#i should have taken that shower maybe it would have made me less mentally ill

[nikkashidashipper]

man this fucking sucks huh

[uncensored-energy]

Im baaacccckkk. Long time no talk. I’ve been doing journaling more on paper, but this just felt right tonight. I think paper would’ve made it too real, or too permanent, perhaps.

I’ve been feeling very hurt and raw. I feel myself feeling like a victim and I don’t like any of it. I’ve come across an influx of men with this trait, or maybe it’s a trait that I’ve just never been conscious of, but it is making me feel sick. It feels like men treat me like they can do whatever they want with my body because I’m a woman, or because I’m physically weaker than them. I’m heartbroken. It comes in mostly micro aggressions. Where it can be dismissed if you bring it up, where you are the problem if you don’t just let them do what they want. Like it’s my job to constantly be smacking men away and having to protect myself from every guy I’ve ever met. Like they can’t self-govern. Like they don’t have the emotional intelligence or self control to not try to take advantage of me.

I feel physically ill about this. I feel like I’m in survival mode. I’ve been reactive and, again, I feel like I’m falling into that victim mentality. Like, I should be scared because men are physically stronger. Like the guy at the bar who would not stop touching me after I told him not to. Or the guy I was briefly dating kept trying to touch me after I physically moved away from him. Or the guy I slept with who wouldn’t stop FUCKING TOUCHING ME even after I moved his hands and snapped at him multiple times, because it was 5am and I had work in 2 hours. I slept on the couch that night.

I feel like my body isn’t mine. I read somewhere that women who have been assaulted frequently start doing things to attract less attention from men. They stop shaving, wear baggy clothes, stop showering. It’s funny that I resonate with that. Like I would rather be considered less put together than be hit on by a strange man at my job. That I put on masculine clothes when I feel like I’ve been violated. That I don’t know how to feel sexy, even for myself, because it’s not safe to be in my own body. It’s never been safe for me to be in my own body. It’s numbing, honestly.

And the worst part is that I keep repeating the cycle. I don’t feel safe. But I crave that. Probably because I didn’t get that from my dad and because my grandfather was the one who began the sexual abuse. I wanted to feel safe with men. I want to feel safe with a man. I keep looking for it, that connection and intimacy with someone where I do feel safe and respected. But Im perpetuating the cycle. I feel like I’m spiraling every time I feel violated. And then I grasp. I look for something to hold on to. Something to make me feel safe. Something, or someone rather, to fill that need that was never met. But then I end up in situations with men that I don’t know, I don’t trust, and even more hurt.

And I don’t know how to feel safe within my own body. Because it doesn’t matter how strong I am, or how much I go to the gym, or how well I know self defense. If I am cornered by a man bigger than me, or with a weapon, or even just off guard, I’m no longer safe.

And I’m fucking angry. I’m angry that men will deny it, or deflect, or claim they struggle the same way. I’m angry that people will still tell me it’s my fault. Like the hypocrisy of being an independent woman and being a safe woman doesn’t exist, because you can’t do both. You can’t grab dinner or drinks by yourself because it’s not safe. But you shouldn’t need a man or a friend to be with you to do things.

I’m angry that I’m shown over and over again that men are not safe to be around. Even the good guys have this mindset. That it’s my fault for letting my body be taken advantage of. Like I’ve ever been able to care about my body. Like it’s a safe place for me to be. It’s not? It creates this feeling of not caring what happens to me, because it could’ve/would’ve happened anyway. And I don’t know how to stop it.

That cycle of wanting normal, human connection. Having physical intimacy with someone, being able to be held and loved. I’m normal for wanting that. It’s normal to not want to be alone. I’m okay with being alone, but even when I meet someone and I want to take my time and get to know them, I’m reminded that my body is not mine. Not to them. And I’m heartbroken. And I feel broken. And I know I’m not, but I also don’t know where to go from here.

In all honesty, I want to be held and cherished and loved. I want to have intimate, passionate, loving sex with a partner that shares a mutual respect. But I don’t know if I’m ever going to get that. I don’t remember the last time I had sex and felt safe. And I’m scared to. I’m scared to meet someone that makes me feel like that. I want someone, but I also want to be left alone. And I want to be held and supported, but I want to be strong and independent. I’m confused and sad and I feel like an animal.

And this is something I keep solving and then breaking down. I’ll be doing okay, when I’m not thinking about it. When I’m with someone who, even if they’re terrible emotionally and mentally, as long as sexually I feel taken seriously I’ve tolerated it. Because I want intimacy. I want to be healthy and happy and safe in my body. I want to want to take care of me. I deserve that. But I’ve never had a reason to. If I take it too seriously, all of that is real. It’s real how many times I’ve been touched without my consent, or assaulted, or even just threatened for fun. Because someone can.

Because even for my friends in “good” relationships. They still tell me how pushy their partners are. They still tell me about how it’s a chore that just needs to get done. Or how they “missed” and fucked their ass and then got angry when she didn’t want to sleep with him anymore. Or how… I’m exhausted.

I need to be with someone so sweet. I need someone gentle, and patient, and empathetic. I need a disgustingly high emotional intelligence. I deserve that from someone who wants to be physically intimate with me. I want someone to care enough about me, as a human, to put me before their own desires, at least when it comes to sex.

I want to heal my own wounds the best I can. But I’d like a partner with true love to support me. So we can be intimate. Because this isn’t something that’s just going to go away if I stay alone. It’s not going to fix itself if I just never become intimate with someone again. I deserve that.

[cuddlepilefics]

Lemon Tea

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregiver: Minho

Prompt: 'Vitamin C' @sicktember

No one's POV.:

When Jisung came home late in the evening after a few grueling hours of vocal training, his throat was on fire. He had certainly taken it a bit too far and really should've stopped at least an hour ago. Dinner was already on the table and his members had only been waiting for him to come home. He greeted them quietly waving and smiled when Chan put a plate in front of him. The others weren't really surprised that he remained silent during their meal. They knew what he had been working on and had already expected him to rest his voice as much as possible afterwards. "How did it go?", Minho asked, when they cleared the table. Jisung smiled and gave his hyung a thumbs up, grabbing the first plate. The two were in charge of doing the dishes that evening, so Minho got a tea towel and took the clean dish from the younger to dry it off. Clearing his throat, Jisung hummed: "Tell me 'bout your day, hyung. I can't really speak but I'd like to hear your voice." That made the dancer smile and he started to talk about the choreography he was working on with Hyunjin and Felix. They had had lots of fun, despite their practice being exhausting, which made Jisung happy. He loved the way his hyung's eyes sparkled when he talked about dancing or his cats. The older always resembled a child at Christmas when talking about those topics and Jisung found it adorable.

They finished the dishes and Jisung went to take a shower, already starting to feel sleepy. He'd probably go to bed soon after washing up, despite it not being late at all yet. With how sleepy he was, his shower turned out a lot longer than he had originally planned. The warm water washing away the tension of the day, the rapper relaxed and closed his eyes. He was lucky, the others had already showered either in the morning or immediately after their dance practice, so there was nobody waiting for him to finish. Jisung took his time and got ready for bed after. Chan was a bit confused that the younger completely disappeared after dinner, as Jisung wasn't usually one to go to bed early. Deciding to check on his dongsaeng, the leader made his way to the rapper's room and was surprised to find him already in his bed. Although the lights were off already, Jisung still had his headphones on and startled when the mattress dipped on one side. Blinking, he removed his headphones and looked at Chan questioningly. "Sorry for scaring you, I just wanted to see how you're doing. It isn't usually like you to go to bed early", the Aussie hummed. Jisung gave a small smile and whispered: "Is fine. I'm doing alright, today was just exhausting and I feel like I have no energy at all. Probably won't even sleep anytime soon, just, y'know listen to music for a while." – "Alright, rest well. Want me to get you some water for your throat?", Chan offered, getting up. Though the rapper declined, he still returned to his room a few minutes later and placed a water bottle on Jisung's nightstand before going to his own room to work on some music.

Jisung woke up about an hour before his alarm. He felt a lot worse than he had the previous evening and wasn't so sure he had only strained his voice. Sure, his throat still hurt but so did his head. Although he had fallen asleep exceptionally early, he still felt drained, like the hours of sleep hadn't refilled his energy in the slightest. Knowing he had some time to spare, Jisung padded into the kitchen and made himself some tea. He got comfortable on the couch, scrolling through social media while sipping his tea. The rapper was slowly falling back to sleep on the couch when the first few members woke up from their alarms. First were Minho and Seungmin, who wanted to start making breakfast but stopped in their tracks when they noticed Jisung. After nodding at Seungmin to start already, Minho went over to the couch and sat down beside his dongsaeng. The rapper's eyes fluttered open and looked at Minho confused. The last time he checked, he had been alone. Where had his hyung come from all of a sudden? "Good morning. What are you doing up already?", the dancer asked quietly, smiling at his confused dongsaeng. Jisung scrubbed at his face and gave a soft cough before replying huskily: "Woke up early. Ugh, I can't talk, my voice is shot." – "Yeah, you really seem to have overdone it yesterday but I see you already made yourself some tea", Minho clicked his tongue, knowing they were supposed to record something today, which he certainly wouldn't with how bad he sounded right now.

"Hyung, does my forehead feel hot?", Jisung asked out of nowhere just as Minho was about to join Seungmin in the kitchen. Brushing his bangs back, the dancer rested his palm on Jisung's forehead and frowned: "You do feel a little warm to me. Do you think you're sick?" – "Dunno, my head hurts an' I'm so tired although I went to bed early", the rapper shrugged, sitting up. For a moment, he felt lightheaded and had to take a few deep breaths before he felt ready to get up. Minho watched him with worry as they walked to the kitchen to make breakfast. "Sung, if you think you might be coming down with something, this is probably not a good idea", Minho whispered, aware of how quick illnesses spread with so many people living in such close vicinity. Defeated, Jisung nodded. He knew the older was right and he was truly suspecting, there was something more going on than just him straining himself. The rapper went to his room to get ready, passing the other members, who went to eat breakfast. Jisung himself wasn't hungry, so he decided to just sit on his bed after getting dressed and wait for the rest of the group to finish. At some point, he must have gone to sleep again.

When all members except for Jisung sat at the breakfast table. Minho handed each one of them a large glass of orange juice. Earning a few odd looks, he sighed: "Jisung's coming down with a cold, so we're all loading up on vitamin c. It should boost our immune system, so we won't catch it." – "Sung's sick? We were all going to record today", Chan frowned, glancing in the direction of their bedrooms. "Not sure if he's sick enough to stay back at the dorm but he's certainly in no shape to record anything. That boy barely has any voice left", Minho explained. Already mentally rescheduling their recordings, Chan nodded, cracking a smile when Seungmin gave his glass a distasteful frown. "Hyung, you're being ridiculous. I don't know how much actual orange is in this and it probably won't do much except for attack our teeth", the vocalist cringed. The look he received from Minho was enough to convince the rest of the group to just drink it, as the dancer threatened: "Yah! Listen to hyung or die of his plague, I couldn't care less."

When they were done with breakfast, Chan went to Jisung's room to check on the sick rapper, finding him knocked out on his bed. He seemed ready to head out but had fallen asleep after getting ready. Hesitant to wake his dongsaeng, Chan brushed the backs of his fingers against his forehead and found his skin unnaturally warm to the touch. Jisung wouldn't be able to record his parts anyway, so why drag him out? Searching for Minho, Chan joined the dancer in his room and explained: "You were right, Sung seems to be running a temperature and if he can't record, I don't see why we should take him with us. He's asleep and would probably benefit more from just staying here and resting. You're only scheduled for your recording in the afternoon. I know that Hyunjin and Felix are going to have a voluntary dance practice, I don't know if you're planning to join them. If you're not, maybe you could keep an eye on Jisung till you need to head to the studio?" – "I was thinking about it but after I found Sungie this morning, I'd rather keep him some company before coming over to record my parts", Minho agreed, "Can you text me if you take longer or already need me earlier? It'll take me longer to get to the studio from here instead of the dance room." – "Sure, will do. Thank you, Min, and tell Jisung to feel better", Chan smiled before gathering Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin. Hyunjin and Felix left only a few minutes later.

After the dorm became quiet, Minho made his way to the kitchen. He decided to prepare a pot of tea, in hopes of helping Jisung's throat, when he remembered the rapper also hadn't had breakfast yet. Figuring his dongsaeng didn't have that much of an appetite, Minho contemplated what would be soft enough to eat with a sore throat. He washed a handful different berries and sliced a banana, mixing the berries into a bowl of yoghurt, which he had sweetened with some honey, and decorating it with banana slices. Grabbing a small tray, the dancer placed the yoghurt, a teacup and the pot of tea on it and carried it to Jisung's bedroom. He could already hear the rapper coughing, so he wasn't too worried about waking him up. Opening the door with his elbow, Minho smiled: "Hey." – "Hey", the younger sniffled quietly, "Why's it so quiet?" – "The others left already. Chan decided it would be best to let you rest since you can't record with how shot our voice is. He said to tell you to feel better", Minho explained, watching a look of horror flash across Jisung's face. "That was supposed to be today?" – "Yeah, we're recording today. My turn is scheduled for the afternoon, so I stayed back to keep you company for now", the dancer confirmed, "You didn't have breakfast with us, so I made you something. Hope it doesn't hurt too much." – "Thanks, hyung", Jisung whispered, accepting the bowl from Minho. Seeing how pretty the older had decorated it made the rapper smile.

Minho sat at the foot of Jisung's bed, keeping the boy company while he ate. "You should probably change back into something comfortable, when you're done eating. That doesn't look like it'd be nice to nap in", the dancer commented on the skinny jeans. Jisung nodded, placing the bowl back onto the tray, rasping: "Could I borrow one of your hoodies? They're always the comfiest." The rapper's pout made Minho giggle before he nodded. "I'll get you one. I know which one's your favorite", he chuckled, leaving his dongsaeng blushing on his bed. When he returned, Jisung was curiously eyeing the teapot till Minho picked it up and poured some into the cup, explaining: "Lemon tea. The honey should sooth your throat and the vitamin c will help you kick this cold in no time. Here, that's the hoodie you wanted, isn't it?" Jisung couldn't help but blush again. Minho had really picked out the one he liked most. Nodding, the rapper accepted it and got up to change. In his sweatpants and Minho's hoodie, he crawled back into bed, sitting against the headboard.

His hyung handed him his tea and glanced at the clock. He'd have to leave soon but he wanted to get Jisung all settled before heading out. "Anything you want to do today, while we're gone?", he asked, spotting the rapper's laptop and plugging it in to charge, so his dongsaeng could watch a movie later. The younger just shrugged, admitting: "Honestly, I just want to sleep, please." – "Should I leave?", Minho asked softly, feeling Jisung's forehead again concerned by how wiped he seemed. "I – I don't know", the rapper groaned, coughing again. Seeing how emotional the younger got, Minho cooed: "Tell you what. Finish that tea and then you can sleep, yeah? I'll sit with you and maybe play with your hair till you fall asleep. Then I'll go to the studio and record my parts. Should you wake up before any of us are back, you can watch a movie, maybe have some more tea and then we'll see how you're feeling tonight." Jisung nodded, taking another sip. He finished his tea while Minho got up and drew the curtains, so his dongsaeng would be able to get some proper sleep. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, the dancer waited for Jisung to put his cup aside and lay down. He gently cupped the boy's feverish cheek before running his hand through his hair, watching the younger relax. Minho sat playing with Jisung's hair, long after the rapper was asleep. When he had to leave for the studio, he grabbed the yoghurt bowl and snuck out of the room. After placing the bowl in the sink, he slipped on his shoes and headed out.

[hoe-doroki]

stay

A response to this ask:

Reader having a silent mental breakdown and trying to hide it with Bakugo and iida!( bakugo’s fine if not iida)

warning: detailed descriptions of panic attack, self-loathing

pairing: Bakugou x gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 2.2k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

It seemed stupid to have any kind of mental illness around someone like Bakugou.

Bakugou had experienced near death multiple times by his mid-twenties had had witnessed the worst of the world first hand. His teens had been littered with trauma and, as an adult, his work was constantly throwing him into circumstances where his body, his life was at risk. He did this day in and day out and it wasn’t even a question. He survived it all and, more than that, he let the world think it was easy.

Sometimes just getting out of bed wasn’t easy for you.

You felt like your body was rotting. You’d been on the couch all day and it smelled stale from the layers of lazy sweat you’d gotten on it. From the shower you hadn’t taken and the hair you hadn’t touched. But was it rot from the outside in—something a bit of soap and buffing could slough off—or was it the inside out? Harder to reach, harder to fix. As your brain sent your every thought clenching on your veins, your vital organs, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was both. Rotted from the inside out and the outside in.

You tensed when you heard the door to your shared apartment click, a key being shoved into the lock. Over the cold numbness that you’d felt all day, a shot of panic sprinted through your bloodstream as a million ways to lie popped into your head. You popped off the couch and tried to think of a way to look busy, so you ran to the kitchen and started boiling some water.

This was something Bakugou couldn’t see. The last thing you wanted, the last thing he needed was for you to be another person that he had to save. Another person to risk himself for.

You eyed Bakugou when he came in, shoulders drooped, gait wide. He looked tired, but otherwise normal. You usually tried not to worry yourself with the cuts and scrapes he often showed up with after work, and, so long as he was walking, he usually told you to calm down and that he was fine. You weren’t going to test it today.

“Hi, babe,” you said, putting strained effort into your pitch, your tone, your face. Maybe your voice was too high, maybe the smile spread a bit too wide, so you turned back to the water, watching it heat.

“Hi,” Bakugou greeted as he kicked off his sneakers, voice gravely as it usually was after a shift. He was in civilian clothes now, having showered and changed at the agency. A black tee and jeans that never fit quite right on his narrow hips and tall frame. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh, I, um…” You looked down at the water, still cool enough to stick a finger into. You’d done nothing all day, having skipped out on all your classes with half-assed emails sent to the teachers. The idea of going had been too much to take—for reasons you had no language for—so you’d wallowed on the couch as the hours of the day had bled away. So the question felt like an interrogation about to put a scalpel to your flaws. “I’m just heating some water for tea. Was gonna get started on dinner.”

“What were you gonna make?”

Bakugou was in the kitchen now, coming up behind you to press a kiss against your temple. Your heart rate increased but not in the good way. Not in the way that it should. Instead of flutters it was pounding, smacking against your ribs in a reminder that he was too close, you were too visible—you might explode and you would hurt him.

“I, um, I wasn’t sure,” you said, the answer sending shameful heat to your cheeks. And then you were slapped the other way by how stupid that was. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Okay,” Bakugou said, going to the fridge. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Bakugou was always insistent on having a stocked fridge. With his job and you in your master’s program it was hard to find the time to grocery shop, much less eat consistent meals together, but those were the kinds of things that Bakugou prioritized. The things behind his sharp persona and shrinking legacy of reckless anger that made him a good boyfriend. An amazing partner and enviable roommate.

And what did you offer him? Emotional instability without just cause? A nascent—at best—career while he was climbing the pro hero charts every cycle?

Who were you kidding? You hadn’t even gone to class. You hadn’t done any of the work that you needed to do—the evening was a wash now, so you wouldn’t catch up. You were just wasting everyone’s time, like you always did.

“Hey, babe?”

By the tone of his voice, you realized that Bakugou had called you multiple times. Your eyes flicked toward him, but your head felt heavy to lift. “Hmm?” you asked, squeezing every last bit of breath into that hum.

“The water’s boiling.” Bakugou walked over to you, two mugs with teabags slumped at the bottom. He set them on the counter and put a hand on your shoulder, turning you a degree closer to him.

“Oh,” you intoned, pulling away and turning off the fire. Stupid. You were about to grab the pot when Bakugou dropped his hand down to your elbow, giving a firm squeeze.

“Are you okay?”

You ignored his gesture to stop and reached for the kettle, putting all of your effort into keeping your hands steady as you poured hissing water in one mug and then the other. Doing something was the only thing keeping you upright as your thoughts continued to swirl in your head poisoning each brain cell you had. You hadn’t done anything worth living for today. But goddamn it, if you couldn’t make these mugs of tea, then you should just walk out of the apartment and let Bakugou be better off without you.

“Woah, woah, what’s happening?”

Bakugou’s hand was on your chin as he pulled your face a little too roughly towards him. Or, rather, it wouldn’t have been rough, if you weren’t resisting it. But you didn’t want him to look you in the eye. See what a failure you were. Someone who couldn’t even overcome a bad emotional day to go to class while he’d been out saving lives—as usual. He took the pot from your white-knuckled grip and set it on the stove.

“Why are you crying?”

Were you? You hurriedly brushed a hand under your eyes and they came away slick, the water hot as the tea you were steeping.

“The…The steam…” you started, prepared to lie and lie and lie until there was nothing real left. The real stuff was too hard to hold. “I think…It just must have irri…tated my eyes.”

Your breathing was running away with you, chest heaving as you pulled away and faced the other direction. Your attempts were thin, too threadbare to hide behind. And your boyfriend wasn’t nearly stupid enough to be fooled, even by your best efforts.

“Babe, tell me what’s wrong,” Bakugou said forcibly, stepping around to face you again.

His eyes were searching for yours, but you held fisted hands to your cheek as you turned away from him. Now you could feel the tears streaming, and you couldn’t turn them off. But what was there to tell him? That you were just a big, stupid idiot who cried for no reason? That watching him become a better man only emphasized how totally shit you were? That when the two of you were on the street together, you knew that people wondered what a guy like him was doing with a person like you?

“I just want you to stop crying,” Bakugou said, and you could hear him getting desperate, only making you feel worse. You were biting your lips closed to keep the sobs from tearing out, but that only made embarrassing little huffs come out your nose, whimpers sneak past the back of your throat.

You couldn’t stop crying. How could you stop it when you didn’t understand what had started it?

“I’ll just,” you hiccupped, backing away from him. “Just give me…I’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Fuck that,” Bakugou said, grabbing your wrist. “Do you want me to go because you want me to go, or because you think you deserve to be alone?”

The words felt like a trick, a riddle from some fairytale turned nightmare intended to make you fail either way. Telling him the truth would trap him in whatever trip wires had you tied in knots right now. But, at the same time, he was expecting the lie. He wasn’t letting you save him from this.

But why? He was always saving people. Why, for once, couldn’t you save him from you?

“Idiot,” Bakugou said, pulling you in to him. You cried harder, the weight of your failure dropping in your well and spilling more tears out of you. “Why would I leave you alone?”

A sob crashed out, breaking through haphazard letters of attempted defense. He needed to go; him seeing you like this only made it worse.

“It, um,” Bakugou’s voice was low, a register that was unfamiliar even to you, unsteady and unrehearsed. “It seems easier to be alone. I know it does. But…you’ve shown me that’s not true, so just. Let me show you the same, okay?”

You could feel how hard he was trying as he pressed you into his chest and you finally, finally let him. The sobbing made you weak in the knees, light in the head, but he held you. He held you up, held you close, and he wasn’t letting go.

Everyone always talked about how crying felt good. About it being a release that helped you process your pain. And maybe that was right when talking about grief or loss, but not this. These tears felt like nothing more than splashing in the masturbatory wallowing hole of your self pity. Embarrassing and stupid.

“Why?” you finally whispered when the sobs subsided a bit, letting you keep enough of the air in to at least say that.

For a moment, Bakugou didn’t say anything, and you wondered if you’d imagined the words. If you were imagining the whole thing and he really had left like you’d wanted. But then you heard breath catch in the back of his throat as he seemed to try and fail to find the words a couple of times.

