#its not surprising shes being getting worse she was already doing poorly when i moved

[tonicandjins]

the room smells like absolute shit

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck and reader

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

GENRE: harry potter au, slytherin!haechan, ravenclaw!reader

WARNINGS: none, just teenage fluff

amortentia (the room smells like absolute shit) is the second installment from 23 moments with donghyuck.

It’s no secret that the ongoing cat-and-mouse game between you and Slytherin House’s very own Lee Donghyuck remains unceasing from the day you and him were sorted five years ago to this day. Today’s no different than the others, except it’s the day before Slytherin House plays against Ravenclaw, your very own, and Lee Donghyuck seems like he’s decided to make your day extra horrible—he’s done it five times already, and it’s barely two in the afternoon.

one

The first one was during breakfast, and if you are being completely honest, you should’ve expected it. Lee Donghyuck likes torturing you when you’re on your period; you don’t even want to remember the full story of how the fuck he even knows what week of the month you get yours. (Long story short: Lee Donghyuck had to be there the first time you got your period in third year.) He claims that he knows your period is on as soon as you enter the Great Hall, because your hair is always uncombed on your first day and your eyebrows are always furrowed when you’re in pain. Donghyuck says if pain and aggravation had colors, you’d be burning in hues now.

“You’re easily the most predictable person I know,” he’d tease, mouth agape as he laughs at the way you would huff from the pranks he’d do just to make your day worse than it already is.

Today was no different. You hadn’t even seen him yet, but he’s made his presence known as soon as you sit and the loudest, most obnoxious sound of fart comes out. It’s Lee Donghyuck who laughs first, and you’re not really in the mood to say anything, hence you take the muggle-made fart cushion off from where you’re seated and throw it from where he’s sitting with his equally cunning friends. You wonder which of his friends brought it for him.

Yeji finds it hilarious. “He just wants to make you laugh,” she comments.

“More like want me to drop out and move across the world,” you grumble as you take a treacle tart and a piece of crumpets from the dishes. The pain stings as you try to sit comfortably. “Fuck this period. Why did none of our ancestors ever think of a stupid charm that could rid period cramps?”

Yuna sighs, agreeing. Yeji smiles even wider and hands you a vial filled with blue-ish liquid.

“What’s this?” you ask, taking it and observing how poorly it’s sealed. “Looks like something a first year would make.”

Yeji shrugs, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “It magically appeared on your seat. The same time that fart cushion popped up under your seat.”

You click your tongue, opening the vial and drinking it anyway. The ocean-colored liquid tastes like absolute crap, if you’re being honest, but its effects come as quickly as the potion runs down your throat. The cramping pain from your lower abdomen vanishes. Like magic.

two

Whining, Donghyuck follows you around after first period—all out, arms wrapped around one of yours as he drags his feet wherever yours take you.

“Donghyuck, my books are heavy enough, stop dragging me with your weight!” you shriek. “I’ll come! I’ll come! Just let me go!”

Donghyuck cheers, surprising you with a big, sloppy kiss on your left cheek, letting you go while you stand frozen in place. “I knew you could never resist me. I will see you at Quidditch then. And you will cheer for me! Fuck Houses! I’ll cheer for you in the Annual International Wizard Gardening Competition!”

He runs off and waves goodbye as he catches up with other players clad in their Quidditch capes and jerseys, blending in like he’s always been born to be in this scene.

You can’t remember a time that Lee Donghyuck isn’t talking about Quidditch. You’d met him in first year, when his voice squeaked higher than it does now, and the first thing he had asked Madam Hooch was when he could join the tryouts. Poor little Donghyuckie spent the entire period sulking and pouting when Madam Hooch confirmed that he should at least finish one year of flying lessons and ask her again next year. It was truly all Donghyuck had ever dreamed about. Hence, he had spent his entire first year in Hogwarts learning about the Quidditch and practicing flying more than anyone in the entire castle.

Come second year, Donghyuck auditions the first day of class after summer break. You remember how the entirety of the Hogwarts had cheered when he showed off his flying skills. It didn’t take long for the captain of Slytherin’s Quidditch team to pick him that day. He’d started as one of the keepers, showcasing his impressive ability to defend Slytherin’s hoops, and made his way up as the team’s Seeker, having been promoted this year, fifth year.

And today was his first big game as their house’s Seeker. It’s Slytherin versus Ravenclaw for the first round, and the entire castle is just shuddering in excitement. Lee Taeyong was Slytherin’s most well-known Seeker, the second youngest Seeker after Harry Potter himself, and the longest one for House Slytherin—from first year until he’d graduated last year. This year is exceptionally intriguing because no one’s won against Slytherin because of Lee Taeyong—at least for the rest of Hogwarts.

It’s different for you, though. It’s appealing in some sense, but stressful in a way.

Donghyuck must feel so much pressure now. You’ve unwillingly known him for years, and despite the never-ending games of teasing and pranks, you and him are everything but strangers. Hence, you conclude that it’s normal to feel this way.

“Quidditch players are so damn lucky,” Renjun, a friend from Hufflepuff, huffs from behind you. “They’re excused for classes when it’s Quidditch season. I wish Slug Club get some sort of perks, too.”

You giggle, hopping and wrapping an arm around the Hufflepuff’s shoulders. “We get the Christmas party every year.”

Renjun shakes you off of him. “Hey, I don’t want to get in trouble with the Slytherins.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why would you get in trouble with the Slytherins? That’s such a stereotype, Renjun-ah! You’re the last person I thought would have some prejudice over houses!”

“That’s not what I mean, idiot,” he replies. “Words say one of the Slytherins has a thing or two for you. And I don’t want to be in their radar.”

You slap him on the arm. “Didn’t take you to be such a gossiper.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true!” he defends, ruffling your hair. “Off to Transfiguration?”

You groan. “Yeah. Let’s go together?”

“Sure. Did you finish the assignment—”

“Hey, idiot!” Renjun is cut off by Donghyuck running back to you. “I just remembered I need you for a moment.”

Then he’s pulling you away from Renjun.

You arrive late for Transfiguration. Because Donghyuck wanted you to look at his uniform. Talk about being annoying.

three

Defense Against the Dark Arts is in third period, and Yeji hurts herself halfway through the hour. Yeji and Chenle were playing around and were practicing hex-deflection; the scenarios happened too fast that nobody caught on that Yeji’s been hurt until Chenle started screaming.

“She’ll be fine,” Madam Pompfrey assures as she covers the now sleeping Yeji with duvet. “I’ll have her stay here for the night, too. You can go back to class.”

You nod. DADA is over by now, anyway. “By the way, Madam Pompfrey,” you call out just before she closes the curtain separating Yeji’s bed from the others.

“Earlier today,” you start. “I had really bad cramps because of my period. I found a vial with a blue, green-ish kind of fluid and recklessly drank it. It really helped. Do you have any idea what that is?”

Madam Pompfrey’s eyes widen. “So, that was for you?”

“Huh?”

She smiles. “Donghyuck from Slytherin house has been experimenting on that potion with me for weeks now. He’s been studying in the library, looking for the best ingredients to help with women’s menstrual cramps without any side effects that could compromise the condition of the rest of your body. I heard he had a sister in third year, so I assumed it was for her.”

Your heart somersaults like never before. Madam Pompfrey smiles knowingly. “I guess it was for you,” she concludes.

You leave the hospital wing with your breath hitched, each step making your knees weaker by the second. Lee Donghyuck knows how to annoy you even when he’s on the other side of the damn castle.

four

Lee Donghyuck pulls you away from your friends when you’re on your way out from the Great Hall after lunch.

The door of Room of Requirement appears before you, and Donghyuck pulls you with him, dressed in his brand-new uniform, different from the one he wore earlier before he ran off to practice at the Quidditch Tower. You wonder how he even finds the time to annoy you when the tournament starts in about two hours.

When the door closes, you observe that the room’s transformed itself into a room the size of a greenhouse, filled with lavenders, jasmine, and chamomile. And you have the slightest idea why Donghyuck needs a room full of flowers at this point. You gently place your copy of Advanced Potion-Making on a table that holds countless of ceramic plants holding lavenders.

He starts walking back and forth, anxiety showing in his eyes and the corners of his lips. You can hear how heavily he’s breathing from where you stand.

“Anxious?” you ask. Donghyuck only nods, still walking back and forth. “Here. Come here.” He stops, turning so he could look at you. You step closer when he doesn’t move and take both his hands in yours.

“Breathe in,” you softly say. Donghyuck follows. You start counting to five. “Breathe out.”

You and him repeat and stay like that until you hear his breathing go back to its normal pace. He keeps his eyes on your shoes.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you murmur. Donghyuck closes his eyes. You reach up and cradle his face in your palms. “Where’s all that confidence now? Did you run out of it after drowning me with an incredibly unnecessary amount of confidence all these years? This is the time you need it the most.”

Donghyuck falls apart in your touch and opens his eyes, chuckling. “I knew I made the right decision to pull you here. My confidence came back just now. You’re my confidence. Because you suck and I’m the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, rolling your eyes as you step back, the space between you and him reclaiming its presence. “That, you are.”

He smiles. “You don’t suck that much. Just a little. Sometimes.”

“You, too,” you agree. “You’re going to kill it. I’ll cheer on you even if it means everyone in Ravenclaw House hates me.”

“No one could ever hate you,” he says like it’s a fact.

You smirk. “You do, though.”

“I’ve never said I hate you,” he bites back. “In five years that we’ve been unwillingly revolving around each other’s gravity, I’ve never said I hate you.”

You nod. “I know.” You reach up to gently pat his cheeks once again. “People will know you as Lee Donghyuck today, not Lee Taeyong’s replacement. I know that is exactly what’s been going around in that head of yours. They’re gonna remember you today when you show them No Hands and woo the crowd with Sloth Grip Roll. And you’re gonna win it out there.”

Donghyuck’s eyes follow your lips as you speak. He stares at it longer than he should, and you stare at his, like a magnet pulling you in. His honey-colored skin and tantalizing brown eyes look beautiful under the sunlight peeking from the windows of the room, and from where you stand, you see how much he'd grown. Part of you wonders if he feels the same, seeing you in this light and being taken aback to five years ago, the very first day you'd met in the train to Hogwarts. You mull over the possibility of knowing him beyond what the walls of this castle could show you, knowing him beyond teasing remarks and harmless pranks, knowing him beyond all these years of push-and-pull, knowing him beyond sneaking glances at his lips.

But you’re not about to kiss him in the Room of Requirement. Not when all your feelings are all over the place, scattered and lost. Not when you aren’t sure if he even feels the same kind of rush when you’re around.

It doesn't help that this, whatever this means, has been going on for years. You and Donghyuck are growing up together, and though you and him keep saying you're unwillingly spending your teenage years together, you can't help but think, if given the choice in a few years, would you finally, willingly spend your twenties together?

You're nearing the end of your teenage years together, involuntarily and as borderline friends. Does Donghyuck ever think of you in ways you—admittedly—daydream about him sometimes? Does he think of you when he drinks chamomile tea the way you remember him when you get a taste of butterbeer? Does he also wonder what you do in the summer and think of calling you, only to back out right before pressing call because his heart is thump, thump, thumping like fucking crazy just by the thought of hearing your voice?

Does Donghyuck feel the way your knees are weak now?

Your heart pounds, so loud that you can hear it beating right in your eardrums.

So, you flee, telling him you’re late for Potions, which you most definitely are, leaving Donghyuck and hopefully, the feelings you can’t seem to figure out.

five

The room smells like the Quidditch pitch when you arrive fifteen minutes into the class.

Professor Slughorn raises an eyebrow on you, but tilts his head towards the board where it shows which potion the class is working on today. You find your way towards Yuna and it’s only then that you realize you’d left your Advanced Potions-Making book inside the Room of Requirement. Yuna lets you share her book. The entire class is halfway done anyway.

The potion for the day is called Amortentia, which is apparently the most powerful love potion in existence, which you think is absolute bullshit. You skip through all its description, effects, and history, proceeding to the details instructions of how it’s done.

You start with boiling half a cup of standard potion water and later on adding ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, refined peppermint oil, and moonstone. Once it’s exactly as it’s described in the book, you drop the mother of pearl. The last ingredient was a drop of blood, so you quickly prickle a finger with a needle, pressing your pink with two fingers until the red liquid drops from your skin down to the cauldron.

You finish a little later than everybody, and you’re not sure whether you’d followed the instructions correctly, because yours still smell like the Quidditch pitch. You look around, and everybody’s busy smelling theirs. You lean over to your cauldron, and it doesn’t smell like anything exceptional in particular. Alongside the grassy scent of the pitch is warm tonka bean, deep cedar, and the overwhelming scent of rich jasmine and vivacious juniper berries, which isn’t really that impressive because you smell this all the time.

You smell it all the time because it smells exactly like Donghyuck.

You grab the book from the table you share with Yuna.

Page 62 says, “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It caused a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker. It had a distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rose from it in characteristic spirals. Amortentia is considered an incredibly dangerous potion, as one should have never underestimated obsessive infatuation.” Then why the fuck does it smell like Donghyuck? And the entire god damn room, too? Does Donghyuck bathe in Amortentia every day?

“Yuna,” you ask. “What does your potion smell like?”

“Sandalwood,” she answers dreamily. “And leather. And floral rose.”

Oh. Then you must have done something wrong. “I think I mixed up the ingredients.”

“Well, what does yours smell like?”

You shrug, “Something really weird.” You turn the page to 63 where the potion is described better.

“Amortentia smells different for everyone,” Yuna continues, and so does the book.

“Amortentia has a different aroma for everyone who smelt it, reminding each person of the things that they found most attractive," the book says.

“Basically,” Yuna’s voice fades in the background. “You smell whatever you’re attracted to."

"Even if the person did not acknowledge or was unaware of their fondness for the object of their affection themselves," the book shouts.

Oh no.

Yuna sighs dreamily, "I aced mine pretty well. I mean, for example, my potion smells exactly like—”

“Donghyuck,” you whisper when it truly, truly hits you.

“No, silly,” she laughs.

“No, Yuna,” you protest. “Mine smells like—”

“Donghyuck, what brings you here?” Professor Slughorn’s voice catches you off-guard. You and Yuna turn to where he’s looking at, and by the door, Lee Donghyuck stands, holding your copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

“I just wanted to bring this to Y/N. She’d left it when she was wandering around Slytherin’s quarters because she’s so obsessed with me,” he announces, smiling widely as he shows off the book.

You stay frozen in place. “What are you all cooking?” Donghyuck sniffs, looking around until he locks eyes with you. “What’s this horrible scent?”

Oh, no.

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on you, equally as confused when he starts realize what the potions smell like.

“Why are you wasting so much perfume, Y/N?” he asks. Everyone goes silent. “The room smells like absolute shit.”

Oh. Merlin’s Beard.

bonus

Slytherin House wins, of course, and you lose your voice cheering for Ravenclaw and Lee Donghyuck, which earned you side-eyes from your peers and at the same time teasing remarks from Renjun and Yuna.

His friends call you an honorary Slytherin and invites you to their Common Room. You're the first person that Lee Donghyuck looks for at the afterparty.

