes.

“Gonna pass out - don’t freak!” You gasp before your legs give out.

It’s not that you go entirely out - it’s rare that you fully black out. It’s more like being stuck. Limp and fuzzy and confused. Almost like sleep paralysis. There’s voices and people moving around you. Someone has picked you up, you think, based on the swaying motion and the passing shapes around you. Maybe that’s just vertigo. A door bell chimes.

You finally begin to really come to when something icy is pressed to your forehead. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds that you were gone, but it takes much longer for the world around you to come back into focus.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, eyes stinging. Even after all these years it’s so damn embarrassing. You blink, the distinct mural that decorates the ceiling of the post office slowly coming into view. Johnny said a big time traveling artist painted it back in the nineties.

“Ye alright?” Johnny murmurs, crouched down beside you. Riley sniffs at your hand, seeming satisfied when you finally move it on your own.

You nod slowly. “Overheated…”

“Give her this.” Someone says. An event medic, you think. The boys must have flagged them down. Fingers press to your pulse point, a light shines in your eyes and you follow it. A quick check of vitals. Johnny shoves a water bottle in your hand as soon as the medic decides you’re fine to move - the contents distinctly murky from some sort of electrolyte pack that’s been shaken into it.

“Up y’get. Slowly does it.” Simon helps you sit up with a hand on your back. It’s so gentle. You don’t miss how he cages in your body the way only someone intimately familiar with caretaking might. Fully ready to catch you if you go limp again.

You sip slow, eyes glued to the ground. You feel so fucking stupid. Can’t even walk down a street without creating some sort of scene. They’re never going to want to hang out with you again, are they? You can’t go out drinking, can’t walk around a festival for longer than a couple hours. You distracted Riley. What if something happened to Johnny while you were having your spell? She might not have alerted correctly because of you. She might have gotten confused and then he could have gotten hurt. He might have-

“Ye really should drink tha’ instead of glarin’ at it.” Johnny pulls you from your thoughts. He’s now sat with his legs crossed beside you. Riley’s head rests in his lap. She seems calm. Content now that the emergency is over and happily lying on a cool floor.

You hum, chugging the last bit of it quickly. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Simon says curtly. “Does this ‘appen often?”

You shrug. “Not as much anymore… usually my medication keeps me stable.”

“Do ye need a doctor?” Johnny tilts his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his tone - in either of their tones. Just calm concern. It probably shouldn’t make you want to cry as much as it does.

You shake your head. “I’ve got liquid IV at home. Just need to sleep it off.”

Hopefully. In reality, a pain flare up is inevitable now. You just won’t know how bad until you’re fully in it.

“Let’s get ye home.” Johnny says, knees popping as he stands.

“I-I’m fine!” You insist, mentally preparing to get yourself up off the floor. “I can get home on my own - I don’t want to ruin your time.”

Johnny levels his gaze onto you, so serious it almost looks angry. It doesn’t match his face. “We’re not leavin’ ye tae get home alone like this.”

You’re caught off guard when an arm slides under your back and another under knees - lifting you like you weigh half of what you do in reality. Like you’re a paperweight instead of a boulder. You blink up at Simon, far too surprised to be embarrassed. At least at first. You splutter out a poor attempt at convincing him to put you down. Excuse and reason after reason and excuse. They roll off him like water off a ducks back. Your face burns as he steps out of the post office with you neatly tucked against his chest - Johnny and Riley in tow.

If you allow yourself to be honest, to give into that weaker part of you (or, at least, the part you consider to be weak) you could possibly admit that this feels nice. Being cared for feels nice. Having your body up against someone else feels nice. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you outside of a polite handshake or accidental bump. You sink into it despite yourself - relaxing against Simon’s chest. They were right, you wouldn’t have made it back. Your head is too fuzzy and there’s that telltale pain in your shoulders radiating up to your neck that signifies an oncoming Bed Day.

It doesn’t take long with Simon’s lengthy strides to get back to your building. You probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up to that running. Well, you can’t really run much at all so you definitely wouldn’t. A stupid, muddled train of thought that melts into the hazy bog of your current mental state. Even Johnny trails a few feet behind. Neither of them speak, marching in determined silence. You attempt to subtly check their faces for any anger. You’d understand if they were angry. Most people would get angry. You interrupted their day out with your useless drama. All you get is a wide, bright grin from Johnny when your eyes eventually meet his.

Simon puts you down with all the care in the world. As if you’re made of fine china. His hand stays on your upper back - planted firmly between your shoulder blades and ready to catch you if need be. Your vision swims a bit, your joints feel like jelly but you manage to dig your keys out of your pocket and unlock the door.

“Here.” Johnny plops the puff ball back into your hands just as you turn to say goodbye. To say thank you - to apologize profusely.

Your brows raise. You completely forgot about it while swimming around in a sea of embarrassment - he must have picked it up for you. You hug it to your chest with a quiet, “Thanks.”

You shift your weight side to side, psyching yourself up for the crawl up the stairs. Probably literally. You don’t think you could stay upright if you tried to walk them like a regular day, or even with an aid. Like a regular or semi-regular person. Fuck.

Johnny follows your eyes up at the staircase. He must sense some hesitation in you. “Do ye need help up?”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground. Standing in one place seems alright, but the thought of climbing is so daunting, even with the cane you have stationed at the bottom of the steps for that exact purpose. It’s embarrassing. You’re young, you should be able to walk up some damn stairs. It isn’t even that many. It’s barely a full flight. Just one story of stairs for fuck’s sake.

“Hey.” Simon touches your cheek, the action snapping your eyes to his in surprise. “It’s okay. C’mere.”

He picks you up again in the same fashion with barely a grunt, taking his time up the steps so as not to jostle you. How many times has he done this with Johnny? you wonder. That’s the only explanation for how good he is at keeping your equilibrium so even. You wonder if he practiced - if he took caretaking classes. He probably did. Does he keep up at the gym just so he can take care of his husband? Simon might be quiet and a little formal, but he exudes dedication.

“Sorry it’s messy…” You murmur when they reach the top of the steps. Glancing behind you, you see Riley sitting patiently at the bottom. Johnny must have told her to stay. “Haven’t gotten to fully unpack…”

You’ve been spending too much time in bed on the weekends. Fucking lazy.

Johnny just laughs. “Ye shoulda seen the first place Simon an’ I had.”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Simon argues, carefully setting you down on the couch. His hands hold your waist to steady you. They’re so warm… It feels wrong to be disappointed when he lets go.

“We hadnae figured out a system yet.” Johnny huffs, hands on his hips. “We ended up hirin’ a specialized maid service the dishes got so backed up.”

You scoff, laying back against the couch with that stupid carnival prize still in your arms. Like it’s the only thing grounding you to reality. The tears that have been stinging your eyes this entire time continue to threaten to spill - a myriad of blinks and careful breaths the only thing keeping them back.

Johnny sits beside you slowly. You can’t meet his eyes. “Do… do ye want tae tell us what it is? Ye donnae have tae - it’s up tae ye. Just if somethin’ happens again…”

“We’d like to be prepared.” Simon jumps in where Johnny trails off.

You chew your lip, still staring up at the ceiling. It splits and that coppery taste coats your tongue for a moment. “I, uh, it’s called POTS. There’s different types but basically my body can’t regulate blood flow and pressure right…” You shrug. “Like I said my medication usually keeps me mostly okay.”

It’s the pain that really gets to you usually, but you don’t need to start dumping on them about that. There’s no reason to spill your guts about things they can’t fix.

“Thanks fer tellin’ us.” Johnny smiles. You stiffen slightly when he reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear. You tilt your head, still resting on the back of the couch, to meet his eye. “Get some rest, yeah? We’ll lock the knob behind us. Call if ye need anythin’.”

“Okay.” You nod, keeping your eyes down and picking at your nails. “Sorry… about all this… I didn’t - I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“Donnae apologize.” He says softly as he stands. “Never apologize. We’re your friends, aye? Friends help friends. Tha’s all there is to it.”

Simon gives you a discerning nod behind him, expression both soft and deeply serious.

Friends? They consider you real life proper friends? Really? You can’t help but beam up at him. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’ve re-read this chapter so many times that it’s total mush in my brain which tells me it’s time to be done with it.

Bonus: I made a Pinterest board for this fic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

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Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

“Darling,” Jonathan enters the apartment as he always does. In the days since you got there, it’s all become routine. Almost too much so. “You called? Was my phone not in service?” 

You look up from the book borrowed from the shelf in the hallway. A thriller that’s less exciting than it genre may suggest. You fold your hands over the pages. 

“I haven’t heard anything. About my suspension.” You frown, “how about you? Have they said anything?” 

“Oh, fawn, you know if I do, you will be the first to know. And as ever, I will vouch for your innocence,” he nears and strokes your cheek as he looks down at you. “Forgive me for letting my pride drive me to such rabidity. It is only that cretin that makes me this way. The way he insulted you.” 

“Hm, I know, it’s just... I feel useless. I don’t want to be living out of your hand forever.” 

“Out of my hand? Darling, it is how these things work, is it not? One day, I might require your support, eh?” He tickles along your hairline, “you should enjoy the time you have to yourself.” He looks around, eyes narrowing as he scans the apartment. “My, my, this place is tidy.” 

“I vacuumed. Lit a candle. Did the dishes,” you sit up and close the book. “I’m terribly bored. Maybe...” you stand and take the novel under your arm, “I should start looking for a new job. I don’t think they’re going to take me back. I’m not like you. I’m not important.” 

He turns on you and crosses his arms, “darling, please. Firstly, you are not permitted to speak of yourself such. I won’t have that. Secondly, am I to feel worse than I already do? I would’ve gladly taken the slap on the wrist. I said as much in my interview.” 

You swallow and look down guiltily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just... I don’t know.” 

“You should be getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. The wedding is just around the corner,” he girds. 

“Well, it’s Geri’s day. I just have to show up.” 

“And look as stunning as you always do. Have you made an appointment for your hair and makeup? That might cheer you a little,” he suggests. 

“I can’t... I can’t afford that. I can do my own,” you insist. 

“I can,” he counters. “I’ll ask around for recommendations and you’ll book something tomorrow before all the appointments are snatched up. Won’t you?” 

“If that’s what you want,” you shrug. 

His lips form a straight line and he drops his hands to his hips, “I want whatever you want, fawn, yet is seems even you do not know what that is.” He looks down with a solemn hum, “I wonder if you should even want me.” He turns away slowly. “I know you think of him still. You have such a deep heart, darling, and I shouldn’t blame you but it hurts all the same. I should be the only one.” 

“You-- you are. It’s just... It was just a crush,” you step closer. 

“Was?” He peeks over his shoulder, searching your face desperately. 

You nod, “yes. We’re together now.” 

He smiles. Just a little. He turns back to you and puts his hands on your upper arms. “I... I can’t tell you how lovely that is to hear you say. I am not so nervous anymore.” 

You flutter your lashes, “nervous? You?” 

He chuckles softly, “yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I be afraid that you won’t see me as I see you? You are my world.” 

His declaration takes your breath away. You stare at him. You don’t know what to say. You like him. A lot. But you can’t lie and say you feel everything for him. That you don’t still get a pang in your chest when you think of Colin. Even if you know what you should feel, you can’t force it. 

“I’m... trying my best,” you step closer. “I... I have a surprise.” 

“A surprise?” 

“Mm, well, like I said, I’ve been bored,” you grab his wrist and gently pull his hand from his hip. “Come on.” 

“Shall I close my eyes?” He asks playfully. 

“Don’t be cheesy,” you warn. “I was googling stuff about England and I found a recipe for a dessert. Um, sticky toffee pudding? It took me a while to get it right but I think I figured it out.” You open the fridge as you pull him with you. He stops before the interior’s glow as you point to the cake pan. “For dessert.” 

“For me? You made that? All by yourself?” He asks. 

You nod proudly as your cheeks tweak. “Yeah. I love baking but my place was never big enough and I know it’s not much but I wanted to say thank you.” 

“You mean to stab me in the heart,” he accuses and you flinch in surprise. “The way you are plucking on my heartstrings, I think I might completely break, darling.” He turns you to him and smirks down at you. “How have I been so lucky to come so far across the world and find the only treasure in it?” 

You giggle. He’s so sweet it hurts your teeth. It makes you feel worse for spending all day moping. 

“I’ll make dinner. I didn’t find any cool recipes for that though,” you say. 

“My darling,” he draws you near and the fridge shuts on its own, “you are all I need in this moment.” 

💔

The artist, Marissa, helps you down from the chair. You’re dizzy from reclining for so long and the pins in your hair jab your scalp. You glance at your reflection and blanch. You look like you but... not. In a good way. In a way prettier way than usual. 

She leads you out to the counter at the front of the salon. Jonathan stands as he sees you. You thought he might busy himself elsewhere. You’re surprised he stuck around that long. 

“Wow,” his blue eyes shine as he nears, “you look splendid. Not that you aren’t always immaculately gorgeous, darling.” 

Marissa giggles from behind the till, “aw, that’s so sweet. Is this the first family event for you two?” 

You nod as you face her, Jonathan’s hand hover behind your back as it so often does. As she worked on your hair and makeup, you managed to put in a few details about the dinner but were just as happy to let her gab. 

“It is,” Jonathan answers as he pulls out his wallet. “And a wedding right after. It will certainly be exciting.” 

“And you two... are the bells ringing for you soon?” She tinkles playfully and turns the pinpad to him. 

“Mm, well, that matter should always be a surprise, shouldn’t it?” He taps his card. “Thank you very much. You’ve done a masterful job.” 

“Thank you, sir,” she preens. “I hope you have a lovely dinner.” 

You smile and let Jonathan herd you away. He opens the door ahead of you and Marissa gives another swoony ‘aw’ as her coworkers whisper. You’re overwhelmed by all the attention, yet you’ve never had anyone jealous of you. It makes you feel special, albeit a bit guilty too. 

As Jonathan drives, you fidget nervously. You look at the time on the dash and chew your fingertip. He glances over. 

“Try not to mess your makeup, darling,” he girds. 

You rip your hand away and apologise. 

“You’re nervous?” He asks. 

“A little.” 

“Shouldn’t you be happy to see your family?” He wonders. 

“Umm, yes, but it’s just... a big event. Besides, it’s Geri’s dinner. I’ll just let her have her time,” you shrug and fold your hands in your lap. 

“Of course, but it won’t be too bad, will it? I’ll be there with you. I don’t mind if you hold my hand,” he reaches over and rests his knuckles on your leg. You twine your fingers through his. “I’ll need courage myself. Three sisters. Mother, father. I am outnumbered.” 

You squeeze his hand. You feel suddenly very selfish. He’s so cool and calm, you never once thought of how he might feel about it all. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say. 

“Yes, so long as we have each other, it will be,” he agrees. 

Back at his condo, you stand in indecision before the hangers. You’re not sure which dress to choose. You opt for the deep shade of midnight blue. Since it is an evening event, that would be more appropriate than the champagne. 

You step into the dress and pull the fluttery sleeves up over your shoulders. You reach back for the zipper but can’t quite reach. You spin in your struggle and as you face the door, you find Jonathan watching you with an amused slant in his lips. 