“In another world,” he finally started. “I’d come home from a day of work fucking exhausted, slump on the couch, eat, and pack it in to go to bed before starting all over the next day. And I’d probably be fine with that. But I’d be a fucking idiot, because coming home to you makes it worth coming home.”

Your breathing was steadying as he talked and you could feel the tears cooling against your cheek, against his wet t-shirt.

“Even with you looking like a damn mess like this,” Bakugou said and you could hear the smile in his voice. His smile, which had grown less rare over time, was always so wide that it made his words sound different. Warmer. They managed to draw a haggard chuckle out of you. “I’m happier just to be around you than convincing myself that being lonely at the top is the best way.”

“I don’t want to drag you down from the top,” you said. “Your company shouldn’t be dead weight.”

“Dead weight?” Bakugou repeated, pulling back to look at you. “Dumbass.”

He pulled you in again, both of his arms around the back of your head so that you were nearly smothered in his chest.

“That’s the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever heard. You’re fucking incredible, and if that’s why you’re crying today, then you and me have to do some talking.”

Another laugh managed to crawl its way out of you and Bakugou let you pull back to breathe again.

“Are you okay now?”

‘Okay’ felt like such a far ways away. But you were above water again. Somewhere next to okay, distance undetermined.

“I’m surviving,” you decided.

Bakugou looked at you, a couple different things flashing over his eyes, too quickly for you to identify. “Well, that’ll do for now, but we’re not settling for that. Just talk to me. I’m not the best at this, but…I want to be better at it.”

In that moment, you remembered that Bakugou wasn’t perfect either. That he constantly had voices in his head telling him that he wasn’t doing enough and, not only that, he had the public constantly critiquing his attitude, his skills, his work. That, to some degree, this was already something you were going through together.

“I think you’re better at it than you think.”

Bakugou smiled again, this one not so wide, but more private. “You too, he said. Whatever bullshit you’re telling yourself—you’re better than you think.”

He pulled you in close again, and this time you sunk into it, enjoying his warm muscles, the way that his hair was still a little damp from the shower. You weren’t sure if anything had changed—all your problems were still present as they’d ever been. But yet, there was one thing. Now, with Bakugou’s arms like a buttress to your shaky but standing foundation, you, paradoxically, hoped that he would stay and stay and stay.

[6sakusa]

‘worth more’ part 2, oikawa tōru.

warnings : implications of a toxic relationship, triggering break up themes?, me not proof reading, angst

part 3

you peered down at your hands where a thin layer of ice was struggling to form due to the flashing sheets of cold droplets that bombarded your skin in every way possible. how long had you been here again? you were unsure. you could barely differentiate your own tears from the rain, the only thing that was keeping you grounded was the sliver of moonlight that had cracked through the clouds. not even the stars were in the sky tonight and this was the kind of darkness that could swallow you whole, both mentally and physically.

you had been reminiscing on the time you’d spent with oikawa, as both his bestfriend and his girlfriend in an unforgiving loop. was this really it? was it all over? if you had known things would turn out like this then the day you realised how truly and utterly in love you were with the setter then maybe just maybe you would’ve been selfless for once and said no.

—

“what do you think is out there y/n-chan?” your lips curved into an unwilling smile, you couldn’t help it, not when you were around oikawa and he was once again babbling about one of his conspiracy theories. he’d always been a strong believer in aliens and area 51 and you couldn’t help but marvel at how adorable he was. the two of you had snuck out to the park after he woke you up at 2am begging you to come and watch the meteorite shower with him since iwaizumi had refused to get out of bed.

“i think there’s a lot of things out there that we don’t know of and we probably never will, i guess it’s scary in some sort of way, there could be a whole species that we have no clue about, but it’s also comforting to know we aren’t alone in this universe.”

oikawa was slightly taken aback by your answer, he’d expected you to tease him and maybe laugh while he would pout and try to defend his point. but instead you hadn’t spared him a glance even after all those words, he could see how infatuated you were with the sight before you. the night sky ablaze with brilliant blues and pinks which soared through the universe leaving a white fiery tail in its wake. the world had never been as enchanting as it was in this moment and neither had you.

he cursed himself for only noticing it now, the way your eyes widened and the beauty of nature reflected through them, the way your eyelashes looked so much more exaggerated with the shadow caused by the light spectacle from the heavens, the way your lips separated when you spoke about your interests, and the way you were so attentive when it came to his. it was all art, and the best moment of his life. yes, he truly was cursing himself for only now realising that he was so deeply in love with you.

“so you do believe in aliens?” he proped himself up on his elbows and turned to face you with his signature smirk, however you could tell that something had shifted in the atmosphere, something unfamiliar but welcoming. “i’m just saying there’s a probability.” you flicked his forehead causing the both of you to break out in a chuckle, everything had always been so easy between the two of you, it was natural.

there was something about being here now, with you by his side that made him invincible. if there was anything he wanted to ask the heavens for he knew now was the time to proclaim his wishes, he could feel the magic in the air tonight.

“you know y/n-chan, this meteorite shower has made me feel like i can do anything.” he stood admiring the sight before him as he knew it was a once in a lifetime event. you watched as he raised his hand to the air, your eyes followed his fingers which landed on the ball of silver that resided in the sky.

“i want to be the absolute best setter.” hope flooded his eyes and enthusiasm leaked out of his demanour. “so i’m going to do something no one else can do, one day i’m gonna set the moon.” he smiled with pride and you couldn’t help but adore him in that moment.

oikawa toru would set the moon one day, and you would do anything to be by his side to see it.

—

“y/n.” you heard the echo of a voice, so distant but so close, if you were any further in your own mind you wouldn’t have been able to decipher your own name. “hey y/n.” you felt a hand on your shoulder shake you back to your bitter reality. that meteorite shower had happened over a year ago and you would do anything to go back to that day, just one last time.

“iwaizumi.” you breathed out, moving your eyes to lock with that of the ace, you could see the worry laced in his features as his nose contoured while he evaluated your state. “you’re freezing.” he put a hand on your cheek, hissing at how the ice bit him back. he scrambled to take his coat off draping it over you in less than a second, of course he would, in his mind he was just looking after his bestfriends girl. you wondered if anything would change between you and iwaizumi once he learned about the outburst between you and oikawa a couple hours prior.

“what are you doing out here?” he began zipping up his jacket, doing everything in his power to stop you from falling ill but even he knew you were past that point. the way you were drenched and rain and your fingertips were so cold to the touch there was no doubt that you would wake up with an almost deadly cold the next morning and he was ready to beat himself up for not arriving to the scene sooner.

“i don’t know.” you whispered, even if you wanted to, you didn’t have the lung capacity to speak at a steady tone and the lump returning to your throat wasn’t making it any easier. “where’s oikawa? he never went home, i bet that bastard is still practicing.” he clicked his tongue ready to scold his bestfriend for overworking himself, and even more so for doing it to the point where he wasn’t aware that you were out here on the brink of freezing to death.

but at the mention of your ex-boyfriends name you couldn’t help but break down into tears once again, your heart only shattering further and your breathing becoming more frantic. “y/n? what’s wrong? why are you cr-“ then it hit him. of course oikawa was the reason that you were out here, staring out into some kind of void under the fury of tonight's weather. it seemed that you had the same idea that he had, only you had just thought of it first. there was a reason the setter had been radio silent on all forms of social media after school today, because he was in school overworking himself exactly as iwaizumi presumed. and there was no doubt you caught him in a bad mood, the ace shivered as he imagined the cruel words that oikawa had likely flung your way, he knew how mean the man could be when he was unhappy with himself.

“come on, come with me let me take you home.” he reached out to you, steadying you to your feet as the two of you began walking towards the direction of your house. even though he was being cautious with his words he couldn’t help but be extremely taken aback by the way your clothes were dripping onto the concrete floor. just how long had you been out here for? it had to be more than an hour, maybe even hours. he couldn’t imagine the mess you would leave behind as you trailed towards your bedroom. hopefully your parents wouldn’t penalise you for it once they had realised just the kind of state you were in. afterall it wasn’t your fault, it was his own and his shitty bestfriend’s fault. how could the two of them both not not come to your rescue sooner? he felt like a complete and utter idiot.

he waited for a moment outside of your house, watching the way you stopped in the doorway turning to him with nothing but sadness in your eyes and voice. “thank you, iwaizumi.” he smiled in return. he didn’t think you should be thanking him for human decency but nevertheless he bowed slightly before dashing off to the gym where he didn’t doubt oikawa would still be.

and when he got there he would make him answer for himself.

[nerdierholler]

Wayhaven Frights Day 7: Isolation

Pairing: Ethan Langford/Adam du Mortain Rating: G Words: 1925 Warnings: none Ethan's been shut up alone inside his apartment dealing with the flu and Adam comes to check on him. It's flirty fluff, mostly on Ethan's part. Even sick he's absolutely incorrigible. Also you can read it on AO3 here.

Isolation

Fevers and chills had racked Ethan’s body for several days now. At the first sign he was feeling under the weather, the captain had ordered him out of the station, something Ethan resented in the moment but was grateful for by the time he’d collapsed into bed later. And in bed was where he’d stayed for most of the last 48 hours. It had taken him 10 minutes yesterday just to get the pot of soup Tina left on his doorstep and put it away. Afterwards he slept for 8 hours from just that small amount of exertion.

The buzzing sound of his phone grating against his nightstand woke Ethan up. He rolled over, grimacing as he peeled himself away from the sweat soaked sheets. If it was Douglas calling to check on him yet again he was going to strangle the kid as soon as he could hold his arms up for more than a few minutes. He looked at the caller ID. It was Adam.

“Hey,” Ethan croaked, the first word he’d spoken in days.

“You sound terrible.”

“I feel terrible.” He let the phone drop onto the side of his face, too tired to hold it up. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can I go back to sleep?”

“Agent Langford contacted me. She’s concerned about your illness and wanted to check in on you.”

“You checked, I’m still alive. Goodbye now.”

“In person.”

Ethan groaned. He was an adult, not a child, he didn’t need his mother trying to babysit him just because he had the flu.

“Since catching your illness isn’t a concern, I offered to stop by after my patrol.”

Normally, Ethan’s heart would be fluttering at the rare moment of concern from the usually stoic leader, but right now even the opportunity of having Adam alone in his apartment wasn’t enough to overpower Ethan’s desire for rest.

“Fine.” Even if he had the energy, he knew there’d be no point in arguing if both Adam and his mother had conspired against him. “But don’t expect me to get the door, just let yourself in and try to be quiet.”

In the brief silence that followed, Ethan could perfectly picture Adam about to protest against just waltzing into his apartment and somehow invading his privacy. “I’ll be there shortly,” he said finally.

“Okay.”

“Goodbye, detective.”

“Yeah,” Ethan mumbled. Rolling over, he let the phone slide off his face and onto the pillow. In a few moments he was asleep once again.

Several hours passed before Ethan opened his eyes. When he did, he could just make out the faint traces of sunset shining through the curtains. Adam must have come by while he was sleeping. At least he didn’t wake him up in the process. It felt like that last bit of sleep might have been what he needed to start turning the corner. At the very least it meant he woke up feeling well enough to make it as far as the kitchen for some water.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up, allowing a few moments to adjust to the change in position before attempting to stand. His knees didn’t immediately buckle, so that was a good start. He shuffled over to the door, holding onto the frame for support as he opened it. And on the other side was Adam, sitting on his couch with a book, green eyes darting up to look at him.

Ethan would be lying if the thought of standing in front of Adam, clad only in his boxers, hadn't crossed his mind before. This just wasn’t how he imagined it playing out. There was usually a lot more lead up to this point and a lot less body odor on his part. As it was, the most he could manage was a lopsided grin in apology for his current state of existence.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Don’t worry, I’m heading back shortly, just getting some water. Maybe food and a shower too, but let’s not get carried away just yet.”

Adam watched him closely as he made his way to the kitchen. Ethan had no doubt he was ready to jump up if he showed any sign of trouble. Briefly, he considered faking a stumble just to see what Adam would do but decided against it. There was too great a chance of his fake attempt becoming a real one.

Ethan filled a glass from the sink and drained it in one long gulp. Filling it again, he leaned back against the kitchen counter and closed his eyes, partially to avoid looking at Adam, but mostly because even the short walk across the apartment had made his head start to spin.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Adam’s voice was just a few feet away now. He must have gotten up after Ethan closed his eyes. “I’m fine.” There was a huff of disapproval from nearby. “Or I will be. It’s just the flu. A few more days of rest and I’ll be right as rain. Don’t worry about...” the last word hung on Ethan’s lips as he opened his eyes and found Adam standing right beside him, brow knotted with concern. Raising the glass to his lips, Ethan took another long drink.

“May I?” Adam asked as he lifted a hand towards Ethan’s face,

Ethan could only nod silently, not sure of what to expect next and half wondering if maybe this was all just part of some fevered dream. Adam placed his hand on Ethan’s forehead for a few moments, the touch making his whole body tingle. He made a mental note to hide the digital thermometer that was currently sitting on his nightstand.

“I don’t feel any fever but that doesn’t mean it won’t return. I think it would be best if you returned to bed as soon as possible.”

Part of Ethan wanted to immediately protest, an unfortunate side effect of having spent so much time with the vampire. In this instance however, there really wasn’t a reason for them to butt heads. It wasn’t like Ethan had been planning on going for a long evening stroll or something. “At the very least, I’m going to take a quick shower,” his stomach gurgled, “and maybe eat something, then it’s back to bed, I promise.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Adam and his face softened with relief, apparently not in the mood to fight either. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“In the shower?” Ethan raised an eyebrow, “I’m sure I could think of something.”

Adam folded his arms across his chest, “That was not what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan waved a hand dismissively as he made his way to the bathroom. Flirting with Adam when he was standing in his underwear was probably a bad idea anyway. “I’m fine. I’ll deal with my own messes in a few days, there’s nothing that can’t wait.” He turned back to Adam with a genuine smile, “Thanks for offering though.”

The hot water running over Ethan made him want to melt into the drain at his feet. If he had a list of top ten showers he’d ever taken, this would have been one of them. He didn’t have a list, but his mind quickly started to form one before he stopped himself. Adam was still in the other room and while some of those might be pleasant memories to revisit, now was not the time.

He stood there for longer than he’d intended as the aches in his body slowly dissolved until he felt blissfully limp and relaxed. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist then opened the door. And immediately closed it. Right, Adam. Ethan looked down at the boxers in the hamper, he really didn’t want to put them back on, even for just a few minutes to get to his room. He cracked the door just wide enough for his face to peek through.

“Hey, Adam? Can you do me a favor?”

Adam eyed him cautiously, unsure of what kind of favor the detective might ask, “Yes?”

“Bring me some shorts. Middle drawer, any pair is fine.”

For the briefest of moments Adam’s face blushed with realization at the request and Ethan couldn’t help but wonder how much Adam enjoyed the mental image that must have just passed through his mind. He hoped it was quite a lot.

In half a minute, Adam returned, holding out a pair of shorts, which Ethan quickly grabbed and put on. Finally emerging from the bathroom, he looked between the kitchen and his bedroom. Despite how much he’d slept recently, floating back into bed seemed too irresistible given his relaxed state.

“Alright, I’m going back to bed, I’ll worry about food the next time I get up.”

Instead of seeming pleased with this announcement, Adam frowned instead. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“Umm,” Ethan ran his fingers through his wet hair in thought, “I think I had some crackers yesterday, maybe.”

Adam’s frown deepened, “Last time I checked, humans required regular meals.”

“I thought you wanted me in bed?”

“I do,” Ethan quirked an eyebrow at Adam’s words, causing him to pause and clear his throat. “That is, I think you need more rest in order to recover. If you want to lay down, I would be happy to bring you something.”

“If you insist.” Ethan started to head back to his room, “Tina brought some soup by the other day, it’s in the big green dish in the fridge, just put some in a smaller bowl-”

“I remember how to make soup,” Adam interrupted.

“Two and half minutes in the microwave should be enough. Do you know how to work the-”

“Yes, I know!”

Ethan chuckled to himself as he pulled back the duvet and slipped between the crisp sheets. This felt heavenly, hopefully he could stay awake long enough for Adam to bring him his soup.

Wait. Ethan rolled over and sniffed his pillow. These were clean sheets. Had Adam? While he was in the shower? Ethan closed his eyes with a happy sigh. As frustrating as it could be trying to figure Adam out, there was nothing in the world like those times when he showed how much he cared.

“Here, it’s hot,” Adam said, as he set the bowl down on the side table.

Ethan sat up and grabbed it, enjoying the feeling of warmth in his hands. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft and the smile that played on the corners of his lips didn’t escape Ethan’s notice.

“I really appreciate you coming by. I don’t think I realized how nice it would be to see someone again.” To see you again.

“It was no trouble, Ethan. I was glad to be of assistance.”

“Care to fill me in on what I’ve missed that last couple of days? Just while I finish this,” Ethan added, “then I’ll be a good boy and go back to sleep.”

The smile Adam had been trying to suppress finally broke through and he leaned against the dresser, telling Ethan about the latest news from the warehouse. Ethan wanted this to last, the comfortable conversation. He ate as slowly as possible and the last few spoonfuls were cold by the time he got to them. But try as he might, his body got the better of him and it wasn’t long after Adam carried the empty bowl away to the kitchen that Ethan was fast asleep once more.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

I’m Sorry

Pairing : Akutagawa x Reader

A/N : Akutagawa’s sadness is saved for last. We all love a sad emo boy. Don’t we. Don’t we? This is all from Akutagawa’s point of view by the way. I hope you enjoy. I’m so sorry this took so long! There’s been a lot going on but it’s out now! Finally finished Angstember!

T/W : Suicide ; Depression ; Mental Illness ; Anguish ; Desperation ; Angst ; Self Harm

Angstember Day 12

Time’s had been tough, time’s were always tough. Thinking that someone like him would be able to help you was probably stupid, but you fell for him, and by some miracle he had fallen for you as well. He was never warm, never cuddly, he never showed his love all that well, but he was there. For a time, that seemed like enough, just to have someone there with you, but then the darkness became overbearing. There was nothing more you could do, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Life was already hell, so who cares if you ended up there for what you were about to do... right?

The moon was rising, the bright silvery white orb lit up the clouds in the sky that moved in front. It was almost as bright as the sun tonight, he was sure that you were out on the balcony watching it the same way he was. You loved to watch the sunset and the moon rise, you had always taken it as a sign that he would be home soon. He never let you know, but he would count down the hours to sunset, knowing that soon he would be home with you.

Tonight, that wasn’t the case. He had to work over, and he thought of shooting you a message to let you know, but he didn’t want to bother you. He allowed you to have your personal time, something that he assumed you enjoyed since you never texted him when he was at work. He never knew that you didn’t message him because you felt like a bother, that you never called him because you felt annoying, like a pain in the ass. If he knew that, he would have told you that it’s okay, that he wanted to talk to you, that he wanted to know that you’re okay.

Akutagawa wasn’t one to share his feelings, especially not with you. It made him feel weak, it made him feel soft. He wouldn’t get Dazai’s acceptance if he was weak, if he expressed how he felt to you. Maybe he shouldn’t have put Dazai ahead of you, maybe he should have told you how much he loved you, how much he loved to hear your voice, how he’d smile whenever you, on a rare occasion, would send him a text.

Maybe it’s the fact that he wasn’t brave enough, the fact that he had been rejected, thrown away, and unloved his entire life that kept him from opening up to you. The one person in his life that he truly loved, other than his sister, the one person in his life who seemed to actually want him around, who appreciates his existence, who cared. He should have told you that he loved having you around, that your existence in itself was the greatest gift, the most wonderful miracle, and it was truly a mystery to him why someone like you would and could ever love him the way that he loved you.

You hadn’t talked much all day... now that he thinks about it, you hadn’t talked at all. The hours at work seemed to drag, and although he knew he shouldn’t be worried, he couldn’t help the feeling of dread that seemed to be forming a pit in his stomach. He tried to put it off, that he was just over reacting, he wasn’t used to staying over for work, he just wanted to be home with you already. He fought the urge to call you, knowing that you’d either be sleeping already, or in the middle of watching a movie or reading. He hated bothering you, at least that’s what he felt like he was doing whenever he messaged you randomly. So he pushed the feeling far back in his mind. He would feel better once he was with you.

“Alright Akutagawa, you can head home now.” Mori stood in the doorway, watching as he filed away papers into the folders. He nodded to his boss, pushing away from the desk, handing the folders to Mori as he walked past him. As he walked down the long hallway leading to the elevator he pulled out his phone. Still no texts or calls from you, it felt weird. He was used to not having much contact with you while he was working, but something about the lack of notifications tonight made him nervous.

He made up his mind. He would call you, just to hear your voice. Just to make sure that you were okay. His fingers were steady as he dialed your number, but his heart was erratic as the ringing filled his ears. He stood in the elevator, his back against the wall as he waited for you to answer the phone, but you never did. “Dammit, Y/N...” he muttered, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

The walk home felt eerie, something that put his off. The dreadful feeling in his stomach was building, bubbling over, as if something had been left on the stove to boil. He was used to you not answering your phone, used to you not texting him, used to you being distant, so why did this bother him now?

Moonlight guided his path home, but even with the silvery light of the moon, it felt too dark. It was ominous, and the brisk autumn chill that seemed to move through his skin sent shivers through his entire body. Everything about tonight just seemed off, like something was telling him that there was something wrong. He had felt it in the office, he had felt it in the elevator, he feels it now, he just couldn’t quite place just what could be wrong.

As he made his way up the pathway to the shared home he and you had, he noticed that only the bathroom light was on. It was strange, you never kept the lights on when you went to bed, you would keep the nightlight on if you needed it, but never the actual light of a room. He tried to put it off that maybe you had just forgotten to turn it off before you laid down, maybe you were just exhausted and passed out before you realized that the light was still on.

He shook his head as he walked into the house. The door was unlocked already. That alone had his heart racing again. “Y/N?!” He called out your name, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he made his way through the home. You never left the door unlocked, you knew he had a key, you knew to have it locked the entire time you were there alone. He had told you it was to protect secret Port Mafia information, but in actuality, he just wanted to make sure you were safe. If anyone did try to break in, the locked door would have given you time to hide somewhere and call him. So, why had the door been unlocked?

“Y/N!?” He called out your name again as he pushed open doors in the hallway. He got to the bedroom and noticed that the bed was still neatly made, the light shining in from the bathroom illuminated the empty room. Did you leave? His stomach felt like it was rising in his chest as he thought of you actually leaving. His mind full of questions as he stood in the middle of the room, looking around to see if anything of yours was missing.

Your clothes were still draped over the end of the bed, his eyes finally focused in on the fabric. It was the way you placed your clothes when you were about to get out of the shower. His eyes moved to the bathroom door, still cracked open. He saw the silhouette of your body laying in the bathtub, still, almost as if you were sleeping.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself as he made his way into the bathroom. “It’s dangerous to fall asleep in the bath, darling.” He murmured as he walked closer to the tub. That’s when he really saw it. The water dyed red, your body pale, but your eyes were closed as if you were in the deepest, most peaceful slumber. His stomach that had once felt like it was rising in his chest had now dropped, it dropped with such force that it brought him to his knees.

“No. Darling, please. Wake up.” He pulled your hands out from under the crimson blood water mix, revealing the multitudes of cuts lining your wrists, all the way up to your forearm. “Why? What did I do? What didn’t I do?”