He arrives earlier than the others, and his mates gather around him as soon as he steps in the room, but Donghyuck, Merlin's Beard, Lee Donghyuck doesn't waste time and goes straight to where you stand and kisses the air out of your lungs.

You're on your fifth year in Hogwarts when you learn that Lee Donghyuck tastes like strawberries and that the perfume his mother makes for him is made from jasmine and juniper berries.

[lesbiten]

acacias not doing too hot :(

[holdontorogers]

𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐛.𝐛.

gif not mine, credits to owner

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; tfatws!bucky x bartender!college!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2,218

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; Bucky has a secret place in Brooklyn that he found out as soon as he got his apartment after the blip: the bar you work at.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; +18 ONLY | MINORS DNI, angst, cheating (your bf/ex), hints to oral (f receiving), sex dreams, alcohol consumption, metal arm kink (i guess lol), swearing, friends on their way to lovers, unrequited feelings, mentions of college, stress, let me know if something’s missing and sorry for any typos.

𝐚/𝐧; so this was suppose to be out last weekend but headaches, college and stress delayed the process, hope you enjoy. 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐬!!!

⊱⋅ ───────── 𖥸 ────────── ⋅⊰

“So, pretty amazing what you and Captain America did the other week”, he chuckled more for himself then any other thing as he pretended to ignore the fact that you knew everything about his past — and about him, in general. 

“Yeah well, I guess it feels good to know that the shield is finally with the right person”. You gave him a nice smile and intended to say something else but someone was already calling out asking for their drink, you rolled your eyes playfully for Bucky and walked away.  

Safe to say that Bucky is way more interested in your company than the bar itself, that’s why he would come by almost everyday by the end of the night and stayed for as long as you would like. 

The bar was packed, more than usual, and Bucky pretended to ignore the fact that he was bothered by not having as much of your attention as he planned to. 

Given that between missions and your senior year in college plus all your work at the bar, sometimes visiting you while you moved around the crowded place was one of the only ways you two could spend some time together.

 “It won’t magically fill up you know?” Bucky  was so lost in his thoughts and distracted playing with the now empty beer bottle he didn’t even notice you brought him another one.

“You know I can’t get drunk right, doll?” he said with a playful smirk, “and why would I want to get you drunk?” you winked and went back to attending the other people in the bar as Bucky followed your movements with his eyes. 

He sees you quickly looking at your phone following the action by a frustrated sigh, and he immediately clenches his jaw. Your ass of a boyfriend was probably leading you on yet again on another Thursday night with some lame excuse. Bucky could not believe how poorly this man (boy) treated you. If only Bucky could have the chance to show you how you should properly be loved and cared for...

When you came back to where he stood you seemed even more annoyed.

 “Is everything okay, doll?”, you looked at him with an exhausted expression and a tension between your eyebrows, “yeah, just... can’t wait to finish up and go home, how long are you planning to stay?” Bucky furrowed his brows, were you tired of him? 

“Don’t know yet, why?” you shrugged and looked over your shoulder discreetly “that girl keeps checking you out and I don’t know, maybe you would like to take her home?” I actually would like to go home with you. Bucky could swear this suggestion was as painful to you as it was to him, but he knew that that was only his mind playing tricks with him.

 “I still don’t think I have a way with the ladies right now” your eyebrows rose in amusement and you tried to study his expression “Well, if anything, just tell her your arm vibrates”.  You winked and returned to your duties once again. Meanwhile, Bucky realized the heat in his cheeks thinking about what you said. It’s amazing how much power you had over him, as he imagined how you would react under his arms. 

How soft his right arm would be on your warm skin, how the friction between metal and warmth would drive you insane once his metal arm was touching you... He could see all the different ways that he could make you his, make you forget all the shit you go through everyday, make you feel unique and loved. 

(...)

However, Bucky saw you seemed more upset and stressed out than usual so he decided to stay. He waited until you closed the bar and helped you sort everything out. You looked once again at your phone with a much worse look than before. 

“Doll what’s wrong?” he rarely asked you about your relationship, and always did good in pretending to ignore the frustrated looks you’d constantly give to your phone. 

You met his concerned eyes and saw all his attention in you, which makes your heart soften a little. You unlocked your phone and opened a conversation with one of your friends, showing it to Bucky with watered eyes. 

When he looked at the conversation from a few days ago he used all his self control to not shatter your phone or run down to haunt the man in the pics you showed him. There was a girl pressed against the wall of a club right between your boyfriends arms, and that girl was not you.

All the anger in Bucky’s eyes settled for worry when he looked at you. He held you in his arms and ran his fingers through your hair to calm the silent tears that were falling involuntarily from your face. 

“He’s an asshole and he never deserved you.” You nodded and continued to let yourself be taken care of by Bucky, “and just tell me the words so I can gladly kick his ass”. You laughed and that felt odd, but not surprising since Bucky always brought up the best in you. You had no idea how you two became such close friends, but you were glad to have him in your life. “Thanks Buck, you’re the best friend I could have right now ”. 

As Bucky walked home after taking you home the events of the night went over his head. He was a mess of nerves, angers, worries and sadness. He knew how much you needed a friend right now. He knew how you handled your own feelings and barely talked about it. He knew it was a big deal for you to show him what was going on. And yet the thought of showing you how much better he could treat you if you saw him beyond a friend wouldn’t leave his mind. 

 ───── 

**Bucky’s lips were drawing your skin like it was meant to be there this whole time. It’s like his mouth was designed to know how to touch you in all the right spots. He would caress your skin and take such good care of you. His words were soft and yet you knew he was in control, and you loved being at his mercy. You were willing to let him do anything as long as his lips never left your body again.

Goosebumps were consuming you as he kept going lower and lower. His lips finally started to trace down your inner thighs as you whisper his name as an exasperated request. Bucky’s lips were wet and soft and hot at the same time. He smirked and finally went down to where you needed him most.**

Your heart was racing as your alarm made you jump scared instead of properly waking up. It took a while to remember where you were and what the hell was going on. You sighed when realizing you just had a dream with your best friend.

You decided to take a cool shower before starting your day, as the minutes you usually lay in bed before forcing yourself to wake up were effectively replaced with a very intense dream that led you to question all your life choices.

Your mind begins to wonder and you asked yourself if Bucky got the phone from that girl in the bar last night. You had a bothered look on your face even though you knew you should not be feeling like this.

And you shouldn’t be having these dreams as well, but it’s been so long since you’ve actually felt good.... It’s been so long since you had an orgasm. It almost felt natural to think of Bucky that way, as if the desire of having him between your legs have been there all this time just waiting for you to notice them. You shook the feeling out of your head - or at least tried to. 

You couldn’t help but think about the recent events of your life. You have been beyond busy and missed so many warning signs from your now past relationship. You left out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, biting your lips and thinking about your situation. 

You’re suddenly annoyed and wondering why the hell you stuck around in the relationship you were at. It wasn’t adding anything else to your life anymore, it wasn’t doing you any good and you were pretty sure the main reason your boyfriend has been so neglecting lately was because he was cheating on you. And you were right. Now you were a breakup hot mess drowning in work and college assignments barely making it through the days without stressing yourself out. 

As the caffeine started its magic and you were getting ready for the day, your boss texted you saying that you could have the day off. She would surely find a way to compensate for this miraculously free day you had but you wouldn’t complain. Today especially was a very much needed day for you to give yourself some tranquility. You got ready for your classes in a very comfy yet cute look that made you feel good and went out.

On your way to college you texted Bucky to see if he was available this afternoon. He was surprised to read about your day off and quickly answered back saying he would be free. You both agreed to meet at Central Park once you were done with classes. Your smile and excitement once again surprising you as your dream would not leave your mind. How would you face him? You had no idea but he was your best friend and one of the closest and greatest person in your life right now. Your frustration of a sex life would not be in the way of this friendship.

The classes went by rather quickly and you were catching up on your readings when Bucky met you at the park. The sun was starting to set and there was something about the sunset atmosphere and Bucky that made his features seem even more in evidence. You smiled and waved at him as he raised his brows and walked happily to where you were. 

“Hey doll, how’s the day been?” he seemed extremely relaxed and care-free as he tugged you in a warm hug, his cologne invading your senses and numbing you for a moment. You cleared your throat before answering him “It’s been weird” you frowned “I was called off work God knows why and I have been able to catch up on most of my readings for school so” you shrugged still surprised with how smooth things were. “So it’s been a good day?” his brows drew together in amusement, and you both started walking aimlessly through the park.

“Yeah it’s been good I guess, weird but peacefully good, what about yours?” his eyes were sparkled with excitement and he had a half smile illuminating his face “I’ve been good, I was watching that show you told me about when you texted me about your free day so, only good moments I guess” he winked as you studied his face and his genuine expression and you felt weird butterflies in your stomach — which you ignored.

“So how do you like Friends?” you poked him teasingly and he smiled “It’s a good show, Alpine and I have good laughs, but I don’t know I feel like it’s something that should be shared you know? I bet watching with someone would make it a hundred times better”. Bucky looked at you as if you should’ve read something between the lines.

You would usually take his words lightly and never question their meanings, but tonight was different. You could almost feel something in the air. You were absolutely sure that it was all on your head but... Something about the way Bucky always looked at you in such admiration and softness. You could spend all of your days studying his expressions and getting to know him. Life may not have been kind to him but kindness was all you knew when it came to James “Bucky” Barnes. 

He cleared his throat and caught your attention. Yep, you were staring at him instead of thinking about an answer. “Sorry doll, I just meant — ” Bucky read your silence as an awkward moment but you were quick to stop him “No! You were right! Friends is absolutely better when you watch with people... I’m sorry, I’ve been a little distracted that’s all” you smiled at him hoping he would take your answer and not think too much about this. Bucky thought you were distant and quiet because of what he found out last night, but the truth was that you couldn’t look at him without thinking about your dream. 

Every single time your eyes met his or that you accidentally touched him was like an electric wave washed over you. The memories you created in your sleep would not leave you as Bucky would do normal things like, winking when telling a joke, wetting or biting his lips. Every little action made you hold out on reacting in a way that would ruin your friendship for good.

Crossing a line with Bucky would be a bad idea, wouldn’t it? 

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Leave Your Lover (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! So, this was going to be one really long part, but it kind of got away from me and I had to split it into two. Don’t worry the next part is going to be very long either way because that’s the half that got away from me. This takes place pre-Infinity War. Inspired by Sam Smith’s “Leave Your Lover”, mainly the line featured. 

Summary: A brief glimpse into life on the run. Will Wanda be able to find Y/n? 

“If I can't have you I'll walk this life alone, spare you the rising storms and let the rivers flow.”

Being on the run was difficult to say the least and being on the run while trying to find someone who was actively trying not to be found was even worse. Despite being told by the rest of the group that it may be in her best interest to just move on and let you go, Wanda knew that wasn’t an option. She had made a promise to herself that she was going to keep fighting for you, no matter the cost. Wanda had let you go once and she wasn’t going to let it happen, not if there was a part of her that knew you still had love in your heart for her.

The only one who knew where you were at all times was Steve and he had spent the last few months absolutely refusing to disclose your exact location. That never stopped her from trying though. 

Eventually though, he gave in. Steve wasn’t sure if it was her sheer determination that impressed him or the fact that he had never seen you happier than when you were with her. If she thought she could create happiness in a terrible situation, Steve thought she at least deserved a true chance and he wouldn’t stand in the way. 

When she received the location, Wanda quickly packed what little she had and booked the next train ticket to Rennes, France. Feeling hopeful for the first time since long before the events of Lagos. _________________________________

For the majority of the time you’d been on the run, you stuck to the idea that hiding in plain sight was the best course of action. Which is why you were currently at a poorly lit bar, trying to live as normal a life as you possibly could under the circumstances. The only unfortunate thing was that you couldn’t interact with anyone due to the risk of being discovered. So, when you felt someone tap your shoulder, you knew it would be time to go.

Before turning, you downed your drink to prepare yourself to either get hit on by a random drunk person or convince them you weren’t who they thought you were.

Neither options were what you got when you turned around though. You tilted your head in pleasant surprise at the sight before you.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Without thinking and perhaps partially due to the alcohol coursing through your veins, you wrapped yourself tightly around the woman in front of you. She laughed in surprise and gladly returned the embrace. You couldn’t help but revel in the contact, touch deprived from all the time you had spent in solitude.

For a while, you both just stood there, wrapped in one another’s embrace. Ignoring the occasional odd look from random passer byers. With one final squeeze, you released her but kept your hands on her shoulders. “You have no idea how good it is to see you, Nat.” you admitted to her with a smile on your face.

Natasha easily returned the smile. “It’s good to see you too. I was passing by outside when I thought I saw you sitting here and I had to see if it was really you.”

“What are the chances?” you asked with a laugh as you signaled the bartender over and ordered drinks. “Let’s celebrate.”

After drinking for a bit and catching up slightly, you both agreed that staying longer would be too much a risk and decided to take a walk outside. 

“You dyed your hair.” You noted as you reached over and took a strand of her hair gently in between your fingers before letting it go. “It looks good.”

A playful smirk spread across Natasha’s lips. “Yeah, well, I figured the red was a dead giveaway for me, so… blonde it was.” She nudged you playfully. “A better disguise than a beanie and glasses at least. You’re no better than Rogers.” 

A boisterous laugh escaped your lips, “What can I say? That man taught me everything I know.” Natasha shook her head but laughed despite herself. 

You knew you would have to separate soon, but you tried not to focus on that. The pair of you walked in contented silence, enjoying the comfort of not being alone, even if it was temporarily.  Eventually you both come up on the street where your hideout was located and for the first time you didn’t feel the need to rush in. Thankfully there was a small bench located across the street and you both wandered over and took a seat, enjoying the cool air.

“How have you been?” Natasha eventually asked, her eyes on yours as she attempted to analyze you.

You pondered the question for a moment. “I’ve been… lonely.” You finally breathed out, turning your gaze skyward. “I feel alone. I miss real connections. I miss just being able to walk down the street without fear of corporal punishment. I miss human contact.”

Natasha’s hand fell to your knee and squeezed lightly. You turned your head to meet her eyes. “I know what you mean. You’re never really alone though, Y/n. You know we’d all be there in a heartbeat if we could, if we have to.” 

The touch and the knowledge that you weren’t alone was something you had missed. Again, whether it was the alcohol in both your systems or the deprivation of another human’s touch, but you both found yourselves leaning forward and connecting lips. 

It was gentle and nice, but you couldn’t help but compare it to Wanda. Kissing Wanda always felt powerful and right. The way your whole body felt like electricity was coursing through your veins at the simplest of touches. Kissing Wanda always felt like coming home. You could’t help but think you needed this to realize that the one you still wanted was the one you shouldn’t want.

Despite this, you didn’t pull away, tangling your hand in Natasha’s now blonde locks as her hands fell to your waist. You allowed yourself this small moment of comfort.

Across the street, Wanda had been approaching only to stop in horror at the sight before her. Her mind rushing and heart breaking at the sight. If she felt a fraction of what you did that night on the roof, she couldn’t imagine how you got through it. As much as her heart ached in her chest, she didn’t allow it to stop her. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. That you hadn’t already given your heart to another. 