“Need help?” He prompts. 

You nod and give a bashful smile. You hold up the lacy bodice as he strides toward you. He wears a sleek pair of checkered grey slacks and a matching jacket, with a complementary tie with geometrics lines over a pressed white shirt. He is sophisticated and sauve and you still feel like that unwanted girl in her lonely apartment. 

You turn your back to him and he grabs the tab of the zipper. As he tugs it up slowly, his thumb tickles your spine. It sends a shiver through you. You spine to face him again. 

“Fawn, how do you only get more beautiful with each breath?” He says. 

“Oh,” you blush and sway. “Me? You look... great. Handsome.” You feel all mushy saying the words out loud.  

“Now, you are going to make me melt,” he purrs as he runs his hands up your sides. “Do you think we can cancel? Perhaps show up a bit late?” He winks and squeezes your hips. “That dress is doing something to me.” 

“Jonathan,” you smack his chest lightly. “No, my mother would kill me.” 

“Oh, Eugenia is a sweetheart,” he grins. “But I am a gentleman so I will have you there on time. So, let us not linger or my worst instinct may take over.” 

You shake your head, “just need to grab some shoes. Oh, and a purse.” You hang the other dress in the closet and spin around. You had a clutch... there. “Um, did you still have my phone? I can let my sister know we’re on the way.” 

“Hm, yes, but you shouldn’t need it with you. It is an event. We can’t be on our phones all night,” he chides. 

“No, I know, it’s just... I feel like I haven’t checked my emails in ages.” 

“Mm, alright,” he sweeps out of the room and you stand, a bit startled by the shift in his demeanour. You remind yourself that he might be anxious about all the new people. 

He returns and hands you your phone. You message Geri and your mother, just to be sure. You keep the cell in your hand and look at Jonathan. 

“I’ll put it to do not disturb,” you suggest. “Okay?” 

“Well, I suppose there may come an emergency,” he sighs. “I won’t argue. We haven’t time for it.” 

You flinch and tuck the phone into the clutch. You rub your lips together then stop yourself. You follow him from the room and stop to check your make up in the mirror hung in the hall. It’s still in tact. 

You step into your heels and bend to strap them on. Jonathan sidles around you, his keys jingling. Before you can stand, you squeal at the grope on your ass. You pop up and teeter on your shoes. 

“Jonathan!” You exclaim. 

“I’ve got to get it out of my system now,” he smirks. “Oh darling, I’m not sure I’ll make it through the night.” 

“If I have to, you have to,” you poke him. “Now please, no more. I can’t handle it.” 

“Oh, you cannot?” He chuckles and steps closer, drawing you flush to him as he scoops your ass in both his hands. “Not this?” 

“Jonathan,” you press your hands to his chest. “Please.” 

“Mmm, what if I was quick?” He purrs as he rocks you. 

“We have to go.” 

“I know, darling but I’m so very hungry,” he slathers down at your chest. “We can make an excuse. Traffic is absolutely terrible, isn’t it?” 

“Oh gosh,” you squeak and squirm, “I can’t--” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything, fawn,” he slides his hands down as he lowers himself to his knees. He tugs at your skirts as you cry out in shock. “I only want a taste... I’ll save dessert for after dinner.” 

He throws your skirt over his head and disappears beneath. He pulls your leg up and over his shoulder and you wave on one leg. He has you off-kilter as he nuzzles the front of your panties. He hums and it rolls through you.  

You grab onto the shape of his head through your dress and cling to him to keep from falling over. You couldn’t stop him if you tried. As all things with him, it’s easier to just let him do as he will. Besides, you are in no hurry to face your family. 

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 11)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 4495

A/N: Yes I did drop off the face of the earth for a bit but can I make it up to you with an extra long chapter?

 | SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 11, Next Chapter

Your fight was the last time you saw Remus Lupin that week, the next lesson you had with Lupin was taken over by Snape, even your tutoring was now with McGonagall. Lupin returned on Friday evening, you saw him in the great hall during dinner, and that's when you received an owl from him which was rare during dinner. He didn't pay you any attention, so you decided to take the letter to the lake and read it by yourself so no one could interrupt you and he couldn't watch or analyse you open it. You sat down by the water and opened it.

"My dearest, Y/N,

Oh how I've fucked up, in life constantly but with you in more ways than one. I don't know how to express my words in person I've never been good at words when it came to the important things like people. This is version five of this letter.

I traveled home after Monday. I couldn't bare to look at that desk, I couldn't go to Sirius as his home will forever smell like the first time I kissed you. When I arrived I found your letters, they made me realise you left to protect us from ending up in this very situation, I thought it was from fear of getting told off for being home late but really you knew that Percy was looking for clues. Unfortunately his letter found me first and convinced me to push you away, that I was risking too much by risking your schooling, I don't care about my career, what's life if you only live for a job but I don't want to mess up your future. I take my job very seriously but life is  more important.

You were right when you said I'm scared of having something good, however you were wrong when you said you were convenient. You're far from it. I might be lonely but that's not why I'm drawn to you, I'm drawn to your wit, I'm drawn to your smile and I'm drawn to your world. If we could spend forever sitting on my sofa listening to music and talking I would die a happy man.

I don't know what my feelings for you are but they are strong and they scare me, you're much more important to me than anyone else I know and I fear to admit it. New Year's Eve I messed up, if we were ever going to kiss I wanted it to be after a date where I show you how you're meant to be loved and offer you the world not drunk on the steps of my best friends house.

I don't know how you feel about me and if I hurt you too much, if that's the case I am terribly sorry I wish I could make it right. If an inch of you still thinks I'm a decent man I have two offers for you.

A. If you want to remain friends and go back to last year's rules "no dear, no alcohol and no kissing" meet me tomorrow evening in my office for tea and tunes, or let me know in your own way

B: If you are up for an adventure my dear and willing to see what happens if we risk it and you still feel any attraction after my poor behaviour: Meet me tomorrow morning at 9am in Hogsmeade, next to the three broomsticks.

C: if you simply hate me like you said (at least 4 times using my full name I'm glad you don't know my middle name) all I ask is show up to my lessons, we can arrange another teacher to take over you 1-on-1 schooling but please show up. I promise to pretend I don't think you're the most amazing witch and woman I've ever met. Please don't let me ruin your exams or future.

Yours, Remus John Lupin.

P.S. To answer the question in your original letters from the 1st of January keep my sweater, it will simply be a painful memory if you choose C and I like the way it looks on you if you choose B ."

You felt a mixture of excitement and relief with his letter, it felt like everything has magically explained itself. Remus was an anxious writer with a tendency to sabotage his own happiness but he was trying. He was trying for you.

The next morning you woke up early to get ready to see Remus, you didn't know what to expect but you were excited. You arrived in Hogsmeade early knowing Remus as someone extremely punctual you were shocked to find Remus wasn't there. You waited until 9:05 but nothing, so you began to walk back at towards the castle. "Wait!" Remus said and you turned around to see him holding two cups of coffee, one of which had obviously slightly spilled on him. "It's with milk!" He said holding a coffee forward towards you.

"Thank you." You said grabbing it.

"I'm glad you came." He said softly.

"I'm glad you sent that letter." You replied. "You have coffee on your sweater." You pointed out reaching in your pocket for a tissue.

"I didn't think through apparating with two cups of coffee.' He admitted with a shy smile as you dabbed his jumper dry. "Thank you dear." He continued softly.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked.

"Where?"

"London, grab my hand and hold your coffee tight." He said reaching out a hand and you took hold of it and you appeared in Holborn, London.

"I thought that wasn't possible in Hogwarts." You admitted.

"That's why we met in Hogsmeade dear, sorry about being late, there was a queue." He admitted showing you the coffee.

"I thought you may have changed your mind." You admitted.

"I was scared you wouldn't come." He admitted.

"Liar you got two cups of coffee." You pointed out.

"I had a feeling you'd show up, now dear, see today as my way of apologising to you. I have a small plan but if you want to do anything just tell me." He said and at that moment you turned the corner to the British Museum. "Have you been here before?" He asked.

"Maybe once or twice as a kid."

"Okay but have you ever had a magic tour of this place?" He questioned and you shook your head. "Great." Remus led you into the British museum, he looked quite excited and more young now than ever. "Now not everyone knows that many treasures in this building are actually artefacts from great magicians."

"So they stole from wizards too?" You asked and Remus laughed.

"They sure did, now not many people know how some of these great people used magic to help muggles and how some of this stuff is either cursed or enchanted." Remus continued as you walked through the beautiful foyer.

"But I'm sure you do." You said teasing him and he nodded.

"I'm not just a pretty face, unlike you I spent a lot of time in libraries."

"Are you saying I don't study? I spend a lot of time in my professors office."

"You spend a lot of time listening to music and distracting me while I try to mark work, dear." He shot back and you laughed. "Now as I was saying, I may not be a rich man or have much to offer but I have a lot of knowledge."

"You should be a teacher." You said with a wink.

"You should be a comedian. Now enough talking watch this." He said and then one of the Egyptian statues moved and stood up.

"Holy shit, are you allowed to do that?" You asked looking around.

"Don't worry no one will notice." He said

"What was that?" You asked.

"It's a Pharos tomb guard, they're enchanted to stand when an attacker approaches, they have a lot of ancient magic in here."

"So why didn't they do that when they were removed from the tomb?" You asked as you and Remus continued to walk and look at the different statues.

"They did, they did for a very long time, however when dark wizards realised there's money in helping archaeologists they helped lift curses or limit enchanted objects. Those guards were stopped from being the soldiers they were, the only thing left is the command to stand when you summon them." Remus explained, you were impressed by his knowledge. You walked through  the ancient Egyptian part for another few minutes before Remus took hold of your hand and hurried you to the Ancient Greek part. "This bits my favourite, sorry is it okay if I do that?" He asked gesturing to your hand.

"It's encouraged." You blushed.

"Tell me when I cross a line Y/N, we still need to talk about us but first I want to hold my part of the deal, showing you who I actually am."

"And who are you profesor?"

"A lonely bookworm with a furry problem and a teaching job to pay the bills."

"Don't forget the cottage." You winked making him laugh.

"Now these are the Parthenon marbles, the Parthenon was being used as a base to store ammunition by the Ottomans and some idiot messed up and blew up the whole thing."

"Some idiot is that the technical term profesor?" You poked him in the arm and he rolled his eyes. You found him very attractive when he was more casually dressed, with his jacket drooped over his arms and a warm sweater on.

"It is now." He replied. "Long story short some guy named Lord Elgin went to Greece and asked the Ottomans can I have this? And they said sure and he took it, as lords usually do. It's missing a lot of parts as they're back where they belong but a small part of me feels lucky to have them here as they tell a story. You see if you come over here you'll see the Centaur." He led you over to the far wall. "He tells a story of the battle between Centaurs and Lapiths at the marriage feast of Peirithoos. And if you do this even with it's missing parts you get to watch it." He lifted his wand and the marble moved. It began plaything the story throughout the panels as if they were alive just like the paintings in Hogwarts. "And if you think that is cool look behind you." You turned around and the main sculptures were all moving, they were missing parts but they felt human.

"That's incredible, show me more." You expressed with a big smile and Remus couldn't help but smile back. "Come on." He said putting one arm around you while his other arm still had his jacket drooped over it. And like that, he led you through the museum holding your waist and making your heart flutter at his actions and brain amazed at the world of knowledge he was sharing with you.

It was one of the few times you saw Remus truly happy as he immersed himself in history. It was beautiful to see him care free not putting himself down, not talking about his condition just being himself. As you walked out the museum hours later he still had a hand around your waist. "Now dear what would you like to do?"

"Should we go get some food?"

"What a wonderful idea, there's a great pub not too far from here, only thing I need to get some cash out as I'm low on muggle money." He explained.

"I can pay."

"I'm sure you can but you won't I'm taking you out on a date it's my treat." He said as he rushed in front of you to the cash machine. "Okay" he said looking at it. "Okay, okay." He continued looking for where to insert his card. "Just a moment." He said after inserting it and just starring at all the options on the screen. "Merlin." He whispered quietly while pressing random buttons.

"You do know how to use it?" You asked suggestively.

"Of course I do." He said but he was obviously struggling.

"Here let me help you." You stood alongside him pressing the buttons for him. "How much do you want to withdraw?"

"£20?" He said hesitantly.

"£20?" You confirmed.

"£50."

"£50 are you sure?" You asked in disbelief.

"I'm not good with this, I haven't been in a muggle pub in forever I don't know the prices these days. I'm sorry, get however much you think it'll cost for us to have food. This is so embarrassing." He admitted.

"£50 it is, Remus the muggle world is my world it's okay to ask for help, I literally didn't know you could aparate in Hogsmeade." You calmed him while you finished the transaction.

"Yeah that was silly, everyone knows-"

"You don't know how to use a cash machine Remus!" You interrupted.

"I'll shut up. Now off to the pub, thank you for your help." He took your hand and lead the way. The pub was quite busy but you expected it as it was lunchtime on a Saturday. It was nice to sit opposite Remus having a meal, flirting, chatting and being yourselves. You didn't feel anxious like you did sometimes on dates, you felt like you were hanging out with a friend that you had a crush on, he would make you blush a lot with his words but he was also clumsy and stumbled a lot, something you never saw in him at Hogwarts. He ordered fish and chips and knocked over the sauces with his hand, when he went to pick them up, he hit his head on the edge of the table, you found it all cute and amusing but he was obviously embarrassed. "Am I making you slowly think I'm an idiot?" He asked after the incident and you simply replied with. "Only a little bit, makes you less intimidating."

"Am I intimidating?" He asked.

"Not at all." You said and he shook his head while laughing. After you ate you decided to take a walk along the river at first you began to talk about meaningless stuff like how you missed the Christmas lights or how Remus enjoyed the fact you can find oyster shells and old pipes on the rivers edge from the Victorian era. However the conversation changed when Remus asked. "What do you see us as?"

"I don't know." You admitted a bit of anxiety started to grow inside you.

"I don't know either, but I think we need to set some ground rules."

"What do you suggest?"

"Defining what's okay, like for example I think if either of us is developing strong feelings like love for the other we should cut it off as we don't want to hurt each other and with our current position we can't be in a relationship and be student and teacher." He said his eyes moving all over the place but avoiding you and he used his hands to emphasise what he was saying.

"How come?"

"Well for starters we can't do this all the time, if I was in love I would like to offer that person all my love, I would like to take them on dates, I would like to walk around and hold their hand, I would like to bring them to see my friends and so on... we can't do that, it will hurt to love someone but not be able to live in public, I don't want to risk the pain for either of us." He explained and you nodded.

"So what can we do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to continue to relax in your office with you." You began and he nodded. "I want to be able to kiss you, I want to be myself with you, I want to smoke on the bridge with you and when no one is watching I want to be held by you."

"And we can do that we can just not love each other, and give each other a relationship that's the line."

"So we can see other people?" You questioned him and he looked puzzled.

"I would prefer not, I can't stop you but I may not feel comfortable with sleeping with you if you're kissing other men." He admitted.

"I'd prefer if you weren't kissing anyone else either... Can we do this sometimes?"

"Of course dear, however not as much as either of us would like to, maybe once a month or every so often not to raise suspicions."

"But I can come see you in your office every night?"

"My door is always open for you dear."

"Can I sleep in your office?"

"Where on the desk?" He remarked in a snarky way.

"Is that where you want to fuck me?" You matched his energy y.

"Well it's not for sleeping." He winked and the grabbed your hand."Enough serious conversations, let's just live a little before we have to worry about rules. Today, exists in a world of its own, what do you want to do?" He asked with a cheery tone.

"I mean checking out that desk sounds fun but maybe before that we should enjoy London."

"I'm already enjoying it right here." Remus said stopping and pulling you in closer, putting his arms around your waist. "I think I like London." He said looking at your lips.

"Oh really." You stood on your toes to get closer to him and he leaned down and kissed you lightly.

"Alright let's go I have an idea." He said once again grabbing your hand and leading the way. You walked into a small cosy record shop. You both started looking through the shelves showing each other records you thought the other would life and either replying with a "yes" or "not my style" once the yes like became tall enough you walked over to the record played and started listening to them, there was only one pair of headphones so you had to share, bringing in your heads close as you listened to the music. "Oh listen to that trumpet." You said listening to a Chet Baker vinyl. "Do you like it?"  Remus asked and you nodded. "This is one of my favourite songs, the earnest vocals, I fall in love too terribly fast, for it to ever last..." you began to sing along to the song and Remus smiled warmly at you, he couldn't help but kiss you on the cheek. "Let's buy it." He said.

"What Remus it's quite expensive?"

"That doesn't matter today dear." He said putting it back in the vinyl sleeve and taking it to the till. "Besides there's nothing more I want to do than lay in bed with you and listen to this here vinyl." He said while paying for the vinyl, he thanked the cashier a grumpy old man who didn't seem to care about your conversation. You continued to walk through London for a bit longer but it started to get colder and you both decided it was time to head home. "Okay, we need to aparate back separately as it may be busy with people at this time." He began. "You'll go first and I'll follow, I don't want to leave you alone back here, I'm sure you'll be okay but I don't want the stress." You nodded in reply. "Okay dear, once you are back it would be a good idea for you to go to your dorm or walk around somewhere far from my office, and in about thirty minutes from now come to my office and we can continue this evening." You nodded in reply and that's when he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll see you soon my dear." He said and you left. As you walked back to Hogwarts all the emotions rushed in, the excitement, the love you felt but shouldn't, the confusion from the conversation about not falling in love. You felt very overwhelmed but you also felt so many positive emotions that you couldn't wait to go visit Remus in his office. It was weird not being able to travel back with him after you were able to spent so long acting like a couple but it made sense you just wished it could be different. You walked back to your dorm room where Percy was sitting on the chair. "Hi Y/N." He said as he saw you coming in, you didn't reply. "Still giving me the silent treatment? You know I haven't done anything wrong all I wanted to do is spend time with my friend." He continued as you walked away.

"Our dear brother causing you trouble?" Fred asked as you walked past him.

"I'm going to hex him." You replied as your turned to the girls chambers.

"Be our guest." George said before you went into your chambers. It was good that Percy saw you, helps avoid his suspicions. You waited the thirty minutes before heading straight to Lupins office, just in case you checked if Percy followed you but he didn't so you were in the clear to go meet Remus. You walked through the corridors with a hint of excitement as you approached his office, you knocked on the door and Remus opened it almost immediately. "Hey you." He said with a smile letting you in and checking behind you if anyone was in the corridor, he closed the door and turned the lock before leading the way upstairs to his office where he also locked the door after you came in. "Hungry?" He asked as you sat down on the sofa.

"More peckish."

"Perfect, I have some cheeses here and some bread."

"How fancy." You pointed out looking at the small charcuterie board he prepared.

"Only the best for you." He said as he sat down beside you, a record he already had playing way playing in the background as you both sat their indulging into the different flavours. "Thank you for joining me today." Remus suddenly changed the subject.

"Thank you for showing me everything, and for the food and the vinyls, everything." You said a bit overwhelmed by his generosity.

"Come here." He gestured for you to come in closer, you lay on the sofa with your head on his crotch and he stroked your head lovingly, slowly playing with you hair. "I love how soft you hair is." He pointed out as he continued to stoke your hair. A few minutes later the vinyl playing finished and Remus gestured for you to sit up so he could change the music. "How about we try this one out dear." He said pulling out the new Chet Baker vinyl and your heart warmed. "Anything to drink? I've got a nice bottle of wine I've been thinking about opening."

"That sounds great."

"The music or the wine?" He clarified.

"Both."

"White or red dear?" He asked while opening a cabinet.

"What do you prefer? Maybe red?"

"Red it is." He pulled the bottle out and began to open it placing two glasses on the table in front of you and filling them up. "To wonderful day." He said raising his glass as he sat down. You rested your head against his shoulder as you sat in comfortable silence.

"You know moony, I prefer this when we're allowed to cuddle on the sofa and kiss sometimes." You broke the silence.

"Me too dear." He bought his hand up to your cheek and pecked your lips slightly before going back to the resting position. "I craved this every time you sat here and I sat at my desk aching to kiss you." He admitted. This was peace, you were in your safe place.

"Are you aching to kiss me now?" You asked quietly.

"Always." He whispered into your ear placing his glass down on the small table in front of you and then taking yours to do the same for you. He leaned in to kiss you, as the kiss depended you ended up laying on the sofa. He was above you his lips and your lips colliding as you both struggled to catch a breath. You felt him getting hard as he slowly moved his body up and down over you, you reached up for his shirt unbuttoning it and pushing it off his shoulders. "You're not wasting any time." He said between the kisses. His arms moved under your ass and he scooped you up in one movement so you were now straddling him, he pulled your shirt up and unclasped your bra as you began to grind on him making him harder and harder. He pulled away from your lips to suck on your nipples, the sensation made you moan in reply he grabbed your hair and pulled it down roughly making your head tilt back as he continued to worship your body. "Let's take this somewhere more comfortable." He said lifting you up and carrying you.

"You don't want to do it on your sofa?" You asked curiously.

"Oh I do, and my desk and every wall however today I will show you how you're meant to be loved not fucked." He said while pushing the door to his bedroom open and throwing you down on his bed. He unbuttoned your trousers and pulled them off along with your underwear, getting down on his knees and kissing your legs all the way up to your pussy. His hand reached up to your breasts where he started massaging them as his tongue flicked your clit making you moan. As he continued this movement with his tongue he moved his hand to slowly slip his fingers inside you pulling in and out while starting to alternate between sucking and licking. "Merlin you're either so wet or I'm drooling like a dog over how good you taste." He went straight back in and continued until you started begging for him as you felt yourself getting close. "Beg for me again." He growled as he moved to be just above you.

"Please." You barely whispered and he smashed his lips into yours, unbuckling his own trousers and taking them off while still keeping his lips on yours. You felt him thrust inside you leaving time for you to adjust, even though you remembered his size it shocked you how deep he filled you. "Are you okay dear?" He whispered checking in on you. "Mmhm." You confirm and he picked up the speed. He kissed you while going faster and started to slowly move his kisses down to your neck and breasts. You felt yourself get close as he ramped up the speed. "Cum for me dear, I want you to feel how good I make you feel." He said kissing his breath a bit. You couldn't hold it any longer and came which made him cum in you, you felt the warmth inside you as he slowed his pace and rested more of his body weight while moaning into your lips. He kissed you deeply once more before pulling out and laying down beside you. You were both panting as you lay there, Remus moved the covers and covered both of your bodies and kissed your forehead. "Good night dear." He whispered and you placed your head on his chest hugging him as his arm was around you. "Good night, Moony."

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

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[igotanidea]

Pool party : Dick grayson x reader

Request: by @pinkestfloyd - dick x female reader having a pool party at the wayne manor

***

It took weeks to convince Y/N to have a proper celebration of her birthday.

If it was up to her she would rather have some quiet event, like a nice dinner with her boyfriend, a movie and some cuddles and maybe something more.

But no……!

Dick Grayson, being the eldest son of the billionaire and head over heels in love with her just had to go overboard.

A pool party? She raised an eyebrow when he broke the news to her a couple weeks earlier “do you even know me Dick? Why the hell would I want a pool party?”

“Cause you never had any in your life obviously!” he grinned

“Do you see me mourning that terrible loss?”

“come on, baby…..” he cooed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling to him “it’s gonna be fun.. I promise! Scout’s word!”

“You were never in the scouts.”

“How about Robin’s word?” he keeps on convincing her, his tone playful

“Now that’s something I would never trust….” She snickers

“You’re breaking my heart here Y/N….” one of his hands leave her body as he puts it on his heart, faking going into a cardiac arrest. “Shall I wear my Nightwing costume to convince you?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I never knew Nightwing is a party goer…..”

“duh! Obviously! He’s the most popular hero in the city! Of course he’s a party animal!”

“I have one too many people who would argue with that.”

“Come on.....” he whines “Y/N….. pleaaaaaseeeeee?”

“It’s not working on me, you know?”

“I still got some time to the most important day of the year which is your b-day. I’ll keep working on it. Now can you beloved boyfriend have a kiss?”

***

Satisfying his words and being a stubborn pain in the ass for the next days Dick was quite literally popping out of nowhere to talk her into his crazy and irrational idea.

She broke when one day he grabbed her from behind when she was leaving shower, dragging her into the room, almost giving her a heart attack in the process. She was tired of those childish monkey tricks and fully aware he was not going give up until she said yes to that completely ridiculous idea of unnecessary pool party at the manor (that being the quote).

Thinking about her future with Dick she was kind of getting worried of what lengths he might go to, if it ever came to asking her to marry him…….

 But…

She said yes to the party and the look on Dick’s face at that moment almost made her blood freeze.

His face lit up, his eyes sparkled and he looked like a kid in a candy store. Clearly, the ideas and plans to make it the best party in her entire life clouded his logical thinking, cause when she tried to give him a single suggestion about it, he hushed her and rushed off the room, muttering some omniscient words about attractions, catering and  flamingos(!).

Shit……

***

And that’s how she found herself here.

Here being the guest room in the manor, in front of the mirror, hesitant to do as much as peek out, let alone enjoy her own birthday party.

Everything seemed perfect. Unlike any other day in Gotham the sun was shining, no one fought anyone and even Jason and Bruce decided to let go of their unresolved conflict and bitter attitude (which made her wonder what was thing Dick threatened them with and explained the screaming she heard one day – something about no fucking fighting!).

Yes. Everything seemed perfect.

Everything except her – the woman of the hour.

And the more she stared at herself in the mirror, the more stressed she got. For no reason in particular.

“Y/n?” Dick peeked inside the room, grinning “What’s taking you so long? Everyone’s waiting.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming….” She muttered looking like a cloud storm

“Oh, no….” Dick grabbed her wrist spinning her around and putting a finger under her chin forcing her gaze up “not with that attitude. Come on…. Cheer up…. You act so much like Jason….. I promised you fun and I intend to keep that promise. Trust me?”

“You’re asking awfully a lot, Dick.” She rolls her eyes. “should know better but yeah, I do trust you.” Her hand instinctively found a way to his cheek, caressing it gently “I’m sorry I;ve been a pain about it…..”

“I forgive you, now come on, let’s party!”

“Yay…..”

The second he led her outside, her moody attitude was gone in a second, replaced by the feeling of utter shock.

Positive shock.

Contrary to her worries, Dick did not invite the whole Justice League members, Titans and whoever else. Instead, the only guests were the closest member of the Batfamily, Alfred and Bruce obviously included. And seeing them just like that – chilling and carefree from the crime fighting , even if only for a while, made her happy that she agreed to all that. For her and for their sake’s.

Stephanie, Barbara and Cass were sunbathing by the pool, laughing and talking, Damian was floating on the water on the pool  inflatable in the shape of avocado and Tim was cussing quietly at the Bluetooth loudspeaker that refused to work properly. Even Jason seemed almost happy taking care of the food and the grill, wearing his famous kiss the cook apron. Bruce and Alfred were almost in a holiday mood, casually sipping drinks and keeping an eye on everyone.

Even Titus and Alfred the cat seemed to join the party.

“Is …. Is that a slide there?” Y/N asked, completely shocked at all the decorations, balloons and attractions. And lack of flamingos, luckily.

“Of course it is! Did you really think I would do anything you don’t like?” Dick grinned “Come on, sunshine, I know my own girlfriend and it’s your day after all! HEY PEOPLE!” he yelled getting the attention of the entire family “THE BIRTHDAY GIRL IS HERE!”

“Oh, for fuck’s….” Tim mutters, kicking the stereo in a poor attempt to finally make it work. And to everyone’s surprise it actually did and the party music played from the speaker.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Stephanie in her purple swimming suit came running and hugging her friend and everyone followed. It took way too much time for Dick’s liking and getting impatient he just swept his girlfriend out of her feet, picked her up bridal style and screaming cannonball! Jumped into the pool with Y/N in his arms causing a little tsunami, that almost flooded Jason grill.

“Dick! I’m all wet!” Y/N yelled breaking into the surface, brushing her hair out of face.

“It’s a pool party! What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, music, drinks and sprawling on the lawn chair?”

“Not on my watch, baby. I’ll make sure to give you more entertainment than that.” He smirked

And just like that, with her favourite music playing and her favourite people around she finally got herself into a party mood, realising that it was in fact her day.

***

A few hours later, all his siblings, Bruce and Alfred left, leaving Y/N and Dick to have some alone time. It was quite hard with everyone running around, laughing, bantering and sliding on the slide. A lot was happening and only now they got a chance to enjoy each other in quiet.

Y/N was laying on the inflatable, facing the sky and Dick was sitting on the edge of the pool watching her.

“Thanks for this dick…” she mutters sitting so she could face him. I really did have fun.”

“Told ya!” he grinned, slipping into the water and getting closer to her. “I know better what you may need, baby. Gotta believe me more.”

“Yeah….not gonna happen you big kid…”

“Big kid huh?” she scoffed “If you say so…” without hesitation he grabbed some water into his hands and splashed it all over her.

“Hey!”  she laughed and shook “not fair, Grayson! This is a literal attack on me!” she kicked her feet trying to get her revenge without leaving her place. “Take that!”

“You’re just so cute when you’re trying to threaten me, Y/N.”

“don’t come any closer to me, you shark!” she laughed seeing him swim closer to her and leaning on her mattress, eyeing her with loving gaze.

“I’m not a shark…. I’m trying to do some Titanic impression here.” He joked referring to the position her was in. His bottom half in the water, his upper half above it, with Y/N floating on the water.”

“not a funny reference Dick. You know how Leo DiCaprio ended there right?”

“Well, I am hoping for a different outcome.”

“And what may that…..?’

She didn’t get to finish the sentence when Dick jumped out of the water pecking her lips, grabbing her waist and dragged her underwater, pulling close without breaking the contact even for a moment. The speed and agility of this gesture immediately washed away all of her anger and she kissed him back, her own hands finding a way to his shoulder and neck, not wanting the kiss to end. This time, it turned out it was dick who had to have common sense when after a few seconds he pulled her up.

“That was what I was hoping for.” He grinned leaning his forehead on his.

“You were the one to stop…..” she pointed out

“not even close to stopping….Just couldn’t risk you suffocating there….”

“How ironic would it be if I suffocate to death on my birthday…”

“And that reminds me…. I didn’t give you your present….” He murmured, grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his waist under water “thank god, my family finally left us alone…..” and with those words he leaned forward capturing her lips in his, smiling and showing her how happy those birthday were about to become.   

[theamityelf]

"Be still, don't move" + Makoto/Nagito

(Okay, I leaned pretty wholesome for the Kamuegi one, and I already have a hunch that this one is taking my brain in another direction, lol. If someone wants wholesome Komaegi, all you have to do is ask!)

...

Makoto woke to the sound of someone humming.

His whole body was sore– a soreness only interrupted by a few distinct points of sharp pain –but he could feel that he was in a pretty comfortable bed. As he worked his eyes open, he had to fight against the interference of crusted tears that seemed to momentarily cement them shut. Which told him that he'd been asleep for longer than normal.

"Ah. I thought my terrible singing might wake you up. Sorry about that."

He focused his gaze on the face hovering nearby. He felt the vague, niggling familiarity that meant he was supposed to remember that face. He'd recovered a lot of his school memories, with the Future Foundation's help, but some things took longer to come back than others. And surviving a helicopter crash didn't help.

Wait! The helicopter!

"I was just very excited to get to tend to your wounds, is all," the stranger (or non-stranger) continued. His tangled, white hair stuck out in so many directions, it seemed to defy gravity; a ratty, striped shirt hung loose on his narrow frame; and a peculiar radiance in his eyes spoke to an excitement that was triumphing soundly over a deep physical exhaustion. "Of course, for your sake, I wish you had someone a lot more competent to assist you. But for my own, well...I am of course more than glad to serve you any way I can." A pink flush filled his cheeks as he offered up a strangely enthusiastic smile.

Makoto shook his head, baffled beyond words. "Serve me? Where are we? Where's...?" He shut his eyes for a moment, focusing. "I was in a helicopter. The...The city was under attack, and my sister...My friends..."

"Wow! You're so selfless, for someone who broke his leg in a helicopter crash."

He noticed, then, that his knee had been crudely bandaged into a thick makeshift cast. "Broke my leg?"

"Well, I'm no doctor, so I suppose you can take my words with a few grains of salt. It might not be exactly broken, but...I wouldn't recommend trying to walk on it."

Oh, that was never in question.

"It's funny. Your sister isn't nearly this injured. Did you try to shield her with your body, or...are you just that unlucky?" He seemed to delight in the question.

"You saw my sister?! Where is she?"

The delighted expression sobered into an apologetic smile. "I’m sorry to say that she isn’t here. She was made a prisoner of the Warriors of Hope. Ah, sorry! I shouldn't use such an inapt title in front of you, of all people. But I was able to hide you away from them. Fortunately, this house’s previous owners no longer have need of it. Very lucky for us, don’t you think?"

The second reference to luck stirred something in Makoto's mind. A name was trying to rise to the surface, very slowly...But he couldn't focus on that right now. "Who are the Warriors of Hope? What do you mean, my sister is their prisoner? And...are we still in Towa City? How long was I asleep?" His voice cracked as it became too painful to support it; it felt like he might have at least one bruised rib.

The non-stranger laid a pacifying hand on him, smiling besottedly. "There's no need to strain yourself. The world's savior has more than earned a nice, comfy spectator seat for this round. It's someone else's responsibility to prove hope supreme, right now. It would be far too easy for you. Not worth your time."

"But you said my sister is someone's prisoner!" Makoto tried to sit up, but the pacifying hand turned restraining, guiding him back down to the bed. He couldn't try again; the pain that had flared in his ribs would have grounded him if the hand hadn't.

"Be still; don't move. Ahh, the pull to heroism that emanates from you...It's a good thing I'm here to serve you, or who knows what you'd get into. Haha, just imagining it almost makes me feel faint..." One of his hands grasped his opposite arm, whereas the other remained in his lap. The latter was covered by a thick-looking mitten. (It reminded Makoto of Mukuro's tattoo and Kyoko's scars.) He looked giddy, exultant, and it didn't make sense. It didn't go with the horrible things he'd said. Something was seriously wrong here!

A part of a memory came into focus. A part of a name. "Ko...Ko-something..."

The non-stranger froze, suddenly looking almost fearful.

"Isn't that your name?" Makoto asked. "I'm sorry, I still have trouble remembering some things..."

Kyoko and Byakuya both had warned against being too open about what he did and didn't remember. They said that telling anyone how unreliable the recovered memory sometimes was, risked informing enemies that they could pretend to be friends. He knew that he should be more careful, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this person was a friend, or close to a friend. Maybe...a fond acquaintance?

But the look of alarm on his face seemed to mean Makoto had made some kind of mistake. "There's no need to remember me! I'm nobody. I don't deserve to be named by someone as incredible as you. Oh, I certainly hope you haven't been wasting your mental energy on something so pointless. I wouldn't forgive myself!"

"Hey, it's okay," Makoto said. "Please, I just-" He winced. Yeah, too much talking for his poor ribs. "Just need you to explain," he whispered, "what's going on here. The city, my sister..."

Ko-something's face softened at the first sign of pain. He dabbed the sweat from Makoto's face with a cold rag, smiling dreamily all the while. "Poor hope. As I said, you're not allowed to be the hero for this round. Your sister is alive. The city is...well, it's certainly not thriving any longer, but it's not entirely defenseless, either. And you are perfectly safe here. I will use my every breath to ensure that, especially."

Makoto wanted to say something, but the throbbing in his ribs forced him to just focus on breathing, for now. There were so many things he needed to follow up on, with this person he had definitely known before. Why was there a chain around his neck? Why did he seem to know everything that was happening? What was happening? Where did he know him from? Was it from Hope's Peak? What did he mean when he said he didn't deserve to be named? And what did he mean by all that servant stuff? Why had he saved Makoto and not Komaru, if they had been in the same crash? If it was just Ko-something alone, it probably would have been impossible for him to carry two people at once...Most likely, he'd carried Makoto first, because he was so injured, and then he'd gone back for Komaru and found she'd been abducted by those Warriors of Hope people. That made sense, right?

And he still hadn't gotten an explanation about the Warriors of Hope. The name sounded friendly, but the assertion that they were keeping Komaru prisoner definitely didn't. Ko-something had said the title was inapt.

There was so much going on, and breathing hurt.

"My friends," he said weakly.

"They're both alive, too," Ko-something assured him sweetly. "Everyone is alright. They all have their parts to play. And you" (He wiped the cool rag over Makoto's lips, even though there definitely wasn't any sweat there. He did sometimes drool in his sleep; maybe some of that had dried on him?) "just have to enjoy your vacation. Consider me entirely at your disposal to make your stay here more comfortable. Unfortunately, I can't always be at your side; I do have another job. But I'll give you a way to call me, and I promise you I will always rush right over. Nothing over there is more important to me than you. Oh! And you can call me Servant." That smile seemed...really genuine.

Komaeda. That was his name. Komaeda. And...he was from Hope's Peak. Another class. Another...

"You're like me," Makoto realized. "Ultimate Lucky Student."

Komaeda's smile tensed into a rictus of...what looked bizarrely like shame? "You can call me Servant," he reiterated, almost desperately. "Or whatever else you'd like to call me. I can understand if you don't think someone as unworthy as me should be allowed to be called a servant to the Ultimate Hope himself."

"This is wrong....I...I just-"

"I'm privileged to be under the sound of your voice, but I think you should hold off on talking much right now. It's clearly taking a toll, and I wouldn't be a very good servant if I let you puncture a lung." He presented a bottle of medicine and poured a bit of it into the cap. Makoto noticed he held the bottle between his knees to open it, rather than using both hands; his covered hand still lay in his lap. But he did use that hand to hold the cap steady while he poured into it. "This should help with the pain and help you to get some real sleep. Here."

As Komaeda brought the medicine to Makoto's lips, he could just hear what Byakuya, Toko, or Hiro would say about accepting medicine from someone so suspicious. But...he was already at Komaeda's mercy in every other way. He couldn't move, couldn't leave. His hacking gun was nowhere to be seen, and he had no way of calling for help, at least for now. If Komaeda wanted to hurt him, why would he have gone to the trouble of bandaging him and...?

After only a moment's hesitation, Makoto parted his lips and took the medicine.

Komaeda's pupils dilated slightly. "Thank you for your trust," he breathed, maybe more exultantly than Makoto would have liked. "I swear, for all my filthy word is worth, that you will not regret it. I'll guard you with my worthless life, I'll keep you abreast of all the good news, I'll attend to your every need until my final breath. Of course, I mean, until the battle is won. Of course, I will return you to your friends once the danger has passed. Yes, of course."

The tone Komaeda used when he said "of course" reminded Makoto of the many times Komaru had dismissively said that she'd get to something "later" and then inevitably forgot.

"Komaeda?" he tried to say, but he found that his speech slurred on the way out. He blinked and found that his eyelids were heavy.

"Shhh," the upperclassman shushed him, with adoration in his eyes that didn't match the friendly but casual rapport Makoto remembered from school. "Don't fight it. As I said, my hope deserves a good rest. I'll be back with your dinner by the time you wake up. I'll...try to have something that's worth eating, heheh."

[pinksparkl]

Spoilers for 3 Times Vincent Couldn't Say How He Felt, And 1 Time He Did

This audio is so beautiful, I'm gonna cry!

In fact, I did cry a little bit 🥹

A return of "little one"? 🥰 oh, be still, my beating heart~~

The fact that Vincent was >thisclose< to saying something along the lines of "I love you" or "I want to stay here with you" after only meeting them three times is insane, and I love it. Though it does add a new intensity of how Vincent was feeling throughout the roommates-stage. He knows what he's feeling could be seen as too much, too fast, so he has to slow it down and hide it all under the flirty persona he's perfected over the last 2 decades. (I'm not crying, you are!) BUT Lovely can already see through the act a bit, questioning what he wants before he left 🥹😭

ALSO! (Because I'm an idiot, and it was 3am when I first wrote this) that 👆 happened after Vincent first bites Lovely and explains what magic is, and BEFORE Adam kidnaps them. ADAM HEARD ALL OF THIS, this was the cutesy stuff he was making fun of. This was the most adorable scene ever and now it has an angsty aftertaste.

The way Vincent mentions the Wards and Protection spells, and how Lovely thanks him like this is a normal everyday occurrence in their life now is so sweet, But We Know What Happened Next 🥺😭

Wow, Vincent being the one to call the meeting between Lovely and William really changes things. This wasn't a meeting of a King and the partner of his progeny, or even a King and the victim of a heinous crime perpetrated by someone under his rule, this was a meeting of a man and his son's partner.

"They’re… I mean, they’re my forever person, you know? They should meet my Maker." Excuse me while I sob forever at how adorable this is. The two most important people in his life meeting is obviously a highly stressful, but very important moment for him. Lol at Sam being less than unhelpful though 😂

That Inverson scene though?? Stabbing me would honestly hurt less.

Lovely being the one to bring up the possibility that they (they themself, or everyone in general, I'm not sure... 🥺) might not survive this and Vincent trying desperately to stay positive in the face of The Worst Disaster Ever? 😭 And knowing what happened next... Damn, Erik... did you make a deal with a Misery demon this week?

And the final scene? Their hope for the future despite all the terrible things they've been through? "I can’t lie to you, Lovely. I couldn’t say it if I didn’t really believe it. I do." 😭💕 It really gives me hope for their next chapter, the next stage of their story, wherever it takes them.

Moments like these that remind me that Vincent is still human inside, unsure of how to express his emotions due to his inexperience with doing so. He was 20 when he was Turned, and then all but isolated for a number of years after that, partially through his own choice, then he made the decision that to be a good vamp he had to close off his emotions (some of the Solaires are bad role models...). Through the four years he's been with Lovely, he's learned so much about himself and how to let himself just be... Vincent, as dorky and stupid as he wants to be without feeling like he needs to put on a flirty mask 24/7.

[ericityyy]

I want tender fluffy Georgie + Reader but I’m aromantic is it okay if I’m able to ask for Georgie and a fem Reader of color taking care of baby CeeCee Cooper at the Laundromat while Mandy is working? Where they meet and she is able to help him when he is still adjusting to the new routine and they bond?

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩?

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘐𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘥.

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 656

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Baby girl, can you please stop crying for Daddy?” Georgie looked at his daughter, begging for the crying and whining to stop. His long sighs and messy hair show how terrible everything is going. He tried to feed her, change her diaper, and sing her to sleep, but she still wouldn’t stop crying.

And it’s taking a toll on Georgie.

The sound of the door opening took his attention away from the child, finally noticing his guardian angel sent to him by God. Or that’s what he thinks after seeing Y/N’s figure and noticing her newly braided hair and golden brown skin that glowed under the sun. Georgie could swear that he could see a halo around her head.

“What in the world is going on here, Georgie?” Y/N took a few steps closer to the situation at hand. The girl looked at the boy and the child back and forth, trying to assess what to do but mainly judging the exhausted look on Georgie's face.

“I don’t know what to do; she’s been like this for like 20 minutes, and I don’t know what she wants. Mary has her work, and she trusted me to handle things responsibly, and now I’m failing everything all at once.” Georgie picked up CeeCee and tried to sway around while shushing her, but she still wouldn’t stop crying, “I’m a bad father.” He set down the baby before sitting down on a nearby chair, rubbing his face together, keeping his head down as he listened to the cries of his daughter.

Y/N slowly picked up CeeCee and gently swayed her while patting her back, humming softly. Georgie looked up when he heard the cries starting to soften into sniffles and hiccups.

“See? I can’t even make my own daughter stop crying.”

“That does not make you a failure of a dad, Georgie.” Y/N smiled at her friend. She knows that Georgie needs some reassurance at times when he finds himself trying to please those around him with his charms and his love for business. The girl gave CeeCee back to Georgie’s arms, who, although a bit reluctant, took his daughter back. He was afraid that she might start crying again.

“All of this is new to you and Mary. There’s no handbook on how to be the perfect parent for CeeCee. Just be as present as you can be in her life.” Y/N put her hand gently on Georgie’s cheek. “You’re a good person and a great father. No one said that this was going to be easy. Know that I will always be here to help you guys out.”

Georgie smiled for the first time that day. Y/N has always been the one to comfort him in his darkest days or when he needs a helping hand to climb up. “Thank you… so much for being here with me.” He then started to joke, “Y’know, you’d be a great mother one day.” It’s not really a joke; he knows that if the girl decides to have a child in the near future, she would be the best parent.

"Oh, please, I’d be an awesome parent.” Y/N then dramatically sighs, “Alas, I still don’t know if I want children for myself, though; I always knew that I’d be this rich, cool aunt who everyone loves and adores.”

“You are cool, and you are CeeCee’s aunt, so two steps closer to your dream. And people do love you, of course, including me.”

Y/N laughs wholeheartedly. Georgie knows that Y/N has experienced more than one heartbreak in her life. Mostly from those people that she meets who claim to “love” her, but once hearing her side, immediately turn against her. It was hard watching his best friend be hurt by those who did not understand her. So it was a good sight to see her so happy.

“I love you too, Georgie.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

i hope this is good, not entirely happy with this one tbh.

i tried to make the reader hint out about her being an aromantic and a person with color. please let me know if it needs some changes to improve the writing. i genuinely do not want to offend anyone with what i write so i make changes as soon as possible if ever it needs to be changed. (and please do so in a respectful way)

thank you.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@bellaisswagger

[doonarose]

The first one that’s right.

(Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale kissing and romance fic)

Rating: PG/T

Rationale: I’m still processing Season 2 (loved it, no complaints), but we know Aziraphale and Crowley will come out of Season 3 talking to each other properly, and acknowledging, out loud, that they love each other, and actually planning for a future together. And that’s a delicious setting to play in while I figure out how the hell they get there. So, that future, begs the following fic…

Summary: Aziraphale would like to try the thing they did with their mouths that night it all blew up and no, he does not mean, speaking.

Count: 2500ish

“Crowley, you remember when I went to heaven to do The Second Coming?”

Crowley really cannot believe Aziraphale just casually asked him that.

Aziraphale continues quickly, “Right before I left, when we spoke…” he pauses.

When we spoke! Crowley’s mouth has fallen open, his brow furrowed incredulously, a reaction that seems entirely restrained in the face of such audacity. He wills Aziraphale to drop it, eyes flashing a warning as he steps a little closer, crowding into Aziraphale’s space.

Aziraphale manages to clasp his hands together in the gap between them, fidgeting as his gaze shifts to focus on the floor off to the side. It’s a drizzly Wednesday afternoon in the bookshop, completely innocuous, except Aziraphale has chosen today to trap Crowley in a doorway, stand squarely, infuriatingly, in front of him, and ask him if he remembers that day and that conversation.

“Yes, right, when we spoke, that day,” he continues as though Crowley actually had said he remembered. “Well, I think I would like to try that again.”

“Speaking?” Crowley manages to squeeze an extra syllable into the word. It’s absurd but the alternative is that Aziraphale wants to try the second coming again and that’s just not possible. “You’d like to try speaking again. We speak all the time now, Angel, I hardly think we need to do it more.” That’s true, they are much better at speaking now, at talking to each other and listening. They’re getting better, but that doesn’t mean Crowley wants to talk about that.

“No!” Realization dawns on Aziraphale’s face, “Oh, no!” his eyes going wide and his cheeks flushing pink, “Oh, goodness, no, not that. Of course not, I wouldn’t – I’m sorry – ” He grabs Crowley at the top of his arms and squeezes. He takes a deep breath, something Crowley thinks Nina might have taught him. “I love you.” It recenters both of them, lightens the air in the room, and Crowley feels his heartbeat slow and settle, his fight or flight response thwarted with those three simple words of assurance. He rolls his eyes and shrugs Aziraphale’s hands off his arms, the dismissiveness more out of muscle memory than anything else, but the corner of his lips also twitches up. He knows Aziraphale knows he doesn’t always say it back and that’s okay.

Aziraphale’s hands, now hanging unoccupied at his sides, flex sporadically. “Actually, I meant the other thing… with your mouth.”

Oh. Oh. After too long a beat, Crowley manages to say it out loud, “Oh.”

“Only if you wanted to,” Aziraphale rushes. “Obviously only if you wanted to. And we could stop if you didn’t like it and never talk about it again. I just thought we should try it since we’re kind of, well we’re together now and that’s what you do – it’s what lots of people, humans, do, anyway – and the other time was terrible but that wasn’t our fault and –”

“Terrible?!” Crowley squawks, cutting him off.

“Well, no, not terrible, sorry, oh gosh I’m making a mess of this. Humans make relationships look so easy.” Aziraphale whines, covering his face with both hands and blushing pink beneath them.

Crowley has, of course, thought about kissing Aziraphale, sometimes entirely by accident, but, more often than not, very much, quite on purpose. Somehow, it has never occurred to him that it is something Aziraphale might have thought about, too, and after that one, indeed quite doomed attempt, it is taking him quite a long time to process the proposition. What hadn’t Aziraphale just come and kissed him?

Aziraphale continues to blather: “Can we please just pretend I never said anything. We’re doing so nicely now, we’re both much happier, and I shouldn’t have brought all that up again.”

That sinking, bottomless pit feeling in Crowley’s stomach appears. The threat of losing something he never quite had, a feeling he’s unfairly intimate with but learning how to process and to shrug off as not automatically inevitable. And it’s not the world, or Aziraphale, or his freedom that is about to be snatched away. Just a kiss. Angels, certainly demons, aren’t even meant to kiss – definitely not the way he wants to kiss Aziraphale. That’s the domain of humans and all their weird humanity, smushing their wet food/talk/breath holes together as though it’s some sort of fun. What is that even about? Surely one of God’s more bizarre pranks.

Oh, but he really, really wants to. The pang of potential loss makes his stomach twist and his fingertips itch to grab and hold fast and try to kiss all the doubt out of Aziraphale.

But that didn’t go so well last time.

He’s learning, though. “Hang on a minute,” he says, sounding less calm than he’d intended.

Aziraphale fidgets and shakes his head, pouting and tutting because Crowley’s already been standing there, processing, for too long.

“Was it really that terrible?” What Crowley wanted to say was something like ‘Yes please, let’s try it, don’t worry, it’s going to be great!’

“No!” Aziraphale sighs, and tries it more gently, “No, it just wasn’t… I mean everything around it was terrible, wasn’t it?” Crowley’s eyes narrow and an eyebrow arches. “Well, no, I mean, what you said was… lovely… illuminating… It was everything I wanted to hear even if I didn’t know it. But it wasn’t the right time and I didn’t expect you – well, you, I didn’t expect… It was a surprise, when you kissed me, and it wasn’t terrible but I think we can both agree it wasn’t exactly… good.” Aziraphale goes still, bracing for the impact of more argument or indignation or having to backtrack again.

Crowley says nothing, just watches him, for another too-long moment. “So, you want to try again?”

Aziraphale can’t help but break into a proper smile at the infinitesimal, possible progress: ever the optimist. “Yes! That’s all, and as I said, if it’s awful or you don’t like it, of course, we never have to do it again. I just thought it made sense to ask, to try... well to ask to try. But if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, just say the word and – ”

“I want to.”

“Oh. Okay…Good.”

Crowley keeps count as the seconds pass. He makes it to twelve before he absolutely has to say something. “Ready when you are, Angel.” He swallows because that felt brave in the face of how fast he can feel his heart thumping, how stupidly vulnerable and nervous this is making him feel.

But then he sees Aziraphale’s gaze snap up to meet his, eyes going comically wide, and Crowley realizes Aziraphale’s been staring at his mouth those whole twelve seconds. It makes him even braver, the nerves and the vulnerability still there, but something playful and teasing, their natural rhythm, working its way into the moment.

Aziraphale starts to nod, building resolve even as his eyes slip back to down to Crowley’s lips which Crowley licks and purses before he can stop himself. Aziraphale swallows heavily and checks, “Here? And… and now?”

“I can meet you somewhere else later, if you’d prefer,” Crowley teases some more.

Huffing, Aziraphale flexes his shoulders back once and then grasps Crowley by the upper arms. He hesitates a second longer and then he’s pulling Crowley into him, angling his face to meet Crowley’s lips in a firm, warm press.

It is not dissimilar to the one other time they did this, albeit without all the drama, trauma and world-destroying stakes. Instead, it’s just them, wilfully, openly in love, mouth to mouth in a doorway in the bookshop. Trying kissing.

Aziraphale smells good, better than expected this close, more earthy, more like skin, and his lips are unbelievably soft. Crowley thinks he can taste the remnants of an Earl Grey tea with two sugars and perhaps a scone. He wonders what Aziraphale is thinking and then he realizes he should really, probably shut his eyes, and so he does. He tries to relax into the tight grip around his biceps, leaning into the unconventional embrace instead of just being held there.

This is so weird.

They’re not moving. Crowley’s pretty sure they’re meant to be moving, not just pressing. He realizes with a start that Aziraphale isn’t breathing at all and opens his eyes to check he’s okay and again, it’s just blurry tanned skin splashed with pink, dark splayed eyelashes that he could count if he wanted to because at least Aziraphale got the memo about closing his eyes. The view is strangely captivating even as the static and uncertain press of their mouths is beginning to border on too weird.  And Crowley’s not breathing either and then suddenly he’s breathless.

They break apart on seemingly mutual terms and both take a step back rendering a larger than expected distance between them. Crowley makes a conscious effort to breathe and Aziraphale’s eyes flutter open beautifully.

Crowley won’t say out loud what he’s thinking, he’s not sure he could articulate it very well and it would certainly feature the words ‘weird’ and ‘unexpected’ and ‘woops’. None of which he thinks will be conducive to ever getting to try that again.

But it’s written across Aziraphale’s face, the mirrored consternation that that wasn’t what it was meant to be, it wasn’t like in the books, or the movies, or even a little bit what they imagined. Crowley starts concocting a plan with multiple steps, subterfuge, and, in all likelihood, weather.

Aziraphale licks his lips, takes two determined steps forward and lifts both hands to Crowley’s face, gently holding him there with his palms spread across his cheeks, fingers dipping easily into his hair. He takes only a moment to run both thumbs from the centre of Crowley’s lips out, tracing the crease, tugging ever so gently on his bottom lip, and then across the arch of each cheek. He shifts one hand, sliding it around the back of Crowley’s neck, his thumb pressed to the corner of Crowley’s jaw, and then he pulls him down, rising onto his toes just a little to meet him, to press their lips together again.

Crowley’s eyes fall shut instinctively this time and a small sigh of relief escapes against Aziraphale’s lips. They’re still just pressing together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, but he’s alive and responding – giving and taking – with him and against him. Aziraphale’s fingers dance across his cheek bone, his other palm warm and secure against the back of Crowley’s neck; Aziraphale’s mouth pressing and pursing against Crowley’s mouth like he plans to try every possible angle and sample each square millimetre. Shifting from bottom lip to top, then back again before drawing the lightest friction of lips on lips as he shifts to kiss at the corner of Crowley’s mouth. Back again and again and again.

Crowley’s hands move to Aziraphale’s sides, grasping the material of his jacket but it isn’t enough of an anchor. They slide to the small of his back, again grabbing fistfuls of the soft material, drawing him in, closer, warmer, dearer, safer, snug.

And this is what proper kissing is like.

Arms slipping further, tighter still, Crowley encompasses him as much as he can, an arm snaking up Aziraphale’s back to rest one hand heavy and petting between his shoulder blades, while the other arm wraps around his waist, fingers finding purchase in the material once more. His lips meet Aziraphale’s in each soft, exploratory press even as his breath comes quicker and not quite enough. He ignores the need to breathe and plan and hope, and instead focuses on everywhere they’re touching and the contented thrum of everything feeling right that settles deep within his chest.

When Aziraphale pulls back it’s only the necessary millimetres to switch their angle and feel the press of Crowley’s nose into his opposite cheek, but even that withdrawal, already over before its reacted to, pulls a tiny, forlorn whimper from Crowley that he’s not able to swallow. And that makes Aziraphale giggle. Right up against Crowley’s lips, a hot puff of air and laughter that Aziraphale immediately tries to stop.

Except Crowley knows, immediately, that he will do anything and everything in his power to make Aziraphale do that again, even if it involves making very undemonic, needy, whiney noises. The thought makes him smile, lips stretching against Aziraphale’s, and the kiss ends far more easily than it began.

They don’t pull apart; their eyes don’t open. Aziraphale’s hands drop and slip easily into Crowley’s blazer and back around his waist. His head tucks up against Crowley’s chest and cheek, finding a perfect spot there, just the right height, to nestle. Crowley entertains his instincts and nuzzles into the white curls at Aziraphale’s temple. He presses a firm kiss there because he can’t help himself.

Crowley wonders how long they’ll be able to hold this perfect moment, to stand here, barely breathing, in such bliss. He wonders why on Earth pressing their mouths together – kissing – feels like that. He wonders when they’ll do it again, how often, how many times, for how long. Will it ever be this good again? What if it gets even better? What else might Aziraphale deign to try of kisses and romance and human love? He wonders what Aziraphale is wondering.

Aziraphale takes a long, loud breath against his clavicle and then blows it out, Crowley can feel him smiling. “We,” Aziraphale says, “Are definitely doing that again.”

Crowley’s contented, happy sigh borders on a shudder but he manages a simple, casual, “Of course, Angel,” into Aziraphale’s hair.

Aziraphale hums his happiness and starts pulling back from the embrace far too soon for Crowley’s liking. When he steps back, though, it’s a thing to behold: his lips and cheeks flushed pink, blue eyes shining and his always mussed hair somehow still conveying that, yes, indeed, he’d just been kissed.

“Fancy a spot of tea?” Aziraphale asks more out of habit than expectation, as he smooths down his waistcoat and straightens his bowtie.  

Surprising even himself, Crowley responds, “Yes, I rather do.”

***

Now with a follow up companion piece (and likely to become a short series of their early kisses): The second one that's quite rubbish And also on AO3!

A/N: I wrote a thing?! It’s an extremely sappy thing by my standards (kind of) but certainly what they deserved. I’m waiting on my AO3 account since that seems the way to do things these days. I haven’t written fic in over eight years and I am still finding character and voice with these two so feedback or discussions very welcome! This is just the first part of at least eight, each delving into a subsequent kiss because, clearly, I am a total sappy sap. And then also a potential (unlikely) opus to try to bridge Season 2 to this blissful future.

A/N2: So I posted this pretty much exactly a month ago and since then I've written... over 30K words that follows on from this beginning and you can go and read all of it here as well as two 8k stand alones that just jump to the good (explicit) bit.

[driftward]

Log entries 141-407

Log Entries 141-200

Summary rollup. Madam Commander is fine. Training continues. Scout had some wise words. I guess.

Log Entries 201-250

Summary rollup. Madam Commander is fine. Future planning logged.

Log Entries 251-300

Summary rollup. Madam Commander is fine. I am not fine.

Log Entries 301-350

Summary rollup. Madam Commander is not fine. Why do I keep summarizing she is fine she is not fine her aether is still flat why did I mention I was not fine I am FINE my aether is just weird and fat and I still can’t risk doing anything

Log Entries 351-372

Summary rollup.

Bluh. I have been feeling bluh.

The Madam Commander’s friends have begun to be rather insistent on the details of her … courting.

Not sure how I feel about this. The fiasco with the Chirurgeon was not that long ago.

But there is something interesting happening here, and dammit, I want in on it.

Log Entry 373-388

Forget the summary SHE DID IT THEY DID IT THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY EXISTENCE

Log Entries 389-400

Okay summary rollup Right. Yes. The Madam Commander is, actually, fine. Despite her condition. Her friends will take care of her. The Madam Archon is practically bonded to her. She’ll be fine.

Okay now it can be about me.

I am going to place a deeply dissatisfied noise here.

Hnfh.

What can I do, though?

~*~

Apple slowly blinked her way back to full consciousness.

She was in the infirmary.

She rubbed her eyes, yawning, her thoughts slow and syrupy. And then she heard a voice next to her.

“I think you stole my bed,” said a clear, calm voice with almost a musical lilt to it.

Startled, Apple shot up, and looked over to see Zoissette’s warm, comforting smile.

“Oh, no. Oh, nonononono,” Apple heard herself saying. That was meant to be with the inside thoughts, but she remembered everything.

“Whoa hey calm down it’s okay we’re all friends here! We got you!” said a deeper, more boisterous voice, and Apple turned to see Ryss waving her hands.

“Oh no is everyone okay I’m so sorry I did such terrible things I was just trying to help and it got out of hand! I jus-”

Apple slowly petered down as Ryss went ‘shh shh shh shh shh’, and Zoissette reached over to hold her hand while she patted it. She looked down at her hand, then over at Zoissette, and felt her face beginning to burn.

“I think we might need to add another axiom to the laboratory board,” said Zoissette. “About learning from the mistakes of others before making our own mistakes.”

Someone snorted, and Apple looked over to see Mathye looking at a medical chart. Y’shtola stood next to him, her gray gaze seeming to pierce straight through Apple’s very self.

It was almost too much, and she pulled her hand back to cover her face while waving the other one in front of her. Despite her embarrassment, though, she felt welcoming hands patting her on the back, welcoming arms hugging her, welcoming people welcoming her back.

“…thank you for getting me,” said Apple.

“Of course,” said Zoissette, exchanging a knowing glance with Ryssthota. “We never leave one of our own, no matter how dire.”

Mathye fussed, and began to kick everyone out so he could do his job, but as they went, Apple ran Zoissette’s words over and over in her head.

~*~

“Well, that sounded like quite the misadventure,” said Ement conversationally over tea. He was still in temporary quarters at Gage Acquisitions. Nice place. Nicer than his place in Ishgard, anyroad.

He wondered, briefly, if he could lever a sliver of his sister’s reputation to secure someplace half as nice.

No point to thinking about it, though. He never would. She was free as could be from the family, and didn’t need the burden of taking care of any one of them.

Zoissette just shrugged as she poured herself another cup. “Just another day at the star’s premier Echo enhanced adventurer service.”

“Gage pay you to say that?” He asked, and she just shrugged again. “Speaking of, seems like you must be getting along better now. Out and about, fighting gods again.”

“Hardly a god, just a mismanaged summon.”

“Right, remind me what a primal is again?”

Zoissette frowned over her cup at him. “I thought you hated it when I talked about classifications and definitions?”

“Unless it serves my purpose, which in this case, is to needle my dearly beloved bigger sister who keeps getting herself into even bigger trouble.”

Zoissette smiled at that. “I think it was my friend who got into the bigger trouble this time. I was just one of the ones who helped get her out of it.”

Ement smiled in response, and said softly, “She’s back.”

“Hmn?”

“Eh, forget about it,” he said. He took a sip of his tea.

Well, thinking of being a burden. Now was as good a time as any to talk about it.

“I’ll be going back to Ishgard soon.”

“Thank you for staying as long as you have,” said Zoissette. “I appreciate it. I truly do.”

Ement nodded. “I’ll be taking a job when I get there.”

Zoissette’s eyebrows went up, and she leaned forward, interested.

“His high lordiness the great Count Durendaire is, apparently, expanding his airship fleet, and needs pilots,” he said. “And your friend Francel has vouched for him, so it’s on the up and up as far as I’m concerned. Advancements to my breathing box means it’s something I should be able to manage well enough. Maybe even better than you people who have the immense drawback of not being used to breathing manually.”

Zoissette, to her credit, winced at his bad joke, but not at his rebreather. She was one of the few who had gotten used to it being a part of him, who did not look at him with pity or disdain for having it.

Even mother could not manage that, as icy cold as her demeanor could be.

“I’m thinking about going into scouting and exploration,” he continued. “The boys at Skysteel are excited. They’re set to rig me with a more robust aetherotransformer, like the ones the machinists use. I’m going to ask them for a firearm, too. Maybe I can be half the hero you are one day.”

Zoissette smiled up at him. “Funny. Living up to your example is what I have been trying to do all these years.”

Ement scoffed. “Living down to it, you mean, I am several ilms shorter than you. And please, the only reason I’m only aiming for half is because that’s all that’s left of me. Look! An overgrown flying alien lizard bit me! Right here!”

He gestured emphatically, and Zoissette laughed. He grinned at her.

“You. Are. Terrible,” she said, and Ement laughed as well. “Good, though,” she said. “Fair winds for you. Let me know if I can help.”

He waved her off. “Nah, I’ll be fine,” he said. “Just like you’re fine. Don’t need me around anymore, I can tell, not if you’re out and about punching danger again. Speaking of, you going to get back to it? Start heroing again?”

She looked down at that. He’d touched a nerve, and hadn’t even meant to. Damn it, he was supposed to be helping.

“I do not know, actually,” she said, her voice quiet. But then she brightened before he could say something. “But maybe do not worry about me. I will be happy knowing my big brother is out reaching for the skies. And I have my friends here. I will be fine.”

And other lies she tells herself, Ement thought automatically.

But her smile was genuine. And she was relaxed, which was a novelty.

Maybe this time, she was right.

Or at least, right enough for big brothers to not meddle further.

He nodded, and waved his cup of tea in the air at her. “To new adventure, and new opportunities, then! Whatever they wind up looking like.”

“Hear hear,” she said, lifting her own tea cup, and clinking it against his. They both took a sip.

“…why hear hear, anyroad?” she asked, frowning, and he could not help but hold a hand up to squeeze his nose. Her mind was about to chase down one of its little endless kobold holes.

Well, if nothing else, she was ever his sister.

~*~

Thancred was studying the grass outside of Gage headquarters when the narrow face of an Elezen tilted into his view, her eyes quizzically looking up at him.

“I do not think you will find Aeryn there,” she said, cheerfully, and he smiled at her.

“Ah, everyone’s favourite mad scientist,” he said, breezily. “I’m not actually looking after her for once. I was hoping to catch one of your compatriots whilst they go hither and tither.”

Zoissette frowned lightly at him, and he kept his gaze on her as she straightened back up, rubbing at the small of her back as she looked around.

“Want me to check the directory?”

He waved a hand at her. “Don’t bother, I already asked Dark about it. And this is my problem, not yours. I swear, we should just rent the upper floor and declare that the new Scion HQ, we’d be much better positioned for keeping an eye on you maniacs. First you have your little journey, and then Apple was apparently making voidsent egi, and now…”

He trailed off. He didn’t actually want to talk about that just now. She tilted her head at him again, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said, realizing he was actually looking forward to a bit of a respite. Zoissette could be good company, and he had time. “Tell me, how are you handling yourself? Gunblade’s come in handy, I hear?”

Zoissette nodded. “It has become an essential part of my toolkit. Oh! Here, actually. I have been meaning to thank you for the cartridges, and we have made some cartridges of our own in the workshop. Collaboration between the whole science team. Apple made some interesting discoveries a while back about interference patterns, and Ryss has new spell works she wanted to try out. I have some here.”

She transferred some cartridges into a small bag, and held it out to him. He took it, and looked them over with a practiced eye, before nodding and tucking them away.

“Those look like offensive load outs. Anything I should know?”

“Make sure your breach is reinforced. The blowback on them will be punchier than what you are used to, I imagine - we call those ‘dragon breath’ cartridges. They simulate their namesake. And if you can find an actual dragon to charge them, you will find they live up to the name quite nicely.”

“Very nice,” he said appreciatively. “The wonders you people get up to never seem to cease.”

“Well,” she said, “I have had a lot of time on my hands.”

She fidgeted, and suddenly looked uncomfortable, if he was reading her right. He clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“I understand, friend,” he said, quietly. “It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it? But you do get used to it.”

Zoissette looked away. “… I do not wish to complain. I am luckier than many. I know you have faced similar issues with your aether, and there was a time when your vision bothered you greatly. I can still see, even if I see … oddly, sometimes. And I have some access, it is just… flatter.”

She smiled at him, a crooked and watery sort of look. He sighed.

“I’ll have none of that, now,” he said. “We’ve all got our burdens to carry. Some are heavier than others, but we also have our different talents and abilities, all in different measure. What’s important is what you do with it. And I’ll never begrudge you your trials. If you’ll not hold my shortcomings against me, I won’t hold yours against you, no matter how they compare.”

She looked up and out, at the sky, as she often did. He waited until she looked back to him.

“That is surprisingly good advice,” she said, quietly. Then she smiled, a better smile, a stronger smile. “Ever consider listening to it?”

“Hells, no,” he said, with a laugh. “But enough about that. How about we take these new cartridges of yours, and you show me what you’re really made of these days?”

The smile deepened, and her eyes turned sharp, and he grinned.

“That’s the right stuff,” he said. “Alright then-”

~*~

“Show me what you can do!” C’oretta cried out.

Zoissette nodded from where she was bouncing from foot to foot, more relaxed, calmer than C’oretta had seen her. She was finally figuring it out maybe but C’oretta couldn’t be sure unless she pressed her and well she thought now was finally the time to press her and so that was what she was going to do.

Zoissette spun, and with a flick of her wrists, her chakrams were out. C’oretta was quick to meet them with throws of her own. They both started out slowly at first, but they were past warmup, and all she had to do was wait for the moment to pounce, and she could almost see what Zoissette was going to do before Zoissette knew it.

Though every once in a while she did surprise her, moving oddly in some way C’oretta weirdly couldn’t catch but that didn’t mean anything C’oretta only had to be a little bit faster than Zoissette and in fact C’oretta was actually a lot faster.

The chakrams flew back and forth, faster and faster, C’oretta thrilling in the adventure of movement, of the joy and power of her body, in pushing herself and her student and then suddenly there it was.

Zoissette was, at last, answering.

They were moving, each pushing against one another, movement answering movement. C’oretta could still predict Zoissette’s movements, but now the predictions were narrowing, Zoissette more frequently leaving her only one opening, but as C’oretta flowed into the openings, she forced the same back on Zoissette. It was answer and response, poetry in movement, the edge of a dancing duet duel.

They were in synch. Movements flowed like water, as they moved around one another, a true dance, equal parts improvisation and skill, and Zoissette seemed to be at last one with herself.

In synch, they moved, until at last, they came to a stop opposite one another, catching their chakrams at the same time and bouncing into mirrored ready stances, one chakram up to guard the face, the other at the side, ready, legs lightly crossed ready to spin out into an eternal tango once more.

C’oretta jumped and cheered, and Zoissette staggered, and collapsed onto the lawn.

But she was laughing, too.

~*~

Y’shtola held Zoissette’s hand for a moment longer than was strictly necessary for her to give her the new cartridges she had prepared.

It was not like her to be so sentimental. But, perhaps, she was outgrowing her old master in ways that mattered and were important to her.

She was ever her own woman, after all.

“Well,” she said. “Your aether is no better, but no worse. I see no reason that we must needs continue to check up on you. Thus, as I know you shall be heading out again, I have brought you these. A mix of offensive thaumaturgy and restorative conjury, as you may need,” she said. “And also, I brought you this.”

She held up a single shell that seemed to be nearly a single crystal, shimmering in the patter on its surface, pearl white with blue flakes, with delicate engravings scratched carefully into its surface.

Zoissette frowned at it. “…that looks a bit like auracite.”

“Indeed, for that is what it is,” said Y’shtola. “Urianger helped me with Moenbryda’s notes on the matter. Thancred described the technique inscribed, that he once made use of himself. Apple helped with forming the crystal, and I myself imbued it with the energies necessary.”

As Zoissette carefully took it to examine it, she continued. “This shell, once ignited, should allow its user to escape any harm whatsoever for a short period of time. But make no mistake, it is only to be used in the direst of emergencies. The ability works by altering the flow of aether, thus separating the user from reality itself for a short while. To power such a puissant ability requires more than mere aether - and thus you see, the use of artifacted auracite ’tis no mistake. It shall pull from the life force of the user themself, leveraging your very self as an amplifier. And thus while it offers a great boon, it also presents a grave risk.”

“I am with you,” said Zoissette, reading the extremely fine inscription Y’shtola had inscribed onto the cap of the cartridge.

“Always,” said Y’shtola. She closed Zoissette’s hands carefully around the shell. “You have a penchant for misadventure,” she said, quietly. “My heart could not bear it if I did not provide you with as many tools as possible to ensure you come home.”

Zoissette was quiet a moment.

“Just as she did,” she said. Then, “thank you.”

“I am certain we shall yet find your familiar,” said Y’shtola encouragingly.

“It is not that. It is not… just that,” said Zoissette. “I know she is here, with me. At least part of her. I just find myself wondering how much of her I left out there.

“…much like I seem to have left part of myself out there.”

Zoissette had not talked much about her time in the rift, and other than a few questions they needed answered to help treat her, nobody had pressed overly hard. Now, Y’shtola found a chair near the bed, and sat down in it.

“You seem ever much yourself, though your aether is much diminished,” said Y’shtola.

Zoissette nodded, distantly. “I wonder if that is what happened to her. I wonder if enough of her got lost in one of those - I am not even sure what to call them. They were like stars, they were like memories. They were places, I know that for sure. And I think, I think maybe parts of me got left in each one. And parts of her too. Enough of me to put myself back together, but…”

“Not enough of her,” finished Y’shtola.

“Just enough for me to feel her presence, but not enough for her to actually manifest,” said Zoissette, grumpily. She shifted her weight on the infirmary cot, scooting to lean against the wall, and pulled her legs close, hugging them close to her.

“Perhaps an answer will present itself,” said Y’shtola. “Tell me more of these worlds.”

Zoissette was slow, halting at first, but she finally opened up. She told Y’shtola of the things she saw in the rift. The crystals that Y’shtola could recall seeing there from her own voyage through were apparently their own places, of a sort. Zoissette tended only to stay a short while in each one, before being thrust back out into the rift, drifting until she floated into another crystal, and rarely were two of them alike.

Each crystal was part of a story. Memories of places she was familiar with, though she had never been. Glimpses into possibilities that had never happened as far as she knew. She had met the people of her life, and found them different than she knew them.

And while in the rift, she was aware of Lavender’s presence, just like she was now, as though held in her heart, resting and waiting. In the worlds of the crystals, however, Lavender made her appearance, apparently looking nothing so much as like a childhood friend of hers.

Y’shtola made note of that. Perhaps Lavender had become tied to Zoissette’s memories in such a way they could not be separated. That made a kind of sense, in a realm where memory of possibilities apparently ruled.

Certainly, Lavender no longer lived in the Scholar crystal Zoissette carried with her.

It was like she had visited other lifestreams. Many and more where the myriad mysteries of the world, but some of what she described was familiar to Y’shtola, and she had found herself opening up in kind. Sharing what it was like, to have to hold tightly onto oneself against inextricable currents.

They both had to fight to maintain their very selves in those other places. And both held memories, their own and that of others. The difference was that for Y’shtola, it had been a fight against nonexistence, while for Zoissette, it had become a fight for identity, often losing herself in the memory of other places, only recovering once back out in the rift.

Many bells passed. And the end of their stories found them together on the bed, huddled against each other. Y’shtola felt oddly emotionally drained, and Zoissette looked to be no better, but there was comfort in each other. Even the armature, usually unceasing in its restless motion, had come to lay still nearby.

Y’shtola squeezed Zoissette’s hand.

“We will see her restored,” she said. Now she understood more. Lavender was no mere familiar, but a fierce companion in Zoissette’s long journey. And she had helped make her, had she not? Was she not the responsibility of both of them?

Zoissette squeezed back.

And you as well, if we can help it, thought Y’shtola to herself.

~*~

It had been another day at the laboratory, and Klynt had been bored near to tears the entire time.

She didn’t really need to be there, not anymore. The lab always had to have two, now, and while she was certain Zoissette could bypass that restriction easily enough, she’d shown no signs of doing so. The opposite, in fact. She always sought out someone when she visited, and often grabbed Klynt as well.

Which was why Klynt had been there, while Zoissette and Riven did something or another with the wards. Nerd shit. Not Klynt’s problem.

Fortunately now it was dinner, and she was sitting down with a big steaming bowl of the best stew out of Idyllshire, a goblin recipe of some sort that the rest of the Free Company wouldn’t touch. The chef was still willing to make it for her, though.

Zoissette sat down across from her with a pot pie of some sort. The woman had no taste.

“So hey, I’ve been thinking,” began Klynt.

“A dangerous way to pass the time. You saw where it landed me.”

“I have been THINKING,” Klynt began again. “About what we talked about the other day at the lab. About whether I should stay or I should go do my own thing.”

Zoissette used a knife and fork to peel back the upper crust on her pie, exposing the meat and vegetable filling within. “Made a decision, then?”

Klynt shook her head. “No. Not yet. But I thought you should know - I am thinking about it.”

Zoissette nodded. “Well, no rush, I suppose. I am just glad you are thinking about it, and not. How to say. Falling into the trap of the default decision.”

“I am doing something, though,” said Klynt. “Reinhardt’s offered me an opening. As a dragoon squire. I’m going to take it.”

She watched Zoissette carefully, as she slowly put her utensils down and looked over the table at Klynt.

And then, her face lit up, splitting into a broad smile that Klynt had only seen rarely.

Joy. Genuine, naked, unalloyed happiness.

“That’s great news!” she said, starting to wind up into one of her long meandering bits, but she stopped herself. “…that is great news, right? Is that what you want?”

“Dunno,” said Klynt, and then she grinned back. “But I’m willing to give it a go.”

Zoissette lit up again, and Klynt just sat back and exulted in her friend’s energy. It wasn’t often she saw Zoissette this happy. It was weird, a bit, that she was this happy on her behalf.

But as she went on, explaining Klynt the nuances of Ishgardian military decorum, and what it was dragoons did, what to expect, and other details Klynt could not possibly be arsed to pay attention to, she just let it wash over and through her. She couldn’t always keep up with Zoissette, and certainly wasn’t trying to do so now, but it was oddly charming how happy she was.

For her.

For Klynt.

As she ate her soup, she considered. Maybe Zoissette was right. Maybe she should be making harder decisions more often.

If she was going to have this kind of support backing her up, what did she have to lose?

~*~

Meya poked Zoissette gently on the forehead a few times, watching as her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright.

“You should go to bed, silly,” said Meya. Glancing to the side, she saw a plate of banana slices waiting. She picked it up as Zoissette quickly looked around, gaining her bearings.

There was a small wind crystal in the middle of the plate. Presumably to keep the banana fresh. And a note written in elegant penmanship.

“Meya?” asked Zoissette, as Meya read the note curiously.

“Don’t forget to eat - T” was all the note said, and Meya smiled. They were all looking after their scientist in their own way, and Meya suspected she knew who had left the plate there. Good thing, too. Meya had brought her something to drink, but had thought it too late for a meal. But a snack was probably a good idea, especially considering Ryss said she’d left her to her own devices bells ago.

“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead,” said Meya, offering the plate to Zoissette. “Here, you should eat - and have something to drink. And then you should go to bed. In a real bed.”

Zoissette looked sheepish as she took a few slices and ate them. “Sorry. I didn’t - uhm - did not meant to worry you. Who is the note from?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Meya cheerfully. Though she had her suspicions. She’d thank the woman on Zoissette’s behalf later, if Zoissette didn’t figure it out herself quickly. “What are you working so hard on, anyroad?”

“Have to get this submarine operational,” said Zoissette.

“You’ll make mistakes if you’re tired,” scolded Meya gently. “And you are always chasing after the rest of us to take care of yourselves. You should take your own advice. Here,” she said, handing over the chamomile tea she had brought.

Zoissette looked at it funny. “That’ll put me to sleep.”

“That’s the idea.”

Meya stood there, ready to be stubborn about it.

It wouldn’t be necessary. Zoissette ate another banana slice, then picked up the tea and drank it down rapidly before handing the cup back.

“…thank you,” said Zoissette. “Sorry again for being trouble.”

“No trouble at all, assuming you’ll be going to bed now?”

Zoissette looked over her work, and nodded.

“Help me button it up?” she asked, pulling herself out of the crawlspace she’d fallen asleep in.

Meya did what she could to help Zoissette up and out - as tall and heavy as Zoissette was, it was a bit difficult, but not too much. And she followed Zoissette’s instructions as Zoissette directed her around to sealing up the submarine.

“Why is this project so important to you, anyroad?” asked Meya, after they were done. Zoissette just rubbed her face, and looked a bit distant.

“Just… proving something to myself, I think,” said Zoissette. “Not sure yet.”

Meya nodded, but did not push.

“That stuff is hitting faster than I thought,” said Zoissette, slowly blinking and nodding her head a bit. “Help me to my room?”

“Of course,” said Meya brightly, taking Zoissette’s arm.

Less than a bell later, Zoissette was tucked in, and Meya whistled merrily to herself on her way back to her own quarters.

Taking care of her friends could be hard work, but it was rarely boring, and they were well worth the effort.

~*~

One of the many things Dark appreciated about Zoissette was how efficient the woman could be. C’oretta would often just walk into her office and dump herself in her chair and rattle on about Gods-knew-what for half a bell, Mathye was an endless font of complaints that she weathered for the good of the company, and frequently the others tended to be bad about getting to the point. Zoissette, however, knew how an organization was run. She would come in, make her report, get to the point, and get back to work.

She could be weird, to be sure, but what adventurer wasn’t?

So when Zoissette asked if they could take their usual one on one on a walk, Dark had raised an eyebrow, but not questioned it. It was an unusual request, but the woman had been through a lot of unusual things lately, and indulging her was literally the least Dark could do.

Outside, she found Gridania pleasant this time of year. That edge of summer coolness before the temperature really began to change, winds telling of the changing of the seasons, the smell of forest undergrowth and tall leafy trees. Good day for a walk. Dark strolled alongside a silent Zoissette, giving her companion space to feel comfortable talking about whatever it was she wanted to talk about.

They stopped at one of the stands to get some drinks, and Zoissette at last began to open up.

“Thank you for coming out here with me,” she said. “I guess I want to ask you for career advice? I think that is what this is?”

Dark just nodded, patient.

“I am thinking of leaving the company.”

“Hmn,” said Dark, taking a sip to cover her surprise and give herself a moment to gather her thoughts. “Where would you go?”

“Well, uhm, I am not sure,” said Zoissette. She ducked her head down a bit - unnecessarily, Dark was taller than her by a fair margin - to tilt her head and look carefully up at Dark’s face.

Dark didn’t even bother with putting up a poker face, and just regarded Zoissette coolly.

Whatever she saw, it apparently satisfied her, as she straightened back up.

“Can I be, uhm, a bit blunt?”

“If you like.”

Zoissette nodded her head and stopped, leaning up against a fence. Dark settled in nearby. “…back when you invited me to join up, I was trying to decide what to do with myself anyroad. More than a few people had shown an interest in me. You know, because I had the Echo.”

“And other talents aside.”

Zoissette waved that away. “Sure, but I think we both know it was primarily Hydaelyn’s blessing. And I did not know what to do. I could have stayed on as an assessor at the guild, but… I thought I could do more. I thought I should do more.

“But I was afraid, I think. And Gage Acquisitions seemed the safe answer at the time. Big company, good support network, still help out the star but from the safety of a desk doing legal business.”

“You’ve hardly limited yourself to just legal work at the company, Zoissette.”

“I know. I know! But, uhm, still. I think I have come to realize that that is the story of my life, a bit. Taking the safe option. And it is always what other people want for me. I mean, sure, sometimes I managed to find a way to do what I wanted, but…”

Zoissette trailed off. Dark looked up to admire the scenery. Sometimes you just had to let people spool themselves out, and this one wasn’t done yet.

“Maybe independent inspector. I am good at that sort of work, and I could make a living, see the world. Or… what I am really thinking about, I guess, is rebuilding my order. Here, I wanted to show you something.”

Zoissette dug into her bag, and held out a book to Dark. It looked to be terribly old, but intact, and well taken care of despite its age. She took it carefully, and leafed it open.

Older Ishgardian script, if she had to guess.

“That is one of the journals of Saint Thea, the matron of my order,” said Zoissette. “A holy artifact of sorts. It is from just before the second reformation period, between the … well, uhm, hang on, sorry. I am trying to stay focused. Right. Most of her writings were considered lost. But what I think actually happened was the Holy See was not interested in finding them. I think she was an early adventurer, judging from her writing. She traveled the whole star, it seems, at a time when such would have been thought nigh impossible.”

Zoissette seemed to make up her mind about something as she was going along. Or maybe she already had, and she was trying to build a case to Dark.

“I want to find the other journals. For that, I will be needing one of the submarines, I think. For traveling. And for the equipment I would want to take with me. And I want to rebuild my order. I can afford to buy out my contracts, and, uhm, though we are a bit of a minor order, we surprisingly can afford this.”

“And you want to quit the company to do this,” said Dark.

“It would not offer anything to the Free Company. And honestly, I do not want to do this for profit.”

Dark thumbed through the journal some more, and then closed it up, holding it out for Zoissette to take back.

“So what advice do you want from me, exactly? Sounds like you already know what you want to do.”

Zoissette took a deep breath in.

“Do you think I should?”

Dark crossed her arms, and looked at Zoissette, frowning lightly.

“You know you can come and go as you please,” she said. “We hardly try to control any of you. You’re adventurers. You’re all going to do what you want anyroad, we just make sure there’s insurance to cover your mishaps and leves enough to keep you all moneyed and occupied.”

Zoissette fidgeted a bit.

“And your submarine would need a crew, anyroad.”

“I know,” said Zoissette. “I was thinking mammets, but… but I guess that is where I actually really want your advice. I want to go. I will go, but I also … I also want the company with me, I guess.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and look sheepish.

“This isn’t the contradiction you seem to think it is,” said Dark, gently. “You’re not our legal counsel anymore. You’re not tied to that desk. Tell you what. Let’s keep you on the books as independent counsel. You won’t answer to Erick or me, but you keep the ties to the company.”

Zoissette looked around. “Will that work?”

Dark shrugged. “You’ve seen the contracts. You know you won’t be the only one. As for the submarine, let me propose a lending lease instead. You go do your exploring. We’ll need its carry capacity - and your talents, of course. Haul a few things for us, grab some salvage, and you can take it wherever you want. When you’re done, you can give it back if you like.”

Dark smiled. “And let me worry about finding the ‘profit’. You worry about going out there, finding your answers, and making the world a better place.”

“Really?”

Dark just nodded.

“I honestly thought you would try harder to talk me into staying.”

“Making sure I talk you into not doing this alone, and I’ve done that. The rest is details.”

Zoissette smiled, and nodded.

“I knew I was right to come to you about this. Thank you, Dark.”

Dark shrugged. “Hey, what are friends for?” she asked. “Speaking of, you’re still obligated to come to the holiday party. Not letting you out of that -that- easy.”

Zoissette stuck her tongue out at Dark, and Dark laughed.

“No but seriously.”

“I know, I know. I will be there.”

“Good.”

~*~

Zoissette leaned up against the fencing that was around the outside of Aurora Laboratories.

Her laboratory, even if Ryss was in charge for now. She’d have that fight, one day.

But that was not what she was thinking about.

She crossed her arms, and spent a long time just looking at the front door.

“You are not in there,” she said at last, seemingly to nothing more than the evening air. “I know you are not in there.”

She fidgeted, then tapped her own chest.

“You are in here. I know it. I can feel it. That link that has always bonded us to one another, and both of us to ‘Shtola, and even to the little anima doll.”

She shifted her weight.

“But in there… I saw what you did. We reviewed the lab records. I know what you did, and why, and that is why we are the way we are now, and, well, I guess I am trying to say… thank you. And I have not forgotten. I can not. I can feel you with me. And sometimes, well, I think I can hear you.

“That took some getting used to. It was like a voice in my head, like my own thoughts. But not like my own thoughts. Just a lot a bit off. But I want you to know, sometimes, I can hear you.”

She smiled.

“And it has been… reassuring. To know you are here. That you have been with me this whole time. It has helped. So thank you.”

Zoissette took a deep breath in, and let it out slow.

“I find people… difficult,” she said. “And I never really saw how much they cared. But somehow, knowing what you did, and knowing you are with me, makes it easier. Makes it easier to see how they care. Makes it easier to… to understand, I guess.”

Zoissette looked up at the sky.

“I am here, and I matter. And you being with me is a reminder of that, even if I cannot hear you all the time, even if I cannot see you.”

She pushed off the fence, and began to walk around the outside of the laboratory. “Do you remember when we first instantiated you, all those summers ago? When we both had to focus, to instill you with purpose and an independent sense of self? It was funny, at the time. Since Shtola and I were both working so hard on you, and were both tied to your creation. Ardashir thought for sure we would mess it up.”

She smiled at the memory. “But we both wanted the same thing. We all should have known, really. We wanted you to be free to choose your own destiny. Shtola could not imagine you any other way. And I… I guess I wanted you to have the choices I thought I never had.

“…but then you decided to stay with me. You could have left, to make your own way, form your own life adventure, but you stayed. And you have been my companion ever since.”

Zoissette stopped, and looked at the lab once more.

“And now it is up to me to make sure you are not left behind or forgotten. Shtola has been helping. So have the others. I do not know how much of me you can hear, but we have theories to try out. Tomorrow, I shall make for the Isle of Haam, to visit the Atherfont. Maybe whatever happened to my aether happened to you, too, and there is not enough for you to manifest. Well, Shtola has shown me enough thaumaturgy and conjure that we are going to try to pull the other from the land, and reignite you that way, and in a land so rich with aether, that perhaps we will succeed.

“And if that does not work, we shall simply try something else.”

Zoissette put her hands on her hips, and nodded firmly to herself.

“There is a puzzle here, and I will solve it,” she declared.

~*~

Log entry 407

The Madam Commander has a plan.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #10, choice

Read parts 1-8 on AO3 here

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Nine

They kept leaning against the shop’s brick wall, long after their laughter had ebbed off. A comfortable silence had ensued as each of them had become lost in thoughts.

Sherlock glanced sideways at John, watching him staring into space with a blissful expression on his face. The sight made him happy and full of hope that John might come with him to the flat. He further hoped that John would be so impressed with 221b that he would also move in as Sherlock’s flatmate (and loving boyfriend, of course).

In his mind, John was miles away from London. He reminisced his time in Afghanistan, being an army doctor and a soldier and how he had missed this life terribly after being invalided out. Every day there had been full of excitement and danger, he had done important work and had been needed to save limbs and lives. He had been respected, had lots of comrades and his life had been full of options.

When he had returned to London, everything was the exact opposite. No perspective for the future, no money, no job, an invalid with a dodgy leg and a trembling hand and no friends. Taking on the position and a bed shop assistant had been an act of sheer desperation and also mirrored the exact opposite to his work back in Ahghanistan.

And now, this Sherlock Holmes who wanted to buy a boxspring bed had turned John’s stagnant and depressing life upside down and John loved every minute of it. He could not recall a time when he had had so much fun.

John sighed and wished this moment would never pass.

“Do you plan on actually putting this bed into your flat?” John asked.

"Yes, of course. I really need one and also, it’s a very comfortable bed.” Sherlock grinned. “I bought it, remember?”

“For your second bedroom.”

“For the main bedroom. There is a second one, but it is unused. The main bed is terrible, the mattress would cause any orthopaedist nightmares and it’s too short for me either.  It’s still from Victorian times like most of the flat’s furniture. But it will be a lovely flat, once everything is sorted.”

(Sherlock meant once when all of the bits and bobs and odds and ends he had scattered everywhere had been sorted. Preferably by some benign person who liked tidying up.)

John hummed. “Ah, so you’re only about to move in?”

“Yes, I’ve helped the landlady and she gives me a discount on the rent.”

John looked sharply at Sherlock. “You intimidated her, too?”

“I did not intimidate Bernie.” Sherlock protested. But John kept staring at him until he relented. “Okay, I did. Whereas Mrs Hudson’s discount has been made out of genuine gratitude.”

“Where is it?”

“221b Baker Street.”

“Oh, wow, central London.” John thought of his miserable bedsit he could afford just so. “Must still be expensive even with a discount.”

Sherlock seized the opportunity. “Well, actually, you’re correct. Therefore, I have been looking for a flatmate.”

“Oh.” John’s face fell, clearly disappointed. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

High time for the next step, Sherlock! His brain egged him on, finally invite John to see the flat!

“Erm, no one, so far.” Pretending to be non-chalant and not caring much about John’s answer, Sherlock continued, “Would you like to have a look? After all, you promised to take care of the Feng Shui energy, didn’t you?”

“No, I absolutely did not”, John chuckled, “you only made that up to give Bernie a heart attack.”

“But you’re interested in seeing it, yes?”

“I’m wondering why you haven’t already found a flatmate. I mean it sounds like a great place so where is the catch? Noisy neighbours? Nosey landlady? Cockroaches? Leaky plumbing?”

“If you choose to come with me, you might find out.”

Since Sherlock made it sound like a dare, John took the bait at once. “Lead the way then.”

(John had the impression that he made a deliberate choice to follow Sherlock this day, when, in fact, John would never have any choice at all regarding Sherlock.)

+++++

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[sugar-omi]

Yan!Baxter 2 Electric Boogaloo bc I got SO excited over your ramble! Like YES YES YES to all of it. The way MC would be put in a cage of his worship <3 Delicious. And don't get me on Baxter enjoying MC retaliating. The slap where he goes close, content to be near? Oh dear. Will I now ponder how far MC can take it? Personally I enjoy a little yan x yan action-when the lines blur. Who's captive with who. A little sadist in me would love to see Baxter smile adoringly at MC from the ground, blood trickling down his nose--But I digress!!

What I wanted to elaborate on was actually the: "you may not even return his feelings, you may even love someone else." OH that line got me. Juicy juicy scenario possibilities.

There's 2 main ways to reunite with Baxter Ward. A) Help preparing a wedding or… B) Be getting married. Let's say MC would be marrying [X], since Cove is too sweet to hurt-- (Unless? Fancying some tragedy atm?)

The point is: MC is getting married, and yan!Baxter is involved. What a thrill it'd be to see him go about that! Sanity snapped!

With his controlling parents Baxter knows his way with manipulation, consciously or not. If he'd put his mind to it surely he'd needle away at this relationship MC has with [X] before the worst can happen. Besides, [X] definitely not even good for MC, and Baxter will dutifully warn them… Sowing doubt, sowing doubt.

I'm not sure what would be more entertaining: Baxter only convincing himself that [X] is bad… or [X] TRULY being awful to MC. Oooh what would necessitate violence in Baxter's eyes…? :O Either way Baxter has to save MC's future. Care for MC, too, to ensure they won't be in such peril twice. (. Now I'd fancy him a twisted fairy tale prince on a white steed lmao)

And if he's fortunate, this MC after terrible treatment from [X] might just be anxious, isolated from their family and friends, and most importantly codependent enough to welcome Baxters help, utterly needing it~ ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

TW: stalking, abuse, manipulation, minor character death

omg yes... i was gonna say he couldnt possibly convince you cove is bad, but... what if cove isn't the one? you've only been with one guy your whole life, and it's the same for him. what if his eyes wander?

or, derek was so finicky and acts too independent, doesn't rely on you enough. he probably doesn't trust you.

and if it was some random guy you met at college, well how do you know he didn't cheat on you? he used to be apart of a fraternity, right? and on the team? I mean, didn't he have a lot of girlfriends before he met you? are you sure he isn't cheating now?

he plants the doubt so carefully.. slipping his grimy fingers between the cracks and pulling, scratching, and digging until theres a hole for him to plunge his hand into and rip the trust from your heart.

even if it pains him to watch your relationship fall apart, truly, this is always tragic.. he's so ecstatic. his darling is coming back to him. it's him you call when you tell him you and C/N broke up, and he's the one you ask to hold you and comfort you through the night..

but god, if he was actually bad to you... cheating on you, abusing you, well you don't have to put up with it for a day longer. not even another second...

in fact, you don't even walk through his office about to marry the bastard- baxter finds you. he's been doing so many weddings, so many people who remind him of you... who remind him of what you could have if he had stayed...

he knows he should stay away. he ran away from you for this exact reason, but he can't do it anymore. he needs to have you. he can't take it, it's making him sick being without you..

but what he sees makes him sick.

he was so elated to have found you... but as he's on the sidewalk, just trying to casually walk by to see if you're really here. he hears shouting, and clashing. it's muffled but it's there

and when he looks over, walking up quickly to where the open curtains are, he sees that bastard lay hand clean across your face and he feels rage he's never felt before.

it's intense. ugly. demonic... he knows it's righteous, though. and that's why he takes care of your "beloved" before he can do anything else to you.

before you know it, there's police tape, and your fiancés car looks like a smushed tin can.

it's tragic and disgusting scene, truly unfortunate. but he wasn't going to let him lay another hand on his darling..

he carefully watches you, follows you, waiting for the perfect time to ease himself into your life...

you look so sad, so scared and anxious. you look torn, albeit free. there's a relaxation in your body that didn't exist before.

and when baxter sits in his car, watching you get dressed up.... he knows it's time.

purposefully running into you on your way to the restaurant, and charmingly putting his hand on your shoulder, smiling gently at you as he "suddenly" remembers you, looking you up and down and telling you that you look absolutely beautiful.

his heart swells with your mumbled thank you, and he tries to play it coy. "your boyfriend must be waiting, I shouldn't keep you."

wants to snatch you up and take away all the emotions that flash across your face, before one of calmness, although awkward and out of place after a long time or turmoil, takes over your expression and you tell him there's no boyfriend, just you going to lunch by yourself..

well he's elated! that means you can catch up! if you don't mind his company, of course, he doesn't mean to force himself on you... he just wants to catch up and it's been far too long since he's seen you..

you really are so darling, because you don't think twice about it.

you think you would, after all, baxter is the one who weirdly and cruelly abandoned you, and you're still on edge from your relationship with X. you're tired, a bit broken from what he put you through, and trying to piece yourself together...

but baxter is so handsome, and you don't have it in your to say no. you want to catch up with him, have him keep smiling at you... you didn't realize you still missed him until now.

it's truly so cute how easily you fall into his hands. and maybe he's cruel for using this delicate time to slip into your life... but the way you cling to him, beg him not to leave you and to stay... well he can't find it in himself to have guilt.

you're in love after all! he loves everything about you, all the way down to the last hair on your head. And this means you love him too, right? you love him? don't ever wanna leave him and be together fkrever? even if it means him tying you down when you call yourself trying to "recover." youre trying to leave him... he won't let you..

just let him take care of you, my love. he knows what's best for you, he knows how to keep you safe. only he can protect you and love you like this... no one else could close you as much as him. so stop fighting it and just let him take care of you, darling.. ���

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Ultimate Hope Therapy.

...

*Shortly after his conversation with Kuripa and Mukuro, Makoto strides down the hallway of the Future Foundation to the Branch 7 department. Towards Miaya's office for some consultation.

...

*There's some chairs outside the office door, which Makoto finds locked, so instead, he sits down on one of them, patiently waiting.

...

You're going to be waiting for a while...

BAH!?

*He falls off his chair as Izuru Kamukura suddenly almost teleports next to him.

Ugh!? K-Kamukura!? Wh-What a surprise, I...thought you went home.

No. Akane and Mahiru want to spend a little more time with the others. In fact, we're debating whether I should be brought back to that house or not. It is quite homely there though, so I believe I will.

That's good to hear.

Are you here to visit Gekkogahara? I must warn you. You may be the only person here, but her waiting list is at least a mile long. It might be a while before she gets to you.

Oh...Right, that makes sense actually. A lot of people were traumatized after the things they had to see today. I guess it makes sense that she'd be busy.

She's doing a group session right now. I'm sure she wouldn't mind you joining in.

No, no...This is a lot of personal stuff. I can wait.

...

Naegi...

Yeah?

Would you mind terribly if I was the one you consulted?

Huh? You!?

It may be easy to forget, given my disposition, but I also have Miaya's talents of therapy, consultation, and psychology. Besides, I heard that you'd already sought help from her once before, and clearly, it did not work out.

That was because I was a bad patient, not because she was a bad doctor.

Not saying I'm against the idea...but why ask me that?

I don't know...It just feels like something that a friend would do. If Hajime was here, I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to help you.

...I'm sure he would...Alright, I'll take you up on that then...

——————————————————————

*Izuru escorts Makoto to a private room. He randomly pulls up two chairs and sits them facing one another. They then both sit down, and Makoto stares shiftily at his new therapist.

...

...

...Ok, this feels a little awkward....Where am I even supposed to begin?

You don't need to feel threatened by me. If it comes to it, just imagine me as a life-sized doll that you can vent your frustrations to.

But if you're having trouble getting started, let me suggest we begin with something simple. How are you feeling right now?

Exhausted, and in a lot of pain. I got light treatment for the injuries I suffered in my fights against Koime and Celeste, but I need a follow up appointment to get properly treated. It's just there's a long list of high-priority patients ahead of me.

In fact I'm fairly sure I shouldn't be walking around like this...I'm worried that if I sit or lie down, I'm not gonna be able to get up for the next two days.

I'm sure you'll manage. You're stronger than you think. But if exhaustion is all that's weighing on your mind right now, then I believe that's a good thing.

[naffeclipse]

Heya Naff, slightly late but Happy New Year!! 🎆 Hope you’re doing well and I wish you much inspiration and many good things this coming year! <33

I had a little query pop to mind recently if that's okay:  what if reader in the Deep Dreams universe had megalophobia and/or perhaps even thalassophobia? 

I know this might make less sense for fisher Y/N as we know them, so it could hypothetically be some other person, a friend or a future Y/N who makes friends with juvenile Sun and Moon and then only later discovers they've grown to be big sea beasties - maybe seeing them in their dreams is fine but for real it's a different matter, at least until they get used to them :)

How might the boys react?

Having a slight bit of megalophobia myself, the best way I can describe my experience is a gentle anxiety with the need to seek shelter and cower there, but people's experiences can vary (and possibly change depending on the conditions). Also that kinda makes it 10x funnier that I have an affinity for giant creatures xD

Hi, Piixel! Happy New Year to you, too, babe! ♥ Thank you so much, ahhh, you're much too kind! :D I hope you have a beautiful year and an abundance of lovely things happen to you!

Oh ho! Fear of big things and of large bodies of water? I'm sure that totally wouldn't be a source of great fear and conflict with a poor little reader soulbond to a couple of mers hehe (The Sea Beast is an excellent movie btw!! ♥)

Y/N with megalophobia and thalassophobia wouldn't be caught dead on the ocean. You have dreams about two massive mers, and those creatures are always sweet and gentle and attentive, but you're still convinced it's some weird nightmare (even though no real spooky events unfold in said dreams). The mers coax and plead with you to go out to sea so you can all meet, but that's a solid no from you.

Then through a very terrible chance of fate, you're on a boat for whatever reason but very much against your desires, before you get swept away by a rouge wave and left behind. You're alone, struggling to swim in a massive ocean when—oh goodie, that looks like a giant mer floating right below you. What else could go wrong today?

Needless to say, after seeing Moon, then Sun, and realizing that these massive mers you've had dreams about are here in the flesh, you pass out from sheer fright. It's a lot for you to wrap your brain around, but when you come to, you're on Sun's back as he floats gently along the surface, keeping you dry as you begin losing your mind out of the horror of it all while Moon watches you from close by. You can't jump into the great wide ocean to escape the mer carrying you but you can't stay on the thing's scaly back either, so you may have a panic attack. Sun stops and turns his head back to give you his full attention while Moon tries to take you in his hands but that does not help your situation. They can feel your panic and horror, but you can feel confusion and distress at not being able to help, and in fact, them being the cause of your fear.

Their attempts to calm you down are met with resistance as you want to be anywhere but here in the ocean with two giant mers.

Sun and Moon are bewildered and upset, to say the least. You did often seem nervous in your little dream rendezvous but they thought they did a lovely job of reassuring you it was alright and that they would never hurt you and there's nothing to be scared of. Turns out, not quite. So, they take you safely back to the island shore where you more or less escape from the massive monsters and flee inland. But, there's not a whole lot of places to go on the little island and you've got to sleep eventually, so Sun and Moon decide to spend more personal time with you and show you that really, they're the two baby mers you happened to scoop up one summer day when you were just a tot and didn't realize how scary some things could be.

They'll be patient. You'll see that there is no place safer than with them in the water. They'll help you face your fears and then reunite with you.

If you ever leave your house again, that is.