He couldn’t understand why. He had wanted to end it all, to leave this world many times, but he never did anything, he never acted on those feelings. He had fought to get where he is right now, he had fought for everything, even you. So why didn’t you fight? Was he not good enough to fight for, to stay alive for?

“Why would you leave me?” He shimmied out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor as he stuck both his arms into the water, trying to get a grip on you so he could pull you out of the tub. He pulled you up, holding you against his chest as he fell back on the floor, leaning against the wall.

You were wearing one of his shirts, it was soaked and clinging against your lifeless body. “Is it a sign... that it’s my fault? Was I not here enough? Why didn’t you talk to me?” He couldn’t wrap his mind around why you would have done it. He was doing his best to show you that he loved you, that he cared about you, was it not enough for you?

He knew that he was cold, he knew that he seemed emotionless, and he knew that he needed to work on that. Just because he didn’t say it or show it doesn’t mean that he loved you any less though. He loved you so much, he just didn’t know how to show it, he was scared to show it. He didn’t want to seem weak, and now he lost the one person who gave him strength, the one person who made him feel like he was worth something.

Your body was cold, his shirt was soaked from holding you against him. He shivered as a breeze moved through the room, pushing a piece of paper off the counter, a sheet that he hadn’t noticed when he walked in. It was a note... your note. “Was that you? I’m sorry... I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t make you better. I.... love you....” he felt like he was choking. He couldn’t cry, it would be weak to cry. Did it matter anymore whether Dazai thought he was weak or not? It didn’t seem like it, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not when you were dead in his arms, the only person he’d ever allowed himself to love, and you had left him.

He carried you into the bedroom, carefully laying you on your side of the bed. It would be the last time you laid there, the last time that side of the bed would be filled. He would never find anyone else like you, no one would ever take your place, in the bed, in his mind, or in his heart. He stood next to the bed, looking down at you, the note paper felt like a red hot iron in his hand. He was scared to read it. He was scared to face the blame that he believed would be put on him, written in your hand between the lines.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he finally began unfolding the paper slowly. His breath was shaky, his nose sniffling as the tears began to stream down his cheeks. Swallowing felt almost impossible as the lump lodged in his throat. Your handwriting which was usually neat and beautiful seemed shaky, smudged, like you had been crying when you wrote it, and now he was crying while reading it.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry. I’m too weak. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t deal with it anymore, I couldn’t... I didn’t want to do it... but I felt... I’m not strong enough to keep going. I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s never been your fault... You’ve done your best and I Love you so much... I’ll see you when you get here one day, until then, I’ll be waiting...”

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Pinned under wreckage. Hmm, how about Intruality with Remus a construction worker where something went wrong? Preferably happy ending but any will do. (keep up the good work! You're amazing!!)

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library

Hold Onto Me

Summary: Patton had just wanted to deliver lunch to his husband when he saw the emergency vehicles at the construction site. All he can hope for is that keeping ahold of his hand will be enough. (Happy Ending)

Warnings: anxiety, major injury, blood, hospitals, emergency situation (if there are more please let me know)

Prompt: Pinned Down By Wreckage

Ships: Romantic Intruality (Patton x Remus)

WC: 4038

Disclaimer: I don't think this is how construction practices work but for the sake of the beginning that’s how it's gonna work because angst. The procedure to get him out is however fairly accurate, I did a bit of research as to how someone is rescued from that kind of situation but other than that please take the accuracy of this situation with a grain of salt.

Remus’ heavy boots thudded loudly on the thin catwalk leading over top of where the scaffolding was set in place for the floor of the third story of the new building, not that he could hear it over the general din of construction work. Everything looked good, he was only here to do a general sweep over before anyone else came up to lay the insulation and then actual flooring to make sure nothing would collapse. Being so high up he had a wonderful view of the fair bit of land whoever was moving into this house would own when it was done: a field with woods surrounding it with a long, winding road leading up to the front entrance. 

It was stupidly extravagant, some dream house Roman would have loved to live in if he was rich enough to afford but Remus had been so excited to work on it, and still was. He got to help with the design work and use his hands for hours and hours and even though he came home tired and sweaty he still loved it with every fiber of his being. Not to mention he got to go home to Patton who would smile and cup his cheek to kiss him before pushing him down the hall to shower while he started on dinner. He’d come out to help and they’d settle down at the table or couch to talk or watch a movie and then either work on their own things or cuddle up in bed depending on how tired they were. It was mundane and domestic most of the time but Remus loved that with Patton. He had him and his job and his stupid brother and he couldn’t be happier; everything in his life made him feel safe and happy and comfortable and he couldn’t imagine asking for anything better.

Of course it could all be ruined in an instant. One wrong step and he could certainly plummet to his death. The scaffolding could crack and he’d be impaled on a jagged piece of wood. He could break every bone in his body or be paralyzed for life and be a burden on everyone who knew him and- Remus shook his head impatiently, willing the thoughts away as he turned carefully and began making the rest of the way across the catwalk. Thoughts like that kept him on his toes at least but it was best not to dwell on them too much. He was always careful and he wasn’t about to jinx himself by thinking of everything that could go wrong on the job.

He almost laughed when he felt it: a shift under his feet that meant something could be loose. Of course he would manage to have the most ironic timing in the world. Carefully stepping back he looked closely to see if he could tell what the problem was but he saw nothing. Biting his lip he looked back up at the last couple of feet he had to walk. He should definitely turn around and tell someone to look and fix whatever might be wrong, but he could also save the time and try to figure out himself what it could be if he could just get a better vantage point. It was only a couple of feet, if he stepped wide enough he might be able to avoid whatever problem there was.

Mind made up he stepped forward again more gingerly than he had ever done anything in his life, faintly hearing the lunch bell ringing and the gradual silence that was left from the various machines being turned off and tools being put down. Good, he thought, that way if anything happens no one’s around to get hurt. He screwed his mouth to the side as he quickly dismissed that thought as well, mentally kicking himself for the possible jinx. It was only a couple of feet, just one step and he could hug the wall and lean over to see what the problem was. Honestly with the way the skeleton of the wall was he could probably squeeze himself between the gaps of the unfinished floor and climb down to safety to avoid even having to hop back to the catwalk and go all the way back around. Leaning forward a bit for stability he brought his arms out and quickly lunged for the one, grabbing a hold of two support beams and digging into them so hard his fingernails began to ache. Despite that his new position seemed to be fine, no more shifting under his feet as the tips of his boots found a bit of purchase on the floor's framework by the wall. Grinning through the adrenaline rush he maneuvered himself around until he was facing back towards the room and carefully surveyed the floor. They had laid the framework out in a hurry- ill advised but for the time crunch they were under it had seemed necessary. The consequence for them rushing it though thankfully just seemed to be a missing support plank, making a couple of the beams bow under the catwalk when they were walked on. An easy enough fix and thankfully one that would be relatively quick.

Remus looked down with a grimace. He could climb down...but he had already gotten in trouble once for using scaffolding as a jungle gym even if he was trying to be careful not to be caught. He’d rather not be labeled as a liability not even halfway through the project and since in reality there wasn’t that much wrong with the floor he really didn’t have an excuse not to walk back the way he’d come. Sighing in disappointment he stepped forward and began to make his way back across, the shifting under his feet only making him slightly nervous as he took a bigger step to avoid the worst of it- only to immediately regret it as the entire catwalk shifted to the right as the board he was using slid away from the framework. The catwalk was mostly just a series of shorter boards placed in a sort of grid pattern so you could walk around without there actually having to be a floor. The board he was standing on and currently trying his hardest to rebalance on had shifted under his weight making the edge fall off the board underneath it, meaning it was now hanging onto a beam less than three inches thick by a couple of inches at its end. So not only was then the floor not laid well but the catwalk hadn’t been properly secured either, and if he squinted even closer there wasn’t much of  the floor that was laid completely securely.

Swearing profusely a selfish part of him wished someone else was in this position besides him, maybe they could have figured out a way out of this mess. As it was it was just Remus alone up here, everyone else gone on lunch break and if they noticed he was missing they probably assumed he was either in the bathroom or fucking around somewhere he probably shouldn’t be...such as on the second story unsecured catwalk watching the floor settle and resettle under his weight with sweat dripping down his face. This was supposed to have been a quick job- ten minutes at most of him poking around to find something and now that he had he was risking practically the entire floor collapsing underneath him. He didn’t want to call out for help in case it actually did fall through and trap someone beneath it so it seemed as if it was simply going to be a waiting game in which either he or the floor would come out on top.

And with another shift underneath him it didn’t seem like it was his lucky day.

-----

Patton sang softly along to the song playing through the radio, tapping his fingers along with the beat on the wheel. He didn’t do this often but he really wanted to surprise Remus at work with a lunch. He had packed a little extra for dinner as well hoping he wasn’t too late to give it to him. Remus had said yesterday he’d have to stay a little later than usual to look over some things and do...whatever it was he had said he had to do to play catch up in the huge project the company had undertaken, an apology heavy on his tongue that Patton had preemptively forgiven him for with a peck on the lips and a smile. Though he wasn’t happy how over worked his husband often was, he more blamed the company and commissioners than Remus himself. He worked hard and it showed, and Patton was always proud of him. So, packed lunch and dinner it was with hopefully a quick visit before he had to leave since he was in no way authorized personnel but the people in charge often simply rolled their eyes and waved him through, vaguely threatening him with promised of forced exit if he stayed too long, which Remus never let him do anyway since an active construction zone wasn’t exactly safe.

The sound of sirens in the distance cut off his thoughts as his blood ran cold. Sirens didn’t have to mean anything of course, there were many reasons you’d hear them- but this was practically out in the middle of nowhere, near a construction zone which was again out in the middle of nowhere. Cursing he sped up just a little bit, desperate to get to the site and hopefully disprove what he already knew he’d see. He nearly started crying right then when he turned into the long drive only to see the house surrounded by emergency vehicles and people in uniform bustling from point to point to do whatever it was they had to do. He could see the part of the collapsed house beyond that, what looked like a cave in from the second story that had taken the supporting wall with it, though how something like that had happened Patton couldn’t fathom.

He hadn’t even clicked the engine all the way off when he was out of the car and running to who he knew was in charge, dodging out of the way and trying not to make a nuisance of himself so they didn’t have a reason to kick him off the property. There was no sign of Remus as far as he was looking, not even the sound of his rather loud voice cutting through the worried din of everyone else’s voices which only served to drop his stomach further as he swallowed hard around the nausea. Please God no, he thought. Please please please-

“Where’s Remus?” Patton didn’t think there was a need to bother with formalities in this kind of situation. He just needed to figure out where his husband was, go to him and make sure he was safe. It was a simple plan, the simplest set of goals he’d ever set in his life, but his heart sank as the supervisor turned to him with a grave look on his face that told Patton everything he needed to know before the other even began shaking his head.

“There was an accident. The floor- the floor must have been loose and nobody thought- I didn’t think to check on him after he went up there. We all know how he is.” He gestured helplessly to where several people were gathered around a section of rubble, the weight of a whole building bearing down on whatever they were puttering around. “We know where he is; it’s just getting him out.”

Patton didn’t need to hear anymore, noticing some of the people leaving the group and leaving a bit of space he could see the mess through. Most of it was just wood beams sticking out in every direction like a crudely placed beaver damn, some insulation from the ground floor poking up at the bottom. If he squinted though he could just barely make out a small space that had been cleared, a small hole that he could only assume was what they could safely clear away to see if Remus was still-

Pushing forward before he could finish the thought he hurried over to where the space had been made and knelt down next to it, laying a shaking hand next t o the rubble and iting his lip tp keep from crying.

“Sir you can’t be here-”

“That’s my husband in there.” Patton cut the woman off sharply, only feeling slightly guilty for his tone.

The woman softened. “I understand but-”

“I’ll leave when I’m in the way but right now no one’s doing anything so I’m staying right here so I can be with him. I’m not going to touch or disrupt anything but I’m not moving.” Patton looked up, defiantly daring her to continue, but after a moment she just nodded and backed away. He turned back to the space as a slight moan alerted him, gasping as long fingers emerged from the cramped darkness and reached out. A high pitched whine left Patton’s mouth at the sight of how bloody it was but he nevertheless reached forward desperately and grasped the fingers in a gentle hold. Faintly he heard a warning not to pull him as assistance was yelled for but he only shook his head as tears streamed down his face. Everything in him was screaming to lift the beams himself and drag Remus to safety but he knew it couldn’t work like that. This was a delicate situation that needed to be handled with care but the frustration only built as the seconds ticked by and nothing seemed to be getting done.

“Remus honey, I’m here okay? I’m right here and so are people that are going to get you out of there. You just hold onto me baby everything  will be okay.” He nearly choked on his own uncertainty but he couldn’t afford to let emus think he was anything other than certain he’d make it out of this. His fingers squeezed weakly and Patton’s breath hitched in relief, continuing to rattle out reassurances that he’d be out soon and they were doing what they could he just had to hold on a little bit longer. His head snapped up as a hand landed on his shoulder, one of the paramedics motioning people forward with equipment.

“Keep holding his hand and talking to him, you’re probably helping keep him awake.” Patton decided he didn’t want to think too hard on what  that might mean, instead simply scooching over slightly to make room for whatever it was they were doing and running his thumb gently over Remus’ knuckles as he took a steadying breath.

“They’re going to get you out Remus. They have equipment they’re setting up to get you out and then everything will be fine.” His fingers were squeezed again gently and the medic must have noticed since they paused and leaned down.

“We’re going to put two sturdy boards on either side of you to help stabilize what’s laying on top of you and then put airbags on the other side of them to lift everything up. That should give us enough room to remove you safely. If at any point your space gets too cramped or you feel things settle down on you more, squeeze your husband’s hand and he’ll let us know okay? We’re working as quickly as we can to get you out.” Remus squeezed his hand again and the medic nodded, signaling for things to begin. “This is called cribbing. It’s just putting a basic framework underneath everything to hopefully stop it from settling down more. And then those long tubes will be put in and inflated to lift it up, at which point you'll have to move out of the way so we can get him out.”

Remus squeezed his hand again and both the action and explanation Patton felt his anxiety ebb the tiniest amount. He nodded to the kind woman and moved to hold Remus with both hands as if doing so would make the process go any faster. As the emergency crew bustled around him and got everything into place he simply sat with cramping legs and blurring vision, reassuring the trapped man through soft touches and softer words as they moved thick, wedged shaped beams in front of the pile of debris. Holding his breath Patton tightened his grip slightly as they began inching the beams underneath, focusing his attention solely on the bloodied hand in his grip, poised to react at even the slightest twitch of discomfort. The boards were halfway in when his hand was squeezed weakly, jolting him out of his tense state to yell out a loud “Stop” to the team. They froze and looked to the woman still holding Patton’s shoulder, who leaned forward to be heard.

“Squeeze once if the pile is shifting, twice if we’re hitting you with the boards.” Two quick squeezes were felt and she nodded slightly. “Is there any way you can move without endangering yourself so we can get them in a bit more?” 

He felt a slight squeeze on his hand before shuffling was heard accompanied by a quiet  whimper that tore straight through Patton’s heart as he fought to simply hold the hand in support and not yank him out himself. He nodded as his hand was squeezed again and kept up his quiet reassurances, speaking just loud enough for Remus to hear him over the directions the medics were constantly throwing back and forth. After what seemed like an eternity the wedges were in place and Remus gave the go ahead to squeeze in the air bags. No one dared breathe as they were squeezed into place, no response from Remus unless they asked for confirmation that everything was still okay. 

Everything was going fine- the bags were filling up and Patton could see the rubble being lifted slowly but surely up and off his husband. They were so close to having him out and okay that it almost didn’t register when Remus’ hand went limp in his own. Patton felt the muscles slacken and the hand become sudden deadweight in between his own. Eyes widening he squeezed his hand gently, then perhaps a bit too hard as panic gripped him.

“Remus honey? Are you okay?” The slick hand remained still, fingers not even twitching to indicate he had been heard. “Remus? Remus!”

He thrashed as he was pulled away, screaming louder than he ever had in his life as Remus’ hand slipped away from him and he was hauled to his feet and backward. The medics crowded to fill the space and he lost sight of his hand completely, screaming louder and scratching madly at the arms around his middle.

“Let me go! Let me go, he needs me!” The logic that Patton more needed him than Remus needed Patton over the medics at the moment was flung out of the window as he bucked backwards attempting to throw off whoever it was but the person just held him tighter as they walked him away, heedless of his ear splitting screams. Vaguely he was aware they were talking to him but Patton couldn’t care less as the phantom sensation of Remus’ hand going slack in his own tore his mind apart.

“P…….Pat…...Patton please!” Virgil’s yell finally cut through the panicked fog and provided the window he needed to haul Patton the rest of the way over bside the parked ambulance and sit him down on the ground. “They’re going to get him, Patton, it's okay. I promise you He’ll be okay. And we’ll ride in the ambulance and go into the hospital with him and they’ll make sure he’ll be back to making idiotic decisions in no time.” 

The words meant to reassure him didn’t make Patton feel any better but all the fight left him, adrenaline running its course as he buried his face in his friend’s chest and wept. 

-----

Remus had Patton and Virgil as his first two people to call in an emergency and since Patton had already gotten there and hadn’t checked his phone someone must have then called Virgil when he hadn’t picked up. As bad as he felt he was grateful the other was there as he all but collapsed while they finally got Remus’ still, limp body out from under the wreckage and onto a stretcher, stabilizing him as much as they could before ushering him into the ambulance and driving away after denying them riding along since they needed the extra room. Patton all but dragged Virgil to his car, the other swiping away his keys and insisting he drive as Patton was in no state to and Patton really just agreed if only to get them going faster.

They didn’t get to go in Remus’ room for hours after that, apparently suffering a broken legs and ribs, a sprained risk and a minor concussion that had taken the rest of the day to fix, nearly sending Patton into hysterics when they were informed with the final comment being that he had gotten off lucky. Thankfully Roman and Logan had arrived at that point and they were able to sit with Patton through the night and morning before Logan suggested he take Virgil to get a change of clothes and other necessities so they’d be able to stay longer, Roman volunteering to come along to get Patton and Remus’ things as well.

The hospital room was quiet save for the soft beeping of the machines lining the bed and the gentle huffing breaths of Remus as he slept, thankfully peacefully, in the hospital bed that Patton had his chair pulled all the way up to to hold his now bandaged hand between his. He yawned loudly  and laid his head on his arm, eyes fighting to stay open as he promised himself he was merely resting his eyes but drifting off rather quickly considering the stress of the past couple of days. Confident he would wake if anything happened and trusting the others to come back soon he allowed himself to drift off.

-----

Patton awoke slowly to the feeling up fingers running through his messy hair, taking the time to gently brush out all the tangles of the previous day. He hummed happily and snuggled further into the tough, only to grunt in pain as his neck protested the action with a rather loud crack. Reality hit him all at once and he picked his head up to see Remus smiling tiredly down at him, Head wrapped neatly and already crooked nose set after what must have been the third or  fourth break he had already suffered. Patton’s eyes filled with tears as he  sat up and slowly reached for his husband, hands coming to rest on each cheek to make sure he was really there and alright. Smile tugging wider Remus brought his own hands up to rest on Patton’s, thumbs slowly running over the knuckles like he had done when Remus had been trapped.

“If I wouldn’t hurt you more and get hauled out by security I would slap you so hard for what you did.” In his tired state Patton honestly couldn’t think of anything better to say, but Remus only chuckled weakly and nodded.

“I love you too.”

Laughing softly with him Patton leaned forward to rest his forehead against Remus’ before pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose and softly whispered “I’m so glad you’re safe.” 

“I always am with you.”

Later a nurse would come in and smile at the two: Patton tucked under Remus’ chin and clutching onto his hands like a lifeline as they both slept. Quietly, he would turn out the light and shut the door, reassuring the people camping on the chairs outside that they were alright and they would sigh and shake their heads with amusement. The scolding could wait, they decided. For they would leave them to hold onto each other for as long as they needed.

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[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 14

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, dealing with mental illness, learning to live with a mental illness, some fluff in there to. Just over all alot of feels! 

Word Count: 1840

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

It had been a long three weeks of mental recovery for you. The first few days when you got home you barely got out of the bed. 

Jensen never pushed you, in fact he cleared his schedule and stayed right there in bed next to you, making sure you ate, drank, got up and showered and did more than one movie marathon. He was just there. That's something you never expected from him, but still he did it.

About five days into this depression/funk, whatever it was, you decided this wasn't going to kill you. So before Jensen woke up that morning you untangled his arms from around you, and made your way to the kitchen for the first time since the day that he left, and started making breakfast.

The relief on Jensen's face was evident as he came into the kitchen that morning and wrapped his arms around you. From that moment on, you made your mind up that you weren't going to wallow in this.Yes, you knew you would have bad days, but you couldn't just lay down and die, you had to keep going. 

Jensen continued to keep a close eye on you, not really leaving the house without you, and if he did he didn't leave for very long. He had even  taken to coming grocery shopping with you, which was strange to you at first. Your dad NEVER went with your mom. He considered that a "woman's" job. 

Jensen didn't seem to mind, faithfully walking behind you this morning pushing the shopping cart that you had started filling with what was going to get the two of you through the week. He seemed to enjoy the normalcy of it, even if he was walking around with a ball cap on, praying no one would recognize him before he made his exit.

Once the shopping trip was done and the car loaded, Jensen made his way back home in silence,his hand wrapped tightly around yours. That was something else he had started, always touching you in some form or another, like if his hands left you then you'd disappear. 

"Let's go out on a date tonight." he said out of the blue as you turned on the road to home.

"A date?" 

You weren't trying to be a smart ass, you were just genuinely confused. You were married? Why would there be any need to 'date'. Weren't you past that?

"Yeah.... A date.... Unless you  don't want to come on a date with me..." he said, faking a pout that was so adorable that you couldn't have told him no even if you wanted to. He had an effect on you and he knew it. Therefore, he knew how to get his way.

"No, that's fine I'll go. I just don't see why you feel the need to go on a date. I'm with you constantly." 

Jensen pulled the car into the driveway, and put it in park before turning his attention to you. His gaze now serious and searching.

"Because, I feel like we jumped into this relationship, and started it out on the wrong foot. I realized it's my fault to... If I would have stayed, instead of chasing a career, I would have been taking you out on dates, and working on building the foundation of our relationship before we ever made it to the altar. Even though it was an arranged marriage, they still encouraged me to establish a foundation with you. Even an arrangement doesn't work without some sort of groundwork. Thanks to me, we had none of that. If we had had some sort of foundation, trust wouldn't be an issue. You would be clear on how I feel about you, and I would have known you were struggling, and I NEVER would have walked out that door that day... Baby, we need a foundation in this relationship, I want to start at the bottom. Yes I know we're already married, but even in normal relationships people who are married go on dates. I know you probably don't understand most of what I'm trying to say to you, but I'm asking you to trust me on this."

He sat there still clinging to your hand, watching your every move and expression closely. You could tell this was something he'd been thinking about for a while. Even though you were sheltered by the church, and weren't hip to all the ways people normally did this, you could understand and see his point of view. Maybe starting at the beginning wouldn't be so bad after all.

Three hours later you find yourself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, running a flat iron through your hair, and checking your makeup. 

Jensen had said to dress nice, but casual, so you dawned your favorite little black dress with a low heel, light make up, because Jensen doesn't seem to like you with a lot of makeup, and your hair down and straight. He seemed to like that too.