After some time, both you and Natasha pulled away. Laughing when you met one another’s eyes. “That was… nice.” You said lightly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re drunk. We will never speak of this again.” She chuckled and looked at her watch. “My train leaves in a little over an hour, I should probably go.” You nodded in understanding and she hugged you once more before beginning to walk away.

“Hey, Nat?” you called after her. She turned. “Take care of yourself, okay?” She nodded and blew a teasing kiss your way before walking off into the night. With a sigh you leaned into the bench and closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the fact that you were alone again. 

It had to have been less than a few minutes when you felt someone sit next to you, your eyes shot open and met with stunning emerald eyes that used to be your world. “Wanda?” you whispered, feeling the air leave your lungs at the sight of her. 

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly, but there was melancholy in her eyes. “So, you and Nat, huh?” There was no accusation in her tone, just sadness. Possibly even acceptance. You quickly realized that she must have seen the kiss.

“And if we are? Together, I mean. What will you do?” You probed challengingly.

Pain flooded her eyes as she dropped her gaze to her lap. “Nothing. I’m not going to interfere if you’re happy, but… but just know that I won’t stop fighting for you. I’ll be here waiting because our love is destined and I’m not going away. I’ll still love you even if you chose to love someone else. You have all of me. Always.” She paused slightly. “You are my only direction.” She added quietly, repeating the words you once told her back to you. 

Your heart clenched at the referenced moment, of one of your formerly favorite moments. 

Staring off into the distance, you could feel the numbness begin to fade as the alcohol started to leave your system. “Why?”

She lifted her gaze up to you curiously, but you didn’t meet her eyes. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep trying?” 

Wanda took a deep breath and turned so she was facing you completely even if you wouldn’t look at her. “Love.” She stated simply, “I’m in love with you, beyond all rationality. Even if you don’t believe me. I want you to have everything you want, even if its Nat, even if that destroys me.”

Even in Spain you had never heard her speak so passionately. It terrified you. Terrified you so much that you wanted to get up and run far, far away from her. Far from the feelings that her words stirred within you.

Wanda wasn’t done though, she needed to get everything off her chest. To lay all her cards out. “When you love someone, you don’t stop. Even when everyone on the team calls me crazy and tells me I should just move on and let you go. I won’t stop or give up because if I could give up…” She risked taking your hand in hers, sighing in relief when you don’t pull back. “If I could give up and listen to everyone’s advice and move on and find someone else that wouldn’t be love. That would be some imitation that is not worth fighting for.”

“Wanda…” you whispered finally looking up at her, noticing the way her eyes shined with unshed tears.

She squeezed your hand again. “But you… You are more than worth fighting for. You will always be worth fighting for. And if I can’t have you I’ll be alone because no one else can hold my heart. This is love.”

“I’m not with Natasha.” You admitted softly after Wanda’s declaration, watching the way relief filled her eyes. “I think we were both just lonely and comforting each other.”

The relieved smile that took over Wanda’s features was contagious as you couldn’t help but smile hesitantly back at her. 

Wanda’s heart fluttered at the sight. That was the first time you had smiled at her since the night on the roof. 

“What does that mean?” she questioned hopefully.

With hesitation, you interlaced your fingers with Wanda’s. “It means that I’m still not sure I trust you and I’m not ready to be with you again.” Her head dropped in dejection. “But. I’m not going to ask you to leave if you want to stay and work on that.”

For the first time in a long time, Wanda felt a semblance of happiness blossom in her chest. Unable to stop herself, she surged forward and took you in her arms, melting when you held her back. “I promise I’ll earn your trust back. I’m not going anywhere. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Y/n.”

Part 10! double digits! Pre-Infinity War and Infinity war was supposed to be one chapter and in hindsight that was probably overly ambitious of me. That means there will now be 13 parts instead of 12. Anyway, as always let me know what you think, and hope you enjoyed! :)

[somethingwritey]

How is the Rangshi long fic coming? Id love an update on ittttt!

Hello! I'm so glad you're still thinking about my Rangshi fic! It's currently around 20k at the moment—definitely getting a bit carried away!

Because you asked, here's another little out-of-context snippet ;)

-----

“Do you think the spirits would mind if I assassinated a world leader?”

Jinpa jerked his head up at the question, risking a glance behind him at her. Kyoshi knew she must be a sight to behold, laying out across the wide saddle and staring up at the darkening clouds. In her hands, she opened and closed a fan in time to her pounding pulse.

“I don’t think that’s listed as an Avatar duty,” Jinpa stammered, thoroughly taken aback by her proposal.

“Bummer.”

Jinpa was quiet for a few moments, no doubt trying to edge around the subject towards her reasoning. “I take it that meeting with the Fire Lord went… poorly?”

Kyoshi propped herself up on her elbows to stare him in the face. She hoped he could read how absolutely stupid that question had been. She’d emerged from the Fire Lord’s palace by stomping, causing tiny earthquakes as she marched over to the stables. That should’ve been indication enough.

“He’s out of control.” Kyoshi shivered—Rangi’s absence making itself very apparent just then; she could always be counted on for a little extra warmth while traveling.

Kyoshi went back to staring at the sky.

Zoryu’s words about the Firebender still echoed in her ears, doing more to chill her than the night air ever could. She wished she could put more distance between Rangi and the Fire Lord, despite being hidden away in Yokoya.

For a terrifying moment, she wondered if Zoryu somehow knew. If he could see the girl in her cotton shift, laid out on the infirmary bed with her hands knotted in the sheets. If he had discovered a way to look at the bruises on her face and the way her breath still rattled slightly whenever she breathed. Maybe this whole meeting had been a distraction, a diversion to take Kyoshi away from the infirmary and Rangi. Maybe, it was too late.

“Jinpa!” Kyoshi felt her heart pounding in her ears. “Fly faster!”

She worked herself up as they flew, imagining horrific scenes of injury and destruction—rivaling the iceberg or North Chung-Ling - only this time, it would absolutely be her fault. If anything happened to Rangi, the Flying Opera Company, even Hei-Ran and Atuat, she would be to blame.

Kyoshi gripped the edge of the saddle, her knuckles turning white from the effort. She watched the ground grow closer and closer as Yingyong spiralled into a descent. Her chest tightened with every drop in altitude, and once, she almost slipped over the edge and plummeted the last several feet to the ground.

“Quiet evening.” Jinpa seemed on the whole unaware of her own personal panic. He landed Yingyong with ease and dismounted, walking around the side of the bison to assist Kyoshi like he always did.

She didn’t wait for the monk to make it over to her. She tumbled from the saddle, falling hard onto the ground and scrambling back up to her feet.

“Kyoshi!” he yelled after her in disbelief.

She didn’t turn around, stumbling towards the infirmary to what she knew would be waiting for her. Blindly, she pushed open the door and tripped over the doorway, panting and gasping for air, to find -

No evidence of violence. No ransom note or bodies or trails of blood. Just Hei-Ran and Atuat sitting in a few chairs with bowls of noodles, with the rest of the Flying Opera Company still bedridden, but looking more vibrant than before. Even Rangi looked, on the whole, unchanged, propped up in bed. Someone had even taken the time to put her hair back up in its usual topknot.

“Well,” Hei-Ran said dryly, taking in Kyoshi’s haggard appearance. “Are you being pursued by wolfbats? Lion vultures? Spider snakes, perhaps?”

Kyoshi’s face flushed red, and she tried hard to catch her breath - smoothing down her skirts to remove the ruffles.

“Did the monk get eaten?” Atuat asked calmly, taking another bite of her noodles. Clearly, the two women were enjoying the joke at Kyoshi’s expense.

Rangi covered her mouth, looking as though she was trying to keep a straight face for Kyoshi’s sake and failing at it. Kyoshi glared at her.

“Not you, too.”

A little snort escaped Rangi’s fingers, and her eyes went wide.

“Some bison ride you must’ve had,” Kirmia ventured, surveying Kyoshi’s windswept state. “What did happen to that Airbender of yours?”

Kyoshi gestured out the door. “Probably unsaddling Yingyong,” she told them all, still somewhat out of breath. “I, uh, just needed to check something.”

“The Fire Lord put you on edge?” Hei-Ran put down her bowl of noodles, staring hard at Kyoshi.

She forced herself to look back calmly. The last thing she wanted was to let everyone know that she’d gotten worked up over some unfulfilled threats. And now that she was here, even Kyoshi could tell how stupid she’d been. The infirmary was the safest place for Rangi right now, surrounded as she was by Hei-Ran and Atuat and unable to make any wrong move the Fire Lord could use to justify an attack.

Kyoshi forced a smile, relaxing her shoulders the best she could. “Nothing of the sort.” She tucked her fans back into her belt. “The meeting was simply to confirm what he already knew. Pretty big waste of time, actually.”

Hei-Ran was still studying her skeptically, probably trying to pinpoint the reason for Kyoshi’s sudden change in demeanor. Kyoshi dared to look over at Rangi again.

Her expression mirrored her mother’s, lips slightly pursed and head tilted to the side. If Kyoshi didn’t want Hei-Ran to discover the true nature of her meeting with Zoryu, she definitely didn’t want Rangi figuring it out.

Rangi’s station meant everything to her, and she took her job very seriously. If she knew that her own Fire Lord was pondering possible ways to strip the girl of her life - or worse, her honor - she would lose it.

Kyoshi had already seen how Fire Nation citizens treated their disgraced ranking officials. Hei-Ran had been pitied, patronized, pet like an animal. If anyone were to take that tone with Rangi, well, Kyoshi couldn’t promise that she would be able to keep her Avatar State in check.

“Care for some noodles?” Atuat gestured to her own bowl, holding it up for Kyoshi to see.

There was no way Kyoshi could turn down food. She hadn’t eaten since… well, Kyoshi couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d eaten, and she could feel Rangi staring daggers at her.

“Yeah,” she smiled at Atuat. “Noodles would be great.”

////

It was three days before Rangi was able to stand.

Atuat worked on her the best she could, trying to heal the internal damage caused by Yun. She told Kyoshi that bits of his earth dagger had broken off inside her wound, causing irritation and leaving a large possibility for infection. It didn’t help that Rangi was a terrible patient.

“I can get up,” she kept insisting. “I’m fine!”

When Atuat finally let her try, Rangi leapt at the opportunity, getting to her feet much too quickly and nearly doubling over from lingering stiffness and pain.

“Careful!” Kyoshi cried, hovering nearby. The outburst earned her stares from both Rangi and Atuat.

When Rangi straightened up again—slower this time—Kyoshi could see the imprint of the bandages under her shift - wrapped generously around her torso like battle armor.

“Are you sure she should be doing this?” Kyoshi asked Atuat, probably only fueling Rangi’s determination. “She’s still got bandages on! What if she starts bleeding again? We can try again tomorrow! Or next week!”

“Kyoshi, what’s your problem?” Rangi narrowed her eyes.

She was being far too overprotective, Kyoshi knew. She should back off. Let Rangi manage her own recovery. But even though it was inviting Rangi’s wrath, Kyoshi didn’t want her Firebender’s stubbornness to impede her healing process.

Rangi needed to take it slow. Make sure she didn’t make things worse with her rush to get better. As much as Kyoshi wanted to see her girl back on her feet, she knew it wouldn’t benefit either of them if it happened too quickly.

That’s what Kyoshi told herself as she watched Atuat support Rangi and instruct her to gently raise and lower her arms - stretching out her muscles. Kyoshi just didn’t want Rangi to overextend herself. To tear open her wound. To hurry an infection along. Her concern was born from love and care, not selfishness.

Or cowardice.

As if to poke holes in her reasoning, Hei-Ran entered the tent, arms crossed. “Jinpa told me your meeting with the Fire Lord ended… abruptly.” She glanced over at Atuat and Rangi for the briefest of moments. “Rangi, straighten your shoulders. Injuries don’t excuse bad posture.”

Rangi huffed, but obediently did as she was told. She respected her mother’s authority, whether she liked it or not.

Kyoshi picked her next words carefully. Lying to Hei-Ran was never a good idea, but neither was letting on just how badly the meeting had actually gone. “I think… the messages of both parties had ample time for sinking in.”

The words could’ve come straight from Yun’s mouth—vague with just the right amount of high-brow language. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless cause after all.

Hei-Ran seemed surprised by the response as well. “I see. And what message did the Fire Lord impart on you?”

Shit.

Kyoshi tried to think on her feet. “Politics,” she said at last. “The importance of… political relations.”

“Sounds like the stuff Jianzhu used to preach,” Rangi offered, crinkling up her nose at the mention of the departed sage.

Hei-Ran sniffed dismissively at the mention of the man who’d nearly poisoned her to death. Kyoshi wondered inwardly if the woman ever mourned Jianzhu, despite everything. He had once been her close companion, after all.

Every one of Hei-Ran’s old friends were gone, she suddenly realized - swallowing hard. Kuruk. Kelsang. Jianzhu. The once-inseparable gang hadn’t stayed that way for very long. Hei-Ran was the sole survivor.

Killed after hunting dark spirits.

Murdered by Jianzhu.

Murdered by Yun. And me.

What terrible fates had been waiting for the previous Avatar team, often at the hands of each other. Was that what waited for her? For Rangi? For Wong and Kirimia? Was every Avatar doomed to bring failure and annihilation to the people who loved them most?

“Atuat,” she said sharply, turning to look at Rangi who’d made good progress accompanied by the Waterbender. “That’s enough for today.”

“Yes, Avatar.”

As Atuat moved to help Rangi back to bed, Rangi protested - an angry haze settling over her face as she watched Kyoshi move towards the door.

“What?” Rangi twisted in Atuat’s grip, trying to break free, to run after her. “Who let her call the shots around here? Kyoshi, don’t you dare walk away from me! I’m not through talking about this!”

Kyoshi didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

“Fine! Go clear your head! See if I care!”

And then Kyoshi made it out of earshot.

She would delay Rangi’s recovery as long as she possibly could, drag it out until the spirits themselves were begging the Firebender to get back on her feet. Because at least here in the infirmary, tucked away in Yokoya, she had people to keep her safe. She couldn’t get herself thrown into another life-threatening situation while she was still recuperating from the last one.

Kyoshi wouldn’t be the reason for Rangi’s obliteration.

And neither would Zoryu.

---

more coming soon! my commissions are open (and so is my ask box!)

[ssamie]

epilogue. “your girlfriend’s kinda hot”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide and suggestive themes + dirty jokes

masterlist.          suicide freak!

"hey uh, welcome to my stream i guess" he said as he spared the camera a quick glance "im not really playing tonight because an incident has recently occurred in this household" kenma said with a tired sigh 

nobody else knew it, but the said 'incident' was y/n accidentally setting half of their living room on fire 

the reason? apparently, she wanted to try burning herself to death in the furnace. obviously, it didn't work. and all that's left from that is more shit for kenma to clean up and a trip to yosano-san. 

kenma is stressed. and y/n is still alive. both of them are facing problems. 

"can you please wear a maid outfit- no."

kenma shook his head as he continued playing, glancing at the chat once in a while to read the veiwers' questions and comments

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: how about cat ears?! 

user: ^^ cATBOY CATBOY CATBOY 

user: u suck at this game wtf

kuroo.tetsu: hey kenma ;) 

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"first of all, i do not suck at minecraft thank you very much" kenma scoffed 

"second of all, go away kuroo. im still mad at you" 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: LMFAOOO kuroo what did u do?? 💀💀

user: he probably broke kenma's pc 

user: PLSS he's the one kenma’s throwing shade at on twitter 

kuroo.tetsu: STOP THE SLANDER 😔✋🏼

user: rooster head lookin ass 

user: ^^ NOT THE HAIR 

kuroo.testsu: 😃😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma sighed as he continued building a cute little cottage. he was currently vibing, just building y/n a cute cottage for her to probably burn later on. 

and he decided it would be nice to go on stream since his oh-so-lovely girlfriend was still out for work. 

ah yes, kenma has somehow kept y/n alive all those years. 

barely. 

hence why his phone was being bombarded with messages from her, all of which being blurry selfies. 

the photos had her sporting a huge grin while atsushi panicked in the background. 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: ayo, ur phone's blowing up 

user: do you have a girlfriend? 

user: KODZUKEN LET ME SUCK UR TOES 😋😋🤩

user: ^ ayo chill 😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma simply ignored them and continued on with his task. all was going well until a loud slam was heard. his cat-like eyes widened as he heard a familiar voice singing from downstairs, it was undoubtedly y/n. 

kenma chuckled nervously and muted his mic. 

but of course, cute dumb catboy didn't actually mute his mic. haha <3

he ignored all the questions in the chat, all of them being  speculations that he has a girlfriend. which he does, but they simply did not need to know that <3

"kenma~" she yelled out "i have a surprise for you!!" she said, followed by menacing giggles. 

kenma glanced at the camera before hopping off his gaming chair and peeking his head out of the door. 

"y/n, im streaming!! stay down there!" he yelled out in panic 

"aw, you're playing hard to get aren't ya?" she chuckled 

kenma deadpanned as he saw her limping up the stairs, with her bandages torn and unravelled, same with her clothes. he didn't really think much of it since this is usually how she comes home. 

its most likely just due to work and/or another suicide attempt.

"so, kenma.. you'll never know what just happened to me today" she started off with a goofy grin 

"im streaming, atleast let me turn it off first-" 

she paid no mind to him as she peeled off her ruined coat and pointed to her poorly bandaged stomach

"i got stabbed!" 

"you got what?!"

kenma furrowed his brows as he immediately rushed over to his side, cradling her face and waist as he inspected her injuries

"are you okay, kitten?" he asked worriedly 

"yep, apparently it wasnt deep enough to be fatal" she sighed dejectedly 

"please don't be sad about that." kenma groaned "can you undress?" 

"ara ara~ whats this?" she cooed "you're getting real bold, kenma" she smirked at him 

she unbuttoned her shirt and started pulling down on her skirt "but since you asked so nicely-" 

kenma simply sighed and shook his head. "i was gonna prepare you a bath but now im considering leaving you here to die" 

"but the second option would've been better though" she smiled at him 

"oh my fucking god." 

kozume kenma. (22)

╰─▸ university student, stock trader, pro-gamer, youtuber, ceo of bouncing ball lpt. 

╰─▸ y/n's struggling boyfriend. definitely needs a pay after all he's been through.

╰─▸ currently panicking because his girlfriend got stabbed.

l/n y/n. (22)

╰─▸ operative/member of the armed detective agency. 

╰─▸ kenma's girlfriend. kinda dumb, very hot to compensate for it. still hasn't died yet. 

╰─▸ currently bleeding and wounded. also hoping for severe blood loss.

"kenma, did you know" she mused in a teasing tone "lack of sleep and too much stress could possibly lead to poor memory and lack of awareness" 

kenma looked up at her with a look of confusion. he was currently kneeled down before her while she was sat on the bed as he cleaned her wound up with a damp towel. 

"why are you telling me this?" he asked 

"i just thought it probably applied to you" she snickered 

"why? i didnt forget anything-" 

he cut himself off with a huge intake of air. he slowly turned his head to look at the screen which still had his stream going on. to make it worse, the camera was on and they were both clearly in the camera's field of view. 

to make things worse worse, his mic was on the whole time and the live chat was in shambles. 

"i hate it here" he sighed 

kenma laid his head on her lap as he continued on patching her up, honestly not caring that this whole scene was being recorded for thousands or millions of people to see. 

"well, atleast the internet could finally see my beauty before i die" she laughed 

she ran her fingers through kenma's hair as he grumbled under his breath. kenma was a pretty private person. he made sure not to overshare, given his current 'influencer' status. and he was planning on keeping his relationship a secret, though it seems he can't do that anymore. 

"might as well say hi" she shrugged 

so of course, she then decided to walk up to the camera looking utterly dishevelled and roughed up. 

for context, the newly wrapped bandages around her stomach was being stained already by a crimson red hue and it was only getting worse the more she moved, undoubtedly messing up her wound. 

"hi, im kenma's girlfriend and if i see you flirting with him i will make you regret it" she grinned 

"y/n!" kenma groaned from the bed "you're close to dying right now, turn the stream off" 

ignoring him, she proceeded to read the veiwers' comments, laughing at some of them while she joked around. 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: heLLO?!?! 

user: GE HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOOO

user: bruh, did i just hear that right? were you fuckin stabbed? 

user: ur kinda hot tho

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma furrowed his brows as he reluctantly walked up behind her, reading the comments with varying reactions 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: well damn, hot bloody girl comes in and suddenly im lesbian

user: kenma looks so done

kuroo.tetsu: hi y/n ;) 

user: HER NAME IS Y/N

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"jesus christ shut up, kuroo" kenma grumbled out with a sigh 

"yup! yup! im y/n, and no, i am not a criminal. i swear." she shook her head 

"i got an injury from my job, that's all." she cleared up 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: tangina nyo sana ol

user: MSKAKAKKA

user: THIS IS LOWKEY ICONIC

user: time to scratch another gamer boy off my possible bf list 😔

user: girl wtf happened to u

user: that's wack bro 🚶‍♀️

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"great question, random person from the internet!" she beamed "see, what happened was.." 

"i went on a certain mission and got severely injured. though, when i called for help nobody responded" she said 

kenma furrowed his brows at her words. "why didn't anybody respond?" he asked. she sighed and fiddled with her torn bandages, pouting her lips as she does so. 

"well, when i told them that i was finally on death's door, all they said to me was 'congratulations!' and all that.." she said "what's your take on that, hm?" she asked kenma 

"im not surprised" he said 

she grinned at his words and leaned in for a kiss. "you're so mean to me, kenma~" she whined 

she licked her lips as she held his blushing face in her hands, she nuzzled their noses as she leaned in closer to him. 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

kuroo.tetsu: oh shit 😳

user: we all know where this is heading ;) 

user: sana ol talaga punyemas 

user: AYO CHILL 

user: why we goin so fuckin fasstttt 😳

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma hastily turned the camera off as soon as y/n's lips touched his. 

"kitten, were still- hmph-" 

he was only silenced as she slipped her tongue in his mouth, smirking lightly as she ran her fingers through his hair 

"thanks babe." she said as she pulled away, giving him a soft peck on his cheek and a nod "anyways.." she hummed as she turned the camera on once again 

she looked through the chat while kenma slaps his face to get rid of his blush. 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: ur fuckin freaky 

kuroo.tetsu: oya oya 😼😼

user: MS MAAM I JUST MET U AND I LOVE U ALREADY WJABSJSJJS

user: not me blushing chiiilllleeeeee 🏃‍♀️

user: KENMA IS FLUSTERED

kuroo.tetsu: kenma, i didnt expect this from u 😼

user: im so fucking JEALOUS GRR😡

user: girl r u bleeding rn 😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

upon reading a certain comment, she subconsciously grazed her fingers against her bandaged wound. her eyes slightly widening as she felt a concerning amount of wetness seeping through

she glanced at kenma who was still calming himself down and inspected her wound 

"oh my.." she muttered, though she couldn't help but let a smile slip through 

so like any normal person would do, she simply ignored her bleeding wound and the fact that she was getting a bit lightheaded. haha <3

"anyways, let's answer some questions!" she beamed 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: what's ur full name

user: what's ur job miss girl 

user: are you possibly looking for a gf, because i am more 

than willing to take the spot 🚶‍♀️

user: how did you meet?? 

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"alright, those are all very nice questions" she chuckled. kenma, who's now calmed down, sat down beside her to look at the chat. 

"first, im l/n y/n" she mused "nice to meet ya" 

"second im a detective! mhm, im cooler than your fathers" 

"third, it depends, belladonna" she cooed as she sent the camera flirty smirk "are you perhaps willing to join me in a double suicide?" 

"oh god.." kenma grumbled. he pouted at her and shook his head in disapproval. "don't flirt with random girls" he whined 

"why not?" 

"uh- because i am your beloved boyfriend, is that not good enough of a reason??" 

"... anyways, we met at a cafe way back in high school" she said with a smile "also, i asked him to join me on a double suicide" she said 

she was smiling and nodding as if it was the most normal thing in the world, all while kenma nods along 

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: wtf are u okay 🗿

kuroo.tetsu: teenage romance 🤩

user: cute ❤️

user: im concerned ❤️

user: ur a detective?? cool

user: LMAOO I'LL GO ON A DOUBLE SEWER SLIDE 

WITH U MOMMY 😩😩😋

user: ^^ SAME 😩

user: CHOKE ME WITH THOSE BANDAGES MOMMAE 😩

user: u r still bleeding 🚶‍♀️        

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma was simply glaring at the chat as more compliments and flirtatious comments came flowing in, all of which were directed to his girlfriend. 

"this is why i didn't wanna let people know about you.." kenma grumbled 

"aww, why not?" she asked with a playful pout 

"people are flirting with you." he sighed "also, stop asking for my girlfriend's onlyfans! she doesn't even have one!" he snarled

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: LMAOO CATBOY IS ANGRY 😩

user: y/n-senpai spit on me 😡😡

user: drop the onlyfans 

user: chupapi munyanyo 😩

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"anyways, i'd hate to ruin the mood" she chimed in with a sluggish giggle "but im so wet kenma" she whined out 

a menacing smirk was etched on her lips as kenma spluttered in response, a bright red hue covering his face almost instantly as he faced her with widened eyes 

"y-y/n! why would you say that?!" he whisper shouted 

"cuz i am" she whined out as she grabbed his hand and trailed it down her abdomen 

she faced the camera and gave them a shit-eating grin as kenma mumbled out incoherent words 

"y/n we should-" he cut himself off as he felt the concerning amount of blood drip down his whole arm 

kenma's face paled as he looked up to see her smiling like a kid in a candy store, completely unbothered. 

"y/n, you idiot! why didn't you tell me!" kenma exclaimed 

"um- my girlfriend is bleeding. excessively. so uh- bye i guess" it was all he said before hastily ending his stream and turning off his computer. 

"y/n, let's get you to a hospital" he said as he reached down to carry her away. though she simply slapped his hands off and closed her eyes. 

"nope. this is my time, kenma. don't ruin it for me" she said 

"you're fucking dying!!" 

"well, would you like to join me?" 

"no"

"damn." she muttered in response 

"so...wanna fuck?" she asked sheepishly 

"for the love of god-" 

this was so messy :/

[janekfan]

for the bingo board, would you mind doing health scare with jon and the crew? i love your writing btw

Thank you so much!!! 

Uh, I filled this probably unconventionally? But I hope it’s okay!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514178

Jon first noticed something was off when he woke up shivering in the dead of night. But temperatures had been dropping steadily, there was no reason to think that it was anything other than the thin, poorly insulated walls of his flat causing the problem. Exhausted, Jon knuckled enough sleep from his eyes to retrieve another blanket, deciding before he slipped away again to wear a warmer cardigan tomorrow because the archives had a tendency to be chilly.

When Jon limped his way into the office the next day his joints were already burning and loose, feeling all too much like they’d been crushed into powder. He knew better than to walk that extra stop from the train but he was so embittered about his new, illustrious position as Head Archivist that being crammed like a sardine with hundreds of other people all but reading his mind, knowing instinctively that he wasn’t cut out for the work, was unbearable and he’d needed an escape. It wasn’t that bad; he was just tired from trying to fix Gertrude’s mess, that’s all. He just needed to redirect his attention away from the needles stabbing into him every time he took a step and focus on the mountain of files he had yet to sort through.

There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to how they were organized, but he had been able to use the dates scrawled across the tops of the stiff yellowing papers to get some semblance of a timeline going. That was where Jon found himself when Martin dropped off a cuppa, thanking him absentmindedly as he compared what was either a nine or a seven to another, clearer script.

“Um. Jon?”

“Hm?” It couldn’t matter that much and Jon filed them away in deference to the tea. Jon hadn’t realized how thirsty he was...what time was it?

“I. It’s half three.” Oh. “And I. I just haven’t seen you eat? Anything?”

“Oh.”

“You’re so busy, of course! It’s natural to get, uh, caught up! I could fix you something, if you’d like?”

“I’m.” Not hungry, that was for certain. Either the pain or the exhaustion was upsetting his stomach and the idea of eating right now was--

“Jon?” Maybe he’d eaten something gone off? Past the expiry?

“Oh. Um. Actually.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Some. Some toast would be lovely, Martin, thank you.” A bite or two would help and as strange as it felt to take Martin up on his offer, the slightest bit of tension bled out of his shoulders.

Things had been.

Tense.

Since he’d accepted the position.

It was clear, no, true, that Sasha was better deserving of the job. She had more experience, more knowledge, more everything and yet Elias had passed her right over, giving Jon the ridiculous choice to resign or take it.

He should have resigned.

Finding a new workplace would be easier than watching his friends pull away from him. He didn’t blame Tim for siding with Sasha. She needed support right now. And anything he could think of to say to her would make him sound ungrateful that he’d been selected over her. Couldn’t very well go up to her and admit that he hated this and wanted everything to go back to the way it was in Research, because she really did want it.

And he.

“Toast’s up.” Martin sidestepped into the room to place the small plate on the corner of the desk. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like with it so I got a few things!” Cheerful and bright, he placed the jams down with a small spoon. He couldn’t have known it was exactly the right thing to do, that dry toast was about all Jon was going to be able to manage. “Anything I can help with?” Tentative, it was no secret that Jon was prickly at the best of times.

“Ah, um.” Jon gestured to a box, repressed a flinch when it seemed like his shoulder would jump from its socket. “I’ve been organizing by the dates on the top? Just, just for something.”

“Got it.”

Jon made his way slowly through one slice, later agreeing with Martin that he’d gotten too caught up with work to think about the second.

Things didn’t improve.

Maybe it was this.

Maybe it was that.

Excuse after excuse, because anything would be better than what he knew in his heart this really was and finally late one evening Jon clutched the bed spread despite the fire flaring in his fingers and buried his face into the soft fabric. It was foolish; it wouldn’t change anything to be so upset and he should be better equipped to handle it considering these spells would continue happening. He breathed in, out, slow, measured, but instead of calming him, he burst into sobs, muffling himself in the sheets and crying despite the pain and as he lay there, coming down from his tears of frustration, Jon realized, accepted, what was happening. The reason for his fever, headaches, the increase in pain, the trouble eating, sleeping--

“You are fine.” He whispered repeatedly into the cold isolated dark of his bedroom. “It won’t last forever. It never does.” But it always felt like forever and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be this time. What mistake did he make to cause it, even though Jon knew deep down it didn’t matter. That these things came and went with the wind and no matter what habits he changed to try and mitigate it, it never mattered. It was as if he was only able to talk himself down in time for it to flare up again and the constant fight to convince himself he would be alright, that he would make it through again and again and again was exhausting because it meant he was done in before the day even began.

Jon’s body ached like one giant bruise, crushed, pulled apart, at once boneless and so heavy that moving out of bed was out of the question. Brain stuffed with cotton wool and foggy thoughts meant that to speak meant to hurt so he didn’t, knowing he came across as spiteful but he didn’t have the energy to explain, not when he was so focused on making it from train to Institute to door to stairs to office; each leg of such a routine journey worse than the last. Sitting up was an ordeal and Jon had to drag his stick and string self out of bed after each restless night with caution, lest he pull something loose out of place. Braces, tape, hidden, hiding, normal, normal, normal. How he could be so tired and still not be able to sleep at night was a torture he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

Greetings, pleasantries, small talk all standing in the way of Jon reaching his desk and taking a break from what was essentially waking up. But it hurt. It all hurt. And it made it all worse because they were already angry with him and they wouldn’t stop being angry at him unless he put work into mending their relationships and he couldn’t put work into it when he wanted nothing more than to lay down and be unconscious for however long it took until this all passed.

The worst part of it all was that he needed help and didn’t know how to ask for it. Not with the cold shoulders, the whispers, the looks. And he only had himself to blame. The desk phone caught his attention and Jon was surprised it wasn’t shrouded in a layer of dust, still weighing his choices. Call someone, probably Martin. Or drag himself out of his office. One would only wound his pride. Gingerly, Jon cradled the phone to his ear, licking chapped lips before dialing Martin’s extension.

“Oh, J’Jon?” He’d never called any of them before. “Uh, what can I do for you?” Thank god. Trust Martin’s helpful nature to override any other questions.

“Ah, Martin. Yes, thank you. If you could--” There was a scuffle, a yelp, muffled through his door, followed by the dramatic clearing of a throat and:

“You can’t hide in there all week, Jon!” Came Tim’s sing-song reply and the hang up was two fold; through the receiver and the clang of the thing on Martin’s desk. Jon took a deep breath, pushing back the emotions threatening to flood him, tipping his head back and begging the tears to stop.

Having to ask for help was almost impossible and the longer he waited to show his face, the worse it would be.

The only thing he’d accomplished by picking up the phone was to put himself on a time limit.

This was too overwhelming.

Their desks are meters away but it may as well have been kilometers with how much he was hurting. But Jon pushed himself to his unsteady feet anyway, wishing both that someone would just notice and that he was masking his symptoms enough that they wouldn’t. He wasn’t foolish enough to leave his cane behind. It took concentration to keep his expression neutral, to force himself to walk smoothly. To pretend it was a regular day.

“That’s a level ten scowl, boss.” Jon rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’ve been so moody lately.” Tim looked up from where he was twiddling away on his phone. Taking a break, that’s all, nothing to be upset with even though he couldn’t help but compare the number of files stacked on their individual desks. Jon swallowed hard around the tangle of hot disappointment.

“I’ve b’been, uh. It’s well, it’s a lot.” He hadn’t heard Sasha come up behind him, tone droll and capricious and all too familiar these days.

“I thought you’d be happier considering your position.” When Jon laughed nervously, it was damp with suppressed emotion. “It’s like you didn’t even want it.” And good lord at this moment he’d never wanted it less. But how could he talk to her about how difficult this transition had been when he was the thief? So he didn’t defend himself, instead going along with their jokes at his expense, trying to explain what he’d tried to call for. It was difficult to breathe in their presence, it was difficult to stand. It was difficult to accept that his friends were actively making things harder.

How would they know?

Tell them.

They’ll think you’re lying.

You were fine the other day.

“I was hoping you’d help me collect some files.” Jon wrapped his pompous academic exterior around him like a shield and for a horrifying moment he thought Tim was going to tell him off.

“Why didn’t you say so, boss?” Sarcasm dripped like crude oil from each syllable. “You just tell me what you want and I’ll fetch it for you.”

“Ah, j’just uh.” Jon pointed to what he needed in the stacks and Tim grunted with the weight of it, chuckling without mirth.

“Letting being the Big Boss go to your head are you?” He wiped a hand dramatically over his forehead. “Too shiftless to collect your own work?”

Why was he being so cruel?

“Too busy, I think you mean.” Jon shot back, letting anger and frustration seep through the continuously forming cracks. It was that or sob.

“Yeah, well. If you need anything else, you know where to find us.”

Jon absolutely refused to cry in his office.

It was stupid of him to not ask for help.

But he’d needed help with so many things this week past. Small things. Moving things. Carrying things. Things a normal person could do without constantly relying on others and the idea of parading himself into their midst again made his eyes sting with tears and his knees and hips burn. They hurt so much even with the bulky braces and sticky tape hidden beneath his trousers literally holding his joints together he didn’t think he’d be able to make another trip back and forth.

Which is how Jon found himself staring dumbly at his dangling arm for full seconds after trying to lift a box.

He’d dislocated his shoulder if the audible and sharp pop! was any indication and when the hot flush of agony hit he yelped mostly in surprise before controlling his fall to the floor. Someone was digging around in his shoulder socket with a superheated spoon as he writhed on the ground and he took just a moment to feel sorry for himself. He’d just wanted to do this one thing by himself and not have to surrender the tiny scrap of independence he’d been clinging to with his fingernails. Cursing himself for being so stupid and cursing himself again when his mewling brought all three of his assistants to his door, Jon looked up, feeling not unlike a beetle trapped on its back and waiting to be pinned. Now he was surrounded, in pain, under the glass of their frightened stares and he couldn’t spare the breath to tell them that he was fine. Just needed a moment to, to fit the puzzle pieces back together while he was being torn apart at his fragile seams.

“Boss--” A cacophony of panicked voices rising higher and higher and--

“Don’t!” They were reaching towards him, stopping at his tight command. “Don’t. I need. I--a minute. It’s fine.” Sweat streaked into the greying hair at his temples.

“This isn’t fine.” Tim sounded angry, scared, and Jon didn’t have enough in him to explain. Not right now. “Jon, you need--”

“Don’t tell me what I need!!” Surprising even himself with the vehement strength behind his declaration Jon put real effort into slowing his rapid breath. If he couldn’t control that, he couldn’t control himself, he couldn’t control the situation. At some point he closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, listening to the sound of Tim’s angry footsteps, Sasha’s following, their muffled voices upset and far away. He sensed Martin kneel beside him.

“Got you a cold cloth. Would you…?”

“P’please…” carried on the gust of his next exhale, the hum of relief stuck in his throat when Martin smoothed it over his eyes and it dulled the constant headache.

“You feel warm.”

“S’normal.” Martin was a surprising well of calm, not pressing or pushing or probing.

“Can I help?”

“In a, need another minute.” Experimentally Jon wiggled his fingers to check for numbness before trying to extend his arm and ultimately asking Martin for help.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to, to make it worse.”

“Can’t. Not really. Just there.” Martin’s hands were soft and warm as he maneuvered his arm over his head, helping bend it at the elbow and Jon grunted at the sensation of it falling back into place with a cool wash of relief.

“Oh! Uh, better?”

“Much.”

“I’ll make you some tea.” As though it were the man’s answer to all ills.

Jon took his time sitting up and getting to his feet, grabbing his cane and making his way to the breakroom where he knew he’d find Tim and Sasha. They at least gave him time to get settled before Tim launched into his interrogation.

“What happened?” Jon squirmed uncomfortably under their scrutiny, eyes downcast and focused on the glare of the fluorescent lighting reflecting off the surface of the tea Martin made him and glinting off the untouched foil backing of the paracetamol blister pack. His arm was in a sling. A sling he happened to have in his desk. A sling he happened to have in his desk “because this just happened sometimes.” The pain had decreased significantly but it didn’t feel right and probably wouldn’t for a while.

“I tried to lift a box.”

“A box.” Jon could really, really do without the incredulity.

“You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, because you never talk about it!”

“Because it’s always the same!” Jon didn’t mean to shout, but they wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t. And no amount of explaining or talking about his symptoms or complaining when he was hurting because he was always hurting would make a difference. “People don’t want to hear about it, Tim. It’s. It’s depressing.” They don’t believe me. “It makes people feel bad and then they get awkward. It’s easier for all of us if we just. Pretend.”

“Jon--”

“You’ve known since Research.” Jon wrapped sore arms around a sore stomach. “You know what these episodes look like, if not what it is.” And you didn’t care enough to even ask. It goes unsaid. Blaming Tim for something so far beyond his control wasn’t fair and Jon refused to do it.

Noticing would have been nice.

Not being forced to haul himself out to their desks to ask for help would have been nice. He understood they were acting out a bit of revenge and he didn’t blame them considering he’d stolen the job out from under Sasha. But it had been a blow to his pride all the same. Every time. Like being kicked when he was down.

Tears sprang to his eyes.

“And I. I don’t need. I don’t need to be coddled. But.” It felt stupid to say he wasn’t always able to walk between their desks and his office. He should be able to do that. It should be easy and he hated that it wasn’t. “I n’need to be allowed to, to.”

Leave. Leave here and never come back because he’d never felt worse than he did right now trying to beg his assistants for permission to use the phone.

“Call us.” Martin provided. “On the bad days.” Jon nodded, hiding his trembling lips behind the mug of cooling tea.

“Jon.” Tim sounded stricken. “I, I never meant--I.” Jon knew that. Tim was kind, had helped him when they worked upstairs together. But being punished like a child for saying yes-- “Jon.” He looked up to see that Tim was sitting across from him, hand outstretched on the table between them. Reaching. “Jon. I’m so, so sorry. That was. I shouldn’t have taken it that far.”

“I never. I didn’t say anything. You didn’t know.” It was Jon’s fault for being stubborn. It was Jon’s fault for not explaining.

“That’s no excuse for acting like a prat.” Jon ducked his head, embarrassment heating his face.

“I just. I chose y’you because.”

I trust you.

When Sasha sat beside him and bundled him into a gentle hug, that’s when the tears came in a biblical flood.

“Oh, Jon. I’m so sorry.” She rested her chin atop his head and the relief outweighed the unprofessionalism as he let himself be held. “We’re going to be better, alright?”

“Al’alright.” Salt damp and trembling, Jon was too exhausted to worry about what they thought of his greatest secret.

Hours later Jon blinked awake, bleary and warm, on the couch, head in Sasha’s lap as she read through a case and wrapped up in one of Martin’s jumpers.

“Almost quittin’ time, boss.” Oh. “You okay to make it home?”

“Uh, y’yeah, yes.”

It was nice to be asked.

It was a bit like walking on eggshells, the first few days of them navigating Jon without smothering him but the support was a far cry from the isolation and loneliness he’d dealt with since this whole thing started.

And then finally it began to break; the pain that’d been ratcheted up to eleven finally started dying down to a more manageable five or six.

“Need anything while I’m up, Jon?” Sasha poked her head into his office on her way by, a familiar, easy smile on her face and one he’d missed dearly.

“Ah, no, I--oh. If it’s not too much trouble, Martin was working on a translation?”

“Sure thing.”

Simple as that.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Golden Prince Naga Boyfriend (Shesmetet) 3

I may have to break this down into another part as it’s so long already. 

Warning: some threats and language.

Words: 3k

1 [NSFW]   -   2   -  4  -  5 (FINALE)

Divine Worship Part 3

His chambers were poorly lit compared to the countless times you had been there to share his bed, the fading candles blowing softly in the aromatic room of sweet pomegranates and lemon slices that filled your nostrils but did not seem to calm your nerves. 

You knew of the consequences, the outcome in which your life would be on the line, but you didn’t know exactly how to take it all.  

The Jade Prince was by his table drinking from his golden cobra chalice the same wine he had ‘borrowed’ from his sister, observing how he poured and drank from it like it was water. Two, then three, then four. 

His body was showing all signs of fatigue and strain: his usual sleek ink-black hair was so unkempt and tangled, the stress of being the representative of his father on top of all the things surrounding you.

You couldn’t help but feel that this was all your fault, had you kept this all from happening and not even going to his bedchambers more and more, you wouldn’t be having to stress for your life being taken by the Princess Iseka.

You had been on the verge of doubling over and pouring your tears out in front of the prince, your last moment of courage bringing you to speak his name. “Your Grace-”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was gravelly and deeper than expected, but his body didn’t show any signs of inebriation, “I’m sorry for all of this.”

You twisted your fingers to clench at your dress, your hair guarding you of your eyes that were threatening to spill those tears. 

“No, this is my fault.” You confessed forlornly. “The Rising Sun is your betrothed and I will ruin that alliance if it is to be revealed to the court. I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

You understood your punishment would be a fate worse than death if his father found out, but your morbid mentality had come to slowly accept this. 

Before you, the large naga had twisted so sudden and swift that you didn’t think was possible for a creature his size. Like a coiled viper, Shesmetet had moved up the stairs to come to face you fully, his large head and torso still towering over you even when his entire body and tail was lying from the base of the stairs. 

His large clawed fingers came to rest and cradled you from the curve of your cheeks to your jaw, his hands almost swallowing your face whole. You breathed in relief to his touch, relishing in how your body instinctively moved in closer. 

“I do not want to hear you speak those words again, my love.” His golden eyes were pooling with emotion and sadness, his darkened scales looked like encrusted rocks from the far corners of the world. “We will get through this together.”

Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment he had used so soon and so suddenly, but it made your stomach quiver with adoration and admiration for the golden prince. “What about the Princess? Or your father?”

“I would rather burn the four corners of the eastern hemisphere and the other courts before she could touch you or harm you in any way.” He protectively declared, his bare muscular chest swelled with pride, his eyes flickered with further thought. 

“As for my father, well... the old man will not see fit to have my beloved taken away from me without it costing my life or my titles thrown across the sands.”

You needed to know whether it was true or not, his words that he had told his sister, the Star of The Sea: ‘I know, but as long as I get to spend a lifetime with you, that is all that will matter.’

He brought you back to his attention with a gentle stroke of his fingers against your knuckles. “You’re pensive.”

“I’m anxious, I worry that this will all flare up and come down horribly.” You cradled yourself as you pulled your gaze from him. “Your sister isn’t pleased with this arrangement.”

“My sister has been free from my father’s laws since she had been declared his heir. She takes her plights of fancy wherever she goes.” The Young Flame chortled wryly, his gaze melting for you once more. “But, I don’t believe she is infuriated with you—no, someone would have to be witless to have bad blood with you, my dear. Let Amvalma cool before the storm; she will be using it against me rather than anyone else. My sister’s wroth can last for many moons.”

You wanted to believe his words, but you knew that it was true for Princess Amvalma to hold her stubbornness close to her. If there was anyone you wanted to check over with, it was definitely her.

“Let us enjoy the rest of this evening, I would rather have you in my arms than to worry about anything else in this world.” Shesmetet pressed warming kisses to each of your fingers, dispelling any further worries from brewing and frothing over, gently leaning you into the pillows behind as he took his place beside you, his large coils curling around you lovingly.

“The break of day will bring another hurdle.” You reminded yourself softly, bringing the prince’s attention. “One that we will face together.” He kissed at your flesh once more tenderly. “I’m on your side, no matter what.” Your body coiled into the curve of his arm, using his rising and falling chest to rest your head as the two of you allowed sleep to take over.

-

The Star of the Sea had ignored you at breakfast, her posture stiff as well as her face being wrangled free from her relaxed nature, painfully kissing her future sister in law’s cheeks dutifully as the food was being served around them. 

Quail eggs and blood sausages, fried and skewered lizard with a sea of fruits of all sorts that had been imported, but the Jade emperor’s children had picked at the food lightly as they sat in a stiff-necked silence. 

It was never this quiet, always the table had been filled with merriment and soft music, but the hall had been all-so dead with no soul to be heard. The staff had been too sapped of all life as they served the sweet wines to the royals silently.

The Princess Iseka had been sat next to her husband-to-be, dressed in a beaded headpiece that was nothing in comparison to Amvalma’s golden piece. Instead, hers took after the Jade court’s colours of deep greens and blacks; the small bells jingling in her braided hair whenever her head moved.

You had found Kira in the back of the room, and when you had gone to stand beside her from the opposite side of the room, she was already discreetly leading you out of the room with her hold around your wrist.

“Is it true? His Grace wishes to denounce his marriage to the Rising Sun?” Her voice was in a hushed whisper.

“How did you know?”

“I’m not surprised the entire court hasn’t heard of this, sparing the ears of the Emperor and Princess Iseka.” Her stance read disappointment, the motherly figure standing before you was all you needed in feeling more worthless. 

Her hands reached out towards you suddenly, feeling at your palms and forearms, onlooking the flesh for any bruises or marks. “He’s not forcing you to do this… His Grace… is he?”

“Gods, no, Kira.” You held her by her hands carefully, squeezing on emphasis. “His Grace hasn’t hurt me or threatened me ever since I was chosen to lay with him. This isn’t what I wanted… the gossip, the rumours being told from staff to be spread to the handmaidens then to someone who I wouldn’t want them knowing.”

Kira’s eyebrow raised in confusion. “…His Grace… The Young Flame is smitten with you, truly it seems.”

“He promises me my safety, but I do not know whether I shall be safe if he is not around always. He has been tired from his work, and I know where the grass lurks, snakes do too.”

“The worst ones for sure.” Kira gave a sympathetic smile, pulling something from her pocket as she pressed it into the palm of your hand. “My sweet, I hope that the Gods are kind to you. You are a bright soul too. I pray that Iseka never finds out.”

“Thank you, Kira.” You smiled woefully, looking to the gift she had given you: pressed into you palm was a golden amulet, its curves familiar to you in what was given to those for good fortune and help. “That was my sisters, but I know that this will come in handy for you more than I.”

“Oh, Kira.” You reached to hug the older woman, not expecting her to reciprocate it, but when you felt her arms wrap around your waist, you felt the tears spill from your eyes. “I’m so afraid.”

“I know, my sweet. But His Grace sees something in you that must leave him wanting more. No doubt of it, I see that he is more lifted when you are in the room.” She smiled and pulled back, wiping back your tears, glaring at the passing staff who gave odd looks. 

It got you thinking: how in the name of the Jade Empire were you going to get away from the grasps of Iseka? There was no doubt you would be able to, but you couldn’t think of any other ways of being able to be excused if something terrible were to happen.

Your thoughts for the rest of the day included trying to ignore any invasive thoughts that could endanger yourself, tending to be silent and obedient to those whenever they wanted something. 

Princess Amvalma had been ignoring you for the entirety of the day, and when it came to her tending to her affairs, you had been more than surprised when she had picked another one of her handmaidens to help her get ready for the night, brushing you and the other ladies-in-waiting with little regard.

It left you a bit heartbroken: knowing full well that this wasn’t going to as easy as Shesmetet had stated. Amvalma’s wroth was worse than I had expected. You thought as you walked the poorly-lit halls and passageways to get back to your chambers. And now, I was to be hated by her.

There had been the glinting of metal scraping along the golden marble as you looked up in time to bump into the tall figures; two exactly. Their amour was a burnt copper of rust and oranges, their bardiches glinting in contrast to their smooth scales of dark greens to pale browns. You didn’t recognise them to be of the royal Jade court guard, but the realisation was spreading quickly in your mind like wildfire. 

Oh, your thought had been, and then you had been grabbed at you and your noises of protest began.

They dragged you by each up back up the corridor you had come from, your protests and yelping for help came as futile when they had ignored you and spoke in tongues that you didn’t understand. Threats, and those blades had told you to keep quiet.

West then east, the corridors spiralled, growing confused and lost as to where you were going. Finally, their rough touches and hands pushed you to the ground as they halted, bowing as four others appeared from the loitering shadows.

You should’ve known that you were in deep waters when you heard the eerie noise grow closer and finally emerged out. The gleeful bells of misery.

“This is the one? The one they have been speaking of?” Princess Iseka’s was heavily laced with a thick accent and venom on her tongue from how she spoke so lowly of your presence, gliding out from the dimness to present herself.

Her size alone was smaller than the Star of The Sea, but she alone was still long and twice in height compared to you, dwarfing you like you were a meek mouse in the awaiting jaws of a cat.

Her bells didn’t stop jingling until she was standing up-close and above you, towering you with ease, her cat-like gaze acidifying at the sight of you, scowling. “A common base harlot, I see. This one stole my intended.”

Your body had rocked you with free that shocked your system from doing anything, shakily raising your hands above your head in a plea. “Forgive me, Princess—I never wanted any trouble.”

“And yet, you stole my betrothed, your Prince, and used your parts to get you into his bed.” She hissed lowly, and when you caught sight of the long pointed nails attached to her fingers, you flinched at what she would do.

“My Shesmetet, partaking in fucking human whores, how I will change his ways when we are wedded. As for you,” the same hand you had been looking at grabbed at you suddenly by your face, lifting you up in the air with ease by the grip around your throat, her nails digging into your skin painfully. “I will deal with you accordingly.”

You body scrambled to get some air, the tears falling like diamonds from your cheeks, dropping to her own flesh, blinding you from how much you begged in choked cries. 

“Such a pitiful little thing. I can see why he took interest in you, you were easy to break, I see. He will grow bored of you when I pretty you up for him. He will find you ever so comely.” She grinned amused, her eyes glinting with murderous intent.

You final wrack of a sob echoed through the dark hall, your thoughts going to whether the Gods themselves had been cruel to curse you like this. Iseka was right: you were more suited as a street whore than handmaiden to the heir. And you would be remembered as one for your crimes.

A deep rasping hiss broke the hostile air, Iseka herself had stiffened on sight, her gaze wavering to what was standing behind, her grip loosening bit by bit until she dropped you to the ground not so nicely in fear. 

The floor bruised your knees your skin blotchy and bloody as you gripped at your neck to get air in. When you had looked back to what was there, you realised you hadn’t been alone.

You recognised the colours: the jade and blacks, the glinting gold and gilded armour of the guards of the court, and charging in so dangerously and heatedly the Prince himself. 

You didn’t think the stare he was holding would make yourself quake: a look of such repugnance and abhorrence for the Rising Sun that you thought it had been originally for you.

With all power of his tail, he had parted through his guards down the middle like parting the sea waves, before growing himself to hover over Iseka, his eyes of liquid gold pooling with such spite and fury. “Get yourself out of my father’s court before I have my men cut you and your dogs into ribbons.”

The Rising Sun looked to be on the verge of tears at his threat - even her tears appeared to the colour of leaking gold. “But, m-my love!-”

“Don’t make me say it again, you heard me the first time. I don’t want to share your presence again.” He turned from her with little thought, with the Princess and you being left in hysteria from what had just happened. 

With his back to her, he called to his men with a beckon. “Escort the Princess to her chambers, I wish her good travels back to her court.”

Her pleas and cries could be heard as both she and the Jade Prince’s guards accompanied her out from the hallway, leaving the two of you alone once more. With the fury and resentment replaced with tenderness and devotion, Shesmetet collected you into his broad arms, hugging you tightly to his chest. 

“My love.” His voice was full of relief.

You didn’t care now whether or not you two had been alone now, for you had allowed yourself to fully cry in his presence, the Golden naga had embraced you warmly and allowed you to weep into his chest whilst he murmured softly and sweetly in reassurance.

“I’m… I’m sorry this all happened.”

“No, I’m sorry on her behalf.” Shesmetet began gravelly, pulling away to carefully wipe away a tear with the back of his finger. “I don’t think I have ever felt so much rage for what she almost did to you there. I could’ve sliced her in half in that very moment.”

You gasped softly to yourself: not thinking that he would do so much to protect you, but it warmed your chest and made your heart flutter with butterflies, the small sad smile that adorned your features brought him to tenderly kiss at your lips so fearlessly, not caring of who was there nor not.

“I will never let you out of my sight, you hear? I will never let another lay a hand on you again.” He promised softly, and you believed him truly. “But your father? Your sister? They will not be pleased with you dropping the marriage.”

The smile and laughter that erupted over the Gold Prince’s features were pleasing and beautiful to hear, his rich eyes drinking you in with so much appreciation and love.

“My sister knows so far as what I must do, but I know it is what I have to do for duty and for my family.”

You were expecting him to reject his love for you for his family and royal blood, but instead, he cradled you close as he kissed at your knuckles. “My father will not like the news when I tell him how much I wish to marry you.”

-

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[violetnotez]

HC: S/o With a Good Luck, Bad Luck Quirk

@mrsadfacestudio: SO how about Bakugou, Midoriya, Todoroki, Tamaki and Mirio react on their crush having a good luck/bad luck quirk? Like Y/N says "I feel like today will be great day!" They live close by to Y/N so as they were about to ask to walk with them. As she walk on the side walk, shit goes down. Y/N is passing a building that exploded behind her. She walk far enough so when the building fell, it didn't land on her

Alrightie I hope I did this to the best of my abilities, so I’m sorry if the quirk description isn’t accurate to your ask! Excited to write for Tamaki though since this is my first time, so forgive me if Tamaki’s isn’t the best! ✨🌸

AU: Reader has agood/bad luck quirk, where they can manipulate the luck of themselves or others around them(sometimes without realizing it)

Pairings: Midoriya x reader, Shoto x reader, Tamaki x reader, Mirio x reader

RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS CLOSED

Izuku

◦oh he is just be so amazed by your quirk-it’s so different from any one he has ever seen or heard of!

◦ he is going to have a full journal dedicated to you and is always lending a hand to help you with training if you ever need it!

◦ he knows you can hold your own, but this boy is going to constantly work himself into a frenzy over worrying about you

◦he’s just so overprotective he really can’t help it!

◦ one day as he was walking to the grocery store to grab some produce for his mother, he heard a large explosion

◦ Izuku turned around, seeing a dark plumage of smoke rising, his heart dropping-you had told him last night you were deciding to take a run in the morning

◦And of course you said you were taking a run right in that area

◦He instantly dropped the groceries, taking off at an intense speed, his hands fumbling with his phone as he desperately tried to call you

◦you weren’t calling him back, making his anxiety 10x worse

◦when he got to the wreckage site, he realized it was a poorly attempted bank robbery, heroes as well as police officers investigating the scene and taking in the suspected “villians” for questioning

◦ he started looking around, trying to see if anybody resembled you, but he didn’t see you, and oh no what if you got caught in some rubble, or maybe somehow you were badly hurt, that’s why you weren’t answering his calls-

◦ “Hey ‘Zuku, I didn’t expect you to be here! I hope no ones hurt!” You greeted from behind, scaring him shitless but also making so relieved

◦his face light up like a Christmas tree- “y/n! Oh, I’m so glad your okay! Are you hurt, do you feel alright-“

◦”I’m fine Izuku, I promise!” You laugh, taking his shaking hands into your own. “My quirk somehow gave me a heads up about what was going to happen, so I decided to get some boba instead!”

◦you smiled brightly, taking a sip from the thick straw- “it also gave me an idea that you’d stop by too,” you held out another drink, his favorite flavor-green tea

◦he thanked you gratefully, taking a sip as he held onto your hand tightly

◦After that scare, there is no way he is letting you out of his sight

Shoto

◦ Like Izuku, he is going to find your quirk intriguing and definitely interesting

◦It’s not flashy, but it certainly is very powerful in its own way (not that Shoto would care if it’s flashy or not-he loves you for you, not your quirk)

◦*cough cough unlike his father *cough cough

◦ He really can’t understand it that well, because sometimes it gives you a dose of “bad” luck before it rewards you with some prosperity in your life

◦When you and Shoto were still hopelessly pinning for each other, for example, your quirk had decided to give you a slight nudge to get closer to the reserved boy

◦ As you were rushing to the cafeteria during lunch break one day, you had spotted Shoto walking from afar

◦He was close enough to be able to see his features, but far away that you could appreciate his handsome features without looking too creepy

◦You couldnt help but sneak a blissful glance at his face-he was honestly so handsome with his bi colored eyes, pale skin, chiseled jawline-

◦And that’s when your foot slipped on a stray piece of paper and your body landed on the hard linoleum floor with a gut wrenching smack

◦Shoto has obviously heard (it was hecka loud), and being the only other person in the hallway besides you, it was hard to ignore that

◦he instantly rushed over to you, concerned for your wellbeing

◦”Y/n, are you alright?” He asked, crouching down next to you

“I-uh-yeah I’m fine!” Your cheeks were on fire, and you were cursing your quirk inside your head for not helping you avoid your fall-

◦Until Shoto has held out one of his hands, offering it to you

◦”May I?” Shoto’s exterior looked extremely composed, but on the inside he was freaking out-he was just being nice, right? This wasn’t because he had a crush on you or anything-he wasn’t loving the fact that he was the one to help you up, or was trying to memorize how your rosy cheecks looked so pretty on your skin-

◦you placed your smaller hand in his, his fingers gently squeezing yours as he pulled you up

◦your legs were still wobbly, as your knees were the first ones to hit the floor-so you body kinda toppled onto his

◦He was strong and he anticipated you to lean into him, so he easily took the extra weight with ease

◦what wasn’t so easy was keeping his composure-your hands were resting on his chest, those pretty eyes of yours boaring into his, your cheeks ten times redder

◦ He couldnt help but tense up-he wasn’t used to being so close to you, or any girl for that matter, but he was growing quite fond to how wonderful your body felt pressed against his own

◦”I-I I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ you began to stutter against his chest

◦Shoto gave a tiny smile, finding it cute that you were just as much of a nervous wreck as he felt- “It’s quite alright… do you think your badly injured? Let’s see if you can walk,”

Tamaki

◦ohhh sweet baby boy is gonna adore you

◦he’s going to think your quirk is just so amazing- lowkey will get down on himself and think his is inadequate to yours sometimes

◦when that happens- AFFIRMATIONS AND CUDDLES 100% WILL FEEL BETTER AFTER

◦ Also will worry about you a lot-he has experienced a lot of things at a young age and knows how harsh the real world can be

◦He doesn’t want to see you get hurt at all, but knowing you have such a helpful quirk does ease his nerves some-also helps him out in a pinch too

◦One time when you both were on patrol, Tamaki had realized just how helpful your quirk could be for yourself and him

◦You two were stationed for the next few hours at the city’s busy downtown area

◦You we’re loving all the lights, the people, and the stores, while Tamaki-

◦Well, Tamaki was not

◦”Do we have to be so close to people?” He asked timidly, tugging his hood farther down his eyes, “I feel they’re staring right at us.”

◦you laughed, playfully walking into his side

◦”Of course they are Tamaki! We are dressed up as heroes after all,” you replied sweetly, waving to a small group of kids gawking at you two

◦”I know-its just, your so natural at all this. I don’t know if I can be as cheerful as you,”

◦You sighed, intertwining your fingers with your shy boyfriend. “Don’t get so worked up over it Tama, you're a wonderful hero. It doesn’t matter if your shy or outgoing, it only matters if your a good hero- which you are.”

◦You took that as an opportunity to kiss his cheek, his once nervous frown turning into a tiny smirk

◦”Th-thank you,” he stuttered out, touching the spot where you kissed him

◦ “Of course!” You grinned, “Oh and also-you may want to take your hood off.”

◦ even though he didn’t want to do what you instructed, he trusted your instincts, pulling the fabric down

◦ “Why is that-“ just as the words slipped out of his mouth, the gang of kids you had waved at had ran past, one of the kids having his hands held out suspiciously

◦ A gust of wind flew in your faces from the kids hands, your hair tossling into your faces

◦ “Aww cool we finally see his face!” The kid with the wind quirk yelled, realizing his hood was already down

◦ The others stared at you too in awe, some waving nervously as they ran past, giggling and screaming as they ran away from their shenanigans

◦”See, they wanna stare at your pretty face too, ya know,” you joked, earning a groan from your timid boyfriend as he tugged his hood on again

◦ Tamaki blushes furiously, his stomach filled with butterflies

◦”The only person I like staring at me is-is you,”

Mirio

◦He is gonna use your quirk to give you the cutest pet names

◦His personal fav is going to be calling you his “Lucky Charm”

◦will also call you the cheesiest name like “Light of his life,” “sunshine” (not really revolves around your quirk but no the less!)

◦ will also be a constant worry wart over you-you are his love after all, he can’t help but worry!

◦ Omg hed be the sweetest boyfriend though, always checking up on you and making sure your a-okay!

◦One day though he was on patrol by himself when he spotted you in the same area

◦Of course this boy was gonna come and say hi!

◦More like try to scare the shit out of you by running up behind you and giving you a hug

◦You were staring down at your phone, so it would be a perfect time to go and surprise you

◦But to his horror, a bicyclist who had no control over their bike was bounding onto the sidewalk

◦A bunch of pedestrians were freaking out, moving to the side quickly to not get ran over

◦Of course Mirio was already on his way to go and help, but before he even could the bike was already close to hitting you

◦Just as he was going to yell your name and scoop you into his arms, out of harms way, he saw you casually just move to the side

◦You looked like you didn’t even know what was going on-your face didn’t leave your phone screen, it’s expressions calm as ever-all you did was sidestep so you were a mere inches from getting hit by the bike zooming past

◦Mirio took a second to just stare in amazement-how did you even do that?!?

◦Then he relaized he actually had a job to do, so he ran over to help the poor bicyclist before going over to say hi

◦Ohhhhh he asked so many questions after that and just rave about how cool that was

◦”That was amazing! You just kept on walking as if nothing happened! Does that happen any time you might be in danger?”

◦”Well sometimes if I need to learn something, or if it would be safer for me for my quirk not to intervene, I’ll still get hurt or embarrassed-whatever the case may be.” You smiled, “But usually, yeah, it’ll give me a heads up of what might happen to me if I don’t listen to my quirk

“◦”oh that’s so amazing sunshine! You really are a lucky charm, huh?”

[hopevalley]

Season 8, Episode 9: Pre-Wedding Jitters

Y’all know what’s wild? The season is coming to a close! I feel like we just got started with Season 8, and it’s already nearly over. I’m not ready for things to end...except the love triangle. Lol.

One important thing I want to talk about, before we move on to my regularly scheduled episode write-up, of course, is the quality of the writing and filming this season. I really feel like the team took a step back and thought very carefully about how to improve the show, and then they went through the effort of actively trying to improve things. 

Are there still badly-written areas of the show? Absolutely. Are there things I loathe seeing? Yes. Are there plotlines that are extremely contrived even by Hallmark standards? Unfortunately there are.

But I don’t think anyone can deny that the writing this season is, overall, an improvement over Seasons 5, 6, and 7. The only thing that I feel about S8 that is worse than 5/6/7 is the love triangle, but it had to come to a head eventually so it was always going to be a point of contention among the fans.

I’ve seen a ton of negativity going around the Internet, and you are all entitled to your opinions, but let’s hold back from being too angry until we see how things will work out. After all, there is a chance, however small, that Hallmark will end up surprising us.

So here’s to hoping that the writing quality uptick will continue as we move into Season 9.

And now, our plotlines from this episode:

The Dilapidated Love Triangle

The Wedding Planning/Party

The New & Improved Henry Gowen

Miscellaneous (Car Investigation, pastor position/Jesse and Clara + Cafe, Carson and Faith, Mike and Fiona)

This was another episode that felt pretty smooth in its storytelling; it had some smaller plots going on, but two primarily large plots, a smaller one that revolved around Henry, and then a few small (connected) plots from previous episodes/that overarched the whole season!

Sorry for the muddle by the way, it took me hours to type this and I’m too tired to read it over thoroughly before posting. If you see any glaring issues please let me know so I can fix them, though!

--

The Dilapidated Love Triangle

Let’s just get the pig slop out of the way, shall we? I think we are all in some sort of agreement by now that we’re tired of the triangle and just want to see it resolved as soon as possible so that we can get on with our lives and invest our interests in the right place(s). 

I also believe most of us are also in some kind of agreement, however we feel about the characters, the triangle, and who Elizabeth’s choice should be, that this thing has been very poorly paced. This sentiment seems to be echoed across the Internet right now. The pacing is AWFUL. After two years of almost nothing happening, now we’re going to bullrush to the end of the triangle? That’s a yikes from me, Chief. (Wait, didn’t I say that last week, too?)

I was never a fan of the narrated beginnings of episodes. I think they’re really tacky and boring. That said, there’s no other way to get into Elizaeth’s head easily because...I don’t know. Either Erin isn’t that skilled or the director doesn’t know how to direct her, or the script sucks. They struggle SO MUCH with show-don’t-tell that they have to resort to telling...which is fine, sometimes. This is an instance where telling is just mega redundant since she says the same exact thing probably 10 more times in the episode. I wish they’d have just kept the first part of the reflection or focused more on that—how Nathan talking about it...makes it feel fresh and raw again in a way she didn’t expect.

Anyway, Elizabeth writing that she’s been “left to reflect, once more, on the senseless accident that took [Jack’s] life” is ridiculous. Senseless? He was in charge of the training mission, but unless I’m losing every last marble I’ve ever had, wasn’t it Jack’s choice to go after the younger recruits who had been separated? Wasn’t it thanks to Jack’s quick thinking and intervention that only one person lost his life that day (Jack himself)? 

This is where the whole “Jack died heroically” thing kind of matters, actually. Especially when you butt it up against Nathan being the original person intended to go. Would he have risked his life like that? We’ll never know, but I’m sure Nathan thinks about it a lot, and it’s not something that should be left out of this story.

It’s valid for Elizabeth to wonder why Nathan kept the Secret hidden from her for almost three years, but what is really troublesome is the weird shift she seems to have between Casual Curiosity and Stricken Grief about it.

I grew tired of mopey Elizabeth in S4 and 5, so I’m not happy to see her back. Fewer eye drops, please. -_-

Anyway, it almost felt like a breakthrough when Elizabeth asked Rosemary why she thought Nathan took so long to tell her about Fort Clay, but Rosemary’s response was so bad. “He didn’t think it was important enough.” WHAT? WHO WOULD SAY THAT? Rosemary can be a bit thick-headed but that was almost too contrived for me to willingly follow. Anyone with a brain would realize it was IMPORTANT and THAT WAS WHY IT WAS A SECRET.

And when Elizabeth’s like, “Not important enough?” BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY IT IS IMPORTANT... Rosemary just tells her that Jack’s death wasn’t Nathan’s fault.

Which. She’s right. But that doesn’t make the secret unimportant. It’s still kind of a big deal. He’s confessed to being in love with Elizabeth multiple times now. Even Rosemary can’t be so dumb that she doesn’t realize that the connection between Jack’s death and Nathan is...meaningful, especially to Elizabeth. And that Nathan knew this and couldn’t bring himself to tell her because he knew it would hurt her.

Anyway, I’m doing my best to give Elizabeth a bit of grace here, because she’s just so self-centered I almost can’t stand it. To be clear, Elizabeth has ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS. It’s just that usually the issues at hand aren’t about her, they’re about someone else. 

Rosemary’s right but what she said was straight-up stupid. I don’t know, I don’t think the characters are out of character so much as the dialogue just didn’t flow very naturally and I felt like the characters were making assumption jumps to force certain responses. If Elizabeth can’t agree with Rosemary that Jack’s death isn’t Nathan’s fault, then she should have expressed that a bit more directly so that Rosemary could draw the conclusion that Elizabeth does feel it’s Nathan’s fault. It came across like Rosemary was speaking to the audience more than to Elizabeth, and I didn’t like it.

--

The most delightful scene in the entire episode has to go to Allie and Lucas. That was so cute and wholesome and good. Her asking if she could sit at the bar, him offering her a treat, her trying to return the gift ‘cause she felt caught in the middle and like it wasn’t fair to accept it... SO GOOD. They remembered the gift multiple episodes later AND incorporated it into this episode flawlessly. LOVED IT. 

Also, she asked an important question. LUCAS...where DO YOU LIVE?!

His story was a bit silly but I actually enjoyed it. It gives him a more playful vibe and also I think was almost entirely to ensure that Allie felt more comfortable and less anxious about what was happening around her. It was also his way of reassuring her that him courting Elizabeth wasn’t going to take Elizabeth out of Allie’s life...and that things will be okay.

I enjoyed it.

Things were a bit awkward with Elizabeth and Allie but they felt...better than before, so I felt like the conversation helped.

--

Lucas calling Allie “Allie Grant” was nice now that her adoption is official! I appreciate that.

Elizabeth and Lucas talk about how Lucas told Allie he’ll “work things out” with Nathan and Elizabeth definitely doesn’t appreciate it, and with somewhat good reason: she doesn’t like being caught in the middle of things any more than Allie does.

The thing is...she has had the power...all this time...to tell Nathan straight-up to leave her alone/that she isn’t interested. I stand by what I said before, that she shouldn’t have to tell him no for him to respect the boundaries she’s set, but if he’s not respecting those boundaries she needs to be firm about it.

I like how Lucas comes off in this scene. He wants to understand, he listens, he’s patient, he doesn’t push. I’m here for it.

She tells him what Nathan told her and he seems a bit overwhelmed by it, too. It’s pretty clear that he realizes she must be feeling all kinds of things after finding that out, especially after all this time. 

Again, for the second time, Elizabeth doesn’t seem all that grief-stricken about the secret being kept from her for so long: she tells Lucas she just doesn’t understand how he could keep it from her. 

He asks permission to suss out an answer and Elizabeth politely declines and says she’ll ask herself, but to please forgive her, she needs some time to...think.

She watches Lucas go and then...touches her wedding band.

-

Nathan meets Rosemary in the library and goes on a long boring monologue about how he’s read like, three whole books that women wrote, but still doesn’t understand women. No shit, sherlock. That was terrible writing...just straight up bad writing.

But I’m not exactly surprised because the very next thing that happens is that Rosemary tells Nathan...she’s been in his eXACT position before!

No...you have not. Yes, you were the unwanted third wheel, but that’s where the similarities ended, and you should have clarified. This just didn’t hit well for me, I don’t know. I don’t want to say it’s out of character, but...I don’t think Rosemary is this soft gentle personality anyway. I feel like she was always a bit more in your face with the things she said, not “try to encourage a manner of action in a very roundabout way” like she is in this episode. But again, without a logic jump from Rosemary, this scene doesn’t quite work.

I think I might have preferred Rosemary to play dumb and ask what specifically he didn’t understand about women. Make him freakin’ say it. And then she could react better. 

--

We get Love Confession #3 or whatever we’re on with Nathan, now. Let’s go over the entire scene.

Elizabeth walks into Nathan’s office and instantly asks him why it took him so long to tell her what happened.

He says he felt guilty and when she tells him she doesn’t understand, he goes on to say that after the accident he requested a transfer to Hope Valley. He never met Jack but he knew he’d left behind a wife and child, and felt it was his responsibility to look after them and protect them.

She asks why he would assume that, and he explains that he felt it was his duty. And that when he found himself falling in love with her, he felt like he was betraying Jack and his memory. That’s why he didn’t tell her.

He then takes it ONE STEP TOO FAR and says, “I fell in love with you, and I think that love is always worth fighting for.” 

Elizabeth says “Excuse me,” and leaves. Nathan’s face afterward is maybe a decent mix of “I probably shouldn’t have said that” and regret, but...woof.

Anyway, I was fine with this up to the point where Nathan said, completely unprompted, that love is always worth fighting for. How does he know? What are his experiences with love? Books he read, written by men??? PLEASE.

READ PRIDE & PREJUDICE U SWINE... ELIZABETH FALLS IN LOVE WITH MR. DARCY BECAUSE HE DECIDES HE WANTS TO CHANGE AND BE A BETTER MAN AND THEN DOES SOOOOOOOOO oh wait this is turning into an Elizabeth/Henry argument...OOPS?

Anyway, yeah. Not a fan of that line. It almost feels like there’s something missing. She’s standing in front of him about to cry because she feels hurt that he didn’t tell her this, you know, crucial information, and he’s just like “Yeah I didn’t tell u cause I love you and felt like i was betraying jack’s memory and also lol love is worth fighting for babe!” What kind of confusing mess of babble is this?

Honestly, it just left a bad taste in my mouth. :( I have so many really obnoxious opinions about Nathan and what they’ve done with him this season, but I feel like I should save them for a season summary podcast or something, just in case Hallmark ends up surprising me. Right now I just feel like they really just wanted to give him what the fans hated about him (he wasn’t passionate enough, not manly enough, not forward enough with his emotions, at least from what I read on Reddit and Instagram last year), but in like THE WORST POSSIBLE WAYS and for the wORST POSSIBLE REASONS in the VERY WORST SCENARIO.

I feared that would be Nathan’s reason for coming to town from the moment the character was announced and...I wanted to be wrong.

Anyway, I really liked his self-awareness up to that point. He never met Jack, which keeps some of the weirdness at bay. Also, he felt like he needed to make sure Jack’s family was okay, and that’s fine. I wouldn’t call it noble (as Rosemary later does), but it’s not exactly bad, either. Then we got the line of him admitting that it felt kind of bad to fall in love with her. I wish he’d gone on to say that wasn’t supposed to happen, or even given her a reason he loves her (so that it doesn’t feel like we’re just being told everything), because his line about love being worth fighting for right after he says he felt like he was betraying Jack’s memory by loving her...was...really strange??? Maybe a few sentences were edited out? 

--

Elizabeth tries to refuse to play Fiona’s blindfold game and LITERALLY NO ONE SAVES HER (though I think Rosemary considered trying). I hate the idea of this game solely based on the fact that several people participating shouldn’t even be there (Nathan, Bill, Mike, Fiona, Molly), but Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to accidentally choose Nathan if he wasn’t there, so... -_-

I think I might have actually liked this (her “no” with Carson was super cute actually, probably the cutest laugh she’s ever had on this show) if she’d had the chance to reject a few more guys on the way down the line. If she was closer to the end of the line she’d feel her options were running out and might second-guess herself. Having Nathan be the second person she touches and having her choose is...eh.

Nitpicks aside (their hands wouldn’t feel the same and she held Lucas’s hand quite recently actually), it could have been worse. At least she stated who she was searching for...

BUT UGH THE EMBARRASSMENT.

The thing that gets me about the whole scene is 100% that everyone in town would know about the Triangle drama, so it feels...weird to see everyone so gung-ho to watch this happen... I don’t know... I like having fun too, but NOBODY even TRIED to step in??? 

At least Lucas found some humor in it right away (he smiles). 

I think I wish someone had said something. Maybe Nathan could have said, “Nope, sorry” to lighten the mood a bit? Or Lucas could have said, “Almost!” since he was standing right next to Nathan?

--

Anyway, we’re spared having to wait because the very next scene is Lucas checking on Elizabeth and laughing about her choice.

One line I wish they’d added in is that someone else got it wrong. Imagine if Lucas said, “At least you didn’t pick Bill like Clara did!” Or even just made a joke about it in general like: “Of course I’m not upset. But if you would have picked Bill I might be a little hurt. My hands aren’t that old yet.”

Elizabeth tells him that she spoke to Nathan about the whole...thing and it was awkward. She chooses to not tell Lucas the rest of the reason Nathan gave, but instead only admits that he told her he loves her again. When Lucas asks what she said in response she said she didn’t say anything.

Lucas seems...a trifle upset at this, and understandably so. I think he can sense she’s...not really a sure thing and is worried about it. :( I feel so bad for him right now.

--

Rosemary stops by to see Elizabeth after Lucas leaves, and tells her she ran into Nathan at the library yesterday. Elizabeth tells her what Nathan said in his office and Rosemary says it was noble and selfless of him.

(I mean...it wasn’t selfless. Like at all.)

Elizabeth says she never asked him to be noble. She didn’t ask him to fall in love with her, either.

She asks Rosemary if she encouraged Nathan’s feelings for her at the library. Rosemary says no, but Elizabeth asks again and she interrupts her to ask Elizabeth if she’d rather hear what she actually said or just assume.

Rosemary goes on to say that she just wants what’s best for Elizabeth.

And we get Elizabeth asking how anyone would know what was best for her.

I mean, that’s like 90% on you for not communicating with your friends, but also, it’s 100% on you for just assuming you knew what Rosemary said to Nathan. I think she’s just looking for a reason why Nathan is being so persistent and in her mind encouragement from someone else is the only thing that makes sense, ‘cause she sure as heck hasn’t been encouraging him herself!

This hurts Rosemary’s feelings, probably because she was about to say that she wants what’s best for Elizabeth so she asked Nathan to stop getting in the way lol, and says maybe she should leave (since Elizabeth is in a bad mood). Elizabeth agrees she should go.

End episode. On this note. Woof.

Overall it wasn’t too bad I guess? But I’m not a fan of how some of this was written. It really felt like they cut lines out to make the episode shorter, when...they could have cut out one of the boring side plots. You know. The entire thing with Jesse and Clara, for example. 

--

The Wedding Planning/Party

I admit that I got a little enjoyment out of Florence saying no to all the dresses. Highly relatable. 

Then, at the barbershop, Fiona says the exact wORST possible thing about Florence wanting a hairstyle that’ll “knock Ned dead” FLHDSFAJDSA.

Florence goes on to say she wants anything but “ordinary Florence” and Molly steps in.

Honestly, I wish they’d just let Molly stick to being Florence’s BFF because that’s the role she plays best. Also, I’m almost sad Florence and Ned got together because it means #teamflomo is no mo’. :(

Paul shows up...

I don’t know what I expected but this boy would have been a literal BABY in season one, which makes the whole thing with Florence almost sadder AND it gives Florence more in common with Elizabeth (widow with a young child) BUT I HAVE OPINIONS.

I know what you’re thinking. “Manna, you always have opinions!” Yes, you’d be right. 

They based this off of ONE (1) line of dialogue that Florence had in S1 when something was stolen from her house. She says, “while my child slept nearby” or something like that.

They brought a child in...for that? On one hand...I’m impressed.

On the other hand, I kind of had just assumed they’d retconned that and that Florence had no children (which is why she was always goofing off gossiping with Molly) so I don’t really know how to feel about the whole thing.

Rosaleen starred in an episode and never showed up again after S1, so I think I’d have preferred to see her return instead of a child we literally never laid eyes on. But he’s a cutie. And he’s named after his father just like little Jack so...I’ll take it!

--

The party begins and we have to do “the men are stupid and don’t know how to plan” again which is really annoying. The highlight of this entire thing was Ned saying (about his hairline) that he’s been driving with the top down since his 30s. I respect you AND ONLY YOU, Ned.

--

The party continues on and they play charades. Rosemary chose weird awful options that don’t make any sense and are hard to act out. Ned’s could have been funny but the one Bill got is just...so weird.

The funniest part about it is looking at everyone staring at Molly as she guesses it.

I think it was supposed to be...cute? Or something? It was just really weird for me.

“Cuddle up a little Closer, Lovey Mine” (yes, it’s “lovey” not “lovely”) was written and recorded in 1908. You can listen to it here. Lyrics here.

They then play the Most Awkward Game Ever, one that would have had me sweating bullets if I’d had to play it. Florence has to find her man by only holding the hands of the other men.

As Fiona says, it’s a bit...risqué, but Florence rejects Jesse quickly and finds out the second man is Bill by squeezing his hands too hard.

Bill explains that his arthritis is flaring up and of course Sara and I jumped on that almost at the same moment:

We like Bill. :P

And then Florence correctly guesses that the next man is Ned. It’s very wholesome and sweet.

But then it’s Elizabeth’s turn because I guess she’s not been traumatized enough this episode. I covered that in the triangle part of the plot, though.

--

The New & Improved Henry Gowen

We start off with a BANG here with Henry and Christopher. Christopher misses Rachel because he’s a twitterpated little FOOL and he tells Henry all about it...while Henry sees Bill tearing apart the stolen car in the distance.

He asks Christopher how he got to Hope Valley from Hamilton and Christopher just straight up comes clean about it: he drove a stolen car that his buddy stole. 

Henry scolds him a bit, tells him he can’t borrow a stolen car, and explains that he doesn’t want Christopher to end up like him. Christopher seems kind of surprised by this and says, “You turned out good.” 

To which Henry replies, “The jury’s still out on that.” 

Christopher says he’s done with that kind of thing, and Henry tells him he believes him.

Honestly, Henry’s “I believe you” got to me. It sounded SO genuine. And also, can I say YET AGAIN that this kid was an impeccable choice to play Henry’s son? WOW. I can’t get over how much alike they are even in mannerisms and looks.

But THEN when Henry tries to say Rachel has something to do with Christopher being done with that old lifestyle, Christopher tells him “And you” AND I ALMOST LOST IT. SOOOOO GOOD. Henry goes on to explain that “long after” he divorced Christopher’s mom, he met Abigail, who saw the potential for goodness in him. And that he can’t help Christopher be a better man because he’s still figuring that out for himself, but if he thinks Rachel can help him, he should do what he can to not lose her.

--

Later, Henry invites Christopher to Ned’s party and Christopher declines but asks what happened to the woman Henry mentioned earlier—Abigail, of course. Henry says she left town to help her mother.

Is this a...hint of things to come? I’m...not sure.

Henry sits down for two seconds before Lucas asks to speak with him outside. Once there, Lucas admits that he contacted Christopher. This is one of the most contrived plotlines we’ve had in a bit, if only because I just can’t figure out how Lucas would have known who Christopher was, let alone whether or not he would be useful? He doesn’t even have the same last name... I mean, what, did Henry write in sparkly gel pens or something? 

But for some reason he contacted Christopher to come work for Henry to keep an eye on him. He’s not proud of having done it, which makes sense. I guess I wouldn’t be either.

Henry’s upset about it. Lucas tells Henry that he took advantage of him and that he had to make sure Henry could be trusted.

Christopher doesn’t know that Lucas told him, though, and Henry asks that Lucas keep it that way.

It makes Christopher’s behavior with Lucas make more sense (when he kept trying to push him around earlier this season), but the timing is just...awful? Maybe talking to Elizabeth about Nathan’s secret made him feel guilty about his own? I’d buy into it more if I felt like there was a really compelling reason for Lucas to feel that Christopher would do any good...but it’s just too contrived for me.

--

Christopher randomly decides to go to Bellingham to see Rachel. Henry tells him not to make trouble if her parents ask him to leave. Henry makes to leave, and Christopher stops him.

I CANNOT SING THE PRAISES OF THIS SCENE ENOUGH. Christopher tries to tell Henry about the thing with Lucas and Henry’s like...you’re different now, you’re starting over it doesn’t matter anymore!!!! Everyone deserves a second chance!

AND THEY HUG AND CHRISTOPHER TELLS HENRY HE LOVES HIM.

They almost got me to cry. ALMOST. I refuse to cry at this show because I refuse to give Brian Bird the satisfaction, but boy oh boy was this close.

Henry responds with a “me too” and makes Christopher promise to write. Then the stage leaves and that is that.

The rest of the storyline for Henry is under the car investigation. They’re related but...only intertwine at the very end so I separated them. ;)

--

Miscellaneous (Car Investigation, Pastor Position/Jesse and Clara, Carson and Faith, Mike and Fiona)

Car investigation: Nathan starts this episode off on the wrong foot. I think that was...a mistake. THAT SAID...I’m relieved Bill isn’t being written as a complaining whiny pile of trash for once, so I just want to say that...they had to realize after last episode the fan opinion of Nathan would be...not great, so mayyybe they shouldn’t have started this episode off with him literally complaining about doing his job...while he’s in uniform no less. Also he has NO PASSION at all for his job, or for investigating, which I hope means he’ll end up quitting the Mounties. (It could be a hint of things to come...I hope.) 

I mean, does he think Bill got his position for...no reason? Also, thank God Nathan turned down the promotion to Inspector if that was how he was gonna treat actually doing the work?? I’m pretty sure this is their idea of “humor” but boy did it fall flat after the love triangle mess that’s been going on.

The owner talks to Nathan on the phone later and is coming from Hamilton to get his car. Nathan seems to be telling Bill this to discourage him from wasting his time investigating, but Bill doesn’t want to stop lol.

Ned’s comment from the party about his hairline being him “driving with the top down” gives Bill an Idea in the middle of the bachelor party and leaves. Ned looks shook that he produced An Idea.

And follows. Ned is absolutely adorable as he assists Bill. They should interact more?? Long story short, Bill figures out that the top was probably up when it was being transported to Hope Valley (as you wouldn’t want people getting a good look at your face if they’re looking for a stolen car), and finds a footprint in the removable top.

The next day, Bill approaches Henry up at the oil derricks and comments on the fact that Lucas told him that Christopher checked out of his room at the saloon. Henry is up front and honest about where Christopher went, and says he went to Bellingham to see Rachel Thom.

He says, “You know how it is. You love someone, you’d do anything for them.”

The one interesting thing about this comment is that...no, Bill does NOT know. He’s never admitted to being in love in his life. He married Nora, but that was out of obligation (something he makes clear several times). Like, he obviously cared about Nora, but he wasn’t in love with her.

Obviously he’s loved someone enough to do anything for them (his son), but considering he’s dead, and possibly died in a really traumatizing way considering how it’s portrayed, that seems a bit...insensitive. :P

Bill counters it with, “Almost anything, maybe.” 

He then goes on to tell Henry he found a footprint in the stolen car.

And he just. Kind of. Gives Henry. A look. Because he knows exactly who stole the car, he just has to prove it.

Henry stops Bill and says: “A while back I remarked about how you had never solved the mine disaster. Perhaps if you and I get together, I might be able to help.”

Bill doesn’t say a THING...he just leaves. But he looks kind of...put off by the whole thing.

Like he knows what Henry is doing.

Do you know what Henry is doing?

Anything.

For someone he loves.

(Pst. That someone is Christopher.)

As soon as Bill is gone, he picks up a pair of shoes and throws them into the fire.

I think it’s pretty clear that Henry is using this mine disaster thing to protect Christopher, and he’s doing it for this reason WAY MORE than he’s doing it to come clean and be a better man. That’s just my theory, though. I think if Bill hadn’t found anything out about the car, then Henry wouldn’t have brought it up.

But I guess he knows something. The question is...what? And also, when did he mention Bill never having solved the mine disaster? I’m really struggling to remember Henry ever saying that to him, at least not recently. Does anyone recall offhand?

Anyway, I’m wondering if they’ll tie up that whole thing about Noah and Peter that was never addressed on the show to the fullest. You know, the whole thing with them going into the mine knowing it wasn’t safe and not warning anyone. I think a lot of people who watch this show have never been in poverty or lived paycheck to paycheck, but sometimes a person just has to put their head down and keep working even when it’s not safe, because they have to keep living. Or because they had more time to put a stop to things before anything bad happened.

I think blaming Noah and Peter as much as Henry is pretty stupid, but they still shoulder some blame. They were working to fix that problem. Henry wasn’t. He did what he was told and shut up. But maybe there’s a bit more to that story. Could be interesting.

Could also be the worst reveal ever, so...who knows? I’m curious to find out.

BUT ALSO what do they mean Bill didn’t solve that case? The widows sued and won. Sure, he got beat up in S1 carrying evidence out of the mine, but it’s not as if there wasn’t a lot more of it inside the mine, too. Everyone knows the fault of the collapse was due to working conditions being unsafe. What’s left to solve? Is Henry going to give Bill the names of the people who told Henry to keep his mouth shut? 

Or...are they talking NOT ABOUT THE HOPE VALLEY MINE DISASTER, but the original one that sent Henry to Coal Valley (and Nora into a marriage with Bill)? Because that one was not solved. The company just made Henry a scapegoat in that case.

THE WAIT TO