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saffron-nova21 · 3 years

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X. Meeting the Team Pt. 2

The Next Chapter Masterlist

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Warnings: Strong language, a depiction of a panic attack and the reader's panic, mentions of Oikawa having a knee injury and panic attacks, reader yells at Kuroo.

A/N: By the way, please don't hate me for giving Kuroo a Camaro, I know literally nothing about cars, I'll call myself out so you don't have to.

Stepping out of Kuroo's sleek black 2013 Camaro, your eyes look at the large gym, the sound of volleyballs hitting hardwood floors bringing back memories for you. Glancing out of the corner of your eyes, towards your taller friend, you remembered the last time you'd walked into an unfamiliar gym. You'd met people who you'd made life-long friends with and he'd helped you get out of an awful situation.

Kuroo, Kenma, Lev, and... Well, really, the majority of the Nekoma High and Fukurōdani Academy volleyball clubs... They'd helped you realize when you needed to put your foot down and start looking out for yourself, rather than worrying about stepping on people's toes. While yes, you had lost two of the most important people in your life, by doing so, you also met quite a few people who truly were looking out for you and your happiness.

Did you hate Atsumu and Suna for the way they treated you? No. They both did a lot of damage, through their words and actions. But, at the end of the day, you'd all been so much younger and you weren't going to waste the rest of your life, hating people who weren't even in the picture, anymore. Or so, you thought.

You didn't ever intend or want to see them again, after the emotional turmoil they'd put you through. Little did Kuroo know just how badly you would respond to seeing them again.

"Are you going to stand there and keep reminiscing over when you met me, or are you going to walk inside and make some new friends?" The teasing smirk on Kuroo's lips only reminded you of the fact that even though he was pretty much a mother to you and Kenma, he was a teasing asshole. He knew how to press all of the right buttons and it would never fail to piss you off.

Walking forward, Kuroo walks forward and grasps the handle of the door, opening it for you. You don't hesitate to begin walking into the gym, flipping Kuroo off on your way. "You talk to me like a preschooler, y'know. And you wonder why Kenma calls you mom behind your back."

Stepping into the gym, you were in awe of your surroundings. Sure, this was an Olympic-level gym, but it looked far too pretty and clean to be a place for as grueling a training regimen as you could assume these athletes were put through.

What you were most pleased to find was that it didn't reek of sweat and floor mats. Instead, it had an almost fresh smell to it. It was partitioned up into three different rooms, as far as you could tell. The largest room was the one you were standing in currently, a weight room; different machinery is scattered neatly around the room and you notice that several ceiling-to-floor mirrors are lining the walls for the boys to observe their form while they work. Across from the door you'd just entered through was a wall of glass, which you could only hope was reinforced, and on the other side was a true volleyball gym, where you could see a few people working on their spikes, even if you couldn't quite make out who they were yet. The last room was closed off and much smaller than the other two, so you assumed it to be where the showers and changing room were located.

"Your highness!" You hear a familiar voice, turning to see Iwaizumi approaching you with a snarky grin, a small white towel hanging from around his neck. He wore a sleeveless grey shirt, only bringing more attention to his defined biceps. Sweats drip down his temple and you find yourself a bit embarrassed when you notice his lip still shows signs of the damage you'd done, the day prior. "So kind of you to finally join us."

Despite the lack of a real smile on his face, one of your own tugged at your lips, knowing that he was only teasing you. "You know, Iwa, you could always just admit that you missed me." Sending a wink his way, you notice that a few of the men are stopping what they're doing to look towards you, their attention captured by how loud Iwaizumi had previously been.

"Baby owl!" You can only brace yourself as you hear the former captain shout to you, knowing he was one for hugs. You didn't quite expect to be scooped up off of your feet. Laughter escapes you as Bokuto spins you around, practically bouncing up and down in joy that you were here. "You missed my spikes, earlier! They were so good, they were so good! They even would have made Akaashi proud!"

As Bokuto places you back down on the ground, some of the other boys are starting to approach, a few looking concerned by the way you gripped Bokuto's shoulder to steady yourself. And though you weren't paying attention to who it was, the three who'd been in the area of the gym and net had entered the weight area and gone for their towels and water bottles.

After you manage to shake yourself out of your dizzied state, you look at Bokuto with a smile. "Yeah, Bo? Well, you'll have to show me some more, later, yeah?"

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you spot Iwaizumi staring at you, brows pinching together in slight concern for your wellbeing. He places a bottle of water in your hands, before looking a the excited, silver-haired volleyball player, "Let's be careful, Bokuto. It's only their first day."

"They're looking a little dizzy, Bokuto. You might want to refrain from doing that in the future." The deep voice catches you off-guard, eyes flicking towards the very, very tall, scary man, now standing beside Bokuto.

He wasn't just tall, but he had quite a lot of muscle to his frame, giving him the build of a fucking giant. With wide eyes, you look him over. Despite his size, upon closer examination, he seemed a lot gentler than you might've previously mistaken him for. Kind eyes like that didn't belong to someone who would snap you in two... Right? Your eyes move away from his face, trailing down his body. From strong-looking biceps to defined thighs, the man seemed like a machine, more than anything. He couldn't actually be real, right?

"The fuck are you guys feeding him? Holy shit, hi there, B-F-G." You nod towards him, "Is your hair green or brown, because I'm looking at it and I'm gonna be honest, it's confusing me about as much as that Karasuno kid's did. Holy shit, I think I'm haunted by those memories." A mock shudder runs down your spine.

While Bokuto and Kuroo are used to your trailing off-topic, Ushijima looks confused, the poor thing. "What is a... B-F-G?"

"Big friendly giant. It's what they used to call this tall-ass first year who went to volleyball club with us, as well. You should feel special, Ushiwaka."

"Oh my fuck, Yaku, is that you? You got taller! That's criminal. You were my short king!" A pout graces your lips, while you step forward to give your old friend a large hug.

While Yaku hasn't found himself looking an insane amount taller, he did gain a bit of height since his time in high school. He stood in front of you, a hand resting on the back of his neck and his shoulders drawn back. He'd always had this feel-good, confident aura about him and it was something you'd always deeply respected about him. It was good to see that hadn't gone away.

After a brief hug, Yaku opens his mouth to speak, only for Kuroo to beat him to it. "I thought that was Kenma?"

Sighing, you roll your eyes. "I had to put Kenma in a different bracket, or else he would very easily surpass all of you in everything. I mean come on now, this is Kenma we're talking about," you muse with a self-satisfied smirk, making Kuroo raise an eyebrow.

Though, unbeknownst to you were the thoughts going through Kuroo's head. If only you knew why Kenma did all of the things that he did for you.

"I'm so excited to be working with you guys," a grin makes its way onto your lips as you clasp your hands together in front of you in excitement.

The smile that spread over your lips was contagious, even making Ushijima crack a small smile of his own. Out of anyone Kuroo had known, even with your aggression and the talking you'd do when you got excited, you were one of those people who people couldn't help but find themselves drawn to. And none of the men in the gym were able to quite explain why they found you as endearing as they did. Maybe it was the fact that you most certainly had no filter, whatsoever.

Bokuto places his hands on your shoulders, looking at the others on his team, "They're such a good player, guys! They could have gone pro if they wanted to! They have the best jump-float I've ever seen!" His loud bragging unknowingly catches the attention of the three final members of this group, who'd been caught up in conversation and getting a drink of water.

Yaku juts his chin out a bit and if you hadn't known him as well, you'd have thought the look he gave you was downright scrutinizing. But, being the person you were, and him being the person he was, you knew that he only took Bokuto's words as a challenge. "Oh yeah? Then that should be good practice for our receivers and I."

"If you needed service aces to practice on, you could have just asked, Mori! I wouldn't have minded helping you out, outside of my work hours." You smile as you look towards the libero, "I've been needing to get out of the apartment, for a while. Even Kenma can only handle so much of my dumbass."

Ushijima's curiosity gets the best of him and he cocks his head to the side, wondering what profession you'd chosen, rather than a career in volleyball. And so, yet again, Yaku is beaten to the chase, Ushijima speaking before the smaller man can get his mouth open. "What do you work as?"

"Youtuber some days, but twitch streamer, more often than not." Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to smile, "My roommate got me into it, actually, and from there, it became a profession for the both of us. Though he's got a dozen other jobs as well, it's pretty amazing."

A hand comes to ruffle your hair and after quickly identifying it as Kuroo's you lean into the display of affection. "We're talking about you, not Kenma."

"Speaking of," Bokuto speaks, even though it has nothing to do with the topic at hand, and his hands come up to guide your shoulders in the direction of the gym, "You need to set for me!"

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows, looking impressed, "You can set, as well?"

Nodding excitedly, you dive into an explanation, stopping before Bokuto can steal you away, "Yeah, I play a lot of different positions, actually. My ex-boyfriend was a middle blocker, my childhood friends were a setter and a spiker, and my older brother was an outside hitter - plus, he was amazing at defense, so he helped me a lot with perfecting my service aces when I played in high school. So you can say I was always a well-rounded player."

"Not to mention that you and that ex-boyfriend of yours were almost unbeatable, together. Almost." A warily familiar voice came from behind you, making you look back and grin from ear to ear.

The germaphobe had hardly changed, since high school. He was as tall as ever with a good build to him - only befitting for a volleyball player. As well kept as ever, he stood in front of you, reminding you of the number of times you'd ended up facing him across a net, years before. Though, unlike back then, now you were able to look towards one another for a friendship rather than a healthy rivalry.

"Why if it isn't Sakusa Kiyoomi. It's been forever!" With a questioning glance thrown your way by none other than Bokuto, you explain. "When I was at Inarizaki, we played against Itachiyama all of the time. Kiyoomi and I traded numbers after we bonded over our hatred of large crowds."

Sakusa lets a small uncharacteristic smile slip onto his lips as he glances towards Bokuto, "We haven't really kept in contact, but they'll be a welcome challenge, on the court, again."

"Is that a certain germaphobe of ours... Smiling? Omi! I didn't know you could do that! I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks!"

That voice. Why was he here? Your body goes stiff underneath Bokuto's touch, making the large male draw back to check on you, eyebrows pulled together in concern, until he spots what, or rather who you're staring at.

Because there the two are, standing in all of their glory. Suna Rintarō and Miya Atsumu. They didn't look all that different from the last time you'd seen them. Even though, it'd been what? Nine years?

By the way you go rigid, Suna's eyes drop to the floor, almost guiltily. It had been nine years and you still hated them. Though, he supposed they both deserved it. When you'd told them that you were leaving Inarizaki, they made your life even worse than what it had been. They gave you absolutely every reason to leave, rather than try to convince you to stay.

Before anyone can say anything, you catapult yourself into the air in an attempt to flee the building, much resembling a cat. You just, bolted in the first route you saw working and that was apparently through the air. Kuroo had to jerk you into his chest before you could face-plant to get you to calm down for a second. Sakusa narrowed his eyes as he looked between Suna and Atsumu - had they really been so awful to you?

"I quit. I'm not gonna do it." Your words sounded childish, you knew that but you didn't care, shaking your head as you pull yourself away from Kuroo, having half a mind to leave and not talk to any of the men here ever again. Well, more two of them, than anything else. Though, as you pull away, it dawns on you: was this why he had been so dead-set on you coming to 'help the team out?' With this question in mind, you turn around to face Kuroo. "Did you know they were going to be here?" When he doesn't respond, you feel your breath catch in your throat. The air you were breathing felt heavy inside your chest. He couldn't do that to you - he wouldn't. You flex your hands a bit - everything wasn't actually crumbling. Just remember what Kenma said... Breath...

You can't find the words or guts to continue until he reaches for you, anger quickly rising. What made him think he had any right to comfort you when he'd put you in this situation? "Do you not remember any of what happened in high school? Do you not remember how he," pointing a dramatic finger at Suna, "manipulated me? How bad he hurt me, more than once?"

"Do you not remember what he let happen?" After pointing towards the faux-blonde briefly, you drop your hand back to your side, "Oh no, I forget, you weren't there to see the damage they did, right? Because you went off to University and forgot all about Kenma and me, until we got out of high school, as well, right? Right?" You were hardly able to speak, trying to catch your breath in between words. Your voice was growing faint and strained, due to your lack of oxygen in your lungs.

You knew that everyone's stare was on you, only worsening your panicking. Your hands come to your shirt, wringing the ends of it as you try to ground yourself. But you couldn't stop. You just kept talking, needing Kuroo to understand why you were angry, why you were upset. He needed to understand what you were feeling and what he had done.

"You left me, with strangers, in a big city, after promising me it would all be okay. I wasn't welcomed back with my grandmother and brother, after the falling out. But did you even bother to check up, once, after you left? Did you even care, after promising me it was going to be okay? Come on, give me an answer, huh?" You weren't quite sure what brought up all of these old feelings. Maybe it was having to see the two that caused you all of that distress. "Fuck you, Tetsurō."

Kuroo couldn't deny the fact that he was surprised by the way you lashed out at him. He was wondering where all of this anger had been, years ago. Why hadn't you or Kenma ever said anything to him about this? He was fumbling, no words would escape him, no matter his efforts to get something out.

An uneasy silence hangs in the air for a few long moments, everyone looking between you and the former Nekoma captain. Truthfully, you'd never really dealt with everything that had happened, emotionally. You just kind of shoved it down and distracted yourself with being at a new school and video games.

"Bokuto, take Miya, Ushijima, and Suna and go and practice on the court, for a while." A firm voice saves Kuroo from having to respond, making everyone look towards the athletic trainer. "Yaku, I think you should escort Kuroo out. I'll take Y/N home, today." Iwaizumi walks over to you, looking at Sakusa, "Go get me a cool, damp towel, okay?"

You aren't quite sure if Kuroo leaves willingly, or if Yaku has to force him out, but you don't really care, at the moment. Iwaizumi places an arm around your shoulders and brings you over to a bench to sit on, uncapping a water bottle for you. He crouches down in front of you and hands it to you. "Hey, look at me. It's going to be okay, can you focus on breathing for me, right now?"

You weren't crying, were you? Why was it so hot in here? Why couldn't you just calm down? Everyone was looking at you, weren't they? Had you acted irrationally? They were going to hate you for being so dramatic, weren't they? So much for a good first impression with the boys...

"Did you hear me?" Iwaizumi's voice cuts through your thoughts, making your eyes shift to his. Without a word, you move your eyes back down to the water bottle in his hands, "Breath, Y/N."

Easier said than done. "Al -," you swallow shakily and nod, "Alright."

You move your eyes away from him - bad idea Y/N. When you spot the men glancing over at you while they distractedly get to work, you don't quite register that they wanted to check on you, because they were worried about you, mistaking it, instead, for judgment. You opt for closing your eyes, tapping your fingers together rhythmically to help you calm yourself down.

Looking you over, Iwaizumi is reminded of all the late practices that he would find Oikawa collapsing from exhaustion or due to his knee injuries. Though, Oikawa only got this bad when he held the weight of not making it to nationals on his shoulders. Was this a panic attack that you were having, like Oikawa use to have? Or was it something else? He noticed you reach out to him, after a moment of his thinking, and he offers you a hand, silently nodding when you flash him a grateful, weak, but grateful, smile.

Slowly, your breathing mellowed out and the tears pricking your eyes slipped down your cheeks, your head hanging as you attempt to withdraw your hand from Iwaizumi. Though, your eyes move back up when he gently grips your hand, holding it in his, still. It isn't long after that when you feel nimble fingers grip your chin, tilting it up so that Sakusa can gently pat your cheeks and face with the cool cloth. You knew he didn't like touching people much and you were tempted to tell them that they didn't have to do this for you. But their touch was so gentle and their presence so calming that you couldn't bring yourself to open your mouth.

Instead of saying anything, you relax against Iwaizumi and Sakusa's touch. Normally it was Kenma who'd be doing this for you, just as you'd do it for him, but Kenma wasn't here, right now. And you were left to depend on yourself and these very kind, very gentle men.

It doesn't take Yaku long to make his way over, sitting on the bench behind you and gently rubbing circles against your back. "You okay there?" He asks you after a few moments of silence.

Letting out a breath, you open your eyes and nod. You pull your hand away from Iwaizumi and pull your head from Sakusa, turning from them, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Though, you aren't expecting Sakusa to grasp your chin once again and tilt your head in their direction again, "You aren't and we all know it, so cut the act."

Yaku sends a glare towards the taller man, "Sakusa!"

"What?" He snaps back. "I'm right, aren't I? They're not okay and they have every right to express it."

Iwaizumi sighs and looks at you, ignoring the other two, "Drink some water, okay? Look, after today, you don't have to return, I think we'll all understand if you don't want to... But, and you can ignore what I'm about to say if you want, I think that you need closure. Even if that comes from just having to tolerate occupying the same building as them."

Glancing over his shoulders, you find Suna and Atsumu both glancing in your direction. They looked so guilty... Why did you care? You frown and give him a shrug, "Whatever..."

Looking at you, Yaku nods slowly, "We'll try and keep you away from them, alright?"

After a nod of confirmation from Sakusa, you sigh and take a sip of the water bottle Iwaizumi had offered you. "Okay. Fine, yeah, I'll... I'll keep helping out." You confirm. "But, I'm going to bring Kenma for the next few days, just to make sure... This doesn't happen again." Gesturing to where the three sat, doting over you, you lower your eyes again.

"Whatever is going to make you feel most comfortable," Iwaizumi tells you, bringing a hand to affectionately ruffling your hair, watching the way you immediately lean into the affection.

"Let's get to work, what do you say, Y/N?" Sakusa hums, tone surprisingly gentle with you.

You finally stand up, capping your water bottle. "Yeah... Yeah. What can I do for you boys?"

Kenma and you both have a history of having panic attacks and you both are very good at calming one another down, due to your years of experience.

The boys might have just met you, but they all quickly developed this sense of 'I need to protect them' after what happened in front of them.

Atsumu let someone blackmail you, while you were both in high school and Suna continuously used you for his own amusement after he lost his memories and before he got them back. And they both said hurtful things when you announced you'd be leaving.

I am so sorry for how late this was, honestly. I just couldn't get it written how I wanted it. And even still, I don't really like the end result. But no matter, here it is, now, I hope you guys enjoy it. I hope you guys are having a great day, as well! Remember, sweetheart, I'm proud of you. You deserve to eat, get a good amount of sleep, and drink some water, I am so proud of you. Have a great day, alright! I'll have another chapter out tomorrow 🤍 I love you guys.

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evehere · 3 years

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Chapter 7 of Yearning willow

2.0 Ji Baihua

Yearning willow masterpost! 🍃

Mo Ran punched the wall so hard that it trembled under his fist.

How dared he!? The fucking waste of a space the man was, he dared to call himself a doctor!? Son of a bitch! Ass-licking bastard! He remembered the man’s fawning face and calculating eyes—he had been the one to attend Chu Wanning while they were married. Chu Wanning’s state when he entered the prison was for sure related to this man’s “care”!

Mo Ran pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to control his rapid breathing. The fucking rat… Mo Ran had half a mind to chase after him and let him taste the edge of his sword! He would do the people a favour if he just killed the conniving rat! Disgusting bag of fleas!

His hands pressed into tight fists. Mo Ran was trembling hard from the sheer rage he was feeling right then, hearing his heart beating furiously in his eardrums.

As the saying goes, rats and snakes nest together, he thought darkly, his eyes darting to the western house he knew was at the other side of the courtyard. He could always just light the nest on fire and get rid of all of his problems. A dark, wicked pleasure arose in his chest at the idea, imagining already the screams and the pleas for mercy.

As if Mo Ran had any mercy left in his body. They had taken it away when they took Chu Wanning from his side, so now they’d pay. Everyone would pay. Now that he knew what was going to happen and how, no one could stop him! He’d destroy their lives just like they had destroyed his. He’d stomp them under his feet and have them beg him on their knees!

Since Mo Ran didn’t get a good end, they would have to follow him to hell! He’d made them taste the same desperation, the same impotence and helplessness he had suffered while they wished for a death that wouldn’t come.

He’d… he’d…

Wait.

Mo Ran stopped his train of thought.

He recognised this darkness, this voice in his head that persuaded him to follow his basest, most violent desires.

Fuck. Of course, he had just woken in this body. Last time, it had taken a few days to clear his system out, though he didn’t remember exactly how many. Days blended together when one was imprisoned in a prison cell.

When was the last time he had been in the snake’s nest?

Mo Ran pressed his hands on his face and took a deep breath. And another. And another. He controlled his breathing, counting each inhale and each exhale, calming his mind until he no longer felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. When he lowered his hands, he no longer resembled a demon on earth, though ambers of rage still flickered in the depth of his eyes.

Revenge would have to wait until he made sure that whatever he did wouldn’t splash dirt or blood on Chu Wanning. His husband didn’t need those stains on him.

His only goal this time around was to make sure Chu Wanning got out unscathed of the mess Mo Ran had made.

Mo Ran observed his husband again for a long moment, before placing his exposed hand back under the covers. He tucked the quilt securely under his body so he wouldn’t shake the quilt off if he kicked his legs while he slept.

Chu Wanning’s breathing was still just as laboured as before, and his colour hadn’t improved one bit. Worriedly, Mo Ran put a hand on his feverish face, pushing the lone strands of hair away from his forehead. His palm was so big that it almost engulfed the elegant lines of his husband’s face when he pressed tenderly his hand against his cheek.

His thumb caressed Chu Wanning’s cheekbone, light as a feather. Whatever he did, he’d have to be careful, but his mind wasn’t in the right state to make sensible decisions. First, he’d have to look for a reliable doctor for him. He knew Chu Wanning wouldn’t die from this—after all, he had survived long enough to accompany him to prison—but Mo Ran wouldn’t take any chances with his health.

Any other plan could wait. From now to his impeachment there were four, almost five years. He had time to take measured steps, to remove the pests that plagued his home. Whatever he did, he had to ensure Chu Wanning’s safety first.

Besides… there was something wrong. Mo Ran felt irked. As if he was being observed. He scoured the bedroom, but they were alone.

Before Mo Ran could think about it further, voices reached him from outside the room.

“Ji-xiaojun! Ji-xiaojun! Where are you going!? Please stop, these are furen’s rooms! You can’t behave like this here!” A girl’s voice exclaimed. It started far away, but it quickly reached the doors, just like the noise of several sets of footsteps.

“Out of my way,” a man’s cold voice answered, “as if you cared about furen and his dignity. Don’t you dare lecture me.”

Mo Ran rose. Here comes one problem, he thought, squinting his eyes.

There was a shadow reflected on the white paper of the door. Someone was leaning on the door, holding it closed.

“Please, Ji-xiaojun, furen is sick! You can’t just barge in here!”

“How would you know if furen is sick? You were on your way to Honglian House from the servants’ quarters. Now, get away from the door or I’ll have Xiarong[1]drag you away,” the man said. He didn’t raise his voice, but the steeliness of his voice vowed for the intent behind his words.

Mo Ran had enough. His frustration and his anger hadn’t even receded completely, and now these lowlifes dared to quarrel right under his nose. In two strides, he got to the door and opened it with force.

The maid at the other side almost fell back at the sudden loss of her support, barely catching herself on the door frame on time.

“What is this ruckus?” Mo Ran asked, staring harshly at the maid.

“Houye!” the young man and the maid exclaimed almost at the same time. However, the maid’s voice was heavily tinged with fright, whereas the young man’s reflected a deep surprise.

There was an entire entourage outside, but Mo Ran’s eyes fell on the girl on the floor first. He recognised the maidservant as the first rank maid in charge of Honglian House, a slender and pretty young girl, no older than twenty, with high cheekbones and thick lips.

“Where have you been until now, huh?” Mo Ran berated her, his anger burning anew at the sight of her. “Do you think that Nanping Manor is feeding you for free!? Fucking useless bitch!”

The girl fell to her knees, her head hanging low.

“X-Xinjing[2]is sorry, houye, I-I was…”

“Get to work! Don’t let me catch you loafing on your job again or else I’ll flay your skin off! Do you understand me!?”

“Y-Yes, houye,” the maid said, scurrying in.

Mo Ran stood there, trying to get a rein of himself. He shouldn’t have yelled right in front of so many people.

Well, everyone knew something had changed, since he had carried Chu Wanning out of the shrine and he had chased the doctor out, so he could just break the cracked pot and think of a countermeasure later.

The group was led by a young man wearing his hair in the half-updo that was customary among the men who married in deference to their husbands—concubines, or, like Chu Wanning, the one in submission in a marriage between men. The young man’s face showed his astonishment at his behaviour, though his raised eyebrows and almost bulging eyes didn’t cover his handsome features.

Mo Ran instantly recognised his slightly raised peach-blossom eyes, which gave people an impression of anger, and fine eyebrows, with a cinnabar dot on his brow.

Ji Baihua.

Immediately, Mo Ran relaxed his shoulders a tiny fraction. He had almost forgotten about this man—his harem had grown so much at the end of his life that he no longer kept count of those he didn’t favour. But he had some memories of him, because when Nanping Manor had fallen in his first life, Ji Baihua was one of the few who had remained. Mainly because he had nowhere to go.

This was a man he could trust not to stab them in the back: Ji Baihua was a concubine lady Wang had sent him, a man loyal to Xue Manor and, subsequently, to Nanping Manor.

While he was reminiscing, Ji Baihua had overcome his astonishment and lowered on one knee to greet him properly. Behind him, a maid and a young boy followed suit and an old man with a doctor’s case kowtowed to him, pressing his forehead to the ground, so Mo Ran could only see his grey bun on top of his head.

“Greetings, houye,” they said.

“Rise,” Mo Ran said, keeping his voice tone brisk and short, as if his presence annoyed him. If he suddenly changed his attitude towards Ji Baihua out of the blue, people would think he had gone mad overnight. “What are you doing here?”

Ji Baihua didn’t get up. Instead, he lowered further and dropped his head low.

“I noticed furen didn’t look wellyesterday morning, when we paid our respects to him. Since houyelet him out earlier magnanimously, I acted on my own and invited doctor Ren Kang[3] fromthe Imperial Academy of Medicine. I dare supplicate houye to…”

Doctor Ren Kang!

“Please, come inside, doctor Ren,” Mo Ran said, interrupting Ji Baihua, who threw him another confused look.

Mo Ran didn’t see the sheer bewilderment in Ji Baihua’s eyes, because he had stepped forward to support the doctor as he rose to a standing position. Doctor Ren was an old man in his fifties, with a head full of grey hairs and hooded eyes. He looked exactly the same as he did in Mo Ran’s memories—though the one Mo Ran had met in his first life was a few years older.

“This humble one greets houye. May a thousand blessings be with you, houye,” the doctor said with a steady voice and bowing deeply, with an attitude that was neither overbearing nor servile.

“I’ll have to trouble doctor Ren with furen’s health,” Mo Ran said, pulling him inside without looking at Ji Baihua twice.

Without further ado, they stepped inside. Ji Baihua rose slowly, and, accompanied by his maid, he followed them inside.

Xinjing was picking up some of the mess around Chu Wanning’s bed, creating enough free space so she could put a thick cushion on the floor next to the bed for the doctor to kneel on.

“Leave,” Mo Ran told her, expressionless, as the doctor took out his tools.

The servants were already used to the sudden changes in Mo Ran’s instructions—gods knew that he had become volatile and temperamental beyond recognition after Shi Mei’s death. However, Xinjing’s mouth twitched.

“But who will serve if Xinjing leaves?”

She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth, as she glimpsed the fury that rose again in Mo Ran’s eyes.

“The servants in this household are becoming more and more capable as each day passes,” Mo Ran said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “They dare question their master’s decisions now. If you must know, isn’t Ji Baihua right here to serve furen and me?”

Xinjing fell to her knees again, ready to apologise again, but before she could say a single word, Mo Ran interrupted her.

“Ji Baihua,” he said, his voice cold and sharp as a sword. Behind him, he heard clothes rustling, and his concubine’s face appeared in his field of vision. “Lend me your boy.”

“Yes, houye.” The other man called, “Xiarong!”

“No, no, houye, please have mercy! Houye, please have mercy!” Xinjing exclaimed, her face white as chalk and her voice trembling with fear. She kowtowed repeatedly, knowing this wouldn’t end well for her.

An agile boy leaped in the room in seconds and bowed to Mo Ran.

“Drag her out to the courtyard, and slap her face twenty times! I want her kneeling outside until midday,” Mo Ran said, without batting an eye. “Let everyone know that if anyone dares to laze around and question my orders, this is what will happen to them!”

“Yes, houye!” The boy said, proceeding to drag the girl out by her underarms.

Xinjing trashed around, trying to stop him to no avail. The boy was more than used to heavy jobs and had no trouble taking her out.

“No, houye, please, have mercy! Xinjing is wrong, this servant knows it! Please, houye!”

Her screams followed them all the way out, until the sound of the first slap reached them, and her cries for mercy turned into pained yelps and sobs.

“One!” the boy called out from outside.

Mo Ran acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. To put in order Chu Wanning’s house, he would set an example to start with. No one would dare to disregard his care for the short term, but this wasn’t the way to go in the long run. Whether his rage at his husband’s state of inattention of neglect had set the punishment higher, was a whole another issue that Mo Ran, honestly, wasn’t much bothered about.

The doctor had been working on getting his tools out with steady hands, without batting an eye. He was truly an unwavering man—others in his place might be already trembling.

Returning to his post beside the bed, he saw Ji Baihua throwing a meaningful glance to his maid, who cleverly took his hint and left the room, closing the door behind her just as another cry of pain reached them.

“Two!”

***

Ji Baihua observed everything, even though his expression didn’t change. The marquis was behaving… unusually today. Unusually to say the least—terrifically wrong would be more exact. It was as if… as if he wasn’t the same person.

Just yesterday, there had been yet another ruckus in Honglian House, which ended with the furen serving a punishment in the shrine yet again. Though Ji Baihua didn’t know what had caused their argument this time, he had perceived no anguish from houye at furen’s discomfort the day before. He had announced loudly for all servants to hear that furen had to stay three days in the shrine and no one was allowed to bring him food until his time was up.

Then, he had gone straight to Rong Jiu’s rooms. That son of a bitch never missed an opportunity to seduce the marquis to his rooms, and an angry houye was a houye in need of an outlet.

A night at Rong Jiu’s rooms. That was all that happened.

Ji Baihua couldn’t wrap his head around what could have transpired during the night. He knew better than to expect the little bastard to open his mouth to plead for furen’s case. If anything, Rong Jiu mastered the art of adding firewood to the fire and pouring oil into the flames.

On the surface, nothing had changed. The marquis was just as fickle as ever, as his words to the maid had proved, and equally mercurial and unpredictable.

However, he had brought his husband out of the shrine—Ji Baihua almost hadn’t believed it when his maid told him she had bumped into houye screaming for a doctor for furen. He was allowing a doctor to attend to him. Ji Baihua was ordered to stay. And the marquis himself was staying.

Just these were enough to make Ji Baihua’s mind swarm with turbulence and befuddlement. Though he had married into Nanping Manor for less than a year, he had seen and heard enough to know a few things. First, the marquis hated furen. Second, the marquis disliked Ji Baihua. So for him to ask a doctor to attend to furenand to ask him to stay…

Yet he was used to hiding his emotions, so none of his questions or his surprise showed on his face. Instead, he helped the doctor by placing furen’s hand on the wrist cushion and a silk handkerchief on the bony wrist. Sensibly, he stepped where he could wait on them without being a nuisance.

Now that the door was closed, not a peep from outside could be heard. All the houses in Nanping Manor were soundproof, which was a blessing because the concubines’ rooms were next to each other. Ji Baihua would rather live without hearing Rong Jiu’s voice at nights. Or anyone else’s.

Unlike him, the marquis had taken a seat close to the bed, and everything from his frown and pursed lips to his tapping foot spoke of impatience and a deep anxiousness.

Doctor Ren was one of lady Wang’s old friends and clients. Lady Wang sold herbs and medicinal plants to many doctors in the capital, and among them, she spoke highly of doctor Ren’s abilities and discretion—to be an imperial doctor, and a successful one after two decades to top, one had to have more than just vast knowledge and abilities.

When Ji Baihua heard furen had been punished to the shrine despite his illness—truly, the man could try to fool everyone, but Ji Baihua had a trained eye for illness—he sent a note to the doctor, to ask him to be prepared to come to Nanping Manor. Lady Wang had asked him to take care of furen, so Ji Baihua would do his best, including calling the best doctor he knew.

Though he couldn’t have imagined that the time would come so soon.

Doctor Ren stayed silent for a long time, taking furen’s pulse. Then, covering his fingers with the handkerchief, he examined furen meticulously, from his eyes, to his mouth and tongue, to the nail beds on both hands.

While the doctor worked, Ji Baihua inspected the room discreetly out of the corner of his eye. It was the first time he was in furen’s bedroom, since concubines usually gathered at the entrance hall of Honglian House. As the second largest house in Nanping Manor, HonglianHouse was separated into five spaces. The central one was the entrance hall, at the western side was his bedroom and at the eastern side there was a study, with a calligraphy table and a guqin stand, though the guqin was absent.

The entire house was a mess. Usually, the maidservants kept a minimum order, but whenever furen was absent for any reason, the servants would slope off to the servants’ quarters or the kitchens. Honglian House was a beautiful house, decorated with rosewood furniture with red as an accent, very elegant against the heavy cream curtains that separated each space in the house and the simple ink paintings displayed on the screens. Just that… everything had the mark of wear, some more visible than others, and there was so much clutter everywhere that he could barely see any of the furniture and the carpet—Ji Baihua sighed to himself that to get so much clutter in just a couple of days… was truly a feat on its own.

Though the painting on the other side of the house was very much visible from where he stood. Ji Baihua turned his sight away from it, uncomfortable.

However, the doctor started asking them some questions, so Ji Baihua’s inspection ended.

“Has furencomplained of dizziness, shortness of breath, weariness or palpitations?” He asked first, with his brow slightly furrowed. Though he wasn’t looking at the marquis, it was clear it was him he was asking.

“I-I don’t know,” the young man said, turning at Ji Baihua.

“Furen hasn’t complained of anything… he doesn’t talk much about himself either.”

The doctor hummed, saying nothing.

“How long has he been this pale?” He asked then, observing the back of furen’s hand.

“I don’t remember,” the marquis murmured, looking yet again at Ji Baihua.

“He has always been this pale since I married in, more than half a year ago.”

“Does he have injuries?”

The marquis turned really red when the doctor asked a last question, but yet again the doctor was met with an “I don’t know”.

After the third question, the doctor asked no more, probably knowing that no matter what he asked, he’d be met with half-assed answers like Ji Baihua’s. Or worse, another “I don’t know” from the marquis. If he pressed too much, embarrassment could easily turn into anger with arrogant people like the marquis, and people like doctor Ren and Ji Baihua knew that well.

Neither Ji Baihua nor the marquis made a sound if the doctor didn’t talk first, letting him work in silence. Still, when the water clock marked that a quarter had passed, the young man was defeated by his impatience.

“How is he, doctor?” He asked with tone Ji Baihua had never heard from him.

So the fierce Taxian general did know of the word “fear” after all.

“Furen’s health has visibly worsened since I last checked on him five years ago,” the doctor said unhurriedly, taking out a needle from a linen case filled with long and bright silver needles. With gentle but firm hands, he punctured the patient’s index finger and observed the drop of blood.

“You have attended him before?” The marquis asked, his voice reflecting the same surprise Ji Baihua was feeling.

The doctor nodded, without pausing in his work.

“I was appointed to care for Chu-furen’s wounds after the last battle at the northern borders.”

Ji Baihua tensed up at the mention of it, his eyes immediately looking for the marquis’ reaction. To his utter astonishment, there was almost no change in the young man’s expression.

The battle at the northern borders five years ago was the battle that had taken the first furen’s life—the biggest, most off-limits taboo in Nanping Manor.

Lady Wang had warned Ji Baihua: never mention the battle, never say a word about Mu-furen, Shi Mei. Two years ago, a servant with a big mouth had lost his life when he had dared say that doctors like Mu-furen should have never gone to the battlefield. The marquis had him caned to death.

This time, there was no wave, no change in the marquis’ expression.

Ji Baihua couldn’t help a shiver. Something had happened. Something huge and drastic. What could have caused this change in the marquis? He didn’t know what or why, but it made him feel cold inside.

He should have come prepared for surprises, because the marquis’ next words left him dazed anew.

“He was wounded?”

Both the doctor and Ji Baihua stared at him. Thankfully, they were men with excellent control over their expressions, or else they’d be gaping open-mouthed at him. Still, doctor Ren couldn’t help raising his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead.

Ji Baihua wondered if it was some twisted joke, but the sheer turmoil and perturbation he saw on the marquis’ face convinced it wasn’t.

“He… he was.” Ji Baihua couldn’t help saying. Immediately, houye’s incredulous gaze froze him on his spot, but his own disbelief was stronger this time. “E-everyone in the capital knows that the former war counsellor Chu was stabbed in the chest and that he almost died on the battlefield.”

When the war ended, storytellers had a busy time telling and retelling how war counsellor Chu Wanning had turned the tides in the last battle, almost sacrificing his own life for the people of his country. Chu Wanning had got a great “loyal” reputation—facing his dying pupil, Shi Mei, and the greater good, he had chosen the latter.

“The sword grazed his heart,” the doctor said, getting back to his work. “It was a miracle he survived.”

Some said a few years later that Chu Wanning should have died on the battlefield. A hero like him should have died a dignified death, instead of suffocating surrounded by four walls all day long. Before, Ji Baihua couldn’t have cared less. After marrying Mo Ran, in the depth of his heart, he agreed with those people.

The marquis was speechless for a long moment afterwards. Ji Baihua supposed he could understand why he hadn’t heard of it right after the war, since his first husband had died in the same battle that had wounded Chu Wanning. But what about the years after?

The silence extended for too long. Ji Baihua didn’t dare look at the young man directly. There was a sense of loss, some sort of helplessness, as if he was a lost child, that made it unbearable to look at him now. He supposed he wouldn’t know if Ji Baihua was looking at him anyway, because he kept his eyes fixed on his husband’s unconscious face.

The doctor finished his examination and turned to Mo Ran.

“From what this humble one has seen in the examination, Chu-furen’s health is still suffering from the aftermath of his war wounds. The base of his health isn’t as it was before the war, and he has been afflicted by a qi stasis around his old wound, as well as a consumptive ailment that affects his blood.”

Ji Baihua nodded to himself, agreeing with the diagnosis. Furen had never taken well convalescence.

However, the marquis merely wrinkled his brow, confused and lost around the medical terminology.

“What does that mean?”

“Chu-furenlost a lot of blood and sustained a great injury during the war,” the doctor explained patiently. “This humble one warned him it would take more than a year to recover, even if he followed my instructions, which I see he didn’t. Though his body isn’t as weak as he was then, his blood and qi deficit hasn’t been recovered.”

“Is it serious? Is it… is it life-threatening?” The marquis asked with apprehension.

The tightly knit brow and the concerned angle of his mouth were so foreign on his face that Ji Baihua couldn’t help stare at him for a moment.

“Chu-furenshouldn’t go on like this, but there’s no immediate threat to his life. I’m sure this fever isn’t a one-time occurrence, and it’s a manifestation of the weakness that plagues his heart. It’ll go down with rest, cold compresses and a tonic to bring the fever down. His body needs rest, which is why he isn’t waking up. This humble one will write a prescription to remove blood and qi stasis and promote blood circulation, and send a tonic to build up his energy and nourish his blood. Furen should take them for at least half a year. I’ll come by to check up on furen every day until his fever ceases,” the doctor said, taking out paper and ink to write a prescription.

The marquis nodded as well, mumbling to himself. His whole body was hovering over his husband’s, as if he couldn’t bear the distance between them. There was a confused, hurt look in his eyes. Ji Baihua looked away.

For a while, they waited in silence as the doctor wrote the prescription. Impatiently, the marquis stood up to read what the doctor was writing.

“What does he usually eat?” The doctor asked off-handed, but he immediately realised that they wouldn’t know the answer, so he continued smoothly, without a pause. “He should have plenty of rest and have good meals. Especially non-vegetarian dishes. All kinds of meats, eggs, liver and whatever furen likes, but keep a good balance with vegetables and fruits. Fresh, not pickled or dried.”

The marquis nodded at each instruction the doctor threw at them with a concentrated expression. Ji Baihua wondered if he was really remembering all the little details the doctor was telling them. Usually, this would be the work of furen’s closest maidservants, but one was sick, and the other was currently receiving twenty slaps.

It didn’t matter, he sighed. He was paying attention just as well, since he was the best candidate to take care of furen. Even if the marquis had a change of heart, his official duties kept him out of the house most of the day.

“I think he was in pain earlier,” the marquis mumbled. “Why was that?”

The doctor’s gaze was blank when he looked up from what he was writing. Ji Baihua could understand what he was thinking, because he was asking himself the same question: if the marquis didn’t even know if his husband had any injuries on him, why would he know if his unconscious husband was in pain??

“This humble one would need to have a look at it,” the doctor said politely. “Where would be the pain?”

Indeed, Ji Baihua could see why lady Wang, a healer of exceptional ability herself, admired this doctor.

The marquis’ question started another examination. Indeed, when the doctor moved his leg, there was a visible wince on furen’s face, even though he was still unconscious. After a few moments, the doctor turned to him.

“May this humble one ask Ji-xiaojun to get a first batch of medicine with this prescription? I want to make sure the preparation is done well.”

Ji Baihua was bright enough to understand the meaning behind his words: leave, please. Whatever the doctor did and said next wasn’t meant for him. Most likely, the doctor was trying to preserve Mo Ran or Chu Wanning’s dignity, by not letting a concubine know what afflicted furen.

Without saying a word, Ji Baihua took the prescription with both hands, bowed to the marquis, and left.

To live well as a concubine, curiosity was a hindrance.

***

When Ji Baihua left, the doctor knelt in front of Mo Ran again, with his head low.

“This humble one has a rough idea of what may be the ailment that plagues furen. Only one exploration is needed to confirm my diagnosis,” he said. “May this humble one request permission to see furen’s knees?”

Mo Ran’s mouth twitched, an instant dislike arousing in his heart at the idea of another man seeing Chu Wanning’s body. How very brave of doctor Ren to request to be left alone with a very volatile marquis and his unconscious husband… if Mo Ran lashed out at his words, there would be no one near to save his hide, he thought with a snarl.

“No!”

“Please reconsider, houye.”

Mo Ran almost lashed out, ready to kick a doctor for the second time in the day, before he caught sight of the earnest sincerity in doctor Ren’s face.

He had seen this expression before.

When he had been at his lowest, none of his past power remaining, this man had treated him with the professionalism and sincerity. Even then, he had treated Chu Wanning with utmost respect, though no rule forced him to.

Mo Ran’s hand formed a tight fist on his thigh.

“Alright,” he said, gritting his teeth.

The doctor got to work immediately. There were no wasted movements in how he quickly uncovered Chu Wanning’s legs and rolled up the trouser leg. Too agitated to stay still, Mo Ran imitated what the doctor was doing on the other side, though he was much placated that the doctor made no contact with his skin.

As they rolled up his trousers, Mo Ran’s mouth felt as if he had swallowed sand when he saw patches of bruises on his husband’s shins, all the way to the knees. Some were still an angry red, while others were already turned blue and green. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know that the swelling in the joint wasn’t normal.

Chu Wanning, you dumb, stubborn man…

Mo Ran’s eyes took in the battered legs. Each of the bruises made his heart cry bitter tears in a way the injuries Chu Wanning had received in prison hadn’t. In prison, the sight of his injuries drew up his rage, his anguish and distress, but in this case, it brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

He had caused these.

Mo Ran stayed silent as the doctor worked, unable to turn his eyes away. First, he pressed his fingers lightly on the side of his knees—Mo Ran found no strength in him to find it inappropriate—and flexed the leg from one side to the other. Then, clicking his tongue, he took out an ointment and rubbed it on his knees with dextrous fingers. The ointment had a strong, pungent smell that tingled in Mo Ran’s nose.

“Furen’s knees have signs of blood stasis and damage to the inner structure. If this humble one isn’t mistaken, he must spend a lot of time kneeling,” the doctor said, picking out more ointment from the jar.

“What did you say?” Mo Ran asked, dumbfounded.

The doctor merely turned to look at one of the many calligraphy practices that laid on the low table.

“I suppose Chu-furen must practice very often.”

Mo Ran followed his gaze to the handwriting he was so familiar with. Chu Wanning’s calligraphy was strong and determined in the strokes, elegant and poised, following a structured and rigid style that Mo Ran had mocked more than once in the past.

It seamlessly brought to mind the image of Chu Wanning kneeling in front of his calligraphy table, in the study at HonglianHouse.

He used a classical piece of furniture, with short and overly decorated legs. It had been there when they had moved to Nanping Manor, and Shi Mei hadn’t used it a lot. However, Mo Ran didn’t have any trouble remembering the multiple instances he had seen Chu Wanning kneeling there, copying sutras and poems or practicing calligraphy. There had been few entertainments left for him as Mo Ran grew progressively unreasonable.

When they had married, Mo Ran had wished to make a statement, and he had forbidden any changes in the furniture and decorations of Honglian House. The thought now brought a wave of bitterness to his tongue.

Mo Ran understood that the doctor was giving him an excuse to get them out of their predicament. Most probably, the doctor knew that Chu-furen was ordered to kneel every once in a while, since Mo Ran hadn’t bothered to keep it a secret. It would be most embarrassing for Chu Wanning to let people know he knelt often enough to injure his legs.

People would talk about Chu Wanning, saying he didn’t know how to learn a lesson, to the point his knees had been injured from the many times he had been sent to the shrine. About Mo Ran, they’d say at most that he had gone a bit overboard disciplining his household. At the end of the day, they were still husbands, people would sigh, he should be more patient with him.

But the worst of the rumours and gossip would be Chu Wanning’s burden to bear. If he returned to the court, it could be used against him: he doesn’t even know how to correct his mistakes when his husband punishes him, how can he correct the other ministers at court?

At once, Mo Ran felt infinitely grateful that the doctor had dismissed everyone, including Ji Baihua. A hard and bitter fist constricted his chest when he thought of why his husband kneeling in the shrine, cold and alone, bearing the pain until his legs were damaged. His heart hurt as if it was being fried in a scalding pan, and his hand hovered on top of Chu Wanning’s knees, not daring to touch them.

“I’ll change his furniture,” Mo Ran mumbled when he noticed that the doctor was expecting some kind of answer.

“It would be best if he didn’t kneel for a while,” the doctor said tactfully. “This humble one will come by tomorrow and relay instructions to him as well. Meanwhile, his knees can be treated with cold compresses, just like his fever. Don’t let him stand for too long and don’t have him sit for too long. Knees can be tricky, and they might hurt with the cold, but don’t let him bed rest for long.”

Mo Ran just nodded to everything the doctor said, mumbling to himself as he memorised what he had to do. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and placed Chu Wanning’s hand under the covers again.

“Thank you very much, doctor Ren. I’ll have a gift sent along with your honorariums to your home,” Mo Ran said with all the sincerity he could muster.

“It was this humble one’s duty as a doctor, it’s not worth houye’s gratitude.” As a last thought, he added, “maybe the servants should add a stove.” The doctor cleared all his tools and looked to the door, ready to leave.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep you a bit longer and talk to you privately in my office,” Mo Ran said. There were things he needed to know.

“Of course, houye.”

“Please tell a servant to lead you to the office. I’ll be with you shortly,” Mo Ran said.

The doctor nodded and left, closing the door after him.

There was something Mo Ran wanted to know before he left.

A feeling of wrongness had plagued him since he had arrived in Chu Wanning’s room. There was something deeply troubling him, making his hair stand on end. He felt… observed. But then, Chu Wanning had taken all of his attention—there were few things more important right now than his husband’s health.

He stood slowly, and surveyed the room, taking slow steps as he examined everything. It took him only a couple of swipes at the room to discover what was amiss.

Shi Mei was looking at him from the other side of the room, as young and beautiful as ever, with a slight smile on his lips.

***

Wangyue was bored.

Suppressing a sigh, he rested his chin on his hand, leaning against the armrest. His deep blue robes pooled around his elbows with elegance, weighted down by the fox fur embroidered around his sleeve. His family sent him the latest and most exquisite fabrics, as it befitted a son from the Jiang family, but Wangyue couldn’t wear them without disrespecting furen—a concubine’s belongings shouldn’t exceed the rightful spouse’s—but even his worse robes were priceless. They didn’t bring any other joy to Wangyue, apart from the envious look in Rong Jiu’s eyes.

Rong Jiu, that boastful bastard, had excused himself from the morning greetings. The maid had said something along the lines of “utter exhaustion from serving houyelast night”.

Humph. Better for Wangyue anyway. Rong Jiu was a nasty little son of a bitch. Last month, he had scarred the face of a new maid ru-furen sent him.

Such were the actions of a man without self-confidence. He was one of the youngest among them, even though he had married in much earlier. Rong Jiu had no good-standing family to back him—no family at all, from what Wangyue knew—and no talents to speak of besides his whoring behaviour. His androgynous looks, while charming, were nothing special among the beauties their houye had seen. Besides, he was a man with no option of giving children to their houye.

No wonder Rong Jiu was afraid and jealous of Wangyue.

But there was truly no one to have a conversation with him after ru-furen ended the meeting. Again, Wangyue worked hard to suppress a sigh. It would be disrespectful.

The concubines sat according to their status whenever they were together. From the first-rank concubine all the way to the eight-rank tongfangs[4], everyone knew where they stood in Nanping Manor from where they sat.

In a spacious room with light green curtains and dark wood furniture, with the windows covered with the best “Moonlight paper” from the southern market, ru-furenheld the morning greetings. After everyone had gathered, they had taken their places next to their seat, bowing and kowtowing to her before being allowed to sit. Then, they stayed for an hour or two, listening to whatever she had to commend to them or just to chat idly. When it was furen who held the morning greetings, the dynamics were quite different, but in essence the same: all concubines listened to what ru-furen had to say about the household’s affairs and heeded her orders.

Ru-furen, as the only first-rank concubine, took the most honourable position in the left high chair of her hall in furen’s absence. Ru-furen was a young woman around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with a bright gaze and white teeth, cloud-like hair and a face like a flower. Like her brother, a beauty hard to find, though no matter how beautiful she was, it was difficult to conceal her ice-like nature.

Wangyue knew her name, but he’d never utter it in her presence because her status was way higher than his own: she had the highest rank a concubine could hold in a harem, the elder sister of houye’s original pairing, and the one in control of all matters in Nanping Manor.

Mu Yanli.

“… are approaching the age. As their masters, we should think of a good outcome for them. Ask if anyone’s family has already found a match for them, and we shall arrange the termination of their indenture,” she was saying.

Ah, yes. The maidservants were reaching the age of marriage, especially the first-rank maids. Buying new servants in and letting old maids out was ru-furen’s recurring task. Errand boys and male servants were much easier to manage, as they usually stayed in the household.

“If I may, ru-furen…” a girl’s timid voice said next to Wangyue. With ru-furen’s nod, she continued, “Xin’er’s father found her a match in their village. She’d like to return home.” The maid standing behind her, Xin-er[5], immediately went forward and kowtowed to ru-furen.

Mu Yanli stayed silent for a moment, clinking idly her teacup’s lid with the rim of the cup. No one dared to speak while she was thinking, not a fly could be heard. Years spent as ru-furen in Nanping Manor made her role and status clear to the rest of them, and not even Rong Jiu could question her authority easily. Wangyue couldn’t help frowning a bit.

Next to him, the girl that had talked shifted in her seat. She was in her early twenties, with a pale, oval face and enticing big eyes, round like the moon.

She was one of the two third-rank concubines of Nanping Manor.

Among the concubines, from the second to fourth ranks there would seem as if they had been divided on whim, since they held the same authority in the household and they were all married in instead of indentured. However, there was a key difference between them, something that made Wangyue stand over them: their families’ status.

Second-rank came from high-standing families, second only to those concubines from the main spouse’s family.

Wangyue himself was the only second-rank concubine. Though he came from the prestigious Jiang family, he was the concubine-born son of the duke’s third cousin, so he had married out of his home instead of making a match as the main spouse himself.

There were only two third-rank concubinesin Nanping Manor, who came from respectable families with no titles and lower official pots. One of them had married in almost at the same time he had, a young man surnamed Ji sent by lady Wang—the only one besides ru-furen capable of holding a decent conversation with Wangyue and regretfully absent this morning. His maid told him he was serving at furen’s bedside, a common occurrence since they had arrived.

The one who sat next to him was Luo Xianxian, the most senior among the concubines. Wangyue held no feelings, neither like nor dislike, for the timid and soft-spoken girl.

Thankfully, there was only one fourth-rank concubine in Nanping Manor, who was moreover absent this morning, to Wangyue’s relief. Rong Jiu’s voice always gave him a terrible headache.

“Send a letter to your family,” ru-furen said directly to Xin-er, who watched her with wide eyes, “and ask them to come here with your fiancé. I will look into him and check his background. If he’s a suitable match, we’ll add two taels of gold to your dowry and let you back home in half a year.”

There was a short moment of shocked surprise from Xin-er’s part. Wangyue himself found it very generous. Most masters simply demanded to have the family pay for the maid’s indenture—if the family wished to have their daughter back, that is.

“My heartfelt thanks to ru-furen. Thank you so much!” Xin-er exclaimed, kowtowing three times to her. Then she shifted to Luo Xianxian and kowtowed three times again. “Xin-er thanks Luo-yiniang[6]! Xin-er won’t forget Luo-yiniang’skindness!”

Luo Xianxian blushed and hurried to make Xin-er stand again, with a pleased smile on her face.

“Every servant in Nanping Manor works hard and contributes invaluably to the household. Even if our master-servant relationship is due to end, we should guarantee that they have a good life after they leave this place,” ru-furen said, setting the cup next to her. “Servants who work well and remain loyal to us shall see their efforts rewarded.”

The rest of the servants in the room had been observing the proceedings out of the corner of their eyes, analysing the situation. At the slightest signal, ru-furen’s servants and a few of the ones standing in the back turned to her and said “yes, ru-furen” with a slight bow.

Wangyue turned a lazy stare at them. At the back of the room stood a few people with their backs glued to the wall. A couple wore better clothes than the rest of them, but they still had to keep their eyes down and their mouth shut.

There was a bunch of concubines indentured to the household, like his own maids. Among them, only Lin Chunhong[7]and Song Ying[8]had enough rank to sit with them, as they had been raised to proper concubines, even if their papers remained indentured. The tongfangs had to stand with the servants or were busy working somewhere else. Wangyue knew two of them, but he had heard that there were actually four.

Wangyue had realised soon after he had married in that for a noble household like Nanping Manor, the backyard was filled with quite many people with low backgrounds.

Such a difference was striking, even if it was fairly common to have more low-rank concubines than respected second-rank concubines like Wangyue. He assumed it was because furen had no family he could bring into Nanping Manor. Lately, he was changing his mind in the light of what he had observed from the cold and aloof man that lived in Honglian House.

“This will be all for today,” ru-furen said, bringing Wangyue out of his thoughts. “Please, keep in mind what I said today. Ling-er,” she called. One tongfangWangyue was familiar with turned and bowed to her. “Bring houye some refreshments a while later. It wouldn’t do if he were to fall ill as well.”

“Yes, ru-furen.”

As they left Cunju[9]House, the building at the left of the main house and right in front of Honglian House, they were met with the sight of furen’s first-rank maid kneeling at his door, her face swollen and reddened, with a split lip and blood dripping down her chin. She no longer cried as she had been when they first arrived to the courtyard, rather staring at the floor with a lost gaze and tears streaming down her face.

“I heard she lost a tooth,” his maid Feicui[10]muttered into his ear.

“Could have been worse,” Wangyue answered plainly.

The marquis had a terrible, but unpredictable temper. Sometimes he’d overlook blatant mistakes, while others he’d put to death a servant for a small infraction. For that reason, most servants tended to avoid him, letting his tongfangs serve him most of the time.

Servants knew better than to cross houye. What had happened? He wondered.

The concubines dispersed, either returning to their rooms in the backyard building, Liuyan House, or going to the gardens. Only Wangyue and a few servants lingered in the pathways around the courtyard.

Wangyue walked languidly, followed by his maid and his servant, observing Honglian House curiously. The imposing building in red wood and grey tiles remained the same as the day before, though the situation was changing. Rumours flew wild that morning during breakfast, that furen was on the brink of death and houye had allowed the doctor Ji-xiaojun had called to attend him. If he were to die, would ru-furen be instated as the new furen?

The doctor had arrived before the morning greetings had even started, but the door of furen’s home was still closed. Was he still inside? Would furen be really that ill?

Wangyue had no desire to get involved in any power play that happened at the household. His own position was secure: he was a concubine taken in with proper rites, his family supported him from outside, and houye favoured him enough to visit him once or twice a week. Only a fool would dare to do anything unnecessary.

Yet he felt troubled when he thought of furen. He remembered the cold and impersonal hands that had taken the teacup from him the first day he had married in.

But those same hands had picked up a baby bird from the floor days ago, in the middle of a storm, just to put it again on its nest.

“Feicui, search for that hundred-year-old ginseng we have in our storage and send it to Honglian House later,” he said, unable to fight down his own discomfort.

At that moment, he saw a familiar figure emerging from the opposite pathway, walking with decision towards Honglian House. A handsome man with a cinnabar dot on his forehead, clad in sky blue robes and long hair flowing behind him, followed by a maid holding a tray with a covered bowl.

Ji-xiaojun, Ji Baihua.

From afar, rooted in his place, Wangyue observed as he knocked on the door. To his surprise, it was houye who opened the door. After exchanging a few words he didn’t hear, houye took the tray from the maid’s hands and closed the door behind him.

The expression on houye’s face… that had been…

Wangyue covered his mouth with his long sleeve, hiding a surprised gasp. It was soon followed by a distraught frown and an inaudible sigh.

If upon contemplating the results, there’s regret at the actions committed in the past, why commit then in the first place? Wangyue kept his eyes locked on Honglian House’s door.

Yearning unwittingly will only break the willow branch.

[1] 夏榕 (xia4rong2): xia as in “summer” and rong as in “banyan tree”. [2] 欣婧 (xin1jing4). Jing as in "slender, modest". [3] 任康 (ren3kang1): ren as in surname Ren, kangas in “health, well-being, peaceful”. [4] To keep it simpler to non-Chinese speakers, concubines are divided in eight ranks (previously with the Chinese names). Don’t worry too much about what it would mean exactly in terms of rights and obligations, it will be explained in the fic. Just that obviously there’s more respect and honor for first rank, and 8th rank tongfangs are little better than servants. For those interested, they would correspond like this: 1st rank is 侧室(ceshi), 2nd rank is 贵妾 (guiqie), 3rd rank is 良妾(liangqie)，4th rank is 贱妾(jianqie)，5th rank is 妾室 (qieshi)，6th rank is 婢妾 (biqie), 7th rank is 陪房(peifang) and 8th rank is 通房 (tongfang). There’s a super-detailed and super helpful post here! (The post isn’t mine, but consider reblogging if you want to support the blogger!). You’ll notice that I skipped some, just so this was more understandable.A status or another usually depended in several factors that all had to be taken into account, it was much more rigid than palace harem status. Like, in a imperial harem, a servant can start as a eight-rank concubine and ascend to the top, but a tongfang won’t be raised to ceshi. A ceshi(and her family) would consider insulting to be married in as a qieshi, and so forth. Usually, a ceshi stayed a ceshi, and a pianfang stayed a pianfang, but the tongfang may rise to qieshi (official concubine, not a servant anymore) if her master likes her very much or she has a merciful furen. Ceshi and pianfangs are married in, so they can be divorced, but not sold, and tongfangs (and sometimes qieshi) can be sold (so no divorce to speak of). The power they had in the household usually grew and decreased with their status, but that’s only in theory, i.e. you don’t bully the concubine your husband is favoring right now. This will be all be explained as well in the fic, this is just a compilation of information. [5] 欣儿 (xin1er): xin as in “happy, joyous” and er as in “child” [6] 姨娘 (yi2niang): form of address for concubines with pianfang and qieshi status. [7] 林春红 (lin2chun1hong2): surname Lin, chun as in “spring” and hong as in “red” [8] 宋莹 (song4ying2): surname Song, ying as in “jade-like, lustrous and clean” [9] 存菊 (cun2ju2): cun as in “store”, ju as in “chrysanthemum” [10] 翡翠 (fei3cui4): feicui means “jade”

I hadn't posted this chapter in tumblr yet! I'm currently working on some style related things about my fic, so I may take a bit longer to post the next one. Hope you enjoy this one meanwhile!

#yearning willow #2ha #2ha fanfic #dumb husky and his white cat shizun #二哈和他的白猫师尊

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noneatnonedotcom · 4 years

Note

RWBY Earlier; Ruby is training at Beacon Academy and encounters a group of Huntsmen who learn about her relationship with Jaune and mock her for it. Ruby takes exception to that and gives them a lesson in manners.

here’s what I came up with for this. if you wanna try writing for it as well feel free. I’m always curious to see what other people do with the same premise. everyone always has their own ideas it’s fascinating.

either way, I hope you like it RWBY Earlier

Chapter 2

The Lady Arc

Ruby was not so delicate a maiden that she didn’t know the truth of war. She might have specialized in fighting Grimm but she was by no means naive about what jaune did as a knight of the realm. She knew that when given the opportunity even normal men would become monsters and she knew that fighting those monsters ran the risk of becoming one of them.

Grimm were far easier to deal with.

So when jaune had come home with that bone-tired look on his face she had cared for her husband (and boy was calling him that still something that made her feel giddy). All in all, they had grown closer for it. And ruby had assured him that she would take no other than him. She loved him and had yang been around still she was sure her older sister would agree with her.

She did hope yang got back soon, her job as spring maiden had Oswald keeping her in minstrel. Which if you asked her was kinda stupid, why not have the spring maiden in vale so if something happened they had to go all the way to anima. It would only give them more time.

A paranoid part of her thought that perhaps it was Oswald trying to isolate her so she was more likely to leave her husband. The other part knew that was giving the old man far too much credit. In reality, she and her sister represented his best set of new agents. And that meant they were constantly busy

Jaune would probably help too but she and Oswald both knew that jaune wouldn’t follow orders from a man who had destroyed jaune’s way of life and had nearly left his family destitute after the great war. His ideals of democracy were great and all but ruby wasn’t really sold on the concept. Still, she and her sister were heroes just like their mother before them. She would fight Salem and her minions to the end.

Well as soon as both she and yang graduated that was. In truth, yang was being used as a diplomat to minstral purely because of her connection to lady Branwen. Even if the nobility was gone, the people remembered. Though just where the former lady had gone to after her family was betrayed by the last king of Vale was a mystery. Same with her uncle qrow.

She missed them both dearly. But at least her mother was able to raise both her and yang together. She felt confidant that they would both be home soon from their mission.

Now if only she could get Oswald and his other agents to stop hating jaune.

Her husband hated himself enough for all of them.

It was actually a surprise though not much of one that the butcher of Anima wasn’t the only title jaune had gained from his expedition. The savior of humanity was a far more popular one. Second only to his true moniker

Sir. Jaune The Just

His actions in defeating the monsters of the faunas rights rebellions and then his actions to protect Menagerie when Atlas threatened to invade had earned him quite a bit of respect. Though Vale remained firmly against him and she had the good headmaster to thank for that.

She found it funny, everyone but the country he fought for respected jaune. But jaune was so much a patriot that he hated himself. He truly was a son of Vale.

Ruby shook the morbid thought away with a rueful smile. Jaune would recover, he was already bouncing back with only a few days of them having been back together. And his knights still loved him. In time the people of vale would love him as well and be able to see that his actions while not right morally were necessary.

Her optimism was shattered with a call of “hey it’s the butcher’s whore! Done sucking the cock of that monster you call your man? Or maybe you came to see what a real man can do and not some coward who preys on the weak” shouted the former lordling Winchester.

She found it somewhat ironic that the man was disparaging jaune for his actions when he himself had owned slaves not ten years ago before the practice was well and truly outlawed. Oh certainly the family might argue that they were former criminals indentured to serve but that was hollow reasoning when they only took pretty looking faunas women.

She did as she had always done and simply ignored the idiots that made up his team. Yang would have probably beaten them up. And her mom probably would have destroyed them politically but she had better things to do than waste her time. Weiss was waiting for her and they both had classes to get to.

“Walking away huh? Hey, ruby? How’s old jauney boy holding up anyways? It’s a lot harder to do anything without an army backing you up huh? I bet the coward is probably hiding back in his room crying for his little wifey to come and hold him” she truly tried to ignore the cackling of the idiots. And if Weiss asked she’d explain that she didn’t intend on being late.

But jaune would do far worse to them if he heard. It was best to settle up debts as soon as possible. She loved her husband but the man was overzealous about protecting her and her honor at times.

So that’s why when she deployed her war scythe all she did was smile.

Even as she launched Sky away with a single swing she smiled.

Even as she took a single step back before cleaving clean through Cardin’s armor with her counter strike she smiled.

And even as she chased the other two idiots down and made them bleed she smiled

Jaune really was such a sweetheart.

Weiss looked at the slightly bloody ruby with a sigh and a smile “they’re not dead, are they? It’s bad enough we might be late for class but murder will be even harder to explain”

Ruby shook her head “no they’re fine. terrified, but fine.”

Weiss smiled politely “you would think they’d learn by now that angering a prodigy at combat is nearly as bad as angering jaune”

Ruby leaned over and mock whispered “truth be told i just think Cardin’s jealous”

Weiss raised an eyebrow “I had heard that his father had put forth a bride price for you but…”

Ruby shook her head “not of Jaune silly! Of Me!”

Weiss broke out laughing “ah I see, so he’s upset you got jaune for yourself”

Ruby nodded “jaune’s a pretty great husband, but honestly the fact that Cardin spends every waking moment thinking about him is the reason why it just wouldn’t work out.”

They walked in silence for a while before Weiss spoke up “so what’s the real reason you went so far?”

Ruby thought for a moment “you know why Cardin spends so much time thinking about jaune? Because he’s terrified of him. From a young age, jaune’s always been more powerful than Cardin. In politics, in economics, in prestige, and in charisma. The Arc family and jaune, in particular, have always been the one thing that his family didn’t dare act against.” she stopped in front of the statue to jaune’s father, the best friend of the last king of vale who had died protecting his king. “Up until now, Cardin had been able to say that he was at least physically stronger and better at combat then Cardin. Jaune’s victory proved that wrong. And the fact that he’s a hero in other continents, basically everywhere but Vale and Vacuo, it got to him.”

Weiss nodded “that doesn’t answer my question though, why did you go so far against them?” she reached out and hugged ruby “tell me the truth please”

Ruby tried to hold back tears but eventually, the dam broke “everything being said by those idiots is the things jaune says about himself” she hugged Weiss to her as hard as she could “AND IT’S NOT FAIR, JAUNE DID WHAT HE HAD TO! HE’S NOT A MONSTER WEISS AND I HATE THAT I CAN’T CONVINCE HIM OF THAT.” she fell to her knees and sobbed into her friend’s shoulder “Why should he suffer! He only did what they asked him to! The council sent him Oswald sent him! But they throw him away the second he does something that might look bad to their voters and those idiots who’ve never fought a day in their lives! So why Weiss Why my jaune!”

Weiss held her, ruby knew she didn’t have the answers but this wasn’t about answers this was about getting it out. And ruby had needed this. She hated that jaune was suffering and she couldn’t do anything to help. Some hero she was if she couldn’t even save her husband. And she cried for a while at the injustice of it clinging to Weiss like a lifeline.

Eventually, she calmed down, and still, Weiss held her in the quiet of the courtyard. Ruby sniffed bringing her head up “we’re definitely late for class”

“Those old fossils can stuff it, you’re more important”

Something about the Lady of White saying it made it funny to ruby and she laughed as her friend held her.

Not too far from where the two girls had their moment Ozma was left to ponder something. He found he couldn’t look at the statue of his old friend. Julius Arc was the previous wielder of Croceia Mors. and was the man who had died protecting him in his previous life as the last king of Vale. showing more loyalty and kindness to him than he’d experienced in all his lives.

And now he had cast away his son without even asking his side of the story.

“Have I truly fallen so far, old friend? Am I truly such a monster?” there was no response but Ozma couldn’t help but feel he’d lost the respect of the brave knight.

#lancaster #bssaz97 #lacaster rwby #ruby rose #Weiss #weiss schnee #rwby #rwby au

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mybeautifulbeautifuleternal · 4 years

Text

Rainy Day Forts

rating: still as fluffy as i can make it

words: 1.6k

warnings: none

AO3

summary: Claire has fun with the Hargreeves and they build a Blanket Fort on a Rainy day.

It was a rainy day — a complete downpour — weeks after the Tea Party. During that time, Claire had thoroughly wrapped the entire family around her small fingers. She knew it and she used it for her advance. Claire had certain activities she enjoyed doing with certain family members.

Five was right — Claire was absolutely brilliant and she shone in everything that she did. Vanya was delighted to be asked to tutor Claire with the violin. And it might have been only a couple of weeks but the entire family was extremely proud of the progress that Claire had made. They had even talked about getting together one night to allow Claire to play a small concert for them.

In the meantime, they had set aside a room for a formal music room. They had combined some of the smaller bedrooms, replacing the old, smaller windows with some new larger ones, allowing plenty of light to enter the room. They made sure it was near the main hallway, wanting the family to be able to hear them when they were playing. Luther and Diego had acquired and moved a grand piano into the room, and Claire, Vanya, and Allison were learning to play together.

Diego was equally delighted when Claire started stalking him throughout the Academy, mimicking everything that he was doing. He was less pleased when Allison Rumored him to punch himself in the face following the incident of Claire and the knife. (Diego had taken the fact that Claire was following him around to mean she needed to know how to throw Diego’s knives. Five privately agreed but he knew better than to voice it aloud. Allison happened upon the two of them in one of the remote training halls and the yelling that erupted had dragged the rest of the siblings to witness their fight. Klaus had brought popcorn and Five had to restrain himself from joining his brother in eating some.)

After the Rumor, Allison and Diego had left Claire with Mom and had taken a walk together. In the end, Claire had lessons in knife throwing three times a week and Diego now knew what it was like to be under a predator’s eye. Allison a hovering presence at all times.

Luther and Claire were building a greenhouse in the backyard. They had taken over some of the abandoned rooms that shared a wall with the backyard, knocking down a lot of those walls and extending that empty space with glass. The greenhouse was still very much in the planning stages but from what Five had glimpsed of their blueprints, it was going to be fantastic. During their planning and building sessions, Luther was pelted with questions about the moon. Diego had almost strained his eyes from his eye-roll but Claire was ecstatic. She had question after question, a never-ending stream that wanted to know everything there was to know about the moon.

Five was astonished to know that Luther had actually completed quite a bit of college-level work in degrees in aeronautical and mechanical engineering with minors in physics in preparation for his trip. Five knew that Luther had wanted to go to the moon since they were knee-high to a grasshopper but Five didn’t realize how extensive Luther’s preparations were.

And Luther really knew his stuff, managing to teach Claire (and the rest of them by osmosis) quite a bit of a variety of topics ranging from biology to astrophysics.

Ben had taken on the task of expanding Claire’s reading ability. Already at a high level for her age, Ben was reading her Austen, Morrison, Lahiri, Hosseini, Cisneros, Faulkner, Dickens… Ben was a fountain of knowledge on classic authors and new books worth the read. He spread it over a range of subjects and genres, men and women authors, POC and white equally.

Ben had taken over the hour or two before lunch, reading aloud to the family. They had started it in random rooms at first but after the first week, the siblings had converted one of the smaller training halls into a new library. It was filled with soft surfaces and calming colors. They had wanted it to be as far from the harsh library and classrooms the siblings were used to growing up. They had moved in plush sofas, a multitude of beanbags, and armchairs that one sunk into. The walls were lined with bookshelves, carefully color-coded.

Claire was in charge of placing where the books go and Five knew she had a complicated system in place to organize her favorite books.

Klaus and Claire continued with their weekly tea parties, sometimes suckering other family members into joining them, sometimes it being just them. They were also learning to bake and cook with Mom. Klaus was trying his best to stay sober this time around, not wanting to fall back into his bad habits. He had three years of sobriety in recent memory and Klaus knew he could do it. He had decided one of the best ways to distract himself was to spend time with his niece.

Claire had asked how Mom had baked the chocolate chip cookies — the best she had ever had. Mom had been delighted to teach someone to cook — none of her kids had had the urge to learn and now she had two willing students. Klaus made an effort to attend every one of her lessons. It had made for a lot of inedible treats mixed among Mom’s delicious ones. There was now a point system keeping track of who had the most success in bypassing the nasty treats.

Vanya was winning and nobody was sure how.

Besides their tea parties and cooking classes, Klaus and Claire also put on little skits and plays. They weren’t on any sort of schedule — whenever one of them had an idea for one, they were acting it out for the family’s pleasure. Most of the time it was nonsensical, random nonsense that Klaus or Claire had dreamt up but sometimes they conscripted Ben to help write up some sort of script.

It was always a big affair when they were getting ready for a show — music blaring through the house, some props being dug out of a dark corner of the house, and makeup and costumes being put on. Then the entire family would gather and watch the actors.

Five thought it was ridiculous and a waste of his time, but Claire lit up every time so he put up with it.

Claire and he did a little bit of everything. He was teaching her several languages, training her in self-defense, and because of a bit of trickery from Claire, he was also her clothing designer guinea pig. They spent many a day haunting the mall and local craft shops, and Five had a lot more appreciation for needles as a valid weapon of choice.

But today...today it was pouring cats and dogs. The scent of rain permeated their noses and the hot chocolate that Mom had made for them lulled them into sleepy contentment. They had all piled into Claire’s library after breakfast, it being the comfiest room in the house. Nobody had moved very much, Luther being the most active — changing the records out as they finished one.

Mom, on her circuit of the house, had only laughed at them a little and promised to bring them up some sandwiches for lunch.

It was after lunch that some life had flowed back into the family. Claire had seemingly gained a second wind to match her determined look and when she stood up from her armchair, the seven siblings focused on her.

“I wanna build a blanket fort!”

And that set a fire under their asses. They were all up and moving, collecting blankets, pillows, support objects, and time-wasters. Soon enough, they had the softest and thickest blankets in the house hanging from various angles of the room, pillows lining the floor and providing backrests against various furniture pieces, and the time-wasters — novels, coloring books, board games, and card games — were spread out, waiting for their turn to be used.

Diego had bailed early, leaving the room to gather up Mom with her snacks and Pogo with some of his reading material. But soon enough all ten of them were snuggled down into the greatest blanket fort ever made.

They spent the rest of the day within their fort. They left only for bathroom breaks—and in Mom’s case, to make dinner.

And as the rain slowly tapered off, and the sunset lit the room up in various shades of pink and purple, and as his family slowly fell asleep, Five smiled.

He thought that this family was worth all the stress these wackos gave him, but as Diego shoved one of his smelly feet into his face, Five had to remember he chose to come back. He reminded himself that he loved them and didn’t actually want to harm them.

But maybe some light stabbing was just going to be his way of showing familiar affection.

Five was sure Diego would live — Five couldn’t be the first person to want to stab him.

He was happy, finally. It had taken much too long but he was finally back where he belonged. Surrounded by his family both new and old, surrounded by their love.

#the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy #tua imagine #tua #m's fics #my stuff #claire hargreeves #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #grace hargreeves #rainy day forts

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

A Little Time We Can Borrow

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: 11.2k Notes: This is my free space fill for @starkerfestivals summer bingo. I caught the bug for firefighter Tony & got a couple of help little nudges from @goindownshipping to create this little gem. PS Notes: Sorry about the repost - this wasn’t showing up anywhere :[ Warnings: Some NSFW stuff, fire drama, minor character death, slight angst Summary:

Tony decided to be a firefighter to piss his dad off - & fell in love with the career. Now, a fire chief in Sarasota, Tony's life is bound to change when a handsome pastry chef is in the business of looking cute and making black smoke billow from his ovens.

Or: the one where Tony Stark looks great in his uniform and Peter comes up with excuses to get him to his shop, Truffles.

Read on AO3 here

At the beginning, firefighting seemed like the best way to piss his father off. Tony hadn’t ever been able to please the man, so he figured his career field of choice would be the most self-serving if it also got under his father’s skin. Desperate to get out of New York, Tony took the scholarship University of Florida gave him and pursued fire science with zero hesitation. He wanted to be doing things and in the action for the rest of his life.

Tony’s advanced intelligence made getting through the program easy – he took as many hours as he could to finish up in 2.5 years, instead of four. Finishing out the rest of that 3rd year, Tony took the classes necessary to get into nursing school and entered into it the very next fall semester. The training was fast paced and filled with lots of interesting skills that he couldn’t wait to take with him to whatever fire house he ended up in.

After graduating nursing school, Tony took his medical expertise one step further by getting an advanced EMT certification. By the time he applied to get into the academy, Tony was more than prepared to take on anything that came that way.

His exemplary skills followed him into the academy – Tony surprised no one by finishing at the top of his class. Aside from the bragging rights, top spot earned him his choice of assignment. Enjoying Florida so much, Tony decided to head to Sarasota and take the medic/driver position he’d been excited to try and pursue since he got into the academy.

The job was fast paced and though he didn’t do any actual firefighting inside the buildings, Tony was always busy out on calls. He was the first line of medical care if fire was the first to arrive on the scene. Between his men that were always coming out of a job with some sort of injury and the people that were on the scene, Tony got his wish; action came at him from all angles and from every direction. It fueled his fire – the irony of that not lost on him every time he thought it. Putting his head down and doing everything he could to go against his father ended up being the best decision he could have ever made.

As the years passed, Tony started to move up the ranks. He didn’t try and shift his position in the truck or take on more responsibility in terms of the fire management – instead, he provided leadership in the way he kept everyone calm, collected, and focused on whatever plan they were trying to execute. The knowledge Tony kept in his brain came in handy all of the time – knowing shit made it so much easier to think on the fly.

10 years on the job came and went with the big promotion to fire chief. At 36, he was very young to find himself in a position like that. Yet, the guys in station 501 were behind Tony 100% - most of them grew up in the firehouse with him, and if they didn’t, they quickly learned that he was the guy to go to when in trouble or out of ideas. Tony didn’t have to worry about having children ever, the guys in the firehouse were the only kids he’d ever need.

In all of his time working for the ladder, Tony hadn’t been dumbstruck by any of the people they came in contact with. One of the demands of the job included keeping a level head and being subjective – which meant mooning over gorgeous men with flour on their cheeks during a call was not optimal.

It all started earlier that day when Tony first stepped foot in the station. He’d been on his 3 day turn around and was eager to get into his office and catch up on all the comings and goings during his time away. He barely managed to get his jacket off before the horn was blaring – the early morning calls always ones that made his skin prickle a bit; most of the world had no business being up before 9AM. The worst things always happened in the mornings.

The heart pumping process of getting into his garb and pulling the truck out of the station never got old – flicking on the sirens, Tony got into the zone and got them to Truffle as quickly as they could. In the back of his mind, Tony recalled looking at the new bakery on the corner the day before – his phone ringing and pulling his attention away was the only reason why he didn’t walk across the street and check it out. Heading in that direction, Tony felt a bit like karma was coming out to play.

Getting there, Tony noticed that the building wasn’t visibly on fire – that simple fact one that always made the call seem a little less terror inducing. Despite having been on the job for more than 10 years, Tony still got scared shitless every single time he got in the truck to answer a call. It was half the fun – the activation of his fight or flight reflexes. Putting the truck in park against the side of the building, Tony climbed out of the cab and signaled for the rest of the guys to climb down and start prepping the truck for the unfortunate need of the hose.

A very disgruntled looking employee opened the door for him – her hair was everywhere around her face, a wild look in her eye. “Thank god you’re here,” she said in the form of a greeting. Her steps were quick as she led him into the kitchen – the smell of something burning immediately hitting his nose.

“What’s the problem?” Tony questioned, his eyes roaming around the kitchen in an attempt to find the source of the smell and billowing black smoke. Instead, he laid eyes on someone that immediately took his breath away.

The man had dark curly hair that was streaked through with auburn highlights. There was the smallest stud in his nose and the visible parts of his arms were completely covered in tattoos – the chef whites really highlighting the color of them. Tony couldn’t make out what they were, but they were bright and seemed to be pretty consistent in terms of a color scheme all the way up.

The handsome stranger’s eyes met his, a redness settling in the circle of his cheeks that wasn’t there before. “This was my first time attempting to use the ovens. I turned them on, and they immediately started to smoke. It doesn’t look like anything is actually on fire – the smoke just keeps billowing every time I open up the oven door.”

Tony took his helmet off and put it on the counter, the immediate threat of a roaring fire no longer his first worry. Grabbing the walkie on his shoulder, Tony gave the guys the all clear. “No hoses needed, fellas.”

He took the handful of steps over to the over and pulled open the door. The smoke was black and coming quickly from the back of the oven. “Is this new?” Tony asked, his hands shutting the oven before he could breathe in anymore of the chemical smelling smoke.

Turning around, Tony was surprised to find the man staring at him blankly. “I don’t know – I just got access to the space a few days ago. I set up the front of the house before I even thought about getting baked goods in the display cases. We’re not set to open for another couple of days.” His initial thought was relief over the fact that he didn’t miss anything when he got pulled away from his attempt to walk inside. He did his best to push that away – business was the first priority; it was straight to the facts.

“New industrial ovens like this one need a thing called a burn-in. It gets rid of all the chemical residue that sits on the surface of the new material. Sometimes, there’s remnants of the coating of some of the plastic that catches and causes the billowy smoke like what’s happening right now. You need to open a few windows and let the over run through the process,” Tony finished, his eyes finally meeting the man’s again.

A flour covered hand moved through the dark hair Tony hadn’t been able to look away from. The residue shifted from his fingers to individual strands – he had a couple of white streaks in his hair when he pulled his hand away; and Tony did his best not to notice. It wouldn’t do him any good, reaching out and brushing it away like he wanted to.

“Shit – why didn’t I think of that?” Turning to the woman in the kitchen that originally walked Tony back, the man fired off a couple of instructions, the details he gave her specific and exactly correct. Tony ran his tongue over the back of his teeth to distract himself – he was stuck between wanting to contribute to the conversation and a startling feeling of nervousness that refused to do anything other than settle down within him deeper. Whoever this person was – he had Tony’s attention.

Soon, the man was walking Tony to the front of the bakery, a somewhat embarrassed smile on his face. “Sorry to have wasted your time. MJ kept screaming about the smoke – I didn’t know what else to do.”

Resisting a chuckle, Tony put a hand up between them – if this guy only knew the amount of ridiculous calls they got on a daily basis, he wouldn’t be apologizing. “You did the right thing. It would’ve kept smoking at the temperature you had it set. An hour should do the trick,” Tony mumbled. Suddenly, the thought to give him a business card settled in his mind. He kept a small stack in his jacket next to his ID and badge – he knew they’d come in handy eventually.

“Here – this has the line to my office on it. If you ever have any more scares, don’t hesitate to give me a call. I can bring the SUV instead of the whole crew.” Tony held the card between them and almost felt disappointed when their fingers didn’t brush in the hand off. Though, he might not have gotten out the door if they did.

He watched the younger man look down at the card, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, Fire Chief Tony Stark.” The card went into his pocket and then a hand floated between them. “I’m Peter Parker,” he looked up as he spoke, the honey-hazel of his eyes hard to look away from.

Tony didn’t hesitate to take Peter’s hand, his gloves tucked into the middle of his helmet at that point. The long sleeve of his jacket covered their hands for a moment, but Tony didn’t miss the way the world sort of shifted when they touched. Pulling away before he could make an ass of himself, Tony turned back towards the door – he shot Peter a quick smirk over his shoulder.

“Don’t burn anything down, Peter Parker,” Tony added before he opened the door and stepped through it quickly. He was met by Bucky, his second in command, before he could get into the truck.

“That took an awful long time for just a little bit of smoke, boss,” Bucky said, his arm digging into Tony’s side. He let Tony up, but not before he ribbed him about the smile on his face, too. “Chief – looks like the cute baker boy got under your skin.” A hand clapped against Tony’s shoulder as he got settled in his seat behind the wheel. “Put the smile away before the guys see.”

Shaking his head, Tony threw Bucky’s arm off of his shoulder and buckled himself in. “Buck – shut the fuck up,” Tony finally replied, his eyes catching icy blue ones in the big mirror right above him. “You’re not wrong, though.”

Bucky threw his head back in laughter, the heavy helmet on his head crashing to the ground behind him. The rest of the ride was filled with sickening awe sounds and cackling that made his head hurt. It was only fair, though – everyone on the truck got the same treatment when they came walking into the group all goo-goo eyed. That’s what family did.

----

Over the next couple of weeks, Tony got three calls from Peter. The first one was an actual emergency – they didn’t have any fire extinguishers in the entire building. Taking care of it was more like a civic duty than anything else.

The second and third calls – they weren’t nearly as legitimate as the others.

Tony walked in during a busy time of the morning expecting to see something amiss, but Peter was simply standing there with a fresh pastry and a smile on his face. Eye bulging, Tony didn’t know what to think – the professional part of him wanted to reprimand Peter for abusing the privilege. Yet, he found himself smiling widely, instead – his heart throbbed any time he was in Peter’s vicinity; the thought of being able to get mad didn’t really register after letting it stew for a moment.

Peter didn’t have any real time to talk to him, either – he simply gave him the bag and slid an espresso across the counter, the same grin on his face the entire time. It made Tony’s head spin – the shift from scared to overwhelmed was a lot to take in, apparently. Sitting down at a table close to the display case, Tony ate the admittedly delicious pastry and watched Peter go about running through his duties flawlessly.

The apple strudel was so good, Tony grabbed all the rest Peter had in the case before heading out. Maybe the ruthless grief he knew he was going to take from the crew would be soothed a little by the sugary deliciousness. He and Peter shared a smile when Tony pulled the box to him – the same feeling of rightness as before settling between them.

It didn’t dissipate, either – Tony knew the second he heard Peter’s voice on the other side of the line the third time that his excuse of faulty wires in the kitchen was total bull shit. He didn’t hesitate to get up and climb into his SUV, however – at that point, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that Peter got under his skin. The resolve to ask him out got more and more traction the closer he got to Truffle.

The shop wasn’t open anymore, so Tony didn’t attempt to keep up the pretense of it being an official visit. Walking in, Tony was immediately hit by the smell of cinnamon and warm butter – the scents he’d immediately filed under ones associated with Peter. He felt his cheeks heat up a little – he might actually have it pretty bad. No matter how much he wanted to ignore it. Tony forced himself to focus, his eyes roaming around the place. “Mr. Parker?” Tony called out; his voice rich with sarcasm.

“In here,” Tony heard a moment later – the kitchen door swung open without Peter walking through it. Taking that as a sign to enter, Tony was immediately taken off guard when he found himself with an arm full of Peter Parker. He was covered in a flour and cinnamon-butter mixture in the depths of putting together some cinnamon rolls. Tony could smell the sugary goodness from where Peter’s hands rested over his shoulders.

Tony was still in his uniform, the black of his crisp short sleeved button down a direct contrast to the white apron Peter had tied around his hips. He didn’t think about the fact that he probably had a smear of butter and sugar down his back – Peter didn’t give him any time to do anything other than respond to soft lips pressed against his own. Without much thought, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter’s middle and narrowed the space between them down to nothing.

A simple kiss like the one he was currently tied up in shouldn’t have made his heart pound the way it did – Tony could feel his pulse at his temples, the throb of it just as alive as the connection that leaked out into the air. Peter was just an inch or two shorter than him, so the tilt of their heads was absolutely perfect – Tony’s nose brushed against his when he pulled away from the deep kisses to place light, chaste ones against the baker’s lips.

“This is the best call I’ve ever answered,” Tony muttered, his hands moving to frame Peter’s face. Tony’s thumbs ran along the sharpness of his cheekbones, the ability to touch something he’d been craving since the first time he saw him. His already kiss swollen lips pulling into a light smile – Tony didn’t want to look too eager.

Peter took a step back, a matching smile on his face. “I was going to go insane if I didn’t kiss you. The sneak attack has been my best idea yet,” he replied, his cheeks coloring at his admittance. Looking at his hands, Peter blushed a little harder. “I totally forgot I was baking before you got here. I probably got your uniform all dirty.” The look on his face was a cross between amusement and guilt.

Shaking his head, Tony stepped up and gripped Peter’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leaned forward and gave him another soft kiss. “The department pays for my dry cleaning. It’s okay, Pete,” Tony said, his lips tingling from the touches as he forced himself to actually put some distance between them.

It took a second to get a hold on his courage, Tony hadn’t done something like this in a long time. Sucking in a deep breath, he met Peter’s eyes – light brown pools were fixed on him, looking at him unblinkingly. “Want to go out on a date with me? Not that I don’t love all of the calls,” Tony started, his face breaking into a smile. “We might have more options when I’m off the clock, though. I’ve been told I’m a lot of fun.”

Tony wiggled his eyebrows and let a hearty laugh fall from his lips when Peter’s face scrunched up at the look. He felt like a kid again, enjoying the minutes of life passing merely because he could – because, when all was said in done, it felt good to. Peter joined him in laughter, and they spent a few minutes trying to gain control over their very adult, very mature selves.

“I would very much like to go on a date with you,” Peter finally answered after a while, his eyes a little watery still from all of the laughing. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out noisily, Tony watched with interest as Peter tried to collect himself. The roll of his shoulders almost had Tony losing it again, but he managed to keep it in. The way Peter made him feel was indescribable.

“Good – then I’ll pick you up here tomorrow night.”

----

Tony felt nervous the entirety of the next day. Usually, he was counting down the hours until he got his 3 days off – he was definitely excited; but nervous all the same. He talked to Bucky about taking Peter to The Hangout on Siesta Key Beach and groaned when his best friend’s eyes opened widely. “You’re taking the baker boy out? Tony Stark does have it bad!” Bucky exclaimed, the words echoing around the room loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Despite Bucky’s reasoning behind letting the entire firehouse know about his endeavors later that evening, Tony was glad for the distraction. It’d been a slow few days on the call front and they were all getting a little antsy. The ability to make fun of their fire chief made the time pass much quicker.

Before he knew it, Tony was pulling up to Truffle, his heart hammering against his chest for a totally different reason. He looked down at his outfit one more time, suddenly unsure of the black henley and jean combination he picked out. Peter must have seen his car pull up because he was out the door before Tony could second guess himself any longer. Hitting the locks, he grinned when he caught Peter’s attention.

The smell of Peter’s cologne hit him the second the man started to slide into the bench seat of his truck. There were the underlying spices as well as something citrusy – the tang of it made Tony’s mouth water. Leaning over when Peter settled, Tony pressed his lips to a soft cheek. “You look great, Pete,” Tony remarked, his eyes sweeping over his date for the evening.

Pete’s jeans were dark and hugged his legs nicely. The flip-flops on his feet gave way to long toes that were obviously well cared for. Living at the beach brought a certain style to the people that embraced it and Peter was one of them. He wore a black necklace around his neck that had a small pie pendant hanging from it, the crisp blue he wore contrasting nicely. It was a totally different look than the rolled-up chef whites Peter usually donned.

“Thanks! So do you, Tones. I had no idea that firemen could look as good out of the suit as they do in it,” Peter slipped his hand on Tony’s leg as he spoke, his fingers digging in with the last statement.

“Common misconception, I think,” Tony replied, backing out of the parking space. With the gear shift dealt with, Tony scooped up Peter’s hand and held it tightly. Their joint fingers were warm against his thigh. The music wasn’t too loud, so when Tony asked about how the day went for the bakery, conversation flowed easily between them. Peter was open with is words and wasn’t afraid to say what was on his mind.

Tony was beaming by the time they made it to the beach. Shifting in his seat a little, Tony brought their joint hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to one of Peter’s knuckles. “I thought we could get a drink and play some cornhole, or something. When you find yourself getting hungry, let me know – I’m making dinner back at my pad when we’re ready.” For whatever reason, he felt the need to explain himself – he wanted the night to go well and couldn’t stop the nervousness from overflowing.

Luckily, Peter was an amazing person and just went with it. They got out of the car and spent a few minutes tracking down a bar tender to get a couple of drinks. Tony stuck with a beer and giggled insanely when Peter ordered a strawberry daquiri; the happiness in his eyes when the bartender put it down in front of him was absolutely adorable.

Making their way over to one of the cornhole pits, Tony let Peter pick his bean bags and took the other set. “You’re not too far out of culinary school or college, right? You know how this is played?” Tony asked, his eyebrows raising when he saw the acceptance of some unknown challenge settle on Peter’s face. He was learning new things about the younger man by the minute – starting with the fact that Peter Parker was very competitive.

“We used to have backyard tournaments all the time when I was a kid,” Peter remarked, his hand flipping the bean bag up and then catching it on its descent. “Want to make this interesting?” Peter spoke again, an evil sort of glint in his eye.

Not one to pass up a challenge himself, Tony nodded, his smile widening. “Cool, then we’re on equal footing. We’ve got a pit in the common area at the firehouse. I would love to make this interesting.” And he did – no matter what Peter threw his way; Tony was probably going to be absolutely excited to be a part of.

Unless, of course, it was baking – Peter’s face took on an amused expression. “If I win, you come learn how to make those cinnamon rolls you’re always mooning over. If you win, I’ll bake whatever you and the crew want for a whole month.” The deal was very one-sided and should have been enough of a clue for Tony to understand that he would not be wining and that the cuteness of Peter Parker was laced with mischief and a sort of excitement that was entirely too addicting.

Instead of running like he should have, Tony took the deal without any hesitation. “Bucky is going to be so stoked – he loves that baklava that you make.”

In the end, Peter kicked his ass – his aim was practically perfect and the amount of cornholes he scored made Tony embarrassed to have even tried to match him. They played 5 games and Peter won every single one of them. While they played, they talked about little things – what kind of food was their favorite, where they traveled, favorite colors. Tony enjoyed every single painstaking second of getting his ass handed to him; Peter was full of life and made it hard for anything else to break through the surface.

“So, I guess I should tell you now that I have no baking skills to speak of. Putting me anywhere near your kitchen with an intention of not burning something is a huge risk, Pete,” Tony said a little later. They were gathered around the small table in his kitchen passing a big bowl of pasta back and forth. As long as he wasn’t using the oven, Tony could put food together – the minute he needed to gauge time and temperature all bets were off. Aside from pissing his dad off, a near fatal interaction with cupcakes as a kid put firefighting in his head to begin with.

Peter reached across the table and gripped his hand tightly. He’d been doing that periodically throughout the meal – his hands were constantly moving, especially when he talked. Yet, Tony wasn’t upset about it for a single second; the restless nature of Peter’s need to move matched with the way Tony’s brain could never shut off.

Done with the food on his plate and able to give Peter more of his attention, Tony laced their fingers together. He didn’t miss the flash of happiness in Peter’s eye, the look one Tony hoped he’d get to be very familiar with. In his adult life, Tony didn’t make a lot of connections like this – he appreciated every aspect of the interesting relationship they were slowly starting to piece together. If he read things correctly, Peter seemed to be throwing himself full body into their interactions, as well – but only time would tell.

“You can cook – that’s at least a little reassuring. The baking process just gets a little more technical than throwing stuff in a pan and hoping it tastes good. I can teach you – how hard could it possibly be?” Peter gave his fingers a squeeze and pulled away to take a long sip of the glass of wine tucked against his plate.

Tony didn’t have any idea, so he didn’t comment. He simply relaxed into his chair and watched Peter enjoy himself. Bucky told him that when he met Steve – things just clicked. There was something inside that just knew. Looking at Peter in that moment, Tony finally understood what he meant. It was too early for thoughts like that – but he felt something settle in him and take hold; Tony wasn’t going anywhere as long as Peter would have him.

With that thought in mind, Tony let Peter help him with the dishes before grabbing the rest of the wine and leading him out to the front room. He spent most of his time out there, so it was pleasantly decked out with a big wide screen TV, multiple gaming platforms, and a deep L-couch that Tony spent more time sleeping on than he cared to admit. Peter’s eyes widened with excitement as he looked around the room.

“This is nerd haven, Tones. On a night that I haven’t beat your ass already, we’ll have to fire up the Switch and play some Super Smash Bros Melee – I used to win so much money as a kid in tournaments playing as Link,” Peter gushed. When Tony settled against one of the edges, Peter snuck under his arm and leaned against his chest, their sides pressed together from shoulder to hip.

Wrapping his arm more firmly around Peter’s shoulder, Tony placed his wine on the table next to him and picked up the remote. He got a movie on the screen, then turned his attention back to the conversation they were having. “That doesn’t surprise me at all, Pete. I bet you hustled all the other little kids out of their money no problem,” Tony said, his lips pressing against the side of Peter’s head.

At the affectionate contact, Peter leaned a little further into Tony’s side, his arm wrapping snugly around his waist for good measure. “I didn’t hustle anyone. I just used my superior video game skills to win money that was fairly bet. It’s not my fault that people have always underestimated me.”

Tony let his hand drift up and down Peter’s arm in what he hoped was comforting. He knew exactly what it was like to be underestimated – his father didn’t believe in him a day in his life. Keeping that to himself for now, he simply pulled Peter even closer to him and tucked in to enjoy the fact that they were together and watching Pineapple Express.

The soft snore he felt against his chest half an hour later had Tony grinning – Peter shouldn’t be allowed to get any cuter, but he did and probably wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Shaking him with the hand still resting on his shoulder, Tony managed to wake him up. “Hey, let me take you home – I know you have to open the shop early in the morning,” he whispered, the smile on his face stretching wider at the sleepy look on Peter’s face.

It took a little bit of prodding, but Peter eventually got up and collected himself enough to get into the truck without much of a fuss. He didn’t fall back asleep and spent most of the drive staring over at Tony. He didn’t want to admit that he spent more time looking at Peter than the road – he drove a firetruck for fucks sake. Pulling into the driveway of a small ranch style house, Tony parked the car.

“Can I walk you up?” Tony asked, his eyes flashing to the porch at the front of the house. Though he knew the night needed to come to an end, Tony didn’t want it to – especially not before he got to feel Peter’s lips pressed against his own again.

“Sure, Romeo,” Peter replied, the softness of his hand on Tony’s softening the blow of the sharp sarcasms. Tony gave it a squeeze and got out of the car, meeting Peter around the front of his truck. Grabbing his hand again, Tony led him the 20 feet between his headlights and the door.

Peter didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Tony when they got to the door – his fingers played with the soft hairs at the back of his neck for good measure. Tony pulled him in tight and leaned forward, pressing their noses together. “You’re kind of a shit, aren’t you?” Tony asked, his lips skimming Peter’s he spoke.

“Yup, and you like it,” Peter replied before filling the rest of the distance and really kissing Tony. His movements were still a bit choppy from the sleepiness, but the heat of his kiss was more than enough to sweep Tony right off of his feet. Peter pulling away felt like crashing to the ground – his lips already missing the press and pull of the other’s.

“Good night, Tony Stark,” Peter whispered, his body already turning towards the door to get it open.

Taking a step off the porch, Tony grinned – “Night, Peter Parker.”

----

The next couple of weeks passed by like a snap – Tony worked a couple of double shifts to cover for Bucky who went out of town with Steve for their wedding anniversary. He spent as many random moments with Peter as he could, but they weren’t able to get together in much of a formal capacity until Bucky got back. If it weren’t for the dazed look on his friend’s face, he probably wouldn’t have made it out of the door so quickly without a little heckling. Tony owed Peter a little time in his kitchen and planned to pay his due that evening.

Walking into the empty bakery always had Tony taking a deep breath in – he’d never get over the warmth and comfort that immediately wrapped him up the second he took a step inside. Peter was standing at the counter waiting for him, a warm look on his face. “Chief,” Peter greeted him, his hand wrapping around Tony’s shoulder without any prompting.

Tony grinned and turned his head to press a kiss to Peter’s ear. “Chef,” Tony replied as they walked through the heavy door to get into the kitchen. Tony got a quick kiss on the lips – then, an apron hit him in the side of the head.

Like most things, Peter seemed to be playfully specific about his time in the kitchen. He helped Tony tie off his apron, then immediately set him up with a rolling pin. He guided him through the best way to get the dough flat and what sort of thickness they were looking for. The way his fingers tangled up with Tony’s made it hard for him to concentrate on the baked goods – despite being flour covered, Peter’s hands were so soft.

They put an embarrassing amount of butter on the rolled-out dough, then sprinkled a cinnamon and sugar concoction on top. Peter moved behind him and showed him the maneuver to roll up the dough – Tony once again almost completely distracted by the touch of Peter’s hands on him. “You’re distracting as hell, I hope you know that, Pete,” Tony said after they had the dough rolled.

Cutting individual rolls, Peter nodded his head, a cocky smile slipping across his cheeks. “That’s kind of the point, Tones,” Peter admitted, his hands moving in a repetitive motion that was very obviously familiar. “One of the best parts of baking is the freedom of it. You have to make it fun. Touching you is fun.” Peter finished what he was doing and put them into a couple of pans. Tony, in an effort to help, put them in the oven.

Before he could move away, Peter was grabbing his upper arms and walking him back until Tony was pressed against the counter. “Those need about half an hour and then we’ll need to check them. I can think of something that will pass the time, though – if you’re interested.” He leaned in before Tony could even respond, but it didn’t matter; he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be pressed flush against Peter in any way.

It’d been a long time since he spent so much time making out with another human – Tony felt very much like a teenager and appreciated it wholeheartedly. Peter started to thrust his hips against Tony after a while, the hardness that pressed against him was the ultimate tease. Not interested in resisting the urge to reciprocate, Tony broke away from their kiss and let out a deep groan. “You feel amazing,” he babbled, his fingers attempting to make quick work of the button on Peter’s jeans.

Just as he started to make progress, Peter’s alarm for the food in the oven went off. With a sigh, Peter pulled away and stumbled the few steps over to the oven. Tony followed, his body unwilling to be separated from Peter’s, even for the few seconds it would take to open the doors and check on the pastries. He wrapped his arms around Peter’s hips and pulled him close. Tony’s lips started to suck and kiss on the back of his neck.

The heat from the open oven had Tony hiding his face against Peter’s shoulder, his nose pressing into the softness of his shirt there. Peter made quick work of pulling them out and turning the pans – it didn’t seem quick enough, though. Tony moved his hand to the temperature gauge on the side and cranked it up while his other hand turned Peter around when the oven door was finally shut.

Getting lost in Peter’s lips was insanely easy. The idea of getting lost in his pants brought a whole new dimension to what they were doing together. Tony managed to get the button popped and the zipper down without much of a hassle, his fingers grazed over the front of Peter’s boxer briefs without any hesitation.

When the fire alarm started to sound, Tony had Peter’s boxers pulled all the way off his hips and his cock gripped tightly in his fist. Peter tried to do the same for Tony, but only got around to getting his pants undone. Looking up in confusion, Tony let out a sharp gasp when he noticed that actual flames were engulfing the oven. “Holy shit,” Tony stuttered out, his brain still muggy from the haze of arousal. “Get the extinguisher!” Tony yelled, watching as Peter rushed to pull up his pants and run into the office in the kitchen.

Tony got Bucky on the phone as quickly as he could.

“What’s up, Stark? I thought you’d be too caught up in your date by this point of the night,” Bucky said in the way of a greeting. Any other time, Tony would’ve laughed, but he couldn’t – not right then.

“Bucky, grab the keys to my SUV off of my desk and get to Truffle. The oven is on fire.” Tony mumbled the last few words and looked guiltily down at himself, the button on his jeans still undone and everything. “Hurry!” He didn’t give the man a chance to respond – Tony hung up and grabbed the extinguisher from Peter when he came running out with it.

It didn’t take much to get the flaming pans of cinnamon buns under control – they were all ruined, but the oven would still be usable once it got a thorough cleaning; which Tony offered to pay for several times. Calling Bucky wasn’t exactly necessary – it just gave Peter the ability to file a report with his insurance company if push came to shove. Luckily, it didn’t.

Tony, however, was not so lucky – Bucky started to laugh at him from the second he was let into the bakery until he left. He looked at the still undone button on Tony’s pants and the permanent flush on Peter’s cheeks with a knowing expression. The cursory glance that he gave the oven was just to make the pain of his presence even worse than it already was. Tony bit into his lip to stop himself from being a sarcastic asshole. He’d get Bucky back one of these days.

Before he left, Bucky wrapped his arms around them both, a shit eating grin on his face. “We should have learned in this embarrassing collection of events that having sex and cooking cinnamon rolls is not a good mix. Chief, you should know better.” Bucky finished his little lecture with a firm kiss on Tony’s cheek and a soft smack on Peter’s. “Be careful, kids.”

Both Tony and Peter stayed silent until they heard the bell on the front door ring, signaling Bucky’s exit. Tony broke the silence first, his hearty laugh echoing in the otherwise empty kitchen. “That’s probably the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,” Tony groaned after a few minutes of letting the hilarity overtake his body. The gasping sounds of Peter laughing right along with him made it all a bit more okay.

“I can’t believe he just gave us a safe sex lecture,” Peter added, his face now completely red. “In my own kitchen!” He put a hand on his chest like he was affronted, which made them both laugh even harder.

Unable to stop himself, Tony wrapped Peter up in a tight hug and let the remnants of his chuckles die down – his nose buried in the man’s skin was more than calming. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have touched anything,” Tony admitted, regret and the slightest bit of guilt apparent in his voice.

Peter shifted until he could palm Tony’s cheeks. Their eyes met, the soft smile he saw on Peter’s face was too much – there were so many emotions just sitting on the surface. “It’s okay, Tony. Life with you is never going to be boring, and I’m way more than okay with that.” Peter rubbed their noses together, then kissed him – the intention behind it very clear.

----

Tony couldn’t decide whether the break they took to take both their cars to his house was a good idea or a terrible one. It gave him a few seconds to clear his head, because Peter consumed him whenever they were together – it was obvious in the way that he almost burned down the bakery he’d been slowly becoming familiar with. It felt miserable to be away from him, though – his fingers ached to feel Peter’s warm skin underneath them. The slightest taste he got back in the kitchen wasn’t nearly enough.

They pulled up right around the same time and hustled into the house through the garage door. Tony didn’t give Peter a chance to do anything other than react, his hands gripped slim hips and tugged him close. Their lips were pressed together before either of them knew it, Tony’s tongue slipped between the seam of Peter’s lips when he gasped at the sensation of being pressed lip to toe.

It took a little bit of fumbling, but Tony managed to walk them through the maze of his kitchen and front room until the backs of Peter’s knees were hitting the edge of his mattress in the master bedroom. Tony broke the kiss and pushed on Peter’s chest, the other man taking the hint and dropping down, crawling until he was up by the pillows in the middle of the bed.

Pulling the soft t-shirt he’d been wearing all night over his head, Tony kicked off his shoes and thumbed off his socks before crawling onto the bed. He methodically took Peter’s clothes from him, too. First the short sleeve button down; then his pants, boxer briefs, and flip-flops all in one move. Tony took a few seconds to enjoy the vision of Peter naked and panting – he couldn’t recall anything so erotic. “You look great spread out on my sheets, Pete. I’ve imagined you here so many times.”

Peter looked up at him with lust blown eyes, his tongue peeking out to trace his bottom lip. “Is that so? What, exactly, have you imagined?” Peter got Tony’s button undone and zipper pulled down while he spoke. His hand plunging into the front of blue boxer briefs and gave Tony’s cock a quick squeeze.

His skin tightened, Peter’s touch like a hard press to the gas of his body’s responses. Gooseflesh pebbled over his skin, the battle between fire and icy goodness pulling a moan from his throat. Reaching down, Tony reluctantly grabbed Peter’s hand and worked it out of his pants so he could get them down and off his body. He replaced the hand on his cock and went about running his hands all over Peter’s skin.

“I mostly imagine this – the long lines of your limbs and how the skin gives way to the lean muscle I knew you’d be sporting. You’re under me a lot and sometimes, I’ve got you on your belly and pressed so far into the mattress. It just depends on the mood, honestly – you’ve been in a starring role since we met.” While he described what he thought about, he let his hips start to move in the tight grip Peter had around his cock.

Leaning down, Tony let their lips tangle. He slipped his hand between them and slapped Peter’s away. His fingers wrapped around himself and Peter and started to stroke, instead – the slick from his cock helping the slide of his hand up and then back down. When Peter started to pick his hips up and chase Tony’s touch, he squeezed their lengths together one more time before pulling back. Peter looked up at him desperately, his eyes wide. “You okay?” Peter asked breathlessly.

Tony didn’t answer right away, he gave Peter another swift kiss on the lips, then leaned over to the bedside table to grab the lube and a condom – things were about to get hot and heavy and he didn’t want to have to stop. “I’m good, Pete. Better than,” he finally muttered, a sigh leaving his lips when he was pressed against Peter’s bare skin once again. “How do you want me?”

Peter blinked up at him, his colorfully coated arms rubbing up and down Tony’s sides. “This is good. I don’t need much prep, I want you so bad, Tones.” He gripped Tony’s shoulders and pulled him down, the kiss they got lost in warm and intense – the touch a sweet prelude to what was to come.

In an attempt to finally get some of the friction back against his length, Tony pulled away from Peter’s distracting lips and shifted until he was upright and seated between long, lean legs. Snapping the cap off the top of the lube, Tony poured a large amount into the palm of his hand – he wrapped it around Peter’s erection and gave a couple of slow pulls, spreading the slick around. Peter thrust up into his touch, the vein on the side of his length throbbing against Tony’s fingers.

He forced himself to pull away from Peter’s leaking erection to pour more lube into his hand. Coating his fingers in it, Tony traced the rim of Peter’s hole, the muscle clenching with the tickle-y caress. Tony used his free hand to fist his red cock while his lubed-up fingers traced and pushed until two of them were slipping into Peter’s warm embrace.

Tony didn’t spend much time teasing anything out – he pressed forward slowly until his fingers were fully seated, then pulled back and started a steady rhythm. He kept his thrusts even until he felt the tips of his fingers press against Peter’s prostate – the contact against it pulled a sticky glob of precum from the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck! Tony – that’s fantastic.” Peter tossed his head back and forth, the words coming out of his mouth in loud shouts. “More – I need more. I want you inside of me.”

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, Tony pulled his fingers out swiftly and immediately pushed back in with 3 of them. He spread his fingers apart at the rim a couple of times in a desperate last-minute attempt to stretch him. Then, he pulled out completely and reached for the condom he placed carelessly on the comforter. He put the edge of the foil between his teeth and ripped it, a sigh of relief slipping from his lips when his fingers fumbled it out of the package.

Shaky fingers rolled the latex down his hard length, his fingers squeezing at the base when he got there. Closing his eyes, Tony heard the cap of the lube open and fingers that weren’t his own slick him up. He glanced down to see Peter looking at him impatiently, his cheeks beet red and covered in sweat. “Come on – “ Peter gasped out, obviously unable to control himself.

Not needing to be told more than once, Tony guided the head of his cock to Peter’s hole and pressed in, his upper body folding over the man below him. With each thrust forward, Tony got a little further inside, the warm heat enveloping him like a tight glove. His eyes were wide and his breathing erratic – it’d been a long time since he felt something so sweet; and the fact that it was Peter below him made it that much sweeter.

His hips rested against Peter’s ass as he finally bottomed out. Biting down into the skin of Peter’s shoulder, Tony let his hips roll forward, just that slight movement making the heat in his core bubble dangerously close to the rim. He turned his head enough to capture Peter’s lips, Tony drawing his hips back and snapping them forward as their tongues tangled.

The arousal rising between them was tangible – intensity swirled in the room around them. Peter broke away from the kiss to pant out loud breaths and moans; his chest rose and fell against Tony’s in a way that spoke of how good it actually felt. Tony took advantage of Peter’s distraction to sit up and grab his legs, throwing them up over his shoulder. The change in position let Tony slam in a little deeper – the tip of his cock nailed Peter’s prostate with every single thrust.

Signs of Peter’s orgasm overcame the younger man’s body progressively. Tony felt his toes curl against his fingers, then saw the rush of blood trail down Peter’s chest. It was a deep red, much like the color of his cock throbbing against the flatness of his stomach. The pearly bead of precum that dripped onto his stomach caught Tony’s eye, his vision focusing on the clear liquid. When Peter actually came apart under him, Tony couldn’t look away – thick ropes of cum covered his stomach.

Rhythmic clenching of Peter’s hole pulled Tony over the edge a thrust later. He managed to drop Peter’s legs down around his hips before falling down over him, his body suddenly heavier than Tony could manage.

Lips against the side of his head pulled him out of the haze a few minutes later – Peter was looking at him with a deep look of satisfaction on his face. Tony grinned up at him – his heart felt light and despite the fatigue that tried to pull him under, he’d never felt better. He managed to shift just enough to pull out, get the condom off and tied, and lay down heavily on Peter’s side. His heavy head rested on Peter’s muscled shoulder and finally, Tony let himself relax.

The next time Tony blinked, he was on his back with Peter tucked under his arm. His skin felt like it’d been wiped clean and the room around them was much darker than it’d been when things first started. Peter’s arm was across his chest and for the first time, he got the chance to look at the tattoos covering the entirety of it. There were a collection of roses wrapping around his forearm and over his bicep and deltoid. All of the free space was covered by cherry blossoms. It was simple and elegant – perfect for the man Tony was starting to know so much about.

Before relaxing back into the pillows, Tony gave Peter’s forehead a soft kiss – a smile slipping across his face as he did. Gripping the tattooed arm resting against him, Tony nestled into the warmth surrounding him and let himself drift back to sleep.

----

For a little while after that, Tony got to live in a state of bliss that shouldn’t have existed. Peter was passionate in all ways – breaking down the wall between them in the physical sense opened the floodgates and pulled them both under. For weeks, whenever they could get a free second to be together, Tony and Peter allowed the hunger to take over.

The guys at the firehouse were quickly accustomed to seeing Peter walk out in the early hours of the morning with a sleepy chief trailing after him for the chance at one more kiss. It quickly got too sickeningly sweet for them to make too much fun of it.

Tony was more than grateful for that – and not just because it got the guys off his back. Peter brought out a different side of him and for the first time, probably ever, Tony had someone else that got him to the very core. With Peter, Tony could be himself.

They were able to live in the fuzziness of the novelty of their relationship for 10 weeks before the reality of Tony’s job came crashing down around them like the scary thing it actually was. He’d been lucky, to have met Peter during a time when things were slow around the station. In the years he’d been working, Tony knew lulls didn’t last for long – and when they came to a grinding halt, there was always something catastrophic to blame.

Getting a call on his day off, Tony immediately knew there was something wrong. Fury, the Captain in charge when he and Bucky weren’t around rarely called him. Even when he was actually needed. Seeing his name on the caller-id had him kissing Peter on the check and excusing himself to the hall of the restaurant they were at. He didn’t miss the concern etched on Peter’s brow – though, the depth of it was not yet understood.

By some sort of weird gut feeling, Peter already knew he had to go when he walked back into the room. He paid the check while Tony was on the phone and was waiting by the door. “I’m sorry, Pete. There’s a multiple building fire and they’re calling everyone in. I have to go,” Tony explained, his thumb hitching over his shoulder like Peter didn’t know Tony’s truck was parked outside. “I’ll come back when I can.”

With a soft kiss and what felt like a desperate hug, Tony was turning on his heel and heading towards the location he’d been given. The enormity of it hit him when he realized how backed up traffic was on his way to get a couple of miles down the road. Pulling up, Tony covered his mouth when he saw the entirety of the brand-new commercial shopping center on fire.

It didn’t take long to find Bucky, who was also in a similar state of civilian dress – they looked at each other with wide eyes, knocked shoulders, and walked into the scene with as much confidence as they could. Aside from the battalion chief that hadn’t been called in, they were the highest ranking on the scene.

Tony didn’t hesitate to move around and get into a suit while collecting all of the facts. They were four trucks deep and pulling as much water as they possibly could. There hadn’t been signs of explosion, but the intensity of the fire meant it had a mind of its own – a change could occur in a heartbeat. Unable to think of anything else he’d need to know, Tony tucked in behind Bucky on their truck’s line.

The fire was too big to recognize all of the signs of the flashover that took the building down and 6 firefighters with it instantly. Tony, who’d been near the front of the building went flying back, landing in a heap not far from the truck. Disoriented, Tony got up and pulled anyone in his path up and off the ground. No matter what – they needed to get the fire under control.

It took another couple of hours and two more buildings falling to the ground to finally get the flames under control. Tony, who’d been dealing with dizziness and nausea since getting off the ground, called in for back up from neighboring stations – they needed manpower and they needed it quick. Falling against the side of the truck when things were finally out of his hands, Tony retched, then slipped down further until he was on the ground.

A panicked look in Bucky’s eyes was the last thing Tony remembered before the blackness of a severe concussion and fatigue overtook him.

Waking up in a hospital bed wasn’t what he expected when he walked onto the scene the night before. Peter and Bucky, both pale with what he could only assume was worry, were staring at him when he blinked awake. The lights in the room were incredibly bright and the figures of his two favorite humans were a little wonky – but, he felt glad to be alive.

“We got it stopped, right? I didn’t punk out before the fun was over?” Tony asked, his voice foreign to his own ears – he sounded loopy, the words slurred a little. Whatever they had him on, it was doing the trick. He felt woozy and without a single ounce of pain.

Peter grabbed his hand and let out a snuffled laugh – for the first time since coming to, Tony could see the tear streaks on Peter’s cheeks. Reaching out to him, he gestured with his fingers for Peter to come closer. In the state he was in, it probably didn’t look coordinated, but his boyfriend came over, anyway. He let out a sigh against Tony’s chest when he pulled him close – the feeling of Peter was the only thing Tony needed in that moment.

“We got it handled, Chief – no worries. There was a lot of damage and we’re… 6 men short; but we stopped it.” Bucky’s voice cut through the little bit of goodness he was feeling – the memory of the blast and the guys they couldn’t get to respond hit him like a bus. 6 good men. Clenching at the hand that he was more than grateful to be holding, Tony let tears he couldn’t control fall.

Without any hesitation, both of the guys in the room wrapped him up in a hug – the sensitivity of his head and body be damned. He felt the sleeve of his hospital gown get more and more wet with tears; the spot Bucky was claiming a total mess when the moment finally broke. Tony clapped a hand against Bucky’s arm a few times in solidarity – the two of them sharing a look.

After a little while of merely existing in the same room together, Bucky got up and moved towards the door. “I’m gonna go home and sleep – now that I know you’re okay, I can stop worrying Steve.” Bucky flashed him a halfhearted smile, the forced nature of it making Tony’s stomach churn a little bit.

It should’ve been a sign – the unease he felt. Yet, Tony was just grateful to be there and have Peter sitting there by his side. That lasted all of ten minutes before Peter was bringing his hand up to his mouth for a lingering kiss – then, he let it go and got up. Tony pinched his eyebrows together – the move making his head ache through the haze of the drugs. “Pete?” Tony mumbled; his body suddenly frozen.

“Tony – I’m glad you’re okay. I needed to make sure you were.” Peter looked at him, the man desperate to portray something in the way he stared at him. Tony didn’t blink – the thought of closing his eyes meant Peter would disappear that much sooner. “I think I need some time to think. I’ve lost so many people in my life – the idea of you being one of them the past twelve hours was a little soul crushing.”

He took a step towards Tony and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Please understand. I just need some time.”

Tony tried not to let the sob that shattered him go until he heard the click of the door closing behind him. It was probably the head injury – making him feel like the world titled a bit off its axis at the sight of Peter’s back to him. He suddenly wished for the numb feeling he experienced the first couple of seconds of coming to – at least then the feelings wouldn’t be sitting on his chest, threatening to stomp him into the dirt and keep him there.

----

The doctor kept him in the hospital for another day to make sure they observed his brain function and symptoms fully. Bucky and Steve grabbed him when he was released and plied him with greasy cheeseburgers and fries before dropping him back at his house. He still had a couple of days off, so he bypassed his living room and dropped onto the bed. It smelt like Peter – everything in the place did. Stuffing his face into the pillow that Peter usually slept on, Tony let his tears lull him to sleep.

That went on for about 16 hours – he slept for a while, came to and got lost in the rush of emotions that he couldn’t control, then fell asleep again. A part of him was glad that Peter wasn’t around to see him – he wasn’t stable in any way. Peter deserved much more than that; much more than him.

His inability to sit still for long had him heading back to the station the next day – sitting around his house that was swarming with fresh memories of the person he thought he might really let himself have fully wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It felt more painful than the ache in his head ever could.

He didn’t take into account, however, that 2 of his own guys were taken from them in the horrendous fire that, at that point in his career, was the worst one Tony experienced. The mood around the station was somber and only made the entire body ache that engulfed him so much worse. Funeral service plans were waiting on his desk, the sleek black of the folder finally making the situation real.

In a desperate attempt to find that numbness again, Tony got lost in the mountain of work that he’d been putting off. Between the hands-on part of the job and sneaking off to spend as much time with Peter as he could, Tony let a lot of his duties slack. Now that he didn’t have anything to look forward to, the least he could do was get his work done.

The funeral ceremonies were the following week – seeing everyone dressed in their Class A’s usually made him beam with pride; but it made his heart heavy, instead. Tony made his speeches about Quill and Draxx with as much emotion as he could pull from himself. He stood at the front right of the procession and did his best to bring comfort to anyone that needed it. All the while, Tony found himself falling apart more and more – it was all too much at once.

Making his excuses as early as he could, Tony got back to his house without turning around. He never distanced himself like that from the job that was so important to him. Yet, he found himself unable to give himself to the people that needed that from him – so, he got out and went to hide his tail between his legs in the privacy of his own home.

What he didn’t expect, however, was Peter’s car parked in his driveway, the man leaning against his driver’s side door. Tony tried not to smile, his face a little unsure of the movement pattern, anyway. Seeing the person who’d been on his mind non-stop since he walked out of the hospital room made Tony feel a lot of things. Relief the first among them.

Before getting out of the car, Tony ran his hands over his eyes and down his face. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d be able to wipe the sadness and days’ worth of tears from his face – but it felt good to try. Sinking his hat low on his brow, Tony finally climbed out – the entirety of him feeling on edge.

Peter didn’t wait to approach him, he filled up the space between them and threw his arms around Tony’s shoulders. The touch was too nice to worry about anything else, Tony merely leaned into it – his own hands wrapping around Peter’s waist. Closing his eyes didn’t feel like inviting in a nightmare, so he tilted his head and let his chin rest of Peter’s shoulder. The weight of everything left him; just for a second.

Wordlessly, Tony pulled back and grabbed Peter’s hand. Much like the first time he brought him home, Tony led Peter through the door – only this time, they stopped in the kitchen. Tony let go and went about taking his hat and gloves off, the fancy things getting brushed to the corner of his otherwise empty counter. He didn’t stop moving until the crisp jacket was off his shoulders and slung over one of the chairs pushed into the table.

“Tony, I – “ Peter started. His hands gripped the edge of Tony’s counter, the knuckles turning white.

“If you’re going to say you’re sorry, don’t. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. My job is scary and it’s a lot to handle. Even for me,” Tony said, the last couple of words coming out breathlessly. The truth behind them made him want to curl up in a ball. He walked to the fridge and grabbed two beers, instead – anything to distract himself.

Their fingers brushed when Tony handed over the bottle – Peter’s fingers held his purposely, the warmth of his touch scalding, the scorch a delicious pleasure-pain of uncertainty and deep want clutching and not letting go. It felt good – even if it was fleeting; having Peter back at all was enough.

“I was just going to say that you look good – in your uniform. It suits you. You embody it. I didn’t know what I came here to say, to be honest. I just knew that I wanted to be here,” Peter stopped to take a long pull of the beer, his eyebrows arching at the hoppy taste of the IPA. He let silence build up for a moment – their eyes never leaving each other. “I think that’s enough. To be bigger than the worry. Being here, I mean. With you.”

The click of glass on the counter was the last thing Tony remembered before Peter’s lips were on his. He could still taste the beer on Peter’s tongue – the bitterness of it made the slide and press of their lips together that much sweeter. Huffing out a breath through his nose, Tony gripped Peter’s cheeks and tilted his head further, deepening the kiss.

“I need you to be sure, Pete,” Tony whispered after a while, his forehead resting against Peter’s. “You’re it. Don’t let me get used to you if you’re going to disappear.” It was more than he meant to say, but now that it was out there, Tony felt a bit better for it.

Peter grabbed the back of Tony’s arms, the touch soft, his thumb moving over the thin white shirt there. He gave Tony a brief kiss – and then another. “I’m sure, Tony.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #bobbie writes

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moderndaybard · 4 years

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2020 Weekly Ficlet 51/52(? We’ll see?)

Ever At Your Side, Part 7/7 (Chekov) [New Trek/Pokemon Crossover. Because Why not.]

(Part 1-Kirk; Part 2-Spock; Part 3-Bones; Part 4-Uhura; Part 5-Scotty; Part 6-Sulu)

Beginnings:

Starfleet Academy may have been filled with future officers—the best and the brightest in their chosen fields, young men and women who would make the fleet’s tomorrow even more impressive than its today—but they were still young men and women, filled with the hopes, dreams, ambitions, confidence, and energy that comes with that phase of life.

And some were even younger than that…

Pavel Andreievich Chekov had only been at the Academy for a few months, but already the young teen was growing used to the variety of reactions his presence seemed to prompt (the price he paid for starting so young that he’d be graduating at the same age that most people entered the Academy): some seemed impressed, some mystified, some even jealous, and few, if any, seemed capable of carrying on a normal conversation with him (the closest most came was slipping into an ‘older sibling’ sort of dynamic, which he didn’t mind, per se, but it wasn’t the same things a friend). Frankly, he was just grateful that they’d managed to find a cadet’s uniform that actually fit him, otherwise he knew that he’d be constantly mistaken for someone’s visiting younger brother.

But today was not a day for any of those thoughts: the good or the bad. Today was a day of good weather and no classes or looming projects, so the thirteen-year-old knew exactly how he was going to spend it: with his partner, Kostya.

…

The little Yamper was an absolute ball of energy—as were most young Electric-Types—and raced around his feet, yapping and jumping, as soon as he was released. Pavel grinned at his partner before pulling out Kostya’s favorite toy: a red-and-gold ball already showing tooth marks and electric burns a few weeks after first seeing use. The little Electric-Type dog went nuts, standing on his hind legs, front paws beating at the air before he overbalanced and tumbled onto his back. Kostya scrambled upright, who body trembling and little sparks running through his fur already.

Pavel tossed the toy and Kostya was after it in an instant—fast for his squat, short-limbed build, if slow and clumsy for The Electric-Type, then came racing back, prize clamped proudly in his jaws. But rather than drop it for another throw (or make Pavel wrestle it from him, as he sometimes did), Kostya didn’t stop running, instead launching himself up at his trained while still holding the ball.

Pavel wasn’t quite expecting a full-speed Yamper to the chest, and it caught him off-guard, knocking him to the ground as Kostya barked happily (dropping the ball), then began licking the boy’s face. (There were little static shocks, yes, as the young pokemon was not yet in full control of its abilities, but nothing dangerous: his hair would likely be on end for the rest of the day, little else.)

Laughing, he managed to grab a hold of Kostya and sit up, but he couldn’t help flushing in embarrassment when he saw a group of second- and third-year female cadets walk by, giggling and murmuring ‘aw’ to each other.

(He loved his partner, and loved to play, but he’d also like to be taken seriously…someday…)

------

Meetings:

Pavel’s family was large, loving, and loud—and they weren’t about to let their little prodigy go off to Starfleet Academy (four years early!) without a proper celebratory send-off.

The party was colorful, chaotic, and so quintessentially them, but that almost made it harder on the young teen, with his nerves mounting every moment and no clear words for the storm of emotions he was feeling. This was his home but the Academy—Starfleet—was his dream and was he really ready to trade one for the other so soon? Or what if he failed out and had to come back after everyone was so excited for him, had invested so much in him going?

Before he could really begin spiraling, however, his parents and younger sisters pulled him aside, away from the storm of aunts, uncles, cousins, and individuals who were considered family but may or may not be actual blood relatives. Then, in a quiet corner at last, they handed him a small package.

“From all of us,” his father said with a smile as Pavel unwrapped the small box.

“Yeah!” chirped his youngest sister as he pulled out the red-and-white ball. “We didn’t want you to be lonely without us!”

“Lonely? I was looking forward to the peace and quiet!” he teased, ruffling her hair before releasing his new partner—

“Yamp!” Yamp!”

“I know he’s small now,” his mother hastily broke in, “but that way he won’t be as much trouble in the dorms. And when he’s all grown—”

She didn’t even have to finish, as he was familiar with the line: he could picture the Boltund this Yamper would someday be, mature and impressive and dignified as it paced alongside its trainer (it was a little tricky to picture his adult self—hadn’t even yet settled on whether he would go science or command track—but surely he’d be confident and capable and not at all homesick).

“I love him; he’s perfect,” Pavel declared, and as one the family cluster moved in for a group hug—which Kostya quickly wriggled his way into the middle of, already knowing that this was his family, too.

------

(2009)

Things had been happening quickly since the moment they’d received Vulcan’s first distress call and had been dispatched in the fledgling fleet—hardly the first day that they’d expected, but exactly the sort of situation that they’d been trained for.

But then—

Then the Enterprise, delayed in her launch by a (miraculous) beginner error, arrived not on a battlefield, but a graveyard. Pavel could feel the realization ripple across the bridge that the only surviving members of that year’s graduating class were the ones aboard this single vessel—the flagship, yes, but now it seemed too small, it’s crew far too few to be the only ones alive…

But there was no time to mourn the dead with the fate of a planet—a people—hanging on their next acts, and captain Pike wasted no time in dispatching a crew to the drill while going himself to negotiate (or try to) with the strange Romulans, leaving Lt. Commander Spock in charge.

As he sat in the Navigator’s seat, Chekov did everything in his power not to squirm or fidget as adrenaline and tension mounted without release. He focused on the feed they were getting from Kirk and Sulu, wondering if this vibrating energy begging for an outlet was how Kostya felt all the time. (It certainly would explain the Yamper’s constant running, jumping, and otherwise frantic movements.) Still, there was nothing to do but put all his focus on not seeming like an antsy child.

Then, then—there was something he could do! “I can do that!” The cry tore from him without thought; without waiting for permission, he sprang from the navigator’s seat and launched himself full-speed from the bridge, entirely focused on being helpful, on being useful, on contributing (on saving two of his classmates—two of the few that’d learned to treat him the same as the rest of their peers, and not simply as ‘the gifted kid’.)

Kostya had been dashing after him from the moment he’d gone into motion, but as fast as the Electric-Type was for his size and build, his legs were too short and his paws didn’t have the best traction on the ship’s slick flooring. He tried to keep pace with his racing trainer, but ultimately fell further and further behind. Still, he kept trying, even as he skittered around corners and slammed into walls, a surprisingly determined expression on the normally-silly face, as if the Pokemon knew the intensity and stakes of the moment.

Chekov felt bad for running ahead of his loyal partner, but lives were on the line and he could help and he did help! Only…Only, moments later, when he tried to help again, he—

Failed.

Suddenly, the word was so much worse than a flunked test (that could probably be retaken or else made up for) or even the idea of not being enough, of having to go back home—he’d failed, and now someone was dead because of him.

(Spock’s mother was dead and Chekov was terrified to even imagine what that loss felt like, and it was his fault, he was to blame: he’d caught Sulu and Kirk, mid free-fall, so why couldn’t he have caught her and saved her, too? Had—had he killed her? Of course he had: her blood was on his hands, why had he thought he belonged in Starfleet…)

In the ensuing chaos, no one looked for him for a while; no one noticed him ducking into an alcove just around the corner from the transporter room, shaky legs unable to carry him much further.

No one saw the exhausted, stumbling Yamper, ears drooping, worm his way into his trainer’s arms and gently lick at the silent tears, offering what comfort he could—they both had tried so hard, only to fail today.

Could they do better tomorrow?

(Continued on AO3 )

#Star Trek 2009 #nost #Pavel Chekov #ensign chekov #pokemon #pokemon crossover #hypothetical pokemon team #well really just one partner #because its fun #my post #writing challenge

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leonkennedystuff · 5 years

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not alone p.2 (leon kennedy x reader)

[RE4!Leon]

Summary: wherein reader finally confronts leon about ada wong

Warnings: angst, swearing, underage drinking, descriptions of mental illness, mentions of broken family (?)

Part 2 of 2

holy crap, you guys. This is probably the longest chapter I’ve ever written in my LIFE. I got so carried away making this oops I’m sorry but wah! I’m so happy it’s finally done! Hope you guys enjoy!

Weary (E/C) eyes staring blankly outside the window, the budding feeling of depression pays you another visit– like a viper, it coils around your scorned heart tighter and tighter, choking you.

It’s been 6 days since that horrid fight with your longtime boyfriend, Leon Kennedy, and your insatiable sadness was the only friend you let in and comfort you. You knew you were coping with this unhealthily, you were aware you were setting yourself up for disaster, but you honestly could care less. You barely felt the discomforts anyway; you didn’t give no mind to how weak or hungry or tired or numb you felt all over. You just didn’t have the energy or the will. You felt, for a lack of better words, dead – and the last memory you had before you died was that fucking fight.

On that same night, you left your shared apartment; you packed a bag and practically had to force your way out because Leon kept trying to stop you, blocking the door, pleading with you to talk your problem through. Despite how vulnerable you were feeling though, you didn’t budge – refusing him his request, refusing to hear anything else about his standing with Ada Wong.

Relentless attempts after relentless attempts, he figured his pleas were falling on deaf ears. He eventually lets you go. Watching you leave - it was like the biggest part of his heart left with you. He’s never felt so empty, and you weren’t doing so well either.

That was the last time you’ve seen or spoken with Leon; his messages on your phone, the calls you were rejecting - they continued to grow almost hourly, but you had no plan on answering them. Not now, at least. You needed to heal; reading his words or hearing his voice, your emotions would overshadow your logic. You knew you’d succumb to how much you missed him and you had to be stronger than that.

Currently (and for the past 6 days), you’ve been squatting at your best friend’s apartment. Claire Redfield has been your constant person ever since you were children; your family and the Redfields have been long-time friends and you got along with her just like your parents did. You’ve never trusted anyone the same way you did her, at least not until Leon entered your life almost a decade after.

When you met Leon, you were 19 and had just moved into a new city to pursue your degree in Nursing. You were no philanthropist but you always wanted a career that revolved around helping others, it was a striking similarity you and him shared.

One night long ago, you were invited by some classmates to go drinking in a bar, a bar that was a favorite among students because they didn’t check ID – and that was when you saw him for the first time.

You almost smile at the fond memory.

He was with a bunch of loud, intoxicated and rowdy cadets from the police academy not so far from your school, he stuck out like a sore thumb because of how awkward he looked with them. Definitely, the comradery with him and everyone in that group was evident but he just seemed so out-of-place as the other guys hustled around, trapping him in the middle of their wild antics. Although you thought it was funny, you also remember feeling bad for him.

It was around 2 in the morning when you decided you really had enough drinks and were going to call it a night.

Despite the protests of your friends, you bid them a woozy goodbye and started heading out of the still cramp, neon-signed local bar. You barely made it a foot out the door when your drunk body doubled over, the urge to puke out the excess alcohol making your already dizzy head spin more. This wasn’t your first time drinking, absolutely not, but this was the first time you drank more than you could handle.

Did you regret it? Even with the throbbing hangover you had the next day - no, you don’t, because if it weren’t for you getting so shit-faced, you don’t think you would have had the interaction you did with Leon.

“Someone really enjoyed their night,” A pleasant voice resonates from behind, teasing you. Too out of it to check the face it belonged to, you remain as you are – your knees on the rough pavement while your head hovered over a bush. “That makes one of us,” He notes, his mild amusement and his voice drawing closer as he walks to where you were.

“Do you need help?” He asks, his badinage tone now mixed with a hint of genuine concern. When you feel him settle beside you, bending a knee so he was at your level and so that he can take a better look at how wasted you were, you finally turn just enough to see who this enigmatic joker was.

For a second, you felt like you sobered up at the mere sight of him. Initially, from his attire – a plain white shirt clouded by a navy-blue windbreaker and fitted black pants- you recognized him as the awkward dude from the big crowd, but your attention shifts from that after your gaze falls on his face.

My God – you wondered just how drunk you were to have your beer goggles be this misleading. There was no way, you thought, that anyone could look this heavenly.

A dirty-blonde guy with fringes framing his fresh face looked to be the same age as you; he had a small smile on his plump pink lips. He was saying something, his mouth was moving, but it’s like you’ve suddenly turned deaf. You were so fixated on his looks.

You note how structured his features are, like a sculpture, his jaw was ample and strong and contrasted well with the fullness of his rosy cheeks. He had beauty marks decorating his clear skin, two on his neck and one small one beside his celestial nose. The real star, though, were his eyes. They were bluer than blue, like sapphires and moonstones.

Who the hell was this dude?

“So, are you going to tell me or should I just guess?” He cocks a dark eyebrow, his playful demeanor returning. Snapping out of your trance, you just blink at him, confused.

Oh right, he was talking.

“What?” You manage to find your voice but hate how raspy it sounded even to your own ears. He chuckles, looking down. His long eyelashes flutter as he subconsciously checks your body for any wounds or bruises you may have gotten in your buzzed state.

“I was asking for your name,” He repeats himself, clearly finding the cute but besotted girl humorous.

Your own cheeky personality coming out, you give him a curious squint. “What’s it to you?” You question, “I happen to be very familiar with the saying–“ You lean forward a bit to be dramatic but stagger a little. As if on instinct, the blonde holds you by the shoulders. It was almost impossible to ignore the flurry of sensation building under your skin where his hands were. “-‘stranger danger’,” You finish off with air-quotations, keeping your cool.

The guy laughs again, the luxuriance of it making your own mouth curl upwards in a smile.

“Maybe you’ll feel better knowing I’m training to be a cop?” He offers, riding along with your banter. You shake your head, “No, I’ve heard stories of serial killer police men. All charming and dutiful and handsome – you could definitely be in the list and I’m not risking it,”

With that, Leon’s face lights up with a surprised expression. You also note how his confident demeanor suddenly shifted into a coy one. You nearly raise your eyebrows in question but realize soon after why.

Damn your drunk tendencies!

Now amply embarrassed, you open your mouth to apologize but were cut off with his bona fide smile. “You’ll just have to trust that I’m going to be one of the good ones,” He says, his voice softer but seemingly warmer. “I’m Leon Kennedy,” He introduces himself, earnestly outstretching a hand for you to shake. You take it, a blush undoubtedly heating up your face.

“(Y/N) (L/N),” You respond.

That night, Leon walked you back to your dormitory and the rest became history. It didn’t take long for you both to develop the feelings sparked by the night you met – it was only a matter of a few months until he finally confessed the obvious affection you had for one another. You both agreed, though, to remain as friends until you both graduated.

Your ‘remain as friends’ phase lasted almost 2 years, but you didn’t mind because you were so in love with him and he, you. You’ve never been happier. When you graduated from college and him from police academy, he wasted no time asking you to be together.

You couldn’t wait to finally tell Claire all about it; you’ve updated her that there was someone you were seeing but left it at that until you and Leon were official. You planned to meet with Claire the day after Leon left for Raccoon City, also the day that she’d be coming back from the same place to check up on her older brother, Chris.

Of course, everyone knew about the tragic events that lead to the death of hundreds and thousands of people in Raccoon. When the outbreak first spread, you heard about it in the television and nearly fainted in the hospital you were working as a trainee nurse. You thought you could die right then and there – your body and your heart unable to cope with the distress plaguing your head. For nights on end, you couldn’t sleep and, the rare times you were able to, it was due to fatigue from crying so much.

You couldn’t fathom the thought of either Leon or Claire in danger, hurt, or worse.

When you received the most gratifying news though that they both made it out alive and clear from the horrific infection, you felt lucid. You don’t remember crying as hard as you did that day. When you found out that Claire and Leon actually ran into each other during the outbreak, you started to bawl again. They took up the deepest crevices of your heart.

You scoff softly at that.

Look how that now turned out in your favor. Half of it was broken beyond repair.

Suddenly, for the nth time this night, your phone blares in the dreary guest room you occupied, disrupting the welcomed silence. Your reverie broken, you sit up sluggishly on the bed too big for one person, your gaze indolently shifting to the vibrating device beside you. You didn’t need to think twice or wonder who it could be; your heart was already clenching knowing it was him.

With the heaviest feeling settled in your chest, you bring yourself to push your phone away, to push Leon away. To think nearly six years of your life was spent being with someone who might not have been entirely set on you after all…

You lay back down on the soft, silky sheets and close your exhausted eyes until the only noise left was your wounded sobbing. Inconsolable, dismal, helpless.

Alone with your wayward thoughts, another painful feeling creeps up your chest – although he was a persistent and tenacious man, you were sure he’ll eventually tire from reaching out just to have you ignore him. How long will it take until he finally gives up? How long will it take until he’s moved on from you? Will he be with Ada?

Too lost in your own sorrow, you almost didn’t hear the soft knocks resonating from the other side of the door. “(Y/N)?”

Startled, you bring your pounding head up. For a moment, you weren’t sure whether you imagined the sound. “Yeah?” You croak, your voice scratchy and barely there. You’ve misused yourself for the past few days and it was beginning to show.

“It’s me,” Claire leans her cheek on the door, pressing an ear to the wood. “Can I come in?”

You prop yourself upright a second time and a sudden wave of vertigo hits you. You lean back on the headboard, your vision dancing with stars. You wait until the dizzy feeling passes before you reply. “Of course,” You say, finding it a bit ridiculous that she had to ask permission in her own place.

Not a moment after your thumbs-up, the door creaks open and a crack of light from the hallway floods the room, illuminating your friend’s sympathetic face. “How are you holding up?” She checks on you, entering the room fully. You see she brought a glass of water and a cookie on a plate.

You smile, genuinely touched by the sweet gesture. Claire makes her way to you and settles down on the bed; she brings her feet up so she can sit with her legs crossed. The mattress rocks slightly as she shifts to a more comfortable position, turning the bedside lamp on. You wince at the orange light.

She hands you the glass of water, which you gratefully take from her hold and sip from, and places the huge chocolate chip cookie towards your body. She looks almost expectant but you pretend not to notice; you really couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

Claire knew what was up though and, thankfully, she didn’t try to push it. It was always something you appreciated about her – she wasn’t overbearing, she didn’t try to impose or force anything. She just gives her 2 cents and leaves it to your better judgement; you respected that a lot.

“Still the same, unfortunately,” You crack a halfhearted chuckle, trying to sound better than you really felt. You look down and away from the sad look in Claire’s eyes, obviously seeing past the fabricated act. Wanting not to dwell in her scrutiny, you reach for the still warm cookie and break off a small chunk, bringing it to your mouth. It tasted heavenly – her food always did, but you couldn’t enjoy it.

“It’s good,” You comment with a nod, your eyes still anywhere but on the brunette girl in front of you. Of course, you were trying to evade the conversation that dealt with talking about how you were feeling.

You open your mouth, to apologize for being so detached, but her hand suddenly on your thigh catches you off-guard. You look at her to see her smiling. “How about we take a walk? Maybe visit the ice cream shop right before the curb? I’ve been wanting to check the place out,” She suggests with a thoughtful cock of her head, her dark brown hair swaying with her movements.

She leans in a bit, her knowing expression deepening as she gives your leg a pat. “And it’ll do you some good to get some fresh air.”

Claire had a point, you acknowledged. Although you didn’t want to, going outside would probably help distract from your stuffy thoughts, especially considering that you’ve been camped in this apartment almost the entire time you were here. You note that Claire probably blew her plans off just to accommodate you. This is the least you can grant her.

“Okay, yeah, let’s do it.” You crack a smile, shifting your weight so you could swing your legs off the bed. Claire, who looked a little surprised from your answer, blinks before a big grin appears on her face. She gets up as well, “Alright! Just let me get changed,” She says, gesturing to her olive-green baseball tee and black sweatpants.

You chuckle, nodding.

When the door closes behind her, you swap your pajamas as well for some leggings and a grey hoodie two sizes too big on your frame. Your hand moves its way to feel the letters of the police academy Leon attended bolded in the center; you didn’t realize you’ve packed it but now it’s the only thing you wanted to wear.

You let yourself. Considering you didn’t allow to talk or reach out to him, this will help you cope.

You sigh. You just couldn’t believe how complicated it’s gotten.

After taming your (H/C) hair into a ponytail and trudging out of your room, you enter the living space and the first thing that caught your eye was a small white envelope in front of the main door. It was most probably slipped in through the crack.

You walk towards it, your heartbeat picking up speed for a reason unknown to you. Crouching down to get a better look, you take it in your hands. It was plain until you turned it over.

A red kiss mark.

Your breath hitches – you knew point-blank exactly who this was from. No doubts, no second thoughts.

Why the fuck has she sent this? How did she know where you were? Did Leon tell her about your fight?

“Unbelievable,” You hissed under your ragged breath, clenching your fists. With your stomach churning, your eyes brim with tears as you angrily tear it open. Your chest felt so constricted, it was almost painful to breathe.

Hope you don’t mind that I told him your whereabouts. -A.W.

Just one sentence – just that one sentence was enough to get you bawling your eyes out. Even though it lacked reason for you to be this heavily affected, it was the mere fact that it meant Leon had reached out to Ada again. You visibly started to shake.

You’ve had enough of this shit.

“You ready to head ou-“ Claire’s smile falls the moment she saw your slumped and trembling figure by the door, her crystal blue eyes growing wide with worry. She practically runs over to you, dropping to her knees and draping an arm around your shoulders.

You were inconsolable, violent sobs rocking your body.

“(Y/N), what –“ Her sentence was left hanging in the air as she saw the poorly torn white envelope and letter in your hands. She cautiously takes it from your iron grip and reads what was written; her anger flares right away.

Before she had the chance to bust out her profanities, a loud series of knocks resonate from the door. Claire gets up and, because she was too overcome with ill feelings, didn’t bother to check the peephole. She swings the door open and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Leon Kennedy stood before her; his impossibly blue eyes were rid of any warmth – they looked exhausted, lidded and tired, and the dark bags under them seemed to weigh them down more. His body was stiff with tension, his usually groomed hair was in its messiest state she’d ever seen and, really, just his whole aura was thick with dread.

He was a mirror image of you.

If it weren’t for how angry and disappointed Claire was with him, she would have felt bad seeing him in his weary state. Claire always looked so highly of Leon; she saw how pure, sincere and brave his character was in light of the events they experienced in Raccoon City.

So, when she found out he was the man you were seeing? She approved of the relationship right off the bat, loving him for you. Claire knew, though, about the problem with the woman in red but she didn’t realize how bad it actually was to have this whole thing happen.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Leon,” She scowls, chastising, crossing her arms over her chest. He looks down and takes the harshness of her words; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting this to happen. “Can I please see her?” His voice was hoarse.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,”

“It’s okay, I want to talk to him.”

Claire twists around to look at you. Your eyes were hard on the man whose heart had just skipped after being unable to see you or hear your voice for nearly a week. He recognizes the hoodie you had on and the ache in his chest tripled.

Despite your own heart jumping, your fury overclouded any feeling of longing. The letter crumples under your hand.

Claire gives you an expression as if to ask ‘Are you sure?’ and you nod. With one last look at the crestfallen male, she turns on her heel and leaves the premise to give you both some privacy.

“(Y/N)-“ Leon starts, taking a step towards you. You backtrack harshly.

Couldn’t he take a hint?

“Where’s Ada?” You grit your teeth, trying to keep your melting composure together. So much for a proper greeting. “I’m surprised you’ve bothered to come here, or that you even thought of me at all.”

Leon’s already fallen face sinks further, your words deepening the terrible pain the last few days have imbedded in him. If you only knew what the man’s been through; he could barely function not knowing where you were or who you were with or how you were doing and it showed in his present state. Ada, or at least the interaction you assumed happened between them, never reached reality.

“(Y/N),” He sighs, arduous, running a palm down his slightly stubbled cheek. The fact that you were so near but he couldn’t hold you made the inside of his chest itch. “Please, stop being like that. I want to talk this out. Properly. I don’t want Ada to be in this conversation,” He says, unable to keep the frustration from appearing in his tone.

Your anger grows. “That’s rich coming from you, especially when you hired her as your personal investigator,” You bring your clenched hand up and finally show to him the letter. “Here-“ You nearly hiss, taking a step towards him so you could press it to his chest. “You can thank her for coming through, as always.”

Leon studies the paper and his eyebrows furrow immediately. He shakes his head, looking at you perplexed. “I haven’t spoken to her ever since-“ He pauses for a split second, his jaw clamping ever so slightly, “-ever since we fought. I don’t know how she knows anything, or how she knew I was trying to find you.”

Despite your rancorous feelings, your chest prickled. You weren’t very surprised, but it softened your hardened exterior to hear his efforts. He always prioritized you, but the reason why you were so unwilling to move on from this was because of how prioritized Ada was too.

Noticeably gentler than a few seconds ago though, you moisten your dry lips. You knew Leon was telling the truth not only because of his honest eyes, but because he was just an honest person, especially when it came to you. But you just couldn’t wrap your head around how Ada was able to find out about you and Leon’s current situation and how she tracked you down.

As if he could tell what was plaguing your train of thoughts, he offers an explanation. You don’t know, though, if it made you feel better. “Ada – she’s a mysterious woman.” He acknowledges, cautiously moving closer.

You stay where you are and it made him almost sigh in relief. If this proximity was all that the situation would allow, he’ll take it. “She has her ways, she has her own methods of knowing things.”

He shakes his head, “But enough about her. Please. I don’t want to talk about her – I want to talk about our relationship, because that’s what matters the most to me.” He says.

You remain silent because you want him to continue and because a lump was growing in your throat.

You know from years of knowing Leon that he wasn’t the type of person to be vocal with his affection; how he grew up rendered him to be kind of awkward when it came to his feelings, he always had a hard time talking about it in general. It became especially more difficult after Raccoon City and you never tried to pry or change that; so, the rare times he did verbalize about what was in his chest, it was so special for you.

Leon takes a deep inhale, running his calloused thumbs over his fingers. “I-I’ve taken you for granted. All these years, you never left me, not even when our lives got so complicated.” He closes his stinging eyes, feeling his chest grow heavy as memories of his past played through his head – all the people lost, all the places now in ruin, all the missions he’s taken that always scared you half to death with worry. They were scars he had to live with.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever cared for me the way you do. It’s something I was never really familiar with,” He falters for a moment, wanting to compose himself. You, on the other hand, already had tears falling down your cheeks. You knew he was talking about his family and his upbringing – it was such a sensitive topic for him and your heart ached.

“-but it gives me so much hope, you know? It gives me more reason to want to end this whole attack on humanity. It’s contagious, how selfless you are.” He sighs, shifting his gaze to the carpeted floor. “The reason why I’ve been talking to Ada again is because she has information regarding new B.O.Ws being created somewhere. It’s stupid – maybe I should have just told you but I never include or disclose to you anything in my line of work because I don’t want to risk your safety.”

“You make me a better person, (Y/N), the love that you share so generously – I could only wish to reciprocate it all back to you. I-I’m trying, and I’m sorry if you have to suffer my inability to but I-“

Leon fails his words, his beautiful blue eyes glassy with tears. You’ve only ever seen him cry once your whole life, when you reunited after Raccoon City.

Without a moment more, you dash forward and wrap your arms tightly around the vulnerable and visibly upset man. You press your head to his chest, your tears – at this point – coming down like a waterfall as you listen to the beat of his heart. The heart made of pure gold, the heart that you loved more than anything in this whole fucking world.

Leon overlaps your embrace, one hand cupping the back of your head and the other snaked around your waist ardently, like he was afraid you’d fall out of his grasp again.

He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering for a few moments before he closes his eyes, feeling like a thousand pounds just lifted off his shoulders. He was light-headed, the warmth of your touch he craved so much felt like paradise.

“I’m sorry too, I just- I got so hurt but I never should have left the way I did,” You sob, not caring how you looked like. “I love you, Leon, more than anything. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re lacking or that your baggage will ever be too heavy for me to carry with you. I’m not perfect either- I have my own shit, I have my own issues as well, but I know you’ll be there to help me out.”

You wipe at his eyes and he captures your hand, kissing it tenderly before intertwining his fingers with yours. “I promise I’ll be better,” He looks at you with commitment, his gaze unwavering and honest.

You smile, pledging to do the same. You trap his warm face in your palms and kiss him lovingly on the lips, your heart soaring. He deepens it.

You knew there were still going to be countless of bumps in the road ahead of you and Leon, some small, some big, and some worse or as worse as this but, no matter what, out of the billions of souls in this earth, it’s only him you’d ever love this way.

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simplyplain42 · 6 years

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MERRY CHRISTMAS! @heterocosmica I was your Naruto Secret Santa this year. This was the first time for me to participate in this kind of event and honestly it was so fun. I was thrilled to get to write about sasuhina as that’s my top ship, so without further ado I hope you like this fanfiction I wrote you. Hopefully its angsty enough :). Also this is like an alternative timeline from the show where the Uchiha clan never got slaughtered.

Title: The Promise of Rebranding Category: Naruto Pairing: Sasuke x Hinata Rated: Teen. Summary: Sasuke and Hinata are arranged to be married. Neither one knowing each other very well and can only recall each other from the academy. Once they are wed, they not only have to learn to love each other but put up with the pressure from their clans.

The Promise of Rebranding

Sasuke had always known that when he was older, he would be expected to have a wife and kids. He dreamed of being a successful shinobi when he was a kid and for the most part he had succeed. He was a Jonin and the Captain of the Uchiha Police Force with an 89% success rate.

He was an adult now, yet the idea of wife and kids was a dream he hadn’t pursued on his own. The thought was on the back burner in his mind. His occupation had been his focus. Kids were a time for later, until his father broke the news to him one morning.

He was to be wed. The arrangement was already set and done by his father.

“You have a duty to your clan and your family. If you are to see this through, it’ll will be the first step of recognition to the Uchiha’s legacy. The Leaf won’t be able to ignore this pact between the Uchiha and Hyuga. If they slight us, they will also dishonor one of their most prestigious and oldest clans in Konoha. They will have to treat us with the same respect as the Hyuga,” his father, Fugaku, explained with a deep tone. He was already sensing his son’s disapproval.

“You expect me to do this for political gain?” Sasuke remarked with an edge of bitterness to his voice.

“Precisely.”

“Hn…” Sasuke shook his head at the audacity of his father. “And why do you think the Hyuga agreed to marry into a clan the Village neglects? What do they get out of it?”

“Our sharingan.” Fugaku mentioned as if it was not the clan’s most precious heirloom. “If it even does pass onto your offspring. The child, of course, will be safeguarded regardless. It will be raised and nurtured here in the compound and out of the Hyuga’s hands.”

“This marriage sounds like a disadvantage for Hyuga.” Sasuke quipped, unamused.

“They’ll see it as a gain,” his father enlightened. “The Hyuga is losing their weakest member in hopes of having a claim to the sharingan while their second heiress takes on the role of clan leadership. “

“I will be marrying their heir.” Sasuke stated, eyeing his father. He was looking for confirmation although he did not ask the question.

“Correct. You’re being wed to Hinata Hyuga, eldest daughter of Hiashi Hyuga and the rightful heir to the Hyuga Clan.”

“Don’t make her sound more prestigious than she is,” Sasuke retorted with heavy disdain. “You did not witness how graciously she fought in the chunin exams.”

“You should be more courteous to your new bride. Arrangements have already been made. You’ll wed the Hyuga girl by the end of next week.” His father mentioned before signaling Sasuke’s dismissal.

Sasuke had to bite back his tongue, out of respect for his father, even if he was not happy about the arrangement. He knew he did not have a choice as he grumbled inwardly about it.

He became increasingly unhappier the longer he dwelled on the impending situation. His mind entertaining thoughts on his new wife to be. The woman he was to share his life with. He didn’t know her much and could only recall her from back when they were genin. All he remembered of her was her shy and timid demeanor. She was soft-spoken and had lacked confidence in the academy. He wondered if she had matured and was self-assured now.

He was sitting outside on the patio while he was thinking things over when his older brother, Itachi, joined him.

“You don’t look so happy,” Itachi stated. His tone was calm and his voice smooth.

“Hn.”

“I felt similarly when father first told me I was to wed Izumi.” The tips of Itachi’s lips pointed up in a knowing smile.

“So what?!” Sasuke snipped at him. “Are you going to tell me I should be jumping for joy at this wedding?”

“No. But I did come to offer some advice.” Itachi responded coolly, taking a breath in before continuing. “Do your duty and marry the girl, but this marriage is yours to choose to love. You can choose to disdain your marriage, or you can choose to find happiness in it. I didn’t think Izumi would be the one for me, but she surprised me. All I’m saying is keep an open heart.”

With that Itachi stood up and left his little brother alone to his thoughts.

Sasuke Uchiha.

The name ran through her head so many times within the last week.

She was to wed Sasuke Uchiha and she would become Hinata Uchiha.

His name did not sit well on her tongue at first. She remembered the cool, stoic boy that sat near her old crush, Naruto. A boy filled with dreams and determination. What was Sasuke filled with? She wasn’t sure.

She did not disapprove of the match her father had made and she had come to accept her fate in the week that followed. Her father had made it clear to her that she will not be the heir to the Hyuga clan. That her birthright had been won by her sister when she was thirteen and her sister eight.

Hinata knew she was not as strong or as gifted as her sister in the gentle fist. She was a disappointment to the clan. The weakest member born of the strongest branch. Her father blamed her gentle character. He had tried to strength her. He tried to train her, and she failed him.

Now she was to be wed for a set of ruby eyes.

The hot water of her bath could not calm her sense of nerves. She would be given to Sasuke Uchiha in two days and on the morrow her fate will be sealed.

“Will it hurt?” Hinata spoke softly into the steamy air.

Her handmaiden from the branch family paused in her action at her heiress’s question. It did not take her long to figure out what the young woman was referring to.

“No, Hinata-san. You’ll be asleep when it is done.”

Hinata nodded briefly. “Thank you”.

The handmaiden continued lathering her hair as Hinata dreaded what was to come.

The day of the wedding, guests from the Hyuga and Uchiha clan attended the ceremony to see the heiress of the Hyuga be married off to the second heir of the Uchiha. Elders of the village also came to bear witness to this day of integration between the two oldest clans in Konoha.

Both bride and groom were nervous but hid their nerves in different ways. Sasuke looked grim and irritated even though his stomach was tight with obligations while Hinata wore a tight smile and vacant expression. Underneath her façade was a quicken heart with nerves dancing under her skin.

She could hardly recall anything that morning. All she knew was she had been prepped and beautified to fit into her elegant white gown. Her bouquet was of pink lilies but even her sense of smell was gone.

Quick enough, she found herself walking down the aisle to her husband to be. He looked devilishly handsome in his black fitting tux, but his sharp gaze left an apathetic impression in the air. When she reached him at the end of the aisle, her father gave her away and her hand was swept into Sasuke’s cool one.

“We have gathered here to bear witness to this new union of this man and this woman. To become of one soul and of one voice as husband and wife. Through rich or poor and in sickness and in health. Now if you will repeat after me,” the pastor spoke to Sasuke and then Hinata as they each took their vows in front of God and men.

The good pastor lightly bounded their hands together as he breathed life into their union, pronouncing them husband and wife. He stepped back as he gave permission to the husband to now kiss his wife. Hinata turned towards Sasuke on cue almost robotically. Her eyes hesitantly trialing up his form to find his stony expression.

In one efficient move, Sasuke took the edge of Hinata’s veil and flipped it over her head to have access to her face. He could easily see the heavy white powered foundation she wore and the light pink lipstick she bared on her lips. Without a second to waste, he swooped down to peck her lips to seal the ceremony.

His lips were warm and smooth against hers in that fainted touch. She was dazed when he pulled away before she even had a chance to respond. The audience began to clap at the success of their union, reminding Hinata that they were not alone in the room.

With tinted cheeks, she stood facing their guests, turned away from the alter, with her new husband’s hand loosely held within her grasp. The room was praising their union as they stood before their witnesses until the music cued their exit.

Hinata was eager to let her husband lead her from the alter, away from all the prying eyes but she knew she wouldn’t get any peace anytime soon as they went to their next event, the reception.

The reception was as a blur to Hinata as well. She had received many hugs and many gifts after the ceremony. She hardly tasted the food as her senses were still shot. Her stomach twisting for the night to come. She knew she would have to give herself to her new husband. It was expected of her. Her father expected her too and she had been officially bought and paid for in some respect.

She snuck a shy glance at her husband that was seated beside her at their wedding table. She had been doing so for most of the night. She was trying to get a read on his mood. At the ceremony, he seemed irritably resigned. Now it seemed he was no longer as annoyed as before, but he wasn’t content either.

While observing him, Sasuke never seemed to smile and that concerned Hinata heavily. She tried to recall ever seeing the dark-haired boy smiling or happy, but she could not. She wondered how could she make her new husband happy if he never smiled? She even wonder could she ever be happy with him.

She stopped her depressing train of thoughts before they got worse. She couldn’t perceive her new marriage as negative yet. It had just begun and she wasn’t going to perceive it as doomed from the start. She was going to try. She wanted to be a good wife. She wanted a proper life and maybe, she will get to be happy if she tried.

Her head perked up as she made herself positive and made her nerves dissipated.

Sasuke caught her gazing at him and he pretended not to notice. She was studying him, much like he was study her during the night. He felt she was even more quiet than she was at the academy. He was very pleased to hear her stutter had subsided somewhat when he heard her engage with their guests. Her voice was soft to the point she was hard to hear, but her voice had an airy quality to it that he could get used to. Her voice was not like his previous teammate’s pitchy voice.

He hated loud and obnoxious voices as the sound of them could make him irritable. He had already suffered on a team with the two loudest ninjas in Konoha. Both were big mouths that were constantly arguing with each other ever since the academy. He was glad that his team had disbanded ever since they made the rank of Jonin and their sensei, Kakashi, was honored with the promotion of Hokage. His blond teammate, Naruto, was still preparing and training on becoming the next Hokage and his female teammate had taken on a large shift at the Hospital.

His team was parted, but they manage to see each other on occasion. Like for this instance, they had come to see him wed. Naruto was stoked for him. He was happy to see his teammate begin a family of his own. When Naruto offered his best wishes and was talking Sasuke’s ear off, Sasuke was closely watching for Hinata’s reaction.

He knew she used to have a crush on the blond. Everyone knew in the academy. It was plain to anyone that could see. He was mildly appreciative to see that she had no obvious reaction to his teammate’s words. She had accepted his best wishes with a tiny smile and thanks. Rose colored cheeks did not consume her face, leaving Sasuke to believe that she had gotten over her silly little crush.

The white made-up bed looked daunting to Hinata. She bit her cheek, wondering who was going to break the ice first. Was her husband going to make the first move? Should she? They both knew what their clans expected, but before Hinata could further dwell on the impending action, Sasuke had already made their decision.

“We don’t have to tonight,” he stated nonchalantly.

Surprised from his statement, she turned her wide eyes from the bed to him. He did not return her gaze as his own stayed lock on the bed. There was a short pause before he reiterated himself.

“We’ll do so when you’re ready and comfortable,” he mentioned.

Hinata felt her heart clench. She felt relieved and her heart filled with gratitude. She was smiling at the news as she watched him begin to untie his tie and remove his coat. After realizing he was starting to undress, she turned away. Her cheeks dusted red despite him being still fully clothed. Plus, he was her husband, she should not feel ashamed to see him.

Fighting with herself, she made her escape to the bathroom to similarly undress and get out of her wedding gown. She closed the door for some privacy. Looking in the mirror, she saw piles of makeup caked on her face from what her stylist had done early this morning.

She quickly found a towel and let the water run warm from the sink as she took off her veil. She undid her long indigo hair, relieved to no longer have it pinned up. She wet the towel when the water was warm and wiped at her face to clear the makeup away.

She had it nearly off, but the sight of her forehead under her bangs made her pause. She shook her head a moment later, looking sternly at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t going to pity herself. She was going to make the best out of her life from now on she decided, before moving on to take care of her dress. She tried reaching her hands behind herself to undo the buttons of her dress and unzip the rest, but she found difficulty doing so.

After a minute or two of struggling to get out of her wedding gown, she reluctantly knew she had to ask for help. Quietly, she opened the bathroom door to peer into the bedroom. She spotted Sasuke on the bed. He had already unbuttoned his dress shirt and was now taking off his shoes and socks.

His dark eyes had glanced at her when he heard the door opened.

“Would you mind… helping me unzip? I can’t… do it” She asked timidly while stepping into the bedroom.

He nodded after a brief pause as he went to stand. She turned around, giving him access, as he approached her.

Skillfully, Sasuke managed to unbutton the five buttons that ran down from Hinata’s neck to below her shoulders. Then he unzipped her steadily from her shoulders to the small of her back, spying her creamy white skin and white undies as her gown grew slack around her form.

She was blushing greatly from what Sasuke could tell from the redness on her neck. When he was done, she looked over her shoulder to thank him while holding the dress to her form.

“Thank you.” She squeaked out softly.

His dark eyes caught her own, ready to let her retreat into the bathroom, but a glimpse of green caught his eyes.

“Wait,” he directed, holding her there.

Hinata’s eyes grew wide as her husband’s hand came up to her cheek, turning her to look at him. She grew weary to what he might want but saw that his eyes were narrowed in on her forehead. She froze when his hand deftly lifted up her bangs, spying her forehead. His fingers were combed through her hair as his thumb rubbed at the left-over makeup on her forehead. She held her breath as she witness the pensive look that came over his face.

“What is that?”

She gulped. She was apprehensive in that instance. “A seal given to branch members of the Hyuga clan.” She spoke shakily, she reverted her eyes from his when they met hers.

“You’re the heir to the main branch,” he spoke, stating it as a fact although the question was implied.

“I… I was,” she admitted shamefully. “My sister, Hanabi, is the heir now.”

“What’s the seal for?”

“To protect the secrets of the byakugan,” she answered truthfully, but she refused to look her husband in the eye. She was afraid to see his judgement. Afraid for him to finally see what he had bought.

Sasuke studied the seal while the back of his teeth were clenched together. He knew this was not part of the deal when his father made arrangements with the Hyuga. Otherwise, his father would have forewarned him.

He was sure his father did not know of this. Personally, he had mixed emotions seeing a branding seal on his new wife. He took his eyes off the seal to search her face.

“Hn.”

His hands fell away from her head, making Hinata look up. He was letting her go she realized and she watched him move back to their shared bed. Swiftly, she retreated to the bathroom to continue to undress and slip on a light night gown that reached her knees.

When she was done composing herself and undressing, she reentered the bedroom to find Sasuke already laying on his side of the bed. His bare back was to her and in the dim light she could only make out some of his physique.

She assumed he was resting already and quietly made her way to the bed to slip under the covers. She tried to strictly stay to her side of the bed to give her husband some space. It felt odd sleeping in a bed with someone when all her years she’s always slept alone.

It was hard for her to fall asleep, leaving her to wonder what Sasuke could possibly might feel for her. Or how he might possibly feel for her in the future.

When morning came, he felt incredibly warm. He tossed back the blankets, hoping to rid the heat, but the lack of blankets didn’t help. There was a long pillow snuggled into his side. His foggy brain knew that was incorrect as he slowly cracked open his eyes.

He soon found out that the source of heat was emanating from his wife that was huddled beside him. His eyes trailed over her in the soft morning light. The blankets were kicked down to their feet and half tossed over his side of the bed when he got too hot. He noticed that she was cold and had buried her head into his side while cocooning herself with her arms and her legs entangled with his.

He stayed still for a few moments longer, to soak in the image of her before carefully getting up out of bed. When he did so, he heard her whine ever so softly, before he tossed the blanket that had fallen to the floor back on her.

He then made his way to the bathroom to take a cold shower so that he could start his day. Unbeknownst to him, he had started the routine for their daily life.

Hinata woke up to an empty space that was still warm, but she was no longer cold, thanks to the blankets draped over her. Groggily, she heard the hum of the shower and knew that’s where her husband disappeared to.

Her husband. She was still getting use to that phrase and knew it will take some time before she felt it was natural on her tongue. Every day the phrase came a little easier.

Each morning seemed to go the same way. Hinata would wake up curled on the wrong side of the bed with blankets covering her as her husband got ready for the day. She would do the same and help her husband out by preparing his coffee in the morning and on some mornings offer him breakfast too. He would either decline or accept, but Hinata learned he hardly had an appetite in the mornings. He would survive on black coffee until he was free in the afternoon.

When she learned of his schedule, she packed him a lunch, quickly learning the foods he enjoyed and the ones he didn’t. He was always vague with his responses of gratitude and Hinata figured if he didn’t tell her to stop, then she was okay to continue doing so.

She would then see her husband on his way out the door to his high important job at the Uchiha Police Station. He was gone from eight in the morning to five at night. She couldn’t say she missed him when he left for work, but the house often felt bare without his presence. She was still getting used to living in the Uchiha compound and often reflected back to her old home. She didn’t miss it but learning the Uchiha customs were coming slowly to her and getting acquainted with her husband was even harder.

They only had a brief two days to spend together on their honeymoon. It had been short and sweet but not long enough for them to fully understand each other. They were both given passes to a massage and bath house parlor. The massages were received separately and Hinata had never felt so pampered in her ninja life. The masseuse’s hands rubbed all the knots out of her body and her skin felt silky smooth from the spa treatments she received. The bathing portion was an awkward setting for the two of them as they had a tub of hot water to share.

The Lovers Soak was what the establishment called it.

So as husband and wife, they got to join each other in the hot pools.

They didn’t do anything beneath the water, but it was the first time that she got a full view of her husband, literally all of him. He didn’t stand there to let her gawk but entered the pools casually. She only managed to sneak a handful of peaks, feeling bashful while doing so but he seemed unaffected by her gaze.

She tried to look as confident as he was when she stepped into the tub. Her body had been on display for him and she tried not to feel bashful. Her cheeks were bright red as they soaked in the tub in comfortable silence for the majority of it.

Besides seeing each other naked, their physical relationship only made minimal progress. Every morning before she would see him off to work, she would receive a peck on her lips. The routine had come about when she first offered him a packed lunch. She had to reached on her tippy toes to brush her lips to his cheek. The next time, he made the move to peck her lips before leaving the door as he mentioned his thanks.

The gesture was not romantic yet, but each morning she looked forward to his lips a little bit more. Their relationship was growing with the small kisses, hand holding, and dinner discussions. She was learning to understand him. Like how he was often closed off to people, his emotions were heavily guarded, his opinions hardly wavered as he was stubborn, and he was assertive. He didn’t just talk about what he was going to do, he always seem to do it. She could learn to appreciate that aspect of him and respect him for keeping his word. He wasn’t a liar that she knew of.

When he was gone during the day, Hinata kept the house tidy. She wanted to be a dutiful wife, but that’s not all she was. She was a chunin still, but missions were scarce, and her team had disbanded ever since Kurenai became pregnant. Her other two teammates were rather busy too. Shino was studying and preparing to become a teacher at the academy. Kiba was working on becoming a ninken trainer and breeder. Both were too busy for missions unless it was of dire importance.

Hinata kept up with her ninja training however, and bid as the Hokage asked of her. Whenever she was training or had to be in uniform, she wore her forehead protector around her head to cover her seal on her forehead. Outside of work, she wore a bandana when shopping for household items or when outside in the Uchiha compound. She only let her seal show at home with her husband, but even then, her bangs covered it as best they could.

Their first intimate kiss was shared on the training grounds.

Sasuke happened to stumble upon Hinata at the fields. She was busy working on her gentle fist, practicing each move in repetition to make her attacks more fluid. He knew his wife trained, but he had never thought to train with her until that day.

He was mildly curious. He had not seen her fight since the chunin exams when they were young. He had heard of her defeat from Naruto firsthand as the blond idiot had vowed to beat her opponent in the next rounds. He remembered he had not been impressed at the time, learning that she was struck down by her own family.

He thought it was downright pathetic when he was younger. That the girl couldn’t even land a blow on her kin. She was weak in comparison to her cousin, Neji, but now, something rang true in his head. She had fought tooth and nail against her own blood, making her windup in the hospital for it.

She didn’t give up even when she was clearly out matched. She so desperately wanted to prove herself and it partially remind him of himself. He had always wanted to prove himself too. He sought recognition from his father by trying to be better than his older brother, Itachi. He had given his all every day just so that he could be in the same league as him. Now, here he was. Captain of the Uchiha Police Force while his brother was retired from Anbu Black OPs with a family of his own and was becoming ingrained into the clan’s responsibilities.

A lot had changed for Sasuke since he was in the chunin exams and a lot has happened to make him the shinobi he was today. So, he looked upon his wife with fresh eyes. He was intrigued to see the ninja she was and assess her skill level.

He appeared to her on the field. She was not startled by his presence but was more than curious to see if he was of need of something. When the offer came, Hinata was willing to spar with her husband. He was quiet and analytical as he took on the defensive to test her strengths, he did not move to strike or counter strike until he felt he had seen all her offense moves.

When he flipped the script and took on the assault, Hinata braced herself. She pivoted and dodged as much as she could. For the most part, she could avoid his attacks, although he was not trying to outwit her but merely understand her fighting style. She was graceful and swift. Her attacks were few when on the defensive, but they surged with power that could take a person’s breath away.

During their training sessions, he would give small pieces of advice and she do her best to follow them. She was greatly appreciative of his words that were meant to make her thrive than cut her down. His voice was cool and level, but she did not experience a bite to his words the way her father’s words did when he trained her. Her husband may not have been gentle, but he was certainly not harsh and cruel.

On one late afternoon, after weeks of training together, Hinata was charging at Sasuke about to strike. He was going to make a hasty sweep to the right to avoid her palm when he noted in mid-attack she lost her footing. She was off balance and was about to fall.

He reached out to steady her. She was panting, and her cheeks were red from exertion. Her lavender doe eyes were looking up at him in surprise.

She was trying to catch her breath, so she could thank him and was oblivious to the fact that he had been fixating on her lips. They were full and pink. He thought they had looked kissable, so that’s what he decided to do.

His lips connected to hers, stealing her breath away once more. He kissed her longer than he ever had before, and he heard her faint hum of approval before he felt her kissing him back.

He couldn’t recall when they had moved under the shade of a tree and when he had her back against it. All he was focused on was the feeling on her lips on his. One of his hands tangle in her long locks and his other hand holding her steady at the hip. Her hands were placed at his chest and face. She seemed to be enjoying the kiss as much as he was. Their kiss only ending when they felt small drops of water falling through the tree leaves as the clouds began to sprinkle.

They were puffing when they parted from each other. Their breathes heating the air. Neither one knew what to say or how to proceed. It took a minute for Sasuke’s thoughts to recollect themselves as he suggested they go home before the down pour.

When they got home, they were soaked to the bone. Hinata offered to let Sasuke steal a shower first but he refused and told her she should go.

Hinata nodded about to step away but turned back to her husband. Her face was beat red as she looked to the floor.

“We can share the warm water if you like,” she mentioned timidly, feeling embarrassed.

Sasuke understood her offer and slowly nodded his head. His eyes skimmed over her. Her wet clothes roughly sticking to her body and he couldn’t help shying away at his thoughts as he looked away to.

They had been legally wed for only four months, but their relationship was only now starting to bloom.

A few more months had passed with nearly the same routine.

Sasuke would wake up for work in the morning and his wife would kiss him bye. She would take care of the household chores and run to the market from time to time. When Sasuke had days off, he would join her. Sometimes he even tagged along if she only wanted to window shop. Other days when he could spare time in the afternoon, he would find her training and they would spar with each other.

Rarely, Sasuke would be called out on a two-day mission. However, that occasion only came once in a blue moon, due to the fact he was needed at the station. Hinata had similar missions from time to time but much more frequent and less duration. Her missions were typically C or B rank whereas Sasuke had A-rank or higher.

On nights, when Sasuke came home from work, they would sit down to a homemade meal Hinata had prepared. Occasionally they would receive a visitor or two, so Hinata learned to make extra helpings. Naruto was apparently notorious for stopping by unannounced just to fill Sasuke in on the loop around town, to talk about his missions, or complain about their sensei.

Other times, Hinata had to receive her mother and father-in-law. Both of Sasuke’s parents were often curious how their marriage was going. Itachi had stopped by a few times too. He usually warned them if he was going to come over. Hinata found Sasuke’s family pleasant enough, but she enjoyed Itachi’s visits the most, since he was courtesy and had a soothing aura about him.

When the two of them were not receiving visitors, Sasuke would treated his wife out on a date over the weekends. He made sure to give his full attention to her to help make his marriage stronger. He was deeply taking Itachi’s advice to heart by trying not to be closed off to Hinata.

Every day was progress to breaking down the shield around his heart to let his wife in. He wanted this to work and he believed he was even growing fond of being with her. She was quiet, but she was considerate and thoughtful. There was nothing about her so far that he had immediately disliked except for her seal on her head.

He had nearly forgotten that bitter seal until they were having an evening out with Hinata’s family and the high elders from the clan.

It was right around the holidays and they were over to celebrate Hinata’s birthday with a family dinner.

They were received at the door with custom pleasantries. Sasuke and Hinata had spruce up for the occasion, holding hands when one of the branch members had greeted them at the door.

The first look upon Hiashi’s face was disappointment after examining them, but his face did not look any grimmer than before. He welcomed them with fake warmth and wish his daughter a blessed birthday.

The food had been decent, but Sasuke felt Hinata could cook better as the dinner table fell into light small talk. When sake was being poured that’s when the pleasantries ended.

“Would you care for some, daughter?” Hiashi offered, ready to have Hinata’s glass poured.

“No thank you, father,” Hinata declined politely.

His face was pensive before he took a sip of his cup of sake. “Do you not care for the taste? Or are you with child at the moment?” He quipped.

Hinata squeaked in embarrassment. All eyes were on her and she could tell the elders of her clan were waiting in anticipation for her reply.

“No, father… I’m not with child. I simply wish not to drink,” Hinata answered softly, looking abashed.

“Hm,” her father hummed his disapproving thoughts before he spoke. “After nearly half a year of marriage, one would think you would be heavy with child. I hope there haven’t been any medical complications,” he subtly pried while looking pointedly at Sasuke.

Hinata shook her head mortified. She couldn’t believe her sex life was being brought up at the dinner table. She even felt her husband tense at the line of questioning from her father. She sneaked a glance at him to read how he was feeling and saw irritation in his eyes.

“Perhaps these two adults haven’t had enough experience in the bedroom. A marriage is not real until it is consummated. Maybe one of them hasn’t figured out where to put it,” one of the eldest seniors of her clan added. He was a raspy old man who had a tendency to speak without much filter in his old age.

Hinata hurriedly stepped in. Her voice shaky as she tried to take the blame. “No, no, no. The fault lies…with me. I haven’t been ready… and Sasuke has been more than lenient with me.”

She felt Sasuke’s eyes upon her and she was too nervous to look as see if he was displeased with her answer. Her father on the other hand seemed to weigh her answer before responding carefully.

“I’m glad to see some chivalry left in this world and as much as I like to hear that you are respectful of my daughter, Sasuke, I have to say that the two of you won’t be young forever. Age only further increases complications and I’m sure both our clans would like to see the next generation come into this world.” Hiashi voice was smooth and his speech was delivered solemnly.

“Children pave the way to the clan’s future. Hanabi’s own children will need protectors much as Neji has spent his life for yours,” the elder added.

Hinata felt the sting with Neji’s name and was left speechless, although Sasuke was quick to respond.

“You mean for our children to be your slaves?” Sasuke snapped heatedly.

“Slaves?!” The elder mocked, preposterously. “Your offspring have the honor and the duty to protect the main branch. The Hyuga’s lineage only passes on through their pure blood which your children must protect!”

“Tch. Never mind about our children. They’ll be of no concern of yours.” Sasuke spoke firmly, glaring heavily at the old man.

Before the elder could further respond, Hiashi held up his hand to stop him.

“I’m sure my son-in-law did not mean to give offense with the term slave. He has merely misconceived the importance of our branch family. They are not branded and sealed to be our slaves. They are branded to keep the byakugan within the family and to keep its secrets safe. Branding is a cautionary measure, surely the Uchiha have some devices they use to—”

“No, we don’t.”

Hiashi’s mouth formed a hard line in contempt. The table grew quiet and the air was thick with tension. Hiashi’s stare matched Sasuke’s glare.

“Well we should expect the sharingan trait to be passed down without a problem since there is no protection in the matter,” the elder mocked once again.

“My children will not be branded. They will not be enslaved. You have plenty of branch members to keep your family’s traditions going,” Sasuke stated firmly.

The elder was fuming as he began to counter. “Hinata is of Hyuga blood. She has obligations to protect the main-“

“She was Hyuga.” Sasuke curtly cut in with an icy tone, “She is an Uchiha now. Her obligations are to me. To bear my children. To carry on my family name and traditions. Not to be branded like cattle.”

Another elder stood up from his seat, enraged. “Insolent boy! Your family name is being carried on by your eldest brother. He is heir to the Uchiha. You are nothing but a –“

Hiashi commanded silence when he stood up from his seat nosily. The two bitter elder sank back down in their seat as Hiashi’s eyes leveled with Sasuke’s. His voice was like steel. “If I were you, I would watch my tongue.” He advised. “Hinata might grow weary during such passionate discussions.”

The threat hung heavy in the air.

Sasuke clenched the back of his teeth shut, nearly grinding them with the force he was using not to spit something back at the old man. He only kept a cool head for Hinata’s sake. The thought of her even potentially getting hurt was enough to make him hesitate. He couldn’t tell them how he really felt even though he already done as much, but he couldn’t escalate it farther. Not while Hinata was vulnerable. Plus, it was her birthday.

“You’re right.” He breathed out coolly. His eyes were like daggers piercing into the man’s throat. He eyed them all making a mental note of all the ones in attendance. “Hinata has grown tired. I’m sure you won’t mind if we take our leave.”

“Not at all.” Hiashi smiled accordingly. The tension in the room slowly dwindling. “It was a pleasure to have you. I’m sure will see you soon. Rest up my daughter.”

Hinata nodded numbly. She was still too shocked to coherently speak after everything that had happened. “Yes, father.”

Within minutes, Sasuke and her were out the door and swiftly making their escape out of the Hyuga compound. Hinata could feel Sasuke was stewing. She felt an immense dark arura about him. She knew he was not pleased and she could hardly blame him. Dinner had not gone well, and she struggled to keep up with her husband’s long strides.

He was pacing fast down the quiet street. There were other people along the roads but Hinata paid them no mind, focusing on staying by his side.

It wasn’t until they were half way to their house when Sasuke had stopped and took her by the waist. He kissed her sharply with fiery hot passion, leaving her breathless. His eyes were fierce when he looked upon her, deep with devotion and resolve. His mouth was set in a hard line. His hands brushing at her bangs to spy her seal. His eyes narrowed at it.

When his dark orbs finally drifted back down to meet her own again, she felt speechless at their intensity.

“As my wife you’re an Uchiha. I won’t let them have power over you or our children. So, on this day, I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to find a way to get that seal removed.” He promised as he kissed her fiercely once more.

His voice was softer when he came up for air.

“I won’t let them harm you,” he promised.

She couldn’t help but smile as she reached up to kiss him softly back. She couldn’t have asked for a better birthday gift from him. To regain her freedom from her clan would be wonderful and to know that their children wouldn’t have to share the same fate.

She was filled with warmth as her heart was skipping with joy.

She knew she couldn’t have gotten luckier to marry the man that she did.

The End

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taeken-my-heart · 7 years

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Independent {f} - Chapter 2

Summary: Your mom calls you stubborn, your friends call you wild, and the boys you’ve left in your wake call you a frigid bitch. You’ve built a life of independence and you like it that way. Kim Taehyung, however; might just change your mind.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Light fluff

Word Count: 3436

Another week passed after your last meeting with Taehyung and you neither saw nor heard from him since then. You knew logically that this should make you happy, this was exactly what you’d wanted, but for some reason all you could think about was the uncomfortable clenching in your gut each time you thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t actually interested.

You sat at the back of your Photojournalism class staring wistfully out the window as your professor droned on about your latest photography project but you were hardly paying attention. The syllabus had given you all the details you’d needed at the beginning of the year and you already had a plan mapped out for what you wanted to photograph and submit.

You sighed, wondering absentmindedly if you were losing your touch with men, maybe Taehyung wasn’t chasing after you because you’d lost your charms. You weren’t doing anything differently from before, though, so you couldn’t understand the change. You ran a hand through your hair in frustration; why was this occupying so much of your attention? You’d never sought men’s attention before and in fact had found it rather annoying and a hindrance to your overall lifestyle.

The professor released the class and you began to pack your bags. As you walked through the lecture hall towards the door your teacher called you over and you hiked your bag higher on your shoulder. It wasn’t very often that Professor Schultz called someone aside and when he did, it usually meant a special assignment. Your stomach clenched in irritation at the thought. You already had enough on your plate, an extra assignment wasn’t all that inviting at the moment.

“I’ve got an assignment for you to do,” He smiled. You tried your best not to sigh.

“Is this on top of the current project?” You asked, as calmly as possible.

“Actually, in your case I want you to make it your assignment. It’s rather time consuming and I don’t really trust anyone else with it.”

You frowned in confusion. What kind of an assignment would he give you that made it important enough to change your entire plan? You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked.

“Well,” he said, packing some of his books into his brief case, “we need someone to cover the front-page story in the school’s paper. The Winter Recital is happening in 2 weeks and a lot of recruiters are coming so it’s a pretty big deal for our school. We need someone who can document the whole preparing process through to the performance. The Dean needs someone reliable and you’re the only one I trust with this assignment.”

You were currently kissing your plans and good sleep goodbye as you internally screamed. It was flattering to be thought so highly of and you knew this would look good in your portfolio, but The Winter Recital was the last thing you wanted to be spending time focusing on. You were a purist in the sense that you wanted to work on the things you felt passionate about…and this was not one of those things.

Despite all your reservations you found yourself nodding, “I understand. Thank you for the opportunity, I’ll do my best to make sure we are well represented.”

“Thank you, y/n,” Professor Schultz smiled, snapping the clasps to his briefcase closed and lifting it off his desk, “If you just follow me to my office, I can give you a paper with all the information you need.”

Half an hour later you found a quiet spot in the back of the library and sat down in the plush cushions to go over your new assignment and make some notes. You had intended to go home, make some ramen and veg in front of your laptop for the rest of the night but now you had to get ready to go to the first rehearsal in two hours and that left you grumbling in irritation.

According to the paperwork your professor had given you, this assignment would occupy nearly every night of the next two weeks and you bemoaned the loss of your free time. The Winter Recital was for anyone in the humanities field that could perform. Only the best were selected to participate and each year recruiters from top talent agencies and specialized academies would come to recruit the cream of the crop.

Your friend Eleanor had been recruited for her incredible singing last year and was now in the process of producing an album under one of the most popular labels in the country. It really was the opportunity of a lifetime for any college student to be able to document the recital because the pictures always made national headlines. You just didn’t find it particularly exciting. You prided yourself on capturing beautiful little moments that people often overlooked and what kind of small beauty could you find in this type of performance that wasn’t altogether over the top?

After finishing the plans and moping for the last five minutes, you stood up to make your way to the concert hall. It had grown a little chilly as the afternoon progressed into early evening and you were glad, you’d thought to bring a coat. You slipped through the front doors of the performing arts center quietly and looked around in curiosity. If you were being honest, you’d never actually set foot in this building, though you probably should have due to the nature of your degree, but most of your photography classes had been thrown into other random buildings like an afterthought and there didn’t seem to be much of a point in visiting the stomping grounds of the performing arts kids.

You could hear soft music wafting from somewhere in the building and you allowed it to lead you to the main concert hall. Stepping through the doors into the dimly lit hall, you watched as some of the actors stood talking to their professor at the edge of the stage as he gave them general directions. You held your satchel awkwardly in front of you as you waited for the professor to notice you and took the opportunity to glance around the concert hall. It wasn’t really anything special, you had sort of expected it to be a little grander and in line with its general purpose, but it was very simple.

It was a large hall filled with simple adornments and chairs stuffed into every corner. The stage was the most beautiful part of the entire room and that was partially due to the set design, which they were still setting up behind the actors as they began to talk amongst themselves.

“Y/n, I presume?”

You jumped at your name being called and looked down to the director, a middle-aged man with glasses, a slightly rounded tummy, and long khaki pants with a tucked in button up.

“Yes, that’s me,” you said, stepping forward quickly and making your way to him through the maze of chairs. You extended your hand and shook his once you’d reached him and shook the hand of his assistant, Michael, as you made introductions.

“Professor Schultz has high praise for you,” Professor Brinkerhoff mused, “I hope you’re as good as he said because we need this production to be the talk of the town.”

You bristled at his inference. A show should be the talk of the town all on its own and your pictures would have nothing to do with whether or not they were successful. Despite that, you bit your tongue and smiled.

“I hope I can do his praise credit.”

Professor Brinkerhoff nodded and motioned for you to follow. “I don’t really know your method or style, but we’ll be running through different parts of the show tonight, mainly focusing on our theater production and dance, but you’ll need to capture each portion. It’s a given that not every picture will be selected for print, but if you could make sure to have a few pictures of each performer so we have a large selection to choose from, that would be great.”

You nodded along in turn as he recited all the things he wanted you to do that were part and parcel for this sort of assignment. For someone with less experience, the reiteration would have been helpful but to you it was just a broken record. When Professor Brinkerhoff finally let you go to attend to the actors you set your bag down with a sigh and began to riffle through for your equipment. The practice started and you began taking pictures of each individual making sure to pick up any small details you felt would contribute to the beauty of the pictures. Pictures of the actors, pictures of the set artists, and pictures of Professor Brinkerhoff and Michael deep in conversation about possible improvements.

You sat a few rows behind the professor flipping through your pictures and waiting for the next set to take place. You’d already gotten a lot of pictures and were now wasting time sitting around waiting. You tried not to be bitter because you had prepared for this, but preparing and surviving were two different things.

You sighed in boredom and stared absentmindedly at the stage as the dancers filed on, stretching and preparing for their set and that’s when you saw him. Taehyung. He was dressed in a fitted white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants that were just a little too baggy for his lithe frame. He stood staring down at the professor, hands on hips and nodding in turn with whatever the professor was saying, but you couldn’t hear him. Your head was fuzzy and felt like it was filled with the sharp whistle of a speeding train all at the same time.

You couldn’t remember when you stopped breathing, but you coughed and spluttered uncomfortably as the music started and you watched in awe as they began to dance; as he began to dance. He moved with a gracefulness and fluidity that made sparks nip at your spine. He was beautiful and you found yourself raising your camera quickly to your eyes, snapping picture after picture of just him.

You barely came to your senses enough to snap a few pictures of the others before the dance number ended. You stood in a trance off to the side watching as Taehyung and the other dancers talked in a huddle. You knew you should scurry off somewhere to hide before he noticed you, but your feet were rooted to the floor. Despite all of his father’s apparent reservations, Taehyung had definitely chosen the right career path. You glanced down to look at the pictures you’d just taken when you heard someone shout your name.

“Y/n!”

You looked back up to find Taehyung looking at you, smile nearly splitting his face in two. He raced to the end of the stage and jumped off the edge coming to stop right in front of you. You stood in confusion, trying to say something, anything that would sound more dignified than silence but nothing came.

He didn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing here?” He beamed, chest still rising and falling from the dance.

“I-” You cleared your throat awkwardly trying to rid yourself of the uncomfortable tickle, “I was asked to photograph The Winter Recital.” You said simply.

If it was possible, Taehyung’s smile grew. “Wow, what an honor. I know what a big deal this recital is to us, I can only imagine how much something like this could help in your portfolio.”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was true, this was a big deal. Other schools had concerts and recitals but because of your school’s location and prestige this was like the GRAMMYs of recitals. This would probably set you up for something really amazing, but you couldn’t think of that now, not when Taehyung was standing right in front of you smiling so brightly you thought you might go blind.

You tried to remind yourself of your life goals and a man was certainly not part of them. You rounded your shoulders preparing to give him a simple compliment and return to your seat but he spoke first.

“What do you think so far? I love the scene before ours, I don’t know if you know any of the actors in the group but they’re really talented. My friend Jin is among them, right there,” he said, pointing off into the distance at a tall, dark haired young man in the corner of the stage. “It evokes a lot of emotion and really sets up our dance number perfectly.”

“To be honest, I’ve been so focused on taking pictures I haven’t really paid much attention. I’ll have to watch more carefully tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Taehyung asked, “You’ll be back?”

“Yeah,” you said, doing your best to keep your sigh in, “this is my photojournalism assignment courtesy of my professor. I’ll be here all the way through to the end of the recital.”

“Wow, so I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” he smiled. Just then the professor called him back over to rehearse again and he left you with a smile and small wave. You returned to your seat and flipped absentmindedly through the pictures you’d taken. There were a lot of good candidates for your project, but none quite as beautiful as the ones you’d taken of Taehyung. You’d never admit that, of course. At least not to anyone outside of your own head.

By the time rehearsal was finished you were decidedly sapped, a raw mixture of hunger, exhaustion, and just plain irritation at being stuck with this assignment. It had been a beautiful display of talent from all ends, but it’s not what you wanted to be doing. You nodded to the professor, bidding him a good night and headed out of the concert hall and into the main rotunda that held the doors to your freedom.

You stepped out into the cool night air and took a deep breath in, eyes closing in a moment of simple bliss. You stood still for around 10 seconds before hearing a door open beside you and you opened your eyes to look to your right.

“Hey,” Taehyung smiled, “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

You stuck your hands into the small pockets of your sweater and shook your head, “just leaving now.” You took the steps down two at a time in an effort to put some space between you and the young man that was making your heart beat loudly in your ears. You heard his soft footsteps behind you before he fell in time with your own. He’d pulled a beanie over his head and tucked himself into the hood of his navy-blue hoodie. He smiled down at your questioning gaze and then looked straight along the path.

“My apartment is in this direction so I figure we can walk together for a few minutes.” He said, nodding his chin in the direction you were both walking. You shrugged your shoulders but couldn’t bring yourself to utter a word.

“So, have you been back to the little coffee place I showed you last week?” Taehyung asked.

“No,” you said simply. Truthfully, you wanted to go back but you were always afraid you’d run into him and that would send you running off to Starbucks for an overpriced latte in an effort to avoid the feelings growing out of the center of your heart and winding their way down into your stomach, disturbing the long dormant butterflies from their sleep.

“Ah, I thought you liked it,” he said.

“I do, I just haven’t found the time recently.” You weren’t really sure why you were explaining yourself to him, but the words kept tumbling from your mouth in quick succession before you could stop them.

“I understand that. This recital has kept me so busy but it’s such a great opportunity I can’t help but throw myself into it.”

“What if a talent agency notices you? You’re really good so they just might.” You wanted to bite your tongue in punishment for how loose it had become but you couldn’t take it back now so you brace for impact.

“Thank you,” he smiled, “to be honest, I haven’t really thought about it. There’s a lot of talented people up on that stage with me. It’s just an honor to participate. I’m not dancing for the prestige; I just do it because it makes my heart beat from one moment to the next.”

You found yourself nodding in understanding. Your mother didn’t understand your passion in photography, she always made some side comment about finding a job better suited to your skills and that always made you wonder bitterly what skills she seemed to think you had outside of pictures. Despite your mother’s reservations and your own doubts at the sensibility of your chosen career path, photography is the only thing that makes your heart beat; that gives you purpose, and quite honestly, it was the only thing that could get you out of bed the first few months after your dad died.

“I get it,” you said, “that’s how I feel about photography. Sometimes it’s the only thing keeping me glued together.” You stopped walking as you stepped into the driveway of your home. Taehyung looked at you in confusion and you thrust your thumb back over your shoulder.

“This is me.”

Taehyung looked at the house and smiled brightly. “Oh, so you live in the house with the little yellow duck mailbox.” You smiled in bemusement.

“I’ve always wondered about this house,” Taehyung began to explain. “I’ve walked past this door every day for the last year and I always pause to pat this little duck on the head,” he said, smiling wistfully as he stroked the head of the yellow duck mailbox. Of course, you knew about this, that is how you came to know of his existence. You’d been standing in the living room, shoving your books in your backpack as he’d walked by that first day in late summer to stop suddenly at your mailbox, smile in childlike wonderment and pat the ducks head enthusiastically before continuing on his way.

You had never seen anything so bizarre and so beautiful in all your life and in that moment, you determined to avoid him at all costs, his sincerity and enthusiasm so alarmingly attractive. You’d spent many hours since that day awkwardly trying to avoid him while still stealing private moments to peer at him through the books in the library as he studied or watching him eat lunch with his friends in the school café.

You nodded, rubbing your lips together in order to avoid saying anything you’d regret. “It came with the place. I’m just renting the bottom apartment with a few other girls.”

Taehyung nodded looking at the house, eyes wide as he scanned the peeling white paint of the front porch with the dark blue rocking chair and flower boxes hanging from the sides of the railings. It was a small, quaint house that you’d rented a room from with three other girls, two of whom were sisters. You loved it so much that you’d rented it for an entire extra semester and at this point you planned to do the same thing again next year.

It was the type of quiet beauty that you liked; soft, a little rough around the edges and completely unassuming. You watched Taehyung finish his scan of the house as you shifted from foot to foot. You didn’t know why you hoped he would like it; it was precious to you and any rejection given felt personal.

Finally, Taehyung looked back at you and smiled, “I like it; it feels like home. Seems like it is the type of place that holds a lot of good memories.”

Your tongue scanned the inside of your bottom lip as you looked down at the sidewalk and nodded. “It’s been a very comfortable home.”

“Anyway,” Taehyung sighed, tugging his backpack higher on his shoulder and looking back down at you. “I’ve gotta head home, homework is calling my name, but thanks for the company; this walk was pleasant for once, thanks to you. See you tomorrow!” With a final wave, he spun on his heel and walked into the darkening evening and you watched until you could no longer see him with a tightening in your chest that was completely unfamiliar to you.

Thanks again for reading! Feel free to send me comments and ask questions. Have a nice day!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #BTS v #bts scenarios #bts #v #taehyungfluff #romance #taehyung x you #bts fanfic #bts fanfction

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kakiokuru · 8 years

Photo

NOBORIZAKA: NOVEMBER RAIN

Chapter Six | Close Calls

“You absolutely sure this is the place?”

“That’s what my trackers indicate, yes.”

“Aquarium? How tacky.”

“Wonder if they actually have fish… I want to see fish… Eat some too. Maiyan, I’m hungry!”

“Always thinking with your black hole stomach... You’re so noisy.”

“Let’s go.”

Exactly four weeks had passed from the day Miona arrived from her attack. Mai had planned, stressed, gathered every detail she could about Majijo and their missing leader. All sources pointed to her working at this hostess bar, still maintaining her leader status. Even if they couldn’t start a fight here, simply putting out a declaration would be enough. Mai had more than a few choice words for the absent leader and her train wreck of a team.

The rag tag team of six rode the cramped elevator up and stood at the door of the thriving hostess club, right at the beginning of their evening. Some customers had already gone in, taking their pleasures as they saw fit. Mai couldn’t help but to think how disgusting a place like this was. How completely degrading it was for a yankee and a woman. To think Majijo had stooped this low.

“Reika, what’s the deal on this place?” Yumi nudged the girl with her elbow.

Glancing down at her tablet, the student body president tapped her screen and swiped up a window of text to read from. “The summary of it is that Majijo was in an appalling amount of debt that threatened to close school down. So Rappappa, uh, the top fighting team of the school, and some other girls dropped out and opened a hostess bar to raise the money to keep it open. Suffice it to say, they made their goal.”

“So, they sold their bodies? Tramps.” Nanase couldn’t help but snicker at the thought. “Wouldn’t giving up be easier?”

“Well that’s not far off… I have it here that–”

“Enough. We’re going in.”

Leading the pack, Mai crossed her arms, holding her head high as she strode inside. The scent of alcohol smacked the barely legal group in the face as the doors closed behind them. Bright, flashy lighting could be seen just down the hall, contrasted with red and black seating.

“Uwaaah~ Maiyan, it stinks!!” Kazumi’s face dropped in disgust as the group made its way down the hall, pinching her nose to shield herself from the stench of alcohol and intense perfume.

“Perhaps the fish in the aquarium have already died and rotted, typical of a Majijo girl. Never living up to the hype.” Nanase tilted her head to the side, looking at Mai as she added to Kazumi’s statement.

“Don’t assume things too early. Hostess or not, this girl lasted two minutes against Salt.” A record indeed. Most opponents were downed in thirty seconds or less, but this Sakura girl was durable, even if she lost.

“All of you, honestly… You’re being rude.”

“So? We’re yankees who gives a shit?”

Mai stopped in her tracks, turning on her heel to look at the group and looking each one in the eyes. For the first time, she almost resembled MaiMai, regarding her teammates like children she was looking after. “We’re meeting someone dangerous. Someone we plan to either fight or declare war on. You’re all going to keep your mouths shut. You’re all going to be respectful. You will all stay at my side and not touch a single thing in this building. We’re representing our school. MaiMai. We’re honouring a fallen classmate. Do not fuck this up, please.”

Erika looked to her leader for the first time with a sense of pride, smiling as she spoke. The rest, however, deflated like balloons. But none the less, they continued after their leader without a word.

The music grew louder, drowning out any chances of hearing conversation. There was glitter littering the floor, tacky decoration pieces on every inch of blank space in the showroom floor. And the smell, god the smell. How could anyone breathe with this disgustingly stuffy air? Despite it hardly being evening, many men were already intoxicated and tossing money at girls who were over dressed and far too friendly.

However, as soon as a blacksuit approached them in question, Mai wasted no time or words to get right to business.

“The top here, where is she?”

The music cut out, everyone stopped and turned to look at the group of intimidating, actual high schoolers. The air in the bar all but completely changed, immediately filling with tension. Mai took a step forward, taking charge of the group, the rest standing at her heels. “Sakura, where is she–”

“Ahh, Maiyan! Look, fruits!” Kazumi bounced off to the table five feet over, kneeling down and eyeing the tray of colourful fruit. She took a tiny, plastic sword, stabbing a chunk of melon and popping it into her mouth. “They’re fresh!”

“Whoa, wait hold up. A lot cute girls here. We can hang around for a while, right? You don’t need all of us. I’ll just sit over there for a while. Thanks!” Yumi scurried off to the nearest empty seat and claimed it as hers. “Well, hello there.”

“Figures you would find interest in girls who bedazzled their chests with too much glitter. Control yourself, pervert.” Nanase called across the room, aimed directly at the fevered teammate.

“Oh, come on, Nanase, don’t tell me you didn’t look either.”

“I never look at girls like that.”

“Liar~ You’re doing that thing you do when you lie! Holding your breath and puffing your cheeks!”

“Kazumin…!!”

“You’re single, aren't you? Go enjoy yourself. Like always.”

Mai turned to her quickly dissipating group, her eyes widening. “G-Guys!!” Her brow furrowed in irritation. Kazumi and Yumi were already long gone. Reika eyes were glued to her tablet as she took photos where she saw fit. Even Nanase seemed to have little to no interest, picking at her nails in irritation. Erika was the only one who seemed to have every intention of staying at Mai’s side.

“You’re fucking kidding me…”

“Are you really surprised, Maiyan? It’s a wonder why you even invited them.” Erika crossed her arms, sharing her leader’s annoyance towards her comrades. She stepped up and took her place at Mai’s side, as she promised. “Keep your head high, just us is enough.”

“You asked for me?”

A girl in a sparkling, pure white dress and a tiara on her crown made her way to the pair of girls, heels clacking against the tile to signal her entrance, and emerging from the small crowd like a shark in the shallows. Her eyes did not fit her appearance; even her aura seemed more than she what appeared. She truly fit her pseudo persona, Same. Shark. There was no denying, this girl was secretly a yankee.

“How rude of you, making me seek you out a second time.” Mai held her defences high, staring at the former yankee down. “You sure are a troublesome leader, off doing whatever you want.”

“My apologies. I didn’t realize there were still stupid yankees willing to pick fights with my former school. I’m not a student there anymore, and this is no place for yankees. Please leave, children are not welcome during business hours.”

“We are of age. One of your underlings attacked a student of our school. Our school is a private academy, not a yankee girls school. This wrong cannot be overlooked.” Erika stopped Mai from interjecting, holding her arm out in front of the leader. “The girl was only a first year, she couldn’t defend herself, was badly hurt, and her uniform and handbook were forcibly taken. As your school’s leader you must answer for those crimes.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m graduated.” Sakura stared at the group with cold, uncaring eyes. Even she could tell these were not proper yankees. This was hardly a team, already seeing that two of them were off in their own business and one clearly incapable of throwing a proper punch. These girls had no idea what they were trying to start. Any war they started, Majijo would stop in an afternoon.

“Actually, you dropped out.” Reika raised a hand, jumping into the conversation. Everyone snapped their attention to her. She hid the bottom half of her face behind the tablet, shy from everyone’s staring. “What? I’m simply stating a fact…”

Mai took a deep breath to clear her head, growing increasingly more irritated. “Anyway, your school has no top. You never passed that torch, so either fight me one-on-one or… Noborizaka will take over Majijo.”

“Go ahead. I’m sure the slaughter of your pathetic rich princess school will be fun to watch.”

Mai was taken back by the girl’s words, her eyes slightly widening to the insult flown their way.

Even Yumi couldn’t ignore the slander spewed from the hostess in white, immediately rising to her feet and returning to her leader’s side. Her eyes narrowed at the flashy girl in front of her, glaring daggers into her made-up, blemish free face. “Who the hell do you think you are?” She growled under her breath.

Nanase pushed through the team, grabbing the snobby girl by her fake pearls. “The fuck did you say? Washed-up, trashy, one-dimensional piece of shit. Majijo is nothing now. I would know, I already made it to the gate easily. You have no defences. If we wanted too, we could take that piss poor excuse of a top school with no trouble at all. Just as we are.”

“Ah, you’re the girl who caused trouble last year and walked away. Couldn’t commit? That a common problem for you?”

Nanase’s eyes darkened. Like a volcano, all that pent up anger bubbled up at once and exploded into a fit of rage with just a few little words. The angered scout raised her fist and swung it at the hostess only for her fist to be caught in Sakura’s manicured fingers. Nanase was known to be fast, faster than any other fighter. If someone caught even her hand, everyone knew it was because she let them, wanted them to. Just as soon as she saw her hand being grabbed, Yumi was on the scene, pulling Nanase back by the waist before the enraged girl could land cheap jabs on the hostess.

“Don’t. Let the leaders handle it.” Yumi scolded her in a hushed tone, pressing her face against the side of her head to whisper in the girl’s ear. A familiar scene, Yumi’s arms snaked around Nanase’s frame to keep the girl from letting her temper control her. Yumi knew she was probably the last person Nanase wanted defending her, but Yumi was the only one strong enough to stop her. “Now isn’t the time. She’s just trying to set you off. You’re smarter than that.”

Sakura smirked to herself, watching the scene. “You really are all children…” She spoke with amusement, her heels clicking against the tile as she came face to face with the opposing leader. “If you want a war, go ahead. But I have no stake or place there anymore. All I can offer in my warnings and premature condolences.”

Mai glared at her in response, her gaze unwavering. This truly meant war. Sakura wouldn’t fight her one on one so the only choice left was to take down Majijo themselves. The first strike had thankfully been stopped in a call closer than she felt comfortable with. She would have to scold Nanase later, but for now, more pressing matters must be tended to.

“Thank you for your time.” Erika grabbed Mai by the hand. “Let’s go, it’ll be curfew here soon.” Even if they were yankees, they had school rules to follow like normal students. “That means everyone.”

“Fine.” In a huff, Nanase jerked forward, forcing the yankee off. “Didn’t want to stick around in a sleazy place like this anyways. Come on, Kazumin.”

Kazumi, whom had been stuffing her face with fruit the entire time, perked her head up from the booth when she heard her name. “Ah, yeah, coming!” Carefully climbing out of the now slightly sticky seat, Kazumi hugged the still full fruit bowl as she charged after her group of friends to the elevator. “Anyone want some?” She pulled from her pocket a handful of tiny, plastic swords. She was only given a tired staring as a response while the elevator door closed.

Reika sighed, recording the outcome of the confrontation into her notes. “Well, that went well. So what’s the plan now? Clearly Miyawaki-san doesn’t want any part of this. The gall honestly, you’d think she’d take more responsibility.”

As the door closed, Mai wasted no time dropping her cold leader face. “We’re going to war. Sakura says they don’t truly have a top, then it's time for us to take over in Noborizaka’s honour.” Her voice carried a weight of pride with her aura intensifying to match. “Reika, research every girl. I want a strength chart, weaknesses, special information, all of it.”

“Understood.”

“Wakatsuki, save your strength. You’re a hard hitter; I need you at 100% so that means no challenges. Erika too.”

“Finally some good action.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Maiyan.”

“Naachan, I know she pissed you off but she isn’t our target. You’re fast enough to get in and out of Majijo unscathed. Channel that anger into the upcoming mission.”

“...Fine, Miss ‘Leader’.”

“Kazumin…” Mai looked over to the tall girl, who was a happy mess with strawberry seeds clinging to her cheeks. Kazumi was strong and a great fighter, she wasn’t the team's tank for nothing, but a pacifist at heart. Mai couldn’t force her to fight, it wouldn’t be right. “Just keep eating and cheer us on, okay?” Mai, for the first time in a while, smiled at her guard, patting her on the head, making a mess of her hair.

“Can do!!” Kazumi raised a fist in the air, bouncing in place with the brightest smile only she could show.

Mai stared forward as the doors opened on the first floor. “We attack at the end of the week. Rest up until then.”

To be continued...

#Noborizaka: November Rain #Noborizaka #N:NR #Nogizaka46 #Majisuka Gakuen #collab #w.Ali #Multi-chapter

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