You had never been on a date before, and you were nervous. Here you are, almost 30, and you have never been on a property date, or a date of any kind for that matter. 

'Jensen probably thinks you're nothing but a pathetic little child.’ you think to yourself, then you quickly swat it back down. Jensen told you in the car why he wanted to do this. He didn't think you were a child. He cared about you, he wanted to build a stronger relationship with you. You're going to go out to dinner with him tonight, and you're going to have fun.

"Baby, are you ready?" Jensen's voice traveled up the stairs. 

"I'm coming!" you yelled back down at him, taking one last look in the mirror and unplugging your straighter and putting it in a safe place. 

"Well Y/N, this is as good as it's going to get!" you tell yourself before turning off the light, and making your way down the stairs where Jensen was waiting with your sweater.

When he first caught sight of you coming down the stairs he didn't even try to hide the smile that crossed his lips. He'd never really seen you dressed up before. The look on his face made you look down at your feet and blush as you descended the stairs. After helping you slip your sweater over your shoulder he turned you around and looked you over. 

"You look amazing sweetheart!" 

Slipping his hand over the side of your face,he pulled your lips to his, brushing them  lightly before giving you a soft kiss that was enough to make your head spin.

Honestly he didn't look so bad himself, nice white dress shirt, and a pair of well fitting black slacks. Jensen looked great in a pair of sweats, and a torn up muscle shirt, but still you couldn't help but drool over him as you made your way to the car. He smelled exquisite as well. Something that had become a comfort to you through your whole ordeal. 

Not too long later you pulled up to a quaint little Italian restaurant. Getting out of the car Jensen hurried to open the door for you, then grabbed your hand and led you inside and up to the hostess where he told her your dinner reservations.  

You couldn't help the pang of jealousy that hit you as you watched her smirk and look him over from his head to his feet before smiling sweetly at him, and leading the two of you to the private table that he requested. 

Jensen didn't seem to notice, or if he did he didn't let you know that he had. Pulling your chair out for you he made sure that you were comfortable before taking the seat across the table next to you.

The rest of the dinner went pretty smoothly, even though every woman that walked up to the table seemed to have the hots for your husband. You couldn't really blame them, but you did wish they would leave the two of you alone. Maybe this was part of the reason Jensen had sheltered you so much in the first few months of your marriage. 

"So, is everything okay so far?" Jensen asked as he pushed his empty plate away from him, watching you closely. He seemed just as nervous as you were.

"Yeah everything is perfect. I've never really been on a date before, but this is nice." 

His eyebrows scrunched together a little before his features relaxed.

"You've never been on a date before? Why?" he seemed genuinely confused.

"Well... I was supposed to be given to you as soon as I turned 18, but you weren't here. The pastor tried to give my dad an out for me, said they could arrange something else, seeing as you had turned your back on God and the church." 

You looked down at your hands as you spoke, not looking at him for fear he would be angry with you. You had never even told any about this before, much less Jensen. You tried to talk about the past as little as possible.

"My dad refused, he said God "ordained" the marriage, it would still happen one day. He wouldn't let me leave the house. Wouldn't let me see anyone. Just told my mother to groom me into a "good wife" for you when you returned. Then you married Danneel. I thought then he'd let me move on, but he didn't, said you would still come back. He wanted me to be "pure for you." Guess in a way he was right ."

You took a sip from your drink, mostly to have something to do with your mouth as an excuse to stop talking. Jensen reached over across the table, grabbing your hand in his and making you look at him.

"What I did was a mistake. I should have come back for you, and I'm sorry." 

You said nothing, just looked back down at the table, trying to hold back the dam of tears that threatened to break free.

The rest of the night went on lighter. You talked about anything you could think of, sort of ‘getting to know each other’ all over again.

By the time you both walked back through the door of the house and Jensen locked it you both felt a little lighter than you had in days. You couldn't understand it, but it seemed like a wall had been brought down tonight that you didn't even know was there. 

You trusted him a little more than you ever thought you could trust anyone ever again. 

Baby steps.

Laying in bed next to him, falling asleep on his bare chest you couldn't help but feel yourself falling deeper in love with him. Surrounded by his strong arms and his own scent, you thought to yourself for the first time in almost a month that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

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[zuffer-weird-girl]

Where kaito and kin planned ?? Did Kai have a preference like he wanted a boy or a girl?? Also you have mention in other post about the first time Kai saw Kaito in the ultrasound do you have a scenario about that or would you be willing to write about it ??:0

Here we go.

A snap of fingers broight him back to reality... only noticing shortly later that he had dozed off.

"Overhaul?" Chrono called right besides him, one hand on his front while the other had a firm grip on the quivering girl... Eri...

Chisaki stopped for a bit to look at the child, no emotions present, only staring at it... before sighing and returning to walk towards the experiment room.

"Eri don't make this even more complicated than you already do." He said monotonously before he froze on his steps, worring his childhood friend a bit.

"... cancel the experiments for now." He said suddenly before making his way to get out of the underground base he had created.

"What? Why?"

"I have something to do. I will be back before the afternoon, take her to her room and put someone to keep a eye on it." He turned to send one side cold glare.

"No escaping. Understood?" The girl teared up and looked down while trembling as he monotonously made his way out.

~

"Come on-!" You cursed under your breath as you tried to open a can of cookies that one precept had bdoight due to your husband's commands.

Tried.

"Just hand it over. We're going to be late." You scoffed at hearing your husband's monotomous voice as you groaned at trying again to push that tin off.

"No!" You protested and even if you weren't looking at him you knew he had arched one of his damn perfect eyebrows up "First, I need a snack so screw it, the doctor that waits for us. And second-" you groaned again, applying all of your force on that cursed thing "I'm a strong independent woman that acn still open a pot with no he-"

Chisaki snatched the pot out of your hands before opening it easily with a 'plop' sound. One eyebrow evidently arched up as he placed the pot on the counter.

"... I eased up for you." You mumbled with a pout before snatching one intere cookie on your mouth.

He hummed in sarcasm while crossing his arms, trying not to smirk at the adorable pout you had on your lips while you eated the sugary things.

"Right. Just like the heroe society is one of the best things in this world for me." He messed up with your hair even despite your whines of protest before flipping your forehead.

"We need to go now. I need to know what mutant of a demon and a angel is exactly inside of you."

"KAI!" you exclaimed but with a disbelieved smile no less as he opened the door for you to pass first.

"Is not a lie."

~

"Kai please don't kill the doctor." You pleaded as much silent as you could while you two walked the halls.

"Don't touch, doesn't get killed. Simple as that." He mumbled under his mask with a piercing glare at the doctor in front of you two.

"For God's sake, is a woman!" You whispered yelled "And I know her for ages now!"

"Still is sick." He snarled back "I read her profiles angel, she has a quirk that helps her on this job... disgusting."

"Kai plea-"

"Alright (Y/n)!" The older woman clapped her hands together and showed it to you another room "Go in there and put on the mantle so we can get started!" You nodded with a grateful smile, quickly rubbing your thumb on Chisaki's palm before going inside to change.

Chisaki sighed and took a seat, glaring at the smile the woman sended to him.

"Geez never took little old (Y/n) to have such a grumpy husband. Chin up daddy! You're about to meet your child in no time!" She exclaimed excitedly while she turned on the machine and prepared the machine.

He was about to get up to threaten her if it wasn't for your shy self getting out, blue mantle covering from your shoulder until thd middle of your thighs.

You layed down and sighed nervously, boucing a bit your leg in excitement and anxiousness.

"You two decided on names yet?"

Small talk... how he hated those.

"No..." both of you answered in synchrony, making the woman laughed while she placed the gloves of latex on.

He arched a eyebrow at that. He respected and at lleast she did a decent job on putting those... but the moment she had grabbed a gel for you to apply on yourself he got... confused.

The quirk of the woman consisted on a X-ray vision... some devices that connected to her glasses and the machine make it possible for her to show any fractures and even fetus to other people along with the machines.

She wasn't doing it...

"What's your deal?" He spated, placing a protective hand on your shoulder as both woman tilted their heads "You're not using your quirk, illness." He growled.

"Ah that!" She laughed before picking up the device "Ask your wife about it! Not ma fault!" She pushed a chair close to you.

He glared down at you, trying not to let his guard down at the smile you gave it to him.

"I asked for her to be the traditional way you know? No quirks, no powers... only the fashion old way." You whispered, giggling a bit at the way your husband's eyes widened a bit before returning it back to normal in a fraction of seconds with a 'I see.'

Always going out of your way to do these things for him? He was a goddamn blessed devil to have such a perfect angel on his arms...

You yelp a bit at feeling the cold material touching your skin as the woman laughed, deciding to start a small conversation with you since your husband she could sense it he didn't want it to speak much.

"Alright... is a bit difficult but I think Iiiii-" she squeezed her eyes a bit as she still moved the tool before she jerked a bit on her chair "AHA! GOT IT! SNAP!" she pressed one button on the device before pointing at the screen, laughing at both yours and Chisaki's confused as fuck face.

"Listen you two." She pointed at a small white part "This is the head of your little one!" You gasped with a open smile, turning it a bit to see Kai... with wide eyes staring at the screen.

"Following we can see the body... tiny hands... and adjusting just a bit the angleeeeee..." she moved the machine, not takung her gaze away from the screen "We can see that..." she smiled warmingly at the scene before looking at you both.

"Congrats you two, a healthy and beautiful baby boy!"

Your breath was taken away as you smiled with a bit of tears in your eyes, the woman placing the device with a 'fuck it I already took the picture GIVE ME A HUG!' as she opened her arms and hugged you close while you laughed, rubbing your tears.

While in the other hand, Chisaki was simply... astonished, out of words... breath stolen.

The realization that this was his child there had definitely hitted him like a train only on that moment, sure he knew of your pregnancy ever since you told him but...

Seing a completely new life, gerated by a fruit of love that involved you and him was... shocking.

He made that life. He made that fetus...

He created along with his angel a soon to be a boy on this world...

He hasn't said more than one world ever since you both left that place, arriving on the Shie Hassaikai house to take a shower...

He was supposed to go back to his experiments but... something felt... different at only comimg to his head the thought of...Eri.

"Angel that woman gave you the-" he stopped talking the moment he saw you holding them on your hands while sitting on the couch.

He sighed before taking a seat close to you, analyzing alongsides with you.

Your fingers traced delicately the form of the legs while your other subconsciously went to your growing belly to carress it... Without any of his control, his own gloved fingers went to touch the area where the little head was forming it.

"Kai oh my god..." you whispered with a hand on your mouth, looking up at him with teary eyes.

"What?" He growled before widening his eyes at you pointing at both his and your eyes...

Oh.. he was with one tear on both of his eyes...

He scoffed at that and immediately went to rub it away before your gently fingers beat him on it.

"Thank you..." you whispered before touching forehead with him "For giving me such a beautiful and unique gift Chisaki Kai."

"You are the one who I should be thanking for... although I have to admit..." his eyebrows furrowed, making your frow as well in concern.

"This kid. They have me as a father. I don't think I would be one of the... most suitable ones." He sighed while closing his eyes, placing his gloved hand on the plave his son was growing.

"Chisaki Kai I am a first parent too mister." He opened his eyes again, arching his eyebrow "Both of us surely wont know what the fuck is going on by the first few weeks." You giggled at the pinch in your side.

"Language brat." He smirked behind his mask at your smile.

"Back on, most people would say the same to you as a lover, and as always, you rubbed their disgusting faces on the asphalt... proving them wrong."

"Is different." He growled.

"Maybe. But is still half me and half you in here...we won't be perfect, but we will try... and that is already enough for our son, Im sure of it. He will never suffer on his life if both of us show what we already feel for him."

Our son... his son suffering. His angel's son suffering... that seentence gave him the worst of the chills.

The feeling of deja vuu hitted him completly as scenes of his experiments went through his head... he hesitantly looked down at the ultrasound and mentally wimced at only imagining his own child passing through... what he did with her.

Shit. What was happening to him?

"Although both os us know what I am capable of after what I went through." He sighed while laying his head on the back of the couch "Pops was explendid on my creation but the same can't go to those prokects of humans..." he clenched his jaw at remembering his biological parents... his father probably burning in hell while his project of a mother was still somewhere on the streets.

"You're not like them my devil." You reminded him.

"I have their disgusting parts of DNA... and imagine if him, a half pure being growing up to become something similiar of what I once was or even worse? Imagine the chaos." He said nonchalantly while you shook your head

"Pure this pure that. You know the difference here Kai? Every human is unique... I know who you are..." you sighed with a smile, laying your head besides his and broughting the photo up for both of you see "And this little one, will be the luckies little mobster to have the Chisaki's name. No wonder why I wanted it so badly when we married." You cooed the last part, turning your head to stare lovimgly at him.

"And you know what else?" You whispered, catching his attention as he turned his head to you "This boy will grow up in the yakusa, but with actual good and decent parents, whose will care and love him... will you? My devil?"

His heart did one of the worst flips in his chest as he looked into your eyes... imagine if you even discovred a bit of what he already did with a child...

Experiments after experimwnts, nursing her back to health only to put it back again for more and more...

The images of a little boy replaced the girl and that only got worse... your face of horror, the shouts of his parents... all coming like a desperate train on his mind.

"... this is my creation with you my angel. I maybe not be the bets for those things still..." he placed his gloved hand on your belly while the kthed cupped your cheek "I won't fail on my job of keeping you both safe and unharmed."

"I love you so much that it hurts..." you whispered with a smile at him, he brought you close to touch foreheads again with a sigh before lowering his mask down to connect his lips with yours and a sweet and passionate synchrony... enjoying the warmth that your body brought to his.

He...needed to find another way...

~

"You sure about that Kai? It's been a long time since you planned those things... aren't you going to tell Pops about it?" Chrono asked while walking not much away from Chisaki in the middle of three a.m on the base of the Shie Hassaikai.

Kai had demanded his oresence before he went to his room, widening his eyes at what the young man told him before nodding with uncertain.

Sure, the plan was fucked up, but it was a way of bringing the yakusa back from the shadows... and he knew how stubborm and straight forward Kai was with whatever he wanted.

So... why the sudden drastic change of plans?

Kai didn't said a world... only his and Hari's sound of steps on the area... before they stopped on the front of the oh so familiar door.

Chisaki sighed before opening it, not bothering if he was waking up the girl or not.

Eri widened her eyes immediately and muffled her terrified gasp at seing both men, standing on the other side of the door.

Golden yes piercing her sould before she almost sweared that the man hshe feared was shivering a bit before he averted his gaze from her.

For his son...

"You no longer will be used to my plan." He said after regaining his posture, glaring down at her.

For the family he finally could have it on his damn life...

"Your things will be packed soon, and you will be moved to a place where other people can keep a eye on you." He said darkly, Chrono geffing imprissed at seing that it was for real that Chisaki was saying this... without a hint of hesitation or regret on his voice neither eyes.

For his wife... he would do anything. Anything to not lose her...

"You are free Eri." The girl widened her ruby eyes at the man's words before he glared at her "Don't make me regret my decision, don't return. Just stay with those whose are from your own kind." He spitted the words before turning his back to her and leaving the room, allowing a bunch of man to enter to start helping on the change.

Hari, now walking besides his childhood best friend, decuded that now was better than ever.

"Mind me asking what was the miracke that made you change your mind? Or just leave it at that?" Chisaki took it from his pocket a folded black thing before handing it to Chrono with two gloved fingers, gaze still locked on his front.

Kurono took it and unfolded the image before widening his eyes a bit and smirking.

"This uh?" He asked with a smirk, not minding the scoff Chisaki gave it to him as he returned his gaze at the ultrasound "Have no idea wjere its what... but I can guess that this is my godchild or something?"

"You're NOT being the godfather of of my son Chrono." He growled back.

"Ah so its a boy, nice. Godson. And by the way; (Y/n) said it was no problem and even agreed with it."

"But I didn't. Stay away from my son block head."

He almost laughed but decided ti stay quiet...

So things were going to change a bit on the Hassaikai...

"Man just wait until Pops know about this, he will print it..."

"That's why I am not showing it."

[forestwater87]

OK. So idk if something is wrong with me, I'm naive or just missing something but I really really don't understand how these girls are Victims? I'm not saying they aren't, I just don't understand. As far as I can tell they all consented, and were never pressured or coerced into doing anything. I'm not trying to troll or be contrary or judgmental I'm just struggling to understand. Sorry, you seem to be quite well thought about this whole mess. I hope this ask is okay and doesn't cause any offence, it genuinely is not my intention.

I understand why you feel that way. I wasn’t comfortable calling them victims early in this whole situation (which has only been about a week long, Jesus), and it wasn’t really until I started to put all of them together that patterns began to emerge and I could really understand the scope of what Ryan did. I’ll lay out my thoughts here, referring to the individuals by their first initial following the example set by r/RyanHaywood, and hopefully we’ll be able to piece together why so many of us are willing to call these women victims.

(To be clear: I’m not trying to call anyone a victim who does not consent to that term. I don’t believe any of these fans have come forward expressing that they don’t want to be considered victims, but if that’s the case then I have no interest in forcing that label on anyone. I’m using it as a descriptive term, not a prescriptive one, if that makes sense.)

First off, we’ll start with the easiest stuff to agree with:

1. At least one of them was a victim of statutory rape, and potentially just plain rape. I’m not sure what the laws on removing a condom during sex without consent are, but M’s story makes it clear that he did not do due diligence in making sure she was of legal age -- the same can be argued for T, though her lying to him about her age makes that a tougher putt for some people; I’m pretty sure legally speaking he’s still in the hole -- so he just straight-up had sex with a minor. Technically with two minors. 

So that one’s pretty easy. However, there have been something like 9 people have come forward and only 2 of them were minors. Certainly not a winning record -- to be abundantly clear, the number of minors you should be having sex with is 0; if it’s possible to have sex with negative numbers of minors, that should be the baseline for everyone -- but one of them lied about her age and the other one seemed really enthusiastic, and what about those other women? They were adults and they consented, so they shouldn’t be considered victims, right?

Well, that’s where it gets a bit trickier. I’ll put this all under a cut for length, but while the following isn’t illegal, it’s definitely immoral, and part of what led to me being more comfortable calling these women victims:

2. They were victims due to his celebrity status. Your mileage is definitely going to vary on this one, but the fact that Ryan is a popular internet personality means that his fans are more likely to be starstruck, intimidated, flattered, or otherwise willing to do things to make him happy that they otherwise wouldn’t do. T, M, and L have all said that they were influenced by their admiration of him as a fan to do things they wish they hadn’t, and there are definitely ways that influencers or celebrities can ethically date fans (Caiti Ward was a huge RT fan before she and Jack married, and by all appearances they’re the most wholesome couple in the entire world), but encouraging them to send you naked pictures in exchange for positive validation from someone you idolize definitely seems like a bad use of celebrity status. L indicates that Ryan claims he didn’t realize the impact his status had on fans, but considering he was seemingly exclusively choosing sex partners from within the fanbase -- as opposed to, say, Tinder or something -- he must’ve on some level gathered that fans were easier to convince to do what he wanted.

3. They were victims of dishonest behavior. All of the women who’ve spoken up so far have said that they believed they were the only one Ryan was having an extramarital sexual relationship with, which indicates at best that he was extremely vague on establishing the parameters of their relationship and arguably suggests he was misleading them. This put them at risk for STDs (especially considering his apparent comfort with unprotected sex) as well as just general emotional harm. He lied about them as well, indicating to anyone who found out -- from his mods in 2017 to his statement a few days ago -- that any relationship was an isolated mistake.

It’s also unclear how honest he was about his marriage; all of the women who discussed this aspect have said that he told them a similar story, and at least M was led to believe that she was actually helping his marriage by satisfying his sexual needs so he wouldn’t have to leave his wife. It’s naïve and perhaps delusional to an outsider, but that and a lot of other stuff seems to be explained by . . .

4. They were victims of emotional manipulation. What’s really telling about lining all of these accounts up is the pattern that emerges: Ryan began with friendly conversation, often dispensing advice on personal and mental health issues (virtually all of the women who’ve come forward have expressed that they have some sort of mental illness), before testing the waters with a sexual comment that could be read as a joke or escalated further depending on the response of the fan, then alternating between showering them with compliments and attention and ignoring them for days or weeks on end. In at least one account he appears to have lied about a fan behind her back, which intentionally or not resulted in her losing most of her friends and being bullied on his own server, which he dismissed (again, behind her back) while treating her sympathetically to her face. That particular sexual relationship didn’t begin until after all of the above, and it’s not much of a stretch to note that he found a fan, isolated her, and then escalated the relationship into a sexual one.

And again, it comes down to spotting a pattern. Even if you don’t feel like a particular woman here is a victim, it’s important to take a look at all of their commonalities:

They were huge fans of Ryan, and followed him on at least one form of social media. Words like “idolized” and “loved” are used a lot in these testimonies.

They struggled with mental illness or personal issues (including bullying, depression, insecurity, marriage problems, etc.) that Ryan was informed about and seemingly supportive of.

They were younger than him by at least 8-9 years.

Their conversations gradually become more and more sexual. Sometimes this was initiated by Ryan, sometimes by the fan; if the sexual comments were rebuffed, they were immediately dismissed as jokes.

Nudes were sent and received, and they all stress how desired and valued Ryan made them feel.

If they were told about his marriage, it was a story that made him look highly sympathetic, and made cheating seem like less of a big deal or even the lesser of two evils.

He would push for in-person meetups, even offering to pay for the flight and hotel (using money he received from stream donations, which he claimed were being sent to his children's’ college funds).

He appears to have been uneven with his attention; multiple fans mentioned that he would “get bored” of them and not reply for days or even weeks at a time, and M mentions that he’d continue to “check in” even after their sexual relationship had ended. (Putting these together creates an image of a constantly-rotating list of potential partners that he’d cycle through, but admittedly this is just speculation.) One of the fans -- not sure which, but I linked them all so go hunting if you feel like it -- mentioned that he seemed bored or dismissive of non-sex talk after their relationship got sexual, essentially rescinding the very thing that made them want to talk to him in the first place.

So here we have a pattern of Ryan seeking out fans, especially those who were young and had personal issues making them vulnerable, drew them in with charm and friendly advice, then escalated the conversations to a graphic sexual nature, attempted to hook up with them, and made them feel special and unique (when that clearly was not the case). There are justifications for all of these on their own -- he’s not obligated to tell every sexual partner about all the others, some of the fans were the ones who took it further, etc. -- but when you put them all together, it’s pretty damning. This isn’t the behavior of someone who made a few mistakes with equally-consenting adults, but someone who had his strategy down to a science. 

To finally sum this up, anon: you don’t have to feel like any of these individual women were victims (well, except M; I don’t think there’s any other way to read that horrible story), but taken together I hope you can see Ryan’s predatory behavior. At the very least, I hope we can agree that they were all victims of lies and emotional manipulation.

Maybe it was unintentional . . . but with such consistent accounts, I find it hard to believe.

[gumnut-logic]

The Dentist (pt15 - The End)

And here it is, I actually finished something, yay! I hope it measures up to your expectations :D Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for helping me out with character actions and a partway read through :D

This fic is now 13,500 words long and most certainly not what I had in mind when I started it. It contains quite some touchy subjects including child abuse, mental illness, phobias and nasty dentists - please do not read if you feel uncomfortable with these subjects.

I should also acknowledge the complete lack of Kayo, Grandma and Brains in this fic. I kinda ignored them, sorry. I wanted to focus on the boys :D

For @shirubie for having the original idea :D

From here - One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen

-o-o-o-

John Tracy was generally a calm man, but watching his big brother fall apart at the mere sight of this asshole was enough to fuel a rage burning so brightly it took out the sun.

And the worst of it? He could do nothing. All those responsible were dead. His parents weren’t here to ask why this hadn’t been followed up at the time. His maternal grandparents were long gone. The dentist himself, may he rot in hell, was hopefully doing exactly that. The one last remaining life to ask was taken from them by the onset of dementia.

John had stayed behind to keep an eye on Virgil while Scott flew to the nursing home. The nurse was there for a very good reason and no longer knew his own name, much less remembered a little four year old from quarter of a century ago.

So they were left with so few answers, no option for retribution, and a brother forever scarred by a dentist who got his jollies from children’s pain.

He had already chased down some experts who might be able to help Virgil. Ultimately it was up to his brother, but he was here and ready if he was needed.

Which led his thoughts to exactly this moment. Scott had Virgil in his arms, just holding him. There were no tears. If John was to assess Virgil’s condition, it would be closer to emotional exhaustion than grief. Perhaps there was relief in finally knowing the cause.

John felt mostly violation and rage.

But this wasn’t about John. This was about Virgil and helping him the best he could. But with Scott providing the comfort, John felt like a fifth wheel.

Scott had requested his presence in this discussion specifically for back up. It was unusual for him to be included is such a big brother moment, simply because the two eldest usually worked things out between them, except on the rare occasion they exploded at each other and John had to drop down from orbit to kick their asses.

But this kind of thing, this emotional support, was a Scott and Virgil exclusivity. John corralled the two youngest and monitored and listened to them. Scott and Virgil were older and regardless of them all being adults, it was a pecking order that had been maintained for years.

The fact Scott had asked for his help was a sign of the seriousness, the fear in this situation and the worry he had for Virgil.

But now he was stuck, unable to do anything.

A pair of brown eyes were staring at him.

Virgil straightened, separating himself from Scott, and John knew he had been discovered. Virgil, despite whatever was going on, always had a radar running on his younger brothers and could pick up their emotional state from miles off.

Literally, Virgil could read him in space.

“John?” The ‘are you okay’ was a redundant question. None of them were okay.

“I’m sorry, Virgil.”

Those hollow eyes frowned. “For what? Not your fault.” And the direction of comfort flipped. Virgil closed the distance between them, his stocky brother reaching up to put his hands on John’s shoulders for a moment, before pulling him into a hug. “I’ll be fine.”

The simple words knotted a lump in John’s throat and he found himself blinking. Sad blue eyes caught his and he drew strength from them.

His arms tightened around Virgil.

-o-o-o-

Gordon and Alan didn’t end up playing any games. Neither felt inclined in the slightest. Instead they sat together on Alan’s bed and stared at the ceiling.

“You think they’ve told him yet?” Alan’s voice was small and fearful, reminiscent of the little boy who used to climb into his bed at night in the thunderstorms.

“Maybe.” The light outside was dimming. It was past dinner but Gordon didn’t feel like eating and Alan hadn’t mentioned it either.

“How do you think he will react?”

It was a stupid question, but Gordon understood Alan’s need to ask it. “Virgil is the strongest of us. He’ll be fine.” He said the words, but he wasn’t sure he believed them. To discover such a horrible violation in his past...Gordon grit his teeth.

“Why would someone do something like that?”

There was profanity in his preferred answer. “The man was mentally ill, who knows what he was thinking.”

“The thought of being a kid and trapped in that chair-“

“Alan, try not to think of it that way.”

“Why not? It is what Virgil had to go through, shouldn’t we acknowledge it at least?”

“I have acknowledged it.” It was why he currently felt like tearing something to shreds. “But putting yourself through thoughts like that benefits no one.”

“It helps to understand what Virgil is going through.”

“What is there to understand? Our brother was violated and tortured when he was very little. It scarred him for life. The bastard who did it is dead and I can’t do anything to fix it.”

Alan shifted on the bed beside him, rolling over to face Gordon. A hand landed on his arm. Alan didn’t say anything, just stared at him with those baby blue eyes. A moment and his little brother lay his head on Gordon’s shoulder and curled up beside him. “I’m sorry, Gords.”

Gordon let out a shaky sigh and wrapped an arm around his little brother. “I know.”

-o-o-o-

It was strange learning about something that happened to you so long ago. Even stranger discovering that you had been violated in such a way.

His mind edged away from the memories. They were becoming clearer as the experience was uncovered moment by moment. How he had forgotten it all, he didn’t know. Part of him wished he had never remembered, but he understood why Scott had told him. He had needed to know.

But god...

This was hard.

So he disassociated. Stepped back. Let it happen to somebody else. Put up a protective shield between himself and his experiences.

Watched it through a lens.

Scott eyed him warily as they packed up the chairs and table and took them inside.

“Virg?”

“Huh?” The folded chair caught on its partner and refused to slide into storage smoothly. A shove and something snapped. Damn.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“We both know that is not true.” He found himself in a one armed hug and he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or frustrated, so ended up feeling both.

“Yeah, well, call it a work in progress.”

“Wanna watcha movie with us?”

His instinctive response was a firm no. But what else was he going to do? Hole up in his room and let the memories take over? The mere thought of that made him shiver.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Should we invite Gordon and Alan?” Scott’s voice was quiet, giving him an out if he needed it.

“Sure.” He said it before his brain could come up with why he should be hiding from his little brothers. But then he remembered the fear in Allie’s eyes and wanted nothing more than to extinguish it.

So he found himself seated on the lounge when Alan dashed into the room. Wordlessly, his little brother jumped the sofa and flew into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Virgil. So sorry.”

Virgil held Alan tight and found himself blinking away tears. “Not your fault, Allie. Not your fault.”

Gordon hovered his way down into the lounge and gently kicked Virgil’s leg. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. His expression spoke of the worry and the anger and the frustration. Virgil frowned. Gordon couldn’t use the pool at the moment. He glanced at Scott and found his big brother frowning with likely a similar thought. Virgil would have to make sure they found a way to help Gordon vent his frustrations. The aquanaut could get volatile.

Alan climbed off Virgil eventually and curled up beside him. John found a movie, one with ridiculous space aliens made out of plasticine. Scott made popcorn and a family evening fell upon them for a couple of hours.

It was the best they could do. A lot of their laughter was forced and there was a lack of brotherly chattering and popcorn throwing, but they were together.

Virgil let himself sink into the sofa, each muscle mentally releasing from its clench. He found himself exhausted. His head was still pounding, but he didn’t want to risk any medication. Alan stayed curled up at his side the entire time. Gordon had clambered out of his chair and onto the lounge on Virgil’s other side and Virgil found himself sliding in his direction. The aquanaut didn’t seem to mind.

John sat next to Alan, his eyes tracking over all his brothers monitoring like the beloved monitor he was.

Scott sat on the floor between Virgil and Gordon.

Virgil stared at the top of his brother’s dark auburn crown, the flecks of grey and red dominated by deep brown. He reached out and touched Scott’s hair. It was soft from the shower earlier, lacking its more familiar product. As Scott turned to look up at him, a strand fell into his eyes. “Virg?”

“You’re going grey.”

At any other time, his brother would have shot off a barb of a response to such an accusation, but not tonight. “Yeah?” Blue eyes frowned a little worriedly at him as one alien shot another on the screen behind.

Virgil reached out and brushed the strand from his brother’s eyes. “Thank you.” It was whispered.

He felt every eye on him and the tear that tracked down his cheek was honesty itself.

Scott turned around and knelt before him, grabbing his hand. “You know you’ve always got us, Virgil. You know that, don’t you?”

And despite everything, he found himself caught up in fondness despite the tears. His hand tightened around his big brother’s fingers while Alan snuggled into one side and Gordon the other. A cool hand touched the nape of his neck and he glanced up to find John wrapped around Alan, reaching out to touch him.

His eyes turned back to Scott and managed a fragile smile. His voice was broken by exhaustion as yet another silent tear ran down his cheek. “I know.”

“I know.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[eilonwiiy]

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 7

When a relentless Evrane encourages him to be more adventurous, Aeduan explores the possibility of what life might be without Owl.  Meanwhile, Iseult can't help but feel that Safi is keeping something from her.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan prowled the bookshelves in the Children’s Room barely containing his impatience.  The room was unusually busy for the morning.  He’d overheard one disgruntled parent grumble about the schools being closed for a teacher development day and thus every corner was crawling with rambunctious children.  It didn’t help that Evrane and Owl were late.  Or that the main desk was absent one black-haired librarian.

Wherever Iseult was, Aeduan envied her.  The cacophony of electronic bells and whistles and high-pitched prepubescent voices migrating from the computer island was giving him a headache.  Every couple minutes one of the more stern looking librarians would instruct them to keep their voices down, adding to the fray of noise as well as Aeduan’s irritation.  The library should provide headphones, he thought grumpily.

“No books today?” came a voice behind Aeduan.

He turned around and found Evrane and Owl walking down the aisle.

“You’re late,” he said tersely.

“Yes, well,” Evrane breathed happily, clasping her hands together and sharing a look with Owl that he was surprised to see returned by the child, “we were finishing a puzzle.”

“A puzzle?” Aeduan stared at her incredulously.  “Evrane-”

Evrane held up a finger.  “Ah.  Trust.  Remember to trust me.”

They locked each other in a staring contest.  Aeduan held in a breath, impulse strained against his chest-

He conceded with a curt nod.  Evrane smiled.

“So what’s on the agenda this weekend?” Evrane asked as Aeduan knelt down to help Owl into her coat.

Aeduan shrugged.  “The same as usual.”  They had fallen into a post-session rhythm over the last few weeks, usually involving non-threatening topics like weekend plans or the weather.  

“I’ll pick up the girls from school tomorrow and they’ll stay the weekend.  Lisbet has some sort of group project she needs to go to for her science class, but other than that it should be uneventful.”

Evrane nodded, then eyed him more closely.  “And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.  Do you have any plans?”  The manner in which she asked this question suggested only innocent curiosity, but bells were going off in Aeduan’s head.  He finished zipping Owl up and stood to face Evrane.  He squared his shoulders.

“I just told you.”

“I mean any plans that don’t involve the girls.  Or,” she added as an afterthought, “those girls, at least.”

“Owl will be-”

“Anyone who isn’t Owl, Lisbet, or Cora.”

Aeduan shook his head, confused.  “Who would I-”

“I don’t know, Aeduan,” cut in Evrane, followed by a single exasperated laugh.  “Perhaps a friend.  Or maybe you’d like to do something on your own.”

Aeduan’s jaw locked.  This was definitely outside of their mutually unspoken established topics of conversation.  His chest swelled with barely controlled annoyance.  “I can’t very well leave Owl at home without someone there to watch her.”  Each word was pronounced with an obvious effort of forced civility.

“No, you can’t,” Evrane agreed brightly.  “The people handling your adoption case will be very happy to know that you know that.”

“Then what exactly would you suggest I do?  Get a babysitter?”

“Yes!”

Aeduan waved a hand between them.  “Look, if you’re trying to offer-”

“No, of course I’m not volunteering.  I know you would never willingly accept my help.  Again,” added Evrane with a flash of her emerald eyes.  Before Aeduan could bite back, she was already herding him back into her line of thought.  “If not me, then someone else.  Perhaps Lisbet.  She’s responsible enough.”

“She’s young.”

“And perfectly capable.”

Aeduan pinched the bridge of his nose.  He was suddenly very tired.  Things had been going so well.  Why was she pushing this?  When he lowered his hand, he planned on asking her just that, but then she caught it with her own and everything inside him went quiet.  The skin was warm and her touch forced his gaze to meet hers.  

He’d seen her every week since she reentered his life, but only now was he suddenly struck by how much Evrane had changed in the last 13 years.  Nothing could take away her beauty, but there were little wrinkles branching out from the corners of her eyes like tree roots. He wondered what she was seeing on his face.    

“I’m only suggesting for your own sake,” she assured him calmly.  She didn’t let go of his hand.  “When was the last time you had a moment to yourself?”

Aeduan swallowed painfully.  “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, the confession rough against his throat.  

“Well,” Evrane smiled and she gave his hand encouraging squeeze before releasing it, “maybe it’s time to start thinking about what you can do to change that.”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

“Goat tits!  This is the worst.”

“If you had done it last night-”

“Iz!”

Iseult hovered by Safi’s shoulder, coffee pot in hand, as her friend tried to scribble down her 9th and final (wrong) answer on a very crumpled looking piece of paper.  Her giant calculus textbook lay open on the table, the polished circular area barely big enough for her other school materials, let alone that monstrosity, as it was meant for coffee, not serious work.  Well, if you could call whatever Safi was doing serious, which incidentally, Safi didn’t.

“You do know all of that is wrong, right?” Iseult asked.

“Of course it’s all wrong!” Safi snapped, hand not stopping its’ frenzied movements.  “What do I look like?  A mathematician?!”

No, she didn’t.  In fact, she didn’t really look much like Safi either.  She’d spent far more time in the bathroom getting ready that morning than she normally did, and the result was a very different image than Iseult was used to seeing at 10 A.M..  Safi’s face was bare as it always was, far too beautiful to be needlessly hindered by make-up, but it looked fresh and clean, and the long shower she had taken had given her golden cheeks a lovely rosy glow.  Her hair was prettily braided and pinned around her head like a crown and, if Iseult wasn’t mistaken, she thought she caught a whiff of fruity perfume on her.  To top it all off, Safi had left her sweatpants and Cleaved Man hoodie crumpled on the floor and chosen to investigate the contents of her closet, leaving Iseult open-mouthed when she came sweeping out from behind the curtain into Jitters wearing a form fitting burgundy turtle-neck and floral corduroy skirt that showcased her long, lean legs and knee-high suede boots.  There was a good chance her calculus professor wouldn’t even recognize her.

“Better to hand something in than nothing and get zero marks though.  This,” Safi tapped the paper with her pencil, “shows I care.”

Iseult snorted.  Safi put the last finishing touches on her (wrong) answer with a flourish, then carelessly stuck the sheet of paper into her open textbook and slammed it shut.  

“I’d say ‘job well done’, but we both know that’s not true.”

Safi grinned smugly at Iseult, looking more than a little satisfied with herself.  

“I think I deserve another donut after all that.”    

“Of course you do,” Iseult said rolling her eyes and turning to retreat behind the coffee counter.  She heard the scrape of Safi’s chair as she got up and followed her.  While she got another pot of coffee started, Safi no doubt went to inspect the pastry display.  A sharp gasp of horror came from behind her back.

“No sprinkles?  What is this? The Grapes of Wrath?”

Iseult, wiping her hands on her apron, turned around.  “You know, after watching you bullshit your way through your calculus homework, it’s comforting to hear you make a literary reference.”

Safi scrunched up her nose at the display case.  “John Steinbeck taking up cranial space in my head doesn’t change the fact that there are no more sprinkled donuts.”

“Reference Jane Austen and maybe they’ll magically appear.”

Safi glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Iseult.  “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“And you will be fine going a day without a sprinkled donut despite what you may think.  Pick something else.”  Iseult felt like a mother reprimanding her child.

Safi looked back at the pastries with a forlorn sort of sigh.  After a moment’s careful deliberation (for these truly are some of the hardest decisions we are presented with at 10 in the morning) she slid the glass door open and reached for a banana chocolate chip muffin.  

“A sensible substitute,” Iseult congratulated, waving open a brown paper bag and holding it out for Safi to deposit her muffin into.  Safi dropped it in, looking resentful, but Iseult knew she was hamming it up.  Safi had no issues when it came to expressing her anger.

Safi took the bag from Iseult and glared down at its sprinkle-less contents.  The raw judgement burning behind her eyes, all directed at a defenseless muffin, made Iseult think of something.

“Hey, you haven’t run into that guy from the bar on campus, have you?”

The paper bag crinkled under Safi’s hands as she rolled the top closed.  “What guy?”

“That asshole who,” Iseult hesitated, mentally wincing at the memory, “yelled at you.”

Safi’s hands froze.  “Ah,” she merely said, then resumed twisting the paper bag, despite it being well and closed.  “The ingrate thwarted by a single button.”

“Yeah, him.  Have you seen him?”

Safi gave the bag a final twist, then looked up at Iseult, offering her a closed-lip smile.  Her shoulders bounced once and she shook her head.  “Nope,” she said brightly.  She strolled out from behind the counter and back to her table.  “His tits probably fell off from frost exposure and he’s holed up in some hospital somewhere awaiting reconstructive surgery.”

Iseult watched Safi carefully.  For whatever reason, her tone had snagged on something in Iseult and held her in place.  Somewhere wrong.  A lie, possibly.

But never, in all their years of friendship, had Safi lied to Iseult.  And never had Iseult lied to Safi.  They told each other everything.  Safi had told Iseult about her uncle and the years she spent growing up with an alcoholic.  She had told her about Chiseled Cheater and the false kisses they’d shared.  She had told her about her parents and how she missed them and would trade anything to have them back.  Anything, except Iseult.

And Iseult had told Safi about Gretchya.  A childhood filled with loneliness and endless beratement.  She had told her about not being able to make ends meet and needing to drop out of school.  She had even told her that she had never been kissed until last summer.  

Now, suddenly, Iseult was wishing she hadn’t asked about the Nubrevnan.  The snag was no longer a snag, but twisting itself into a tangled web of wrongness with no obvious beginning or end.

“I have a proposition for you,” Safi announced, slicing through Iseult’s thoughts, though, the knot remained fully intact.  A living, breathing thing now.  The shift in topic seemed to feed it, pull it tighter into submission, so that all Iseult could do to contain it was stare at her friend.    

“How would you like to go to a party on Friday night?”

“Well, you know how much I like parties,” Iseult managed to reply deadpanned.

“I know, but it’s at Vaness’ and I’ve always considered her parties more like sophisticated soirees, you know?  She doesn’t put up with the bullshit you get at other parties on campus.”

“I guess.”  Safi wasn’t wrong.  Now busy working on her masters, Vaness didn’t have time to involve herself in the antics of college.  In truth, she never had.  It’s how she’d earned herself the title of the “Iron Bitch” in just the first week of her freshman year.  Even before she graduated, she’d displayed a low tolerance for her peers and the debauchery they would find themselves in every weekend.  Her parties always had an air of opulence around them and were strictly invitation only.  Except for her infamous end-of-the-year party.  That was open to everyone and it almost always ended with the cops shutting it down by sunrise.  At least, they had last year.  Iseult had been so drunk, she didn’t even remember how she’d gotten home that night.

“Are the Hell-Bards playing?” she asked, diverting her mind from racing off to memories she didn’t quite have the mental energy to duel with so early in the day.  

“I said it was going to be a classy affair.  Classy.”

“So, no?”

“No.”

“Good.  At least the soundtrack to the evening won’t suck.”

Safi’s face brightened.  “So you’ll come?”

Iseult relinquished a nod.  “Yeah, I’ll go.  If only to watch Vaness skewer Leopold with one of her nails.”

Safi bellied a laugh as she pulled on her coat.  “I think he rather enjoys it.  One may say he encourages it.”

“You think?” Iseult asked, genuinely curious.

Safi shrugged, then paused.  A dangerous smile crawled onto her lips.  “Jealous?”

“I could ask the same to you,” Iseult volleyed back.  “Don’t even try to deny that you’ve never thought about Vaness in that way.”

Safi feigned insult.  “I wouldn’t dream of it!  There isn’t a soul among us that hasn’t fallen under her spell.”  She started to back away towards the door.  “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Yep!  But hold on, I have a favor I need to ask.”

Safi stopped her descent and took a couple calculated steps back towards the counter.  “A favor?”

“A proposition,” Iseult amended, co-opting Safi’s earlier choice word.

“If it’s for me to ditch class and run away to Marstok with you, then the answer is yes.  You’ve never had a better idea.”

“I was wondering,” Iseult went on pointedly, “if you’d be willing to go to Ryber and Tanzi’s book club with me next month.”

“I already said I would.”

“You did?  When?”

Realization burst across Safi’s face.  “Oh that’s right!  I told Ryber and Tanzi last week.  When we had lunch together.”

Iseult felt the line between her brow form before she could stop it.  “You had lunch together?”

“Yeah, last week.  Tuesday, maybe?  We ran into each other on the way to the dining commons and ended eating together.  They’re really great.  I like them a lot.”

“Yeah,” Iseult was barely able to say.  The image of Safi, Ryber, and Tanzi sitting at the dining commons, laughing together, without her made the knot in her chest from earlier drop into her stomach and melt into something different entirely.  “I like them too."

“When is it again?” Safi asked.

Iseult swallowed hard.  “She said they meet the second Friday of every other month.”

Safi whipped out her phone and tapped the screen a couple times before her eyebrows bounced in surprise.  “Oh.  So, Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh.  Um, I guess,” Iseult replied.  She hadn’t known that.  Not that it made a difference.  She’d never had a date for Valentine’s Day, nor any other calendar day of the year for that matter.  Nothing in the last month had indicated that this year would be any different.    

Iseult noted the small frown that appeared on Safi’s face as she looked down at her phone’s calendar for a moment too long before slipping it back into her coat pocket.  With some effort, she smiled at Iseult.  

“That should work for me.  Unless I get roped into a shift at the Cleaved Man.  Lord knows Stix probably has eight dates lined up for the evening.”  Safi bristled with a resentful huff.  She caught Iseult’s eye.

“So… are we going to Marstok or not?”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan’s boots hit the concrete hard, his conversation with Evrane replaying over and over again in his head.  He wished she hadn’t said anything.  He wasn’t angry, but now that the idea was out there, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  A list was beginning to form with all the things he would do if he didn’t have to keep an eye on Owl every second of the day.  Simple things, like going for a run in the evenings.  Or taking a ride on his motorcycle when he needed to blow off steam.  He missed the adrenaline, missed cutting through the air like nothing could hurt him.  Maybe Evrane was right.  Maybe Lisbet wasn’t too young to watch Owl.  If not her, then who else could he trust with that responsibility?  

A whimper broke out behind Aeduan.  He’d been, without even realizing it, walking much too fast for Owl.  Monster.  10 minutes and he was already forgetting the child.

“Sorry,” he murmured, stopping and kneeling down to make sure she’d heard him.  Passersby walked around them on the busy sidewalk.  He adjusted Owl’s scarf.  Her eyes rolled down to the concrete.  

Avoidance.  She was avoiding him.  

Aeduan’s heart sank, all fantasies of his motorcycle whooshing out of his head.  How much of his conversation with Evrane had she understood?

“What would you like to do this weekend?” he asked her, his big hands curled around her scarf.  “I think it’s supposed to snow overnight tomorrow.  Want to build another fort for Blueberry?  The other one is almost all melted.”

Owl said nothing.

“Or maybe we could have a snowball fight with Cora and Lisbet.  I bet we can take them.”

Nothing.

Aeduan brought his forehead close to hers so that their noses were almost touching.  “Maybe,” he whispered, drawing out the word, “we could make a decision over a muffin?”

Owl sour expression cracked.  Relief flooded Aeduan’s heart when her black eyes made contact with his.  

Stopping at Jitters after a session with Evrane was becoming somewhat of a weekly tradition.  More than once he’d been tempted to pay a visit on days when they didn’t have an appointment at the library.  There was something comforting about starting off the morning with a fresh pastry and hot cup of coffee.  Or maybe he’d mooched off of Owl’s bowl of Cheerios for his own breakfast one too many times.  

It wasn’t long before the bell above Jitters’ entrance door was jingling its welcome, but just as Aeduan stepped inside, he froze.

It wasn’t the grouchy barista from his first trip (though he had, unfortunately, seen her since then).  No, it was Iseult behind the counter.  Wearing an apron.  Pouring coffee.

Iseult.

Her round face shone like the moon, as much of her chin length hair as possible pulled back in a messy bun and a headband resting on top of her head.  Wisps of stray hairs fell around her face and in her eyes as she wiped her hands on her apron and pulled out a pile of receipts from the front pocket.  Aeduan had never seen her so relaxed.  Or with so much color in her face.  Cheeks rosy pink, like she’d just finished with the lunch rush. It softened her somehow.  

The bell hanging above Aeduan’s head stopped swaying and went silent.  Waiting for the verdict.

He could run.  Turn around and leave and the girl would be none the wiser.  He’d have to make up some excuse to Owl, but how hard would that be?

Idiot, he cursed himself.  He was a former police officer.  The son of Ragnor Amalej.  What would his father say if he saw him running for the hills because of a simple librarian?  His mother would have smiled.  She would have told him again the story of another man who was kind and quiet.  A man who had stumbled over words and given her no choice but to fall in love with him.

That woke him up.  He was not his father.  And he certainly did not - and would never - have feelings for this plain girl, this librarian.  That thought was enough encouragement to get him through the door.  

Iseult’s head rose at the sound of the door slamming and the violent jangle of ringing that came with it.  Her expression, so ordinarily cool and unreadable, popped with surprise at the sight of him.  

“Aeduan.”  

His name sounded breathless on her lips.  Had he been paying attention to anything outside of her lovely, pale face, he would have felt the something it stirred inside him.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” remarked Aeduan matter-of-factly as he approached the counter.

Iseult’s features smoothed back into place.  “Yes. I work here and-” Her gaze fluttered up to the ceiling for a second, then back down.  She brushed her hair out of her eyes, possibly a nervous tick.  “And at the library.”

Aeduan nodded.  She was staring at him thoughtfully.  Expectantly.  He was here for a reason, wasn’t he?

“I was at the library today.”

“You were?”

“Yes.”  Aeduan paused, then thinking that perhaps he should say something else, continued.  “I wanted to get the next book in the My Father’s Dragon series… but you weren’t there.”

A small frown crinkled at the edge of Iseult’s eyes.  “Was Hilga there?  Or Rosa?”

“I-”  Well, this was more than a little embarrassing.  Good thing she didn’t know he was a former cop, top of his precinct, destined to make detective, and incapable of finding a book.  

“I didn’t have time to ask,” he lied.  

“Oh.”  Such a small word.  It carried the weight of thought that could not be read on her face.  “I can look for it tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s no trouble-”

“We’re only a couple chapters in-”

“I really don’t mind,” Iseult insisted.  She hesitated, then added, “I can give you a call and let you know whether or not it’s in.”

“Oh.  Well...”  Aeduan took a bracing breath and tore a napkin from the basket on top of the display case, then grabbed one of the pens from the chipped mug sitting next to the register acting as a pencil holder.  He clicked the top of the pen with his thumb, bent over the counter, and started writing.  When he was finished, he slid it across the counter to Iseult.  

“My number,” he explained.

Iseult peeled the napkin from the counter and held it up with both her hands.  The way she held it made it look fragile, like it might break if she were to drop it.  Her lips rolled inward, and for the first time since meeting her, she seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes.

“Thank you,” she finally said.  Finally looking at him.  “But I have your contact information at the library.  From when you registered for a card.”

Aeduan could practically feel the inferno of embarrassment that ignited in his blood.  He half-expected her to shove his number back to him or, hell-gates, what if she crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash?  But instead she surprised him: she folded the napkin carefully and slipped it into the front pocket of her apron.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Aeduan swallowed.  Once.  Twice.  Then shook his head.  “No,” he muttered, his voice little more than a rasp.  

Iseult blinked.  Confused.  “You don’t want anything?”

“Want?”  It took a moment for her meaning to penetrate his abnormally thick skull.  “Right.  Yes.  Hot Coffee.  Medium.  And two blueberry lemon muffins.”

“To go?”

And away from this devastating conversation?  “Yes.”

There would be no more attempt at conversing from his end.  He was spent.  While Iseult prepared his coffee, Aeduan busied himself with observing the cafe even though he’d seen it a dozen times before.  It was emptier than usual.  The same nondescript instrumental music played from the old stereo behind the counter.  The only thing out of place was the smoldering mound of charred wood and ash in the fireplace.  The normally popping fire seemed to have died and was in need of more wood.

“Do you want hazelnut?”

Aeduan jerked his head over his shoulder.  “Excuse me?”

“Do you want hazelnut with your coffee?  I sometimes like to top mine off with it.  It goes really well with this blend.”

Aeduan split his gaze between Iseult and the small jar of ground hazelnut in her hand.  He wasn’t even sure why she was asking him, but without his permission, his mouth was forming a succinct ‘sure’ and he returned his attention back to the cafe.  

“Oh!”

Aeduan swung around at the sound of Iseult’s startled gasp.  She wasn’t there.

Taking an urgent step forward, he braced his hands on the counter and craned his neck over the display case.  “Iseult?”

“I-I’m alright,” a muffled voice came and a split-second later, she popped back up from behind the pastries.  Color had blossomed on her cheeks, fanning out across the bridge of her nose.  “S-she just startled me.  That’s all.”

Aeduan’s eyes narrowed.  “Who?” he demanded. And then he noticed Iseult’s downturned gaze traveling to a place next to him.  Oh. Oh.

Owl was looking more red in the face than Iseult.  It was alarming how much tension those two chubby cheeks could conjur.  He knew this look.  It was the same one she gave the car seat the moment before he would force her down in it and buckle her up.  

Well, no time like the present.  They’d been to the library enough times that he supposed it was time for a proper introduction, so he scooped her up in his arms, then angled them both to face Iseult.

“Owl, this is Iseult.”  Iseult.  He’d never said her name out loud before.  It poured like honey from his mouth.  He licked his lips; it took him a moment to form more words.  “She works with Evrane at the library. She’s the librarian who picked out all your books we’ve been reading together.”  When Owl made no show of having understood a word he said, he tried to coax some reaction out of her with a gentle bounce on his hip and an encouraging, “Wasn’t that nice of her?”

Owl twisted her head and hid her face in the crook of Aeduan's neck.  

Well, it was a reaction.  Just not the one he was hoping for.  

He shifted on his feet and forced himself to look at Iseult.  “Sorry,” he apologized gruffly.  “She’s… shy.”

“That’s alright,” Iseult murmured, and Aeduan could have sworn he saw her lips harbor a small smile as she fidgeted with the strings of her apron.  “I’m shy too.”  Then, her lips quivered.  “Is s-she... your daughter?”

No.  

That’s what he was supposed to say.  It was the truth, wasn’t it?  Owl was nothing to him unless the adoption succeeded.  Yet nothing had felt so wrong to him.  

No.  

The word stopped his heart.  Sent his stomach to roil.  

“I would like her to be,” Aeduan heard himself admit.  A slow rasp.  Like something heavy being dragged over concrete.  “I… I’m applying for adoption.”

Aeduan watched Iseult’s pupils dilate.  The tremble in her lips quieted. Then: “That is admirable.”

Aeduan exhaled.  Warmth spread in his chest.  He didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t even notice Iseult tapping the keys on her register.  He barely understood what she was saying when she said, “Your total comes to $5.79.”

Numbly, Aeduan pulled out his wallet from his back pocket with one hand while his other arm was full of Owl.  He managed to pull out several bills and handed them across the counter.  When she handed him back his change, he dropped it into the tip mug next to the register.  

Owl seemed intent on staying hidden in his neck, so he did his best to pick up the bag of muffins and his coffee with one hand without dropping everything.  The transaction was over, but Aeduan found himself staring at Iseult, her staring back at him, her hands folded over each other in front of her as though it was taking some effort not to fidget with her apron strings.  It relaxed him somehow, seeing those delicate pearly white fingers locked together.  She was nervous; he wasn’t alone.  

Aeduan's wrist rolled at his side.  He sucked in a breath.  “Do you-”

The bell jangled as the entrance door swung open and a stick figure of a boy came flying in.

“Sorry, sorry I know I’m late!”

He was a blur of gangly limbs and patchwork colored skin - some dark, some light - as he skidded to halt behind the counter, heaping apologies onto Iseult like his life depended on it.  On and on it went and Aeduan just stood there, despite the fact that he had nothing to do with whatever this stranger was babbling about.  In the midst of the boy’s mounting hysteria, his voice pitching higher as it went on, Iseult’s eyes slid to Aeduan’s, her expression as quiet as ever.  Something passed between them, but Aeduan wasn’t sure what.

“It’s alright, Cam,” Iseult finally interjected over the boy’s apologies.  Again, she glanced over at Aeduan.  She looked like she wanted to say something.  But for some reason, Aeduan spared her the chance.  He forced a rough cough from his lungs and, giving her a brusque nod, spun away from her entirely and made a beeline to the cream and sugar station.  Behind his back, the boy’s voice piped up again, and Aeduan heard the shuffle of feet and voices trailing away as though they were moving their conversation to the back.  Iseult obviously had her hands full with an incompetent employee.  There was no reason he had to trap her in another staring match that would inevitably go nowhere.  

Those eyes.  Aeduan gritted his teeth as he uncovered his coffee thinking of them, how they had looked at him when she’d called him admirable.  Him.  Admirable.  She had no right calling him that.  She didn’t even know him.

Well, he reasoned, stirring cream into his coffee and watching the flecks of hazelnut Iseult added spin around and around and eventually become swallowed by the whirlpool, she hadn’t exactly called him admirable.  She was only commending what he was doing with Owl admirable.  Admirable.  That was one word for it.  Or stupid.  Impulsive. Completely insane and beyond his reach.

The bells over the entrance door tinkled and Owl, who had been glued to his side for the last 5 minutes, stirred slightly in his arms, her tiny frame expanding and drooping with a sleepy sigh.  

Hell-gates, what was he doing?  Trying to adopt a kid?  Who was he kidding?  It didn’t matter who his father was or what family he came from or that Iseult thought it was admirable.  He was still Aeduan Amalej.  He may not wear the badge or carry a gun anymore, but he still had his reputation as the demon of his precinct who had given up his soul for the cause, for justice.  That was something he couldn’t shed so easily.  

Aeduan popped the lid back on his coffee cup and his hand froze.  Cold crawled across the back of his neck like a spider.  It was only when a familiar voice spoke from behind him did he know why.  

“Well, well, if it isn’t my partner in justice.”

[tiaragqueen]

Benefit Of The Doubt: Chapter 1

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[Edited]

“You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. For you, my babe, I'll give my everything. You will always be always be my queen, and I'll love girl. I'll love you endlessly.” - Obsession [Consoul Trainin]

Unknown [07.30 pm]: This is the first time I’ve seen you wearing a dress, and I can’t say that I’m disappointed.

 Seen.

 Unknown [07.55 pm]: They say that red is a sexy color and they’re right. That color really brings out your beautiful eyes.

 Seen.

 Unknown [08.15 pm]: I’m so glad I have the chance to see what perfection is. It is a shame that I’m unable to see it from up close.

 Seen.

 Unknown [08.43 pm]: Nonetheless, the day shall come when you wear that dress for me only.

 Seen.

 Unknown [11.28 pm]: Those disgusting men were ogling at you. Should I get rid of them all?

 Seen.

 Unknown [11.33 pm]: Smart girl. I’m happy that you told them off. I wonder what other things can those luscious lips do...

 Seen.

 Unknown [12.17 am]: Aw... Did those heels hurt your legs, baby? Poor you. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll buy better ones for you. Just name the brand and I’ll have them delivered straight to your house. It doesn’t matter if they’re expensive.

 Seen.

 Unknown [12.20 am]: Your happiness is more important to me.

 Seen.

 You’d never seen a more hypocritical text in your entire life. Did they think you were happy being stalked like this? Did they think you were flattered by their attention? Did they think you wanted this?

 No, you didn’t. You weren’t some kind of a thirsty attention seeker. But, of course, they were too fucking blind to see the truth.

 Then again, what did you expect from a stalker anyway? It wasn’t as if they would just drop everything and leave you alone like any normal, sane person out there. They were delusional. They thought that by showering you with love and attention, then you would be grateful and thus, increasing their chance of ‘wooing’ you.

 Like hell.

 And how the fuck did they know your address? Sure, you’d never received any type of gift sent here before, but how would you know that they wouldn’t do that sometime in the future?

 Or worse, visiting you in person?

 Well, that would be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, you would see your stalker and possibly recognize them, if you knew them beforehand. It was actually a scary thought, but it was better than having a stranger fell head over heels to you. While you weren’t a true believer in ‘love at first sight’, it wasn’t something so far-fetched in this world. If such a thing didn’t exist, then why would some people write love at first sight stories?

 And on the other hand, you wouldn’t know what they would do once they meet you. To actually breathe in the same air as you. There was always a probability of them kidnapping you, or raping you. Or even both. It would be naïve to consider a more mannered way they would ‘greet’ you since they were most likely mental anyway.

 At least, that was what you thought.

 Sighing, you locked your phone and put it on the nightstand. Maybe you shouldn't have to check those messages in the first place. They were giving you a headache now, and the day hadn’t even started yet.

 You ripped the covers from your bare legs and stumbled into the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, you stopped in front of the mirror to inspect your appearance. It was disheveled and had people see the state you were in, they would be convinced you were an escapee from a mental hospital. [h/c] locks jutted out in every direction, reminiscent to Medusa's hair. Makeup smeared over your tired face, and the fake eyelashes weighed down your already drowsy lids. Your breath was smelly, despite not consuming any alcohol last night. The red halter dress that your friends forced you to wear felt constricting, particularly around the chest area.

 Was it possible to gain weight overnight?

 Shaking your head, you shuffled through your morning routine and took extra care in cleaning the makeup. There were already a few acnes formed on your face, small enough for a powder to hide them well. You weren’t necessarily in the mood to put on another makeup, but you couldn’t risk angering your boss. Sure, he was nice – actually nicer than your last one – yet it didn’t mean you could take advantage of his kindness.

 Taeyeon had warned you, during your first day, that Kim Namjoon was rather strict with the rules. An employee once went home with a beet red face after he fired them in front of their co-workers due to some obscure reason. It might be common in the workplace, but the shame wasn’t something that you’d like to experience for the second time. Suffice to say, you strived to avoid his anger by working as hard as you could. This occupation paid you more than your previous job, and you would be damned to let it go.

 Breakfast didn’t feel very fulfilling despite it being the same menu you had every day; a peanut buttered sandwich and a glass of hot tea. Although you kept forcing yourself to not overthink and just stay in the present, this stalking occurrence had taken a huge space inside your brain. The cheery chirping of the birds outside became white noise to you like millions of questions muffled your hearing. You were beginning to get frustrated because none of them didn’t make any sense nor did they provide an answer.

 Thus, in order to clear your mind, you decided to hail a cab instead. You usually took a train or bus, but today you weren’t too keen on being around people. Their hushed chatters could worsen your already bad mood, therefore a change in scenery might be all you needed.

 A beep shattered the peaceful silence that you desired after reading those intrusive messages. Fishing your phone out of your bag, you turned on the device and found that your senior had texted you.

 Taeyeon [07.15 am]: Don’t forget my shift, okay? :)

 Oh, yes. You forgot about the promise that you’d made to cover her shift because she was feeling under the weather. Why did you agree, anyway?

 Right, because you pitied her. It wasn’t like you could say no to her, either. She’d done a lot for you to make sure you were comfortable with your new job. It would be rude if you reject her plea, not to mention unappreciative.

 Well, had you knew your stalker would strike again, then you would surely decline.

 People were right. You could be too selfless for your own good sometimes.

 You [07.17 am]: Yeah, sure. Don’t forget to drink your medicine and eat lots of healthy food.

 Taeyeon [07.20 am]: Thx! <3 You’re so considerate, I owe ya!

 A small smile graced your once frowning face. Well, maybe being too selfless wasn’t too bad if people could acknowledge and appreciate your assistance. However small it might be. The feeling of being able to help those in need was something indescribable, yet gratifying nonetheless.

 “Morning, [Name]!”

 A tall man, with a baby face that never failed to make you secretly gushed at its cuteness every time you saw him, waved from his desk. Chanyeol was the second senior who immediately befriended you after Taeyeon. His cheerful yet easy-going aura lowered your guard almost instantly, and you were glad that you met someone like him in such a fast-paced environment. It was hard for you to talk to new people, as you usually chose to analyze the surroundings first so you could get a grasp on the do's and don’ts.

 Nodding, you shot him a rather coy smile. “Good morning, Chanyeol-seonbae.”

 The said man grinned, satisfied with the more relaxed honorific. He’d told you that ‘ssi’ made him sound older than he actually was – despite the fact that he was a good few years older than you – and insisted on either dropping it or use a more ‘casual’ term like ‘oppa’. You remembered Taeyeon had slapped him with a folder and suggested ‘seonbae’ instead. Her suggestion was appreciated because a much as you wanted to shorten the emotional distance with him, ‘oppa’ was too lax and... intimate for you to use to a senior. Especially to someone you just met.

 “Where’s Taeyeon?” he asked. Leaning against your desk, Chanyeol watched you put down your bag and turned on the PC.

 “Ill,” you replied as you inserted the password on to the computer. “She texted me two days ago, said that she’s not feeling well. She wanted me to cover her shift.”

 “And…?” He raised a brow and tapped his forearm, waiting for your next response.

 You shrugged nonchalantly. “I agreed, of course.”

 “Aish, you.” Chanyeol reached out to muss your hair, a habit that appeared whenever he was displeased at something you did. However, your fast reflex allowed you to avoid his ‘destroying’ hand. “You’re still new in here, and yet you’re already covering someone’s shift? Talk about workaholic.”

 “It’s just a one-time thing, Seonbae.” You didn’t know whether you were defending your bruised ego or Taeyeon. Most likely both. “And I’m not exactly new, either.”

 “Of course you are! You’ve been here for, like, six months.”

 “That’s still considered long, though…”

 “Nope, unless you’ve worked for a year. Less than that, you’re still a newbie.” He grinned playfully as he leaned forward to pinch your cheeks. “My beloved junior~”

 You rolled your eyes, secretly basking on his brotherly affection. His teasing attitude was what probably you looked forward the most every day. Well, aside from the gossip and newest rumors Taeyeon always managed to get from other employees both inside and outside your department. You liked to listen to those pieces of presumably false information, although you didn’t care enough to dig further.

 “Is that true?” A deep voice inquired, startling you both.

 Chanyeol instinctively bowed to Namjoon while you straightened up. Namjoon dismissed him, muttering an order to return his desk. Chanyeol obeyed without another word and left after giving you one last nod. You returned the gesture and averted your gaze to Namjoon who patiently waited for your reply.

 “Um... What is true, if I may ask?” you asked, unsure of what he’d questioned.

 “About Taeyeon’s absence.”

 “O-oh,” you nodded repeatedly to show your understanding. “Yes, that’s true. I… I can show you the message if you want, Sir.”

 Namjoon lifted a hand to dismiss your offer. “No need. I just want to confirm it myself since she hasn’t texted me yet.”

 Pointy finger drew invisible circles against the grey desk as you subtly avoided his intense stare. “Maybe she forgot. I’m sure she’ll text you… eventually.” you mumbled the last part.

 “I sure hope so,” Namjoon closed his eyes and hummed. It was the kind of sound people made to indicate they were thinking about something, and somehow you had a feeling that it wouldn’t be pleasant. “It won’t be good if she loses her job,” he peered through his eyelashes, trying to gauge your reaction from the rhetorical question. “… Right?”

 You froze, eyes wide. Did you hear it correctly? Or were your ears playing tricks on you? There was no way he would fire Taeyeon just because she forgot to text him, right? Well, you supposed it was understandable. But still, it was just a simple mistake and besides, the clock hadn’t even strike eight yet. There was simply no need for such a drastic measure.

 “Um, uh, I…”

 “I’m kidding.” Namjoon suddenly chuckled. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, unaware of the mischievous grin he donned. “She actually texted me last night.”

 You weren’t sure if you should smile or click your tongue at his – frankly speaking – a cruel joke. However, for the sake of politeness, you chose the former.

 “That’s not why I’m here, to be honest.” He cleared his throat, still silently observing you through his peripheral vision. “I have a lunch meeting this afternoon, and I want you to come with me.”

 It wasn’t a request, nor was it an invitation. It was an order; one that you had to obey as his employee. Still, it didn’t make it sound any less confusing.

 “But… why?”

 “Why what?”

 You frowned, contemplating over the million reasons as to why he would ask you to come with him instead of his personal assistant. Because, what? You were just an ordinary worker. “You have Lee Chaerin-ssi, Sir. So why-?”

 “She’s busy,” he cut you off without batting an eyelash. “Unless you have some objections…?”

 “Oh, no, no. Of course not! I, uh…” you tittered, scratching your hair in both nervousness and confusion. “Of course I’d love to come with you, Sir! I was just, um… making sure there’s no mistake. Yeah, that’s it.”

 Namjoon blinked slowly, face betraying no emotion whatsoever. You hated that kind of expression, because what if he chewed you out due to your hesitation? Thankfully, he smiled before you could fall into another overthinking state.

 “That’s great. I shall come back later.” He reached forward and patted you on the back. “Now, finish your work.”

 You nodded, smiling through your discomfort of having his hand lingered a bit too long behind you. “Yes, Sir.”

[lisatelramor]

Little Problems

Heiji/Conan because I don’t know. For a prompt from the mostly dead DCMK LJ kinkmeme:  I would love see something with Conan and the differences between his mental and physical ages. Possible underage

***

When Conan first got de-aged, he thought that it really was just a reversal of time, a regression to the child body he had years ago, but the longer he was Conan, the less sense it made, and once he met Ai, he knew it was false.

“It’s not a true regression,” she confirmed when he asked her about it. “It seems to mostly target muscle, bone, and organs in reverting to an earlier state, but some of it, especially the nervous system doesn’t work the same way. Think about it, if it truly reverted us to six years of age, how would you still have your memories of being a teen?”

“I kind of assumed it just…happened. Like, why wouldn’t I since it’s still me?” But now that she pointed it out, that was a good point.

Ai rapped her knuckles on Conan’s forehead. “Your brain didn’t change even if everything else did. You’ve had to have noticed some things.”

Conan rubbed at his forehead, scowling. “Of course I did or I wouldn’t have asked. I didn’t keep my muscle tone when I got smaller, but I kept my reflexes. My brain sometimes still forgets I’m small, though I’m mostly used to that by this point.”

“You kept your adult teeth,” Ai said, “and your brain and everything that entails. Memory, which I suppose must include some muscle memory, the pre-existing mental patterns you had, and all the chemical processes the brain controls.”

“It’s a good thing it kept the patterns or I’d be screwed.” Conan couldn’t imagine trying to re-learn all of his detective knowledge. It had taken him a lifetime to get there, and it would have taken even longer starting as Conan without his parents teaching him new things when they went on trips. “And you wouldn’t be able to work on the apotoxin at all.”

“We’d be normal children,” Ai said, “albeit with some interesting memories. If any of it gives you trouble though, let me know and I’m sure I can find a work around.”

“I’ve been fine so far?” Conan said.

Ai gave him an unimpressed look. “There are things a six year old body isn’t quite equipped for.”

Conan gave her a blank look.

“You aren’t dense, Kudo. When I said your brain retained its chemical processes that included libido.”

“Oh.” He blushed. He blushed darker as he remembered a few… distinct moments since he became Conan that he hadn’t even questioned at the time. Because why would he since he was himself in his head?

Ai rolled her eyes. “Right. So if that becomes unmanageable, I can figure something out.”

“…Why would it be unmanageable?”

“You’re a teenage boy?”

They stared at each other and Conan connected certain stereotypes about teenage boys with himself and yelped. “I’m not that bad!” In fact, that particular…issue…had barely come up (why, word choice, why). “That wasn’t a big issue before I shrunk in the first place!” That was more personal information than he wanted Ai to know but why not? She knew almost everything else about his bodily functions by this point after all the tests she put him through. He hadn’t been this embarrassed since Ran tried to take a bath with him. And oh, that had been a reaction he shouldn’t have had too… Although… now that he thought of it, it had been mostly mental…?

Conan froze, turning that over in his head. He’d definitely felt both embarrassed and aroused at the time. But he had barely reacted physically. “Um.”

“Yes?” Ai asked, watching the progress of emotions on his face.

“Nothing.”

She gave him an unimpressed glower. “I’m technically your doctor these days. You never know what might be important to figuring out the apotoxin.”

Conan squirmed, looking away. “I really would rather not talk about that kind of thing with you.”

“Ah, so there are sexual side effects.” A pen clicked as she pulled out a notebook. “Talk.”

“Haibara,” Conan whined, pleading.

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“I don’t want to know yours!”

“I don’t care about yours, but it really might be important.”

Conan groaned into his hands. “I don’t know if I can physically get aroused,” he said finally.

“…That’s it?”

“I mean, I can mentally feel it, but I can’t remember much physical reaction since shrinking.”

Ai clicked the pen a few times with a hum. “Theoretically, your body is a child’s so there could be a mental-physical disconnect. But. Your brain has the hormones to process stimulation, and signal physiological responses, so…”

“So?”

“So you might have a bit more trouble, but it should still be possible to experience the physical side.” She gave him a contemplative look. “You never noticed. Not once?”

“I don’t… feel or do that much. Even as a teenager.”

“Huh.” She made a couple of marks on the paper. “Noted. If anything changes about that, tell me.” Conan would rather go through another apotoxin transformation. “In the meantime, maybe experiment to see if you really can or can’t get aroused. I haven’t been having any problems.”

Conan clapped hands over his ears. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Ai rolled her eyes. “You’re not twelve and I’m not even being detailed.”

“I don’t want to think about you in anything even remotely adjacent to sexual.”

“Wow. Thanks.” She snorted though so she wasn’t actually insulted.

Conan buried his head in his hands, face on fire. Kill him now, he was never living this down. “…You realize I live with Ran, right. And sleep next to her father?”

“You shower on your own, don’t you? If not, you have your house right over there. Just say you’re visiting the professor.”

Yes because telling Ran he was visiting Agasa and then going off to try and get off in a six year old’s body wasn’t a messed up scenario at all.

Ugh.

“You know what, I think I’m going home.”

Ai gave him a look that said he was being ridiculous, and not in an endearing way. “I mean it, Kudo. Hormonal changes or the body failing to process certain chemicals could be important to working toward the cure. If your body does anything abnormal, tell me.”

“Right. Goodbye.” Conan snatched up his school bag, ignoring Ai’s sigh behind him. His face actually hurt from how hard he was blushing. He wasn’t going to think too hard on this. In fact he was going to do his best to forget it.

o*O*o

He couldn’t forget it. Conan stood under the hot shower spray trying to not think about what Ai had said and somehow coming right back around to it. He really didn’t want to think about it. But here he was. Thinking about trying to get off while Ran and her father were somewhere on the other side of the door and—while they probably wouldn’t walk in—could interrupt at any time.

Aaaaah, what was he even thinking?!

His child body had never been more ill-fitting. Looking down at himself, he felt like he didn’t belong in his own skin and even less aroused than the whole situation was already making him feel, but damn it if Ai didn’t have a point. He really wanted her to be able to make that antidote. He also really hoped that his body would be functional when she did, and he didn’t know how much had or hadn’t changed thanks to the poison beyond his obvious little problem.

Conan closed his eyes. Maybe… maybe he could fantasize. He’d done it before, when he was his real age. Not often, but he’d done it. Pictured faceless people when some inner tension got coiled up inside of him and hormones demanded attention. He’d seen plenty of bodies. Granted more than a fair share of dead ones, but he’d seen attractive bodies and pretty faces. Inviting lips and soft chests and smooth, inviting thighs.

Once, he’d thought of Ran and hadn’t been able to get through a full conversation with her for most of a week.

Now he knew exactly what she looked like without her clothing on, but it felt cheap to think of her when she didn’t know that he’d seen her. Like a betrayal of trust as if this whole situation wasn’t enough of one already. So he didn’t think of Ran. He thought of a hand touching his chest. Of kissing someone and a warm body pressed close. He thought of that hand moving down, down along his torso to his hip. His thigh. His groin.

Conan almost lost the fantasy when he touched himself. He was barely hard and didn’t fit in his hand the way he used to. It didn’t feel quite right but oh, now that he was acknowledging that it was there, he could feel that tension in him. It had built up and up and up, but there was always so much going on, so many things to distract from it. Cases. Fear. Trying to keep secrets. He licked his lips, imagined someone kissing, pressing, possessing.

Of letting go. Giving over to someone else for a moment so that it could stop. His brain could stop, the fear and waiting for the other shoe to drop could stop and he could just be for a moment. He was hard now, though it had taken longer than he remembered it ever taking and it still didn’t feel quite right.

A hand stroking—no, the image of lips curled around him, a tongue flicking out and, ah, it felt good, but not enough. He pulled on images seared in his mind from guilty internet searches and accidental glimpses. The coil grew tighter, his hand moved faster, that tension in his mind and groin growing toward a peak—

It didn’t peak though. It hit a plateau instead and Conan lost his fantasy entirely with a groan of frustration. He looked down at himself, small child body and all and wanted to cry. Or maybe yell at Haibara because he’d been fine but she’d brought this to mind and now he couldn’t even reach some kind of satisfaction.

Conan let go and took a deep breath. The water was getting cold, a sign he’d been in here far longer than he should be. He couldn’t remember what his body had been like when he was actually this age, but he knew he’d never tried something like this then. Hadn’t even thought about it until the end of middle school and hearing other boys talk got him curious.

This probably wasn’t normal though.

Probably.

Theoretically he should be able to reach orgasm, but right now, whatever he needed to tip over the edge just wasn’t there.

Conan grabbed the soap and finished washing. There was frustration of more than one kind simmering in the back of his mind, but nothing was going to be done about it now. Sure enough, after a few minutes, he got soft again too. He wrapped up in a big fluffy towel feeling betrayed all over again by this child body. Worse, he’d have to tell Ai if he wasn’t able to get it to work right. Damn it.

“Conan?” came a knock on the door. Ran. “You’ve been in there a long time, are you okay?”

“Fine, Ran-neechan!” he called back, forcing his voice light and even. “I’ll be right out!”

He was just going to have to try again, wasn’t he?

Conan didn’t want to (but kind of did. Damn it.)

o*O*o

Subsequent attempts did not go better. If anything, Conan was finally beginning to understand what some of his classmates on the football team meant when they complained about being horny. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t simply take care of the problem, and, like that fact was causing a dam, it just grew instead of settling back to the recesses of his mind like it usually did. It was awful. How did people live regularly feeling like this? He kind of wanted to scrub his mind for how often it kept wandering back to something dirty. Or have some kind of censor because he spent most of his time around elementary students and even if they couldn’t read his mind, it just wasn’t the setting for any of those sorts of thoughts.

He couldn’t help fidgeting through class after the first week of experimentation, and he could really live without the knowing looks Ai gave him too often for his peace of mind.

This was all her fault. He hadn’t been having any issues before this. Dammit, Ai.

He scowled down at his phone, at the two week mark, and broke. Because he had to eventually. So, he wrote, there may be a problem.

With what? Ai texted back an agonizing three minutes later.

You know what.

Clarification, Kudo. There’s always some kind of problem with you.

He kind of hated that she was right about that too. Either he was sick or there was a case or there was a Black Org sighting or… or who even knew what with his luck. He was amazed Ran wasn’t getting suspicious about all the long baths and showers he’d taken lately.

There might be a problem with this body, he sent back. Then, because he knew she’d press the point, sexually.

There was another uncomfortably long gap that he knew she was making him suffer purposely. Okay, what’s the problem?

Conan shut his eyes a moment, so very glad that this wasn’t face to face or over phone. I can’t orgasm.

At all?

It just plateaus. It’s also difficult to get a physical reaction in the first place. It kind of stings to add that, but she did need to know. This would be so much easier if she was an actual doctor, not a friend/ally who happened to have a sliver of medical knowledge.

Perhaps there’s a problem with your receptors? Have you had issues feeling other kinds of pleasure?

Hmm, did he have trouble with pleasure? Well, he was frequently stressed out of his mind because he didn’t know if people would come back to kill him properly, he was living a double life, he was stuck in grade school again, and he’d seen more death since becoming Conan than he’d seen in all the time he’d been a practicing detective before that. Really, Ai, what kind of a question was that? I still feel happy sometimes and enjoy food if it’s good I guess, what kind of pleasure do you even mean?

Sometimes, hmm?

He rolled his eyes. Shut up, you know exactly what crap I’m dealing with.

Which is why I asked, because you might be depressed, and that’s an entirely different issue than the apotoxin.

I’m not depressed. Probably. He still felt motivated to do the things he enjoyed. More or less. He liked cases. Though was that really enjoyment sometimes or compulsion because he knew he could help? Same difference really. I might have mild PTSD though, he admitted.

Don’t we all, Ai said with her typical dark humor.

Well, considering the number of bodies they’d seen and people who’d tried to kill them, any of the people in his friend groups really. Hmm. Not much of a joke when you got down to it. There was so much fuel for nightmares his psyche couldn’t even settle on anything half the time, just horrible anxious feelings and hazy, bloody images.

Have you tried internal stimulation?

Conan flushed. He wasn’t going to talk about his masturbation habits with Ai. He just wasn’t.

When he didn’t answer, she sent, I’ll take that as a no, you’re too vanilla to consider that an option. Try it. It might help.

I hate you, he sent back.

You don’t.

He turned off his phone and buried his face in a pillow. It didn’t do much to properly muffle his frustrated yell though, and he had Ran poking her head in a few moments later looking concerned.

“Just… trying a stress relief method Mitsuhiko suggested,” Conan said weakly.

“Do you need to talk about it?” Ran asked in that worried, motherly way she always had when she addressed Conan’s needs.

It never failed to make him feel like a horrible person for both hiding who he was and for hating how her kindness made him feel stifled. “I’m good,” Conan said. “We just have to give a speech in class next week and I’m a bit nervous.”

“Well you can practice telling it to me if that helps,” Ran said giving him a kind smile. “Practice will probably help more than yelling into pillows.”

Conan laughed. “Ah, yeah. Thanks Ran-neechan.”

“Anytime, Conan-kun.”

Conan thunked his head back into the pillow once she walked out. Maybe he could suffocate himself with it.

o*O*o

He wasn’t avoiding trying Ai’s suggestion. He just was…busy. Also where the heck was he going to get lubricant for that sort of thing? He was seven. (Ok, yes there was oil and lotion available. Still. Ai. Why?)

Conan put it all out of his mind for the moment—as much as the sudden flare of hormones allowed him to at any rate—and focused on the cases that never stopped coming. He was honestly just glad that they weren’t all murders for once. Kogoro had been hired on a string of theft related cases that had somehow led to chasing a trail out of Tokyo and into Osaka, so Conan wasn’t the least bit surprised when he ran into Hattori.

“Ya could’ve called,” Hattori complained, having more or less kidnapped Conan in the name of bonding after the case finally wrapped up. “I haven’t got to hang out with you in ages.”

“It hasn’t even been a full month,” Conan said. He sipped at his illicit coffee, glad that Ran wasn’t here to complain that it might stunt his growth. Caffeine, sweet caffeine.

“Ages,” Hattori said like Conan hadn’t spoken at all. “And ya look kinda stressed. Too many cases?”

Conan snorted. “I wish.” The more he kept busy the less he thought about any of his problems. “A new water park opened a week ago.”

“Yeah?” Hattori said, raising an eyebrow as he tried to connect how that was related to anything.

“Sonoko thought it would be fun to take Ran and Ran invited all the Shounen Tantei.”

“And?” Hattori asked, propping his chin on a hand. “Sounds like a fun time.”

Conan pressed his hands under his glasses to massage at his eyes. He was so drained. “Ran in a swimsuit,” Conan said. And Ai giving him those stupid ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking’ looks the whole time. And Ayumi trying to drag him around and the hormonal part of his brain that suddenly was noticing attractive features pointing out all the exposed skin around him. It had been awful.

Hattori snickered. “Really. Yer stressed cuz you saw Nee-chan in a swimsuit. How many times have ya seen her in one by this point?”

“It’s not funny. I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t…?”

He glared between his fingers. “I wasn’t hormonal then and there was always a case to distract me. No one died or had something stolen or got lost or anything this time.”

Hattori laughed at him. “Ya know it’s kind of sad that you haveta put it like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Hattori ran into cases often enough even if it wasn’t as often as Conan.

“Yeah, yeah. So what, right now yer ‘hormonal’?”

“Yes,” Conan grit out between his teeth. “Don’t make fun of me for it.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Hattori said, but he still had the edge of a smile on his face. “Didn’t know ya could get hormonal.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think about it until Haibara brought it up. Apparently our brains are still our real age? So that includes all the chemical responses of a more mature brain…”

“So hormones. Damn. That sucks,” Hattori said.

“You have no idea.”

“Kinda surprised ya didn’t notice until she brought it up though.”

Conan rolled his eyes. “Hattori. You know me. Attraction is not the first thing on my mind.”

“Not even when you’re with Nee-chan?”

“I live with her. How the hell would I function if that was always on my mind? Besides, she treats me like I’m actually seven. It would be really weird if it was on my mind when she’s acting motherly.”

Hattori snorted.

Conan glared. “No. Shut up.”

“Kinky,” Hattori said between snickers.

“Like you think about that kind of thing all that often. I mean it’s normal to think about other things more, right?”

Hattori shrugged. “I dunno. I mean I don’t think about it a ton, but some hot person walks by and bam, brain goes a certain direction. Not like I’m gonna do anything about it, but it happens.”

“Is everyone just going around horny all the time?” Conan asked and Hattori outright started laughing at him again. “This really isn’t funny.”

“It totally is.” Hattori wiped away a fake tear and Conan contemplated dumping the rest of his coffee on him. But that would be a waste of perfectly good illicit coffee. “I mean, not everyone is, but I betcha a lot of people think about it all the time even when they’re not around a hot person.”

“Ugh.”

“That’s life.”

“Ugh,” Conan said with more feeling. He buried his face in his coffee for a few moments while Hattori dug himself out of the situation’s apparent hilarity.

“So,” Hattori said, clearly trying to be serious again. “Yer havin’ a swimsuit kinda problem.”

“I’m having a ‘I can’t get off’ kind of problem,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Wait, really?”

“Really.”

“Haibara thinks it might be a side effect of the whole…” He waved a hand at himself. “But I still have hormones. So there’s no outlet.”

“Ya tried…” Hattori made a discreet jerking motion.

“No, because I’d never think of that. Of course I tried.” His face heated up. It was almost as bad as talking to Ai about this, but at least Hattori was a guy.

“Not ta be crude but, uh, can ya… y’know?” Hattori waved a hand vaguely in a way that could have meant anything from ‘take flight’ to the more implied ‘have sex’.

“In theory?” He was not going to share that Ai apparently had no trouble satisfying her own hormonal urges. Ugh.

“Did ya try, uh…” Another crude hand gesture, Hattori glancing around and hoping no one caught that.

“…If you’re asking if I tried having sex with someone no, what the hell. If you mean ‘internal stimulation’,” Conan said, mimicking how Ai had made the suggestion, “also not really. I er, attempted a few times but.” Either he was just really bad at this or he wasn’t doing it right. Or maybe he just had a bad angle. Or maybe it really just wasn’t his thing.

“Really?” Hattori finally blushed a bit. “It can be kinda nice.”

Conan was learning too much about his friends. Too much. “I’ll take your word for that. My only impression is ‘awkward and uncomfortable’.”

“Then ya aren’t doing it right.”

“Sure.”

“Seriously,” Hattori said. “It takes a bit of practice but it’s good.”

“Unless you’re offering a demonstration, I’ll really just take your word for it,” Conan said with a snort. Hattori went bright red and choked on air. Conan blinked. “That. Wasn’t an offer was it?”

“I—No, that—You!” Hattori coughed.

Conan raised an eyebrow. Huh. “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in giving a demonstration would you?”

“Uh!” Hattori looked like he was dying. Conan hadn’t realized he could blush that bright with his darker skin. He also hadn’t realized Hattori could possibly be interested that way because, well, Conan was seven physically.

“Really.”

“Oh my god, I swear I’m not a perv,” Hattori said into his hands.

“This conversation is really making it feel like the opposite.”

“It’s not how ya look, it’s just. You.”

“Me.”

“You.” Hattori scowled at him, angry and embarrassed and probably a little turned on considering the topic.

And Conan realized he himself wasn’t entirely uninterested. Which was a novelty. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice men. He had certainly noticed the fitter men at the water park the other day. It was just that he was used to pushing that to the side along with most other things like that. They were pretty bodies and it didn’t really mean much if they were male or female at the end of the day. They didn’t mean much to him when they were strangers. But this was Hattori and he was, objectively speaking, an attractive man. Conan had seen him shirtless more than once. He had very nice shoulders.

“Huh.”

“Shut it, Kudo, don’t make this weird.”

“I think it’s already pretty weird.” Conan sat back and finished the last of his coffee. Huh. Maybe he should be expanding his fantasies a little. Ran wasn’t the only person he knew with nice legs and arms. “Asking seriously, would you be interested?” Because maybe that was the missing piece. Maybe he just couldn’t get off to his own hand, and if anyone could look at him and see Shinichi in Conan, it would be Hattori who was constantly forgetting to call him by his fake name anyway. “It wouldn’t be too uncomfortable?”

“I mean…” Hattori eyed him. “Yer not really…”

“I know.” Being physically a child was a turn off. He got that.

“Like, ya have a great brain and I know yer hot as hell as a teen. It’s a bit… ya know.”

“I know.” Conan sighed. “You wouldn’t have to touch or anything, I’d seriously just take a demonstration. And be grateful if you could get me some actual lube.”

“Oh my god, Kudo what the hell have ya been trying to use?”

“Lotion.”

“Well there’s a chunk of yer problem.” Hattori sat up. His blush faded a bit as he gave it serious thought. Conan found that expression a lot nicer than his embarrassed one. Conan could appreciate Hattori for his brain too. “So how likely is it that Nee-chan’d let ya stay an extra day, just you and me?”

“I mean if I pitch it right, I’m sure she’d agree.” Ran was susceptible to Conan’s puppy eyes.

“Then I could probably show ya a few things. If yer actually serious.” The blush creeped back and Conan had to smile.

“I’d appreciate it,” he said. “I mean I would like to get off considering how long it’s been,” he said wryly.

“Not even once since…?”

“Nope.”

“Well damn, no wonder ya get so bummed.”

“Because the life or death pressure and dead bodies have nothing to do with it,” Conan said sarcastically.

Hattori snorted. “Ok, Kudo, we’ll make this happen.”

“Yay,” Conan said in a flat voice that made Hattori snicker more. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

“You and me both,” Hattori said. He stood up. “C’mon, let’s go convince Nee-chan.”

o*O*o

They got their shirts off before they hit the first stall, Hattori sending Conan’s bare torso an uncomfortable look.

It could have been the scars; Conan had a lot of them for someone who looked seven, one even matching Hattori’s but he knew it was an age thing, not a body image thing. “Is this going to be a problem?” Conan asked, stepping out of his shorts.

“No,” Hattori said too quickly. “No, it’s fine. I’m just gonna…” He dropped his own pants, leaving them puddled on the floor and stood there in his boxers fidgeting.

“Uh huh.” Conan left his underwear for now. Hattori was uncomfortable enough at the moment. “How are we doing this?”

“Uh.” Hattori scratched at his cheek. “I can show ya how I, y’know. Or ya could try how you’ve been doing it and I can try ta figure out where ya went wrong…”

Either way required one of them to put themselves on display. Conan flushed lightly. It had kind of been a given that this had to happen, but it didn’t make him any less flustered. He’d never done this before. Heck, he’d never really even had a first kiss. That, Conan realized, he wanted to remedy before they did anything. He’d thought that if he did anything like this he’d do it with Ran, but doing this with Hattori wasn’t bad. He trusted Hattori. He didn’t like him the way he did Ran, but he did like him or he wouldn’t be here at all.

Conan bit his lip. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” Hattori looked relieved that Conan was taking the lead.

Conan waved him closer, a little annoyed, not for the first time, that there was such a large height difference when he was like this. “I know we didn’t really talk about this being anything but a demonstration. But would you mind if I kissed you?”

Hattori blinked, face dusting red. “That’s… Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Oh good. Conan reached up and Hattori bent almost double. Conan made a tiny sound of irritation wishing Hattori had a Western bed instead of a futon because it would have evened the distance a little bit. A second later, Hattori helpfully fell to his knees, still taller, but at least a reasonable amount instead of twice his size. He had a tiny smirk on his face and Conan was torn between gratitude and irritation. He pushed it aside in favor of the kiss.

He didn’t know what kissing was supposed to feel like, hundreds of descriptions couldn’t really prepare him for the actual feeling of it, but it wasn’t bad. His lips felt too sensitive and it was somehow startling when he felt Hattori’s lips move against his, the sense of space past them and the surprising realization that where there was less give meant Hattori’s teeth were there. It wasn’t really a romantic kiss at all, but he still pulled back with his heart beating faster and face feeling hot.

It was probably weird for Hattori too since Conan was so much smaller, but he just grinned and leaned in for another kiss. This one was wetter. It should have been gross, but it wasn’t. Conan felt pinned in place even though the only parts of them touching were their lips and one of Hattori’s hands on his face, Conan’s own hands having fallen away as he got lost in trying to categorize the sensation.

“So,” Hattori said when they pulled away again, voice just a bit rougher, “how are we doing this?”

Watch Hattori or Hattori watching him? “You can start,” Conan said after a moment, licking his lips nervously. It left a tingly feeling behind, still too sensitive from the kiss.

Hattori shot him a grin that looked equally nervous, but went reaching in a cupboard for a bottle. It was half full, and clearly lube. Conan blinked at it as Hattori set it next to his futon. “I’m taking my unders off. Just warning ya.”

And then Conan was blinking because he was staring at Hattori’s cock, already half-mast even though they’d only barely kissed. Maybe Hattori was into voyeurism? Hattori was average size, but his cock looked bigger given Conan’s current circumstances, and he had an impulse to reach out and touch just to confirm how it felt compared to his own. They hadn’t agreed to that though, so Conan let his eyes flick back up to Hattori’s face, hands flexing once as he buried the desire to touch.

“Not scaring ya off, is it?” Hattori joked. He shifted foot to foot before going back on his knees. “I told ya I’d show ya how to do it. And first things first, don’t start if yer not already turned on.”

Conan’s breath caught in his throat as Hattori reached down and stroked himself. There was a light blush on his cheeks but his eyes were locked on Conan’s. His cock swelled with each pass of his hand to fully erect.

“Second,” Hattori said, a bit breathless. He let go and reached for the bottle. “Lube. Lotion’s fine for jerking off but it ain’t cutting it for fingering.” A snap of the bottle opening and Conan twitched. Oh, he realized as he felt heat in his gut. Oh, he was into this too. It was the fastest he’d felt aroused since becoming a child again, even more so than that bath with Ran. Maybe because this actually was a sexual situation and he’d spent that whole time then reminding himself that it wasn’t. He pressed a palm against his crotch as Hattori dribbled lube over his fingers. Still not hard, Conan thought, but he would get there fast at this rate. It was like his body actually wanted to synch with his mind at the moment.

Hattori went to reach behind himself, paused and turned to the side so he was actually visible. The blush on his face went darker. “So. Ya gotta take it at your own pace. If it’s hurting it’s not going right. ‘S supposed ta be an indulgence, not a race.” He took a moment to circle his hole with a finger before just dipping the tip of a finger in, then repeated that, slowly getting deeper each pass. Okay that was the first thing Conan had been doing wrong then. Apparently you didn’t just make sure your finger was slick and go for it. Or at least not if you didn’t do that kind of thing regularly. He supposed some people would have no trouble with it, but he wasn’t one of them.

“When that feels good ya can add more,” Hattori said. He bit his lip, seeming to be enjoying the whole process. “Uh, what number’re we on?”

“Third?” Conan said, though Hattori had kind of stopped counting in the middle there.

“Right. Third. Is yer prostate.” Hattori shifted a bit, pressing at a different angle, deeper, and his breath stuttered. Conan could see his cock jump. “It’s. If ya get deeper and at the right angle, everything feels a lot better. Kinda intense. Like a shock in a good way or something.”

In spite of himself, Conan snorted. “Eloquent.”

“Shut it, I have two fingers up my ass. I’m not exactly talking clear-headed.” He gave a little groan of pleasure, knees bracing a little bit wider. “It’s good,” Hattori said. His shoulder and arm muscles bunched, straining to get the best angle and his eyes drifted half shut, something between pleasure and concentration on his face.

Conan was very aware of the fact that he was standing there, watching one of his best friends get off. Hattori, who’d never hesitated to touch him or treat him like an equal even though he was in this body. When Hattori gasped, hips shifting into open air, a thin whine came from Conan’s throat. He ground his hand against where he was finally hard.

“Y’know,” Hattori said roughly, “the whole point is fer you ta do it. Much as I like ya watching.” He tossed a wink at the end and Conan’s face went hot.

“Uh.”

With the hand not up his ass, Hattori tossed the bottle of lube Conan’s way. Conan fumbled it, managing to grab it just before it hit the floor.

He fumbled the cap open and pulled down his underwear. He froze when he noticed Hattori glance him up and down. There was a flash of conflict on his face before it smoothed over. Conan internally grimaced. Of course this body would be a problem. Still, Hattori didn’t look away as Conan reached back. He tried to replicate what Hattori had been doing, but it was still awkward and the angle didn’t make it any easier.

“Try on yer knees or stomach if standing’s a problem,” Hattori said.

Conan shot him a frown, but got on his knees. It was a little easier to balance at least, if no easier to reach. The dull pressure of a finger was no more pleasurable than the last time he tried this, but it didn’t hurt either, so the lube was good for something.

“Yer too tense,” Hattori said, voice low and intimate. Conan flushed at the sound. He’d never really thought about what books meant with a sex-voice, but if there was one, Hattori currently had it.

“I can’t help it,” Conan muttered.

“Look at me. Ya were a lot more comfortable watching. So watch and don’t focus too hard.”

Conan almost rolled his eyes. Watch, don’t watch, pay attention, don’t. Hattori was being contradictory. But it was easier to focus on how the slow movement of Hattori’s hand made something in his gut clench and the intent way Hattori was watching him. Hattori’s free hand reached up to stroke his erection, still watching Conan and still moving his other hand behind him. Conan bit his lip and tried to work in another finger in hopes it would feel better.

“Too fast,” Hattori said.

“Shut up, I’m trying,” Conan mumbled. He tried a slightly different angle. Still nothing and he was getting frustrated which made him tenser which made the whole thing less comfortable.

Hattori sighed and removed both hands and wiped them on his discarded underwear. “Here. Just lemme…” He paused, hands reaching for Conan, to assess if he was welcome or not.

Conan huffed and closed the distance. Hattori’s hands settled on his hips. “If you think you can.”

“I got ya, Kudo,” Hattori said softly and Conan shivered as the words were breathed against his ear. The hands lifted and there was the pop of the lube cap before they returned, one on his hip, one carefully sliding up his crack. Conan twitched, not sure if he wanted to move away from the feeling or not, and Hattori waited, moved again.

It was strange being touched by someone else, but good strange. Conan sucked in a breath as Hattori pressed a finger. But didn’t enter. He kept skirting the area and pressing just enough that Conan’s body felt like it wanted him to just press in because it was confusing his nerve ends on what was even going on. When the finger finally did press in it was smooth and steady forward pressure that left Conan gasping and leaning against Hattori’s chest.

Hattori chuckled sending vibration along Conan’s skin. “Better?” he asked, smug.

“Ah,” Conan managed between suddenly labored breaths. Hattori had bigger fingers by far, but that didn’t hurt. Just one finger wasn’t that much bigger than the two Conan had managed, but it felt far better. Maybe it was because Hattori was slower, or maybe because he knew what he was doing. Or maybe it was because it was Hattori doing it at all, Conan didn’t know—he just knew that it felt good. Hattori pulled back then forward again, deeper and a slightly different angle and Conan dug fingernails into Hattori’s sides as something intense shot through his body like touching a live wire. “Hmmm!”

“Yeah, that’s yer prostate. It’s nice. Kinda a lot of feeling but the good kind, yeah?”

Was it good? Was it bad? Conan was harder than ever and he still wasn’t sure if that had been pleasant or just overwhelming but whichever it was he wanted to feel it again to try to figure it out. Thankfully Hattori pressed along that spot again, leaving Conan open mouthed and panting as he clung, trying to piece together what the hell that feeling even was.

The internal coil went tighter, tighter, and surely this time it would peak? Surely? Or plateau like before? But the feeling kept rising until his whole body felt hypersensitive and he was shaking, barely upright thanks to Hattori in front of him, and Conan’s mind was a blank mess of desire and physical pleasure. Conan didn’t even notice one finger become two or the soft swear Hattori muttered as he shifted to better support Conan’s weight. He just hung on, eyes glaze and chest pulling for breaths.

“Shit, Kudo,” Hattori murmured, his free hand hesitating a moment before reaching down Conan’s front and Conan moaned, embarrassingly high pitched in this form, even before Hattori’s callused fingers brushed against his cock.

It was almost painful, but in that too-good-almost-pain edge way that he’d only ever felt once when he was curious about the concept of multiple orgasms and had attempted to keep going after release. That time he’d stopped, that edge wavering too much on the pain side to continue, but this time it wasn’t his hands, so it didn’t stop and slipped decidedly more toward good.

His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, or maybe he’d pass out from how fast he was breathing because surely bodies weren’t supposed to get this worked up?

Hattori pressed inside him and ran a thumb along the head of Conan’s cock at just the right pressure to tip, finally, fully, over the edge. He barely slammed a hand over his mouth to hold in the sound he would have made, then his mind was wonderfully blank.

Conan came back to himself feeling like he’d tried to chase Kid a mile over rooftops without any aid from the Professor’s gadgets. Everything had a burning ache of muscles well-used and his mind felt like it was floating. “Ugh,” he managed.

Hattori snorted from somewhere to his right; Conan was too exhausted to look. “Is that a good sound or a bad one?”

“It’s a ‘I don’t think I can move’ one.” He ran a quick mental evaluation of how he felt and, okay, the buzzing edge of frustration was finally finally gone. Thank goodness. “Probably good. I feel like I tried to climb the Tokyo Tower barehanded.”

Hattori snorted again. Conan finally turned his head to find his friend leaning on one elbow beside him, still a bit turned on, like he’d been sitting there a while and hadn’t decided whether or not to finish or forget about it. “It looked pretty intense. Told ya it could feel good though.”

“Mmn.” Conan sat up slowly. Ow. Sore. …Down there sore too. Either Conan had unintentionally got way too into that (he kind of had) or Hattori had been a little too rough for his size (equally possible). He grimaced. It didn’t hurt, just. He was aware of the ache. “I actually came so that’s something.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Hattori said with a grin.

“Don’t be smug at me.”

“You’re really grumpy for a guy that just had the best orgasm of his life.”

“It was overwhelming,” Conan said. “But thanks. Really.”

“No problem.” Hattori kept grinning.

Conan eyed him. “Aren’t you going to finish?”

“I could,” Hattori said with a shrug. “But this was more about you than me.”

“Did me being in this body bother you that much?”

“I mean,” Hattori lifted an eyebrow glancing at Conan’s still naked body. “It’s not a turn on. Ya losing control? That was kinda hot. And the way you said my name.” Conan had said his name? He blushed. “You watching was pretty hot too. It kinda broke even on ‘wow, hot’ and ‘eh, kinda creepy’ factors.”

“Great,” Conan said sarcastically. “Just what you want to hear after a mind blowing orgasm.”

Hattori laughed.

“I could. You know…” Conan offered with a sideways glance.

“No offense, but I think getting a hand job from ya would probably fall on the creepy end of the spectrum. Hands’re too small.”

Conan huffed. He hated feeling like he wasn’t being fair and reciprocal.

“But if it’s not too weird, look me in the eyes until I come and that’d be hot.” Hattori blushed a bit, ruffling the back of his hair. “It’s, uh, it’s just that yer eyes show you and not yer body and. Wow I’m putting my foot in my mouth.”

Conan smiled slowly. “I can do that. How do you want to…?”

“However yer comfortable,” Hattori said a bit too quickly.

Conan levered himself closer catching Hattori’s face between his hands. “This good?”

“Yeah,” Hattori said looking a bit stunned. “Yeah that’s fine.”

On a whim, Conan kissed him and felt the way Hattori shivered full bodied from it. There was the slick sound of his hand moving, but Conan didn’t look away as Hattori’s eyelids fluttered or how his expression subtly changed with pleasure.

“Kudo,” Hattori moaned under his breath.

Conan ran a hand against his jaw and back toward the edge of his hairline. “I’ve got you.”

Hattori groaned, probably louder than he intended, and went rigid against Conan’s side. His eyes fluttered shut, then back open a minute later as a deep blush spread across his face. “Shit.”

Conan smirked. “That good?”

“Shut up, Kudo,” Hattori said, pressing his face into Conan’s knees.

It was pretty flattering how fast he came, Conan reflected. Although he had a feeling Hattori didn’t want him to think too much about how the intimacy contributed to that.

“Ugh, we need to go take a bath now.”

“Won’t someone notice us bathing in the middle of the day?”

“I’ll just say I was showing you some kendo moves. They’d believe it.” Hattori pulled away and Conan found himself surprised to miss the warmth.

He pushed that thought away though. “Hey, Hattori?”

“Mm?” Hattori fished out clothing to wear to and from the bath, cleaning himself off a bit with his discarded shirt from earlier.

“Thanks.”

Hattori sent a grin over his shoulder and a wink. “Anytime, Kudo.”

o*O*o

“So,” Conan said to Ai, not really wanting to broach the topic but as usual knowing he should. “It turns out I can function. Sexually speaking?”

“Oh?” Ai didn’t even turn away from her spreadsheet to look at him. Talking about sex was just something they did now, Conan thought with wry humor.

“Yeah. It just takes a lot of stimuli to reach that.”

“I’ll make note of that,” she said. “There still might be a few issues about your brain properly receiving signals.” She turned toward him with a smirk on her face that had him wanting to duck under the nearest table. “Should I congratulate you on finally reaching orgasm?”

Conan went scarlet. “Haibara!”

She laughed. “No need to be shy, it’s not like we haven’t talked about worse things. Can I ask what finally worked?”

“NO,” Conan said. He turned to leave because nope, no, not having this talk.

“Oh, that kinky?”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t.” Ai’s voice followed him out the door. “Oh, and Kudo? If anything else crops up, tell me. Anything at all.”

“Understood!”

He was avoiding her for a while. He really was. But at least he’d gotten something out of all this awkwardness. Hattori was a good friend. Who maybe was slightly more than a friend? There was time to figure out exactly where they all stood with that. Later. And, well, if Conan kind of wanted to see how it would feel in his teenage body someday…

He had a feeling Hattori would take him up on that.

[takingcourage]

Bring to a Simmer

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 2,200

Summary: Arden attempts to make the inaugural batch of ‘Dad and Arden’s Stroganoff,’ but with Jaime around, staying focused is more easily said than done. 

Note: This is just a silly little oneshot inspired by some optional dialogue from the “remembering mom” diamond scene in Chapter 13. I thought it could be a fun premise for a story, especially with a side of Jaime Lewis there to spice things up. Gosh, I’m going to miss this book. 

This also fulfills a request I received for kiss prompt #8 (the playful kiss on the tip of the nose). 

“I’ve got the onion sliced, pumpkin.”

Up to her elbows in flour, Arden looked over her shoulder toward to check her father’s progress at the breakfast table. “Great! I’ll bring the mushrooms over in just a minute.”

Turning her attention back to the recipe card in front of her, she mashed at the sticky dough again. It never looks this way on Bake Off, she considered, worrying her inner cheek against her teeth. But then again, they’re usually making pastry, not pasta. The thought made her feel slightly better, but she still had very little faith that the pasty substance before her was going to end up resembling anything close to her mother’s stroganoff noodles.

She pried one hand away from the clumpy mass, grimacing at the feeling of her very messy fingers sticking to the paper of the flour bag. How had her mom always managed to make cooking look so easy? Even a simple four-ingredient pasta dough was enough to tempt Arden toward a delivery service.

It’s not about the finished product, she reminded herself. This is about remembering mom and making new memories.

Picking at the excess lumps of dough from between her fingers, she wondered how she’d keep her father involved in the process once all of the ingredients had been chopped. His leg had been particularly bad today, which meant that he couldn’t spend much time on his feet without his trusty cane by his side. Unfortunately, canes and cooking didn’t mix particularly well.

“Can you see Jaime working out there?”

She smiled at his inquiry, lifting her eyes momentarily to catch a glimpse of the man at their fence line. “Yep, he’s hard at it. You’ll be really happy with how it looks, dad. I promise.”

“Your mother would have put me in the dog house if she’d seen how bad I let it get. I just…” His voice grew wistful as the sentence trailed, and Arden had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

“It just didn’t seem as important without her around. I think she’d forgive you.” 

The front yard had been a point of contention ever since her mother had fallen ill. Melinda Gale had always taken great pride in her plants, the perfect picket fence, her trailing ivy – all things that Harry only tended to on her behalf. In recent years, the yard had been gradually falling into a state of disrepair. 

Thank goodness for Jaime and his powers of persuasion. He’d been gently nudging for several months, and after coming home from the hospital, her father was finally ready to accept the offer. Arden was just glad that the matter had been resolved without too much nagging on her part.  

That’s not all I’m grateful for, she mused, sneaking another glance out the window. 

She’d known Jaime was attractive for years, but if possible, he’d grown even more gorgeous to her in the past week. Maybe it was because she’d been out of work and had had more time to appreciate him. Maybe it was because she’d seen every inch of him on the night after the gubernatorial debate and knew exactly what was hiding underneath those work clothes. Or maybe it was because she loved him. That word still made her pulse skip every time she thought it. 

Beyond being very nice to look at and prompting irregular heartbeats, he was also incredibly skilled at repairing fences. In a single afternoon, he’d managed to replace the missing and broken pickets, paint the entirety, and purchase new balusters for the front porch. His abilities seemed to go on without end. 

Arden’s own talents felt questionable at the moment, though her hands were becoming less laden with dough the more she rolled and patted the clump into submission. She gave it a final smack, drawing her hand away slowly to determine whether the consistency was ready for rolling.

Although she’d never assisted her mother in the process of making dough, she did have an idea, more or less, of what the final result should look like. The mass on the counter wasn’t an exact replica, but she didn’t think that her attempt was too far off.

At the table, her dad inhaled a sharp breath, but it was several long moments before his words came. “I’m glad you talked me into this, honey. I think your mom would probably get a kick out of watching our struggles in the kitchen.”

“So do I.” Smiling faintly at the thought, she sidestepped to the sink and began the chore of cleaning her hands.

“And she’d be even happier to see how well you and Jaime are getting along these days." 

Arden yanked the kitchen towel a little harder than intended, causing the cabinet door it hung from to squeal in protest. 

Her father clearly needed something else to keep him occupied.

Carrying in the colander of button mushrooms, she set them before the man without a word. As she traded him for the plate of onion slices, she caught the mischievous grin slanting its way up his face. 

"I’m not as blind as you think I am, Arden.”

“I know.”

“And he’s been looking at you like he wants to haul you off and marry you." 

She knew that too. 

Thankfully, her back was turned by in time to hide the blush spreading over her cheeks. "We’re still figuring things out,” she answered evasively. Pulling the largest pot from the oven drawer, she set about filling it in the sink.

“I know I promised not to tell you how to live your life anymore, but he’s the only man I know who’s good enough for my Arden.” She ought to just kiss him sometime. She’s been half in love with him since they were kids. 

Arden pretended not to hear his thought or his comment over the running water. Her father might claim to have seen things, but he’d missed an awful lot of kisses that had passed between them in the last couple of weeks. Beyond that, he didn’t have the faintest idea that she’d spent the night next door after the insanity of the debate. As she waited for the pot to fill, she snuck another look through the glass.

Jaime was removing his shirt.

Her skin flushed again at the sight of his toned, tanned body. Her hands ached to glide along those perfect abs – to wrap her arms around his neck so she was pressed flush against the heat of his chest. Sleeping with him had been incredible. Waking up in his arms, nothing short of divine. 

They hadn’t discussed their plans for after dinner, but maybe she could talk him into another sleepover…

With a start, she realized that the water was spilling over the side of the pot. She drained the excess quickly, vaguely aware of the sporadic sound of chopping coming from the breakfast table.

Her father didn’t say anything, but there was a distinct twinkle in his eye when she returned to the table with the beef. 

_____

 Thirty minutes later, she’d managed to produce something that vaguely resembled stroganoff. Arden counted it as something of a marvel that she hadn’t given up the whole cooking endeavor in favor of just standing and staring out the window. She knew he wasn’t doing it deliberately, but Jaime had been putting on quite a show.

Wielding a paintbrush, standing back to consider his work, wiping his brow – everything he did set her blood on fire. As the evening had worn on, the pan before her received less and less of her attention. The sight through the window had proven too tempting for her to resist. 

His work on the fence complete, Jaime had switched to trimming the bushes in front of the house. As he skirted around the plant, she caught his eye. Arden sucked a breath at his wink.

"I’ll be right back,” she promised her father, hardly taking the time to make sure that he was still cutting romaine hearts for their salad.

Jaime’s eyes were on her as soon as she passed through the door, the shears falling to his side. “The view from the kitchen wasn’t enough, I see. Did you decide it was time to get up close and personal?” 

She rolled her eyes. When she looked up at him again, she was taken aback by the glisten of sweat all over him. With his chest mere inches from her face, she could discern each perfectly sculpted ab, and her fingers twitched with longing at her side. Arden wondered idly how much it would scandalize the neighbors if she started making out with him in her father’s front yard.

Still not prepared for this view?

She reddened at his thought as their eyes met, his sweaty hair obscuring vision from one side. “I’m still getting used to...” she gestured vaguely at his stomach, much to Jaime’s amusement. “But I actually came out to give you a dinner update. It all just needs to simmer for about twenty more minutes and then we’ll be ready to eat.” 

“I’m looking forward to it. I should reach a pretty good stopping place shortly, so I’ll have time for a quick shower before we eat.”

Arden’s mouth grew very dry at the appealing mental images his suggestion graced her with. Distracted, her gaze wavered from his face for a moment – not long enough to satisfy her desire, but certainly long enough to attract his notice.

"You keep looking at my chest, Arden. Is everything okay?” Not that I mind. I’ve only been hoping for this for years.   

Knowing she’d been caught, Arden dropped all pretense and stared openly. She sighed and lifted her face to his. “I’m just thinking again how much I’d like to kiss you right now.”

Jaime bristled with pleasure. “You wouldn’t get any complaints from me if you did, but I am pretty sweaty at the moment. We should probably wait until after dinner.”

Someday, she’d have to tell him that she didn’t mind him being sweaty. In fact, she’d found sweaty kisses with Jaime to be extremely enjoyable just a few nights before. With that memory in mind, she was inspired. “Can I just have one for now?” 

He ran a hand through his hair, uncovering both eyes. The deep brown pools were gleaming with equal parts humor and desire. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Arden tilted her chin, lips poised and eager for contact. Jaime’s mouth was warm and soft as it descended on hers, the salt of his sweat making her relish the experience even more. Body responding of its own volition, she had to pinch herself to keep from throwing both arms around his neck. Even after he’d pulled away, it took a moment for her to regain full control of her senses.

Just as her head cleared Jaime caught her by surprise, leaning down a second time to brush his lips gently across the tip of her nose. 

She wrinkled the bridge instinctively. “What was that for?”

“I couldn’t help it,” he explained. “You’re just so damn kissable, Arden.” 

“So are you. Please tell me there will be time for more kisses later?”

“I was hoping you’d suggest that.” He stretched out his free hand, skimming the pads of his fingers along her forearm. 

“The mind-blowing, earth-shaking kisses that are full of ten years of pent-up desire?”

He chuckled at her description. “You know those are my favorites. And I don’t have any plans for the rest of the night.” 

“Mmmhmmm.” His little half smile was doing funny things to her stomach. It wasn’t long before she’d lost all track of what he’d been saying. 

Should I put my shirt back on? 

His thought managed to get her attention, and she recoiled. “Don’t even joke about that. I’m enjoying the view way too much.” 

“You can enjoy it as much as you want after dinner.” 

“That feels like too long to wait.” She took another step toward him, forgetting both sweat and propriety in her need to touch him. 

“Arden,” he cautioned, though she knew from the yearning on his face that he wasn’t going to tell her no. 

Was that the door?

His thought corresponded with a click from the porch, followed by the beat of her father’s cane.

Their heads swung toward the doorway where Harry Gale stood, watching them both with an arched brow. Maybe she doesn’t need my encouragement after all... After taking a moment to collect himself, he announced, “Your pan boiled over. I got it off the burner, but I’m not sure what to do next.” 

Arden stared at him dumbly. “I was just….I, um.” She swallowed hard and forced her thoughts away from the man beside her. “I’ll come figure it out.” 

Her father retreated back to the house, leaving her alone with Jaime once more. 

“Go do what you need to do with dinner. I’ll finish up here and be in in a few minutes,” he told her, trailing a finger along her inner palm. Before she could pull away, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“See you then,” she promised, breaking the link between them. As she hurried up the porch stairs, she decided that an addition to her mother’s recipe was in order: 

Step 1 - If Jaime is outside, close curtains on the kitchen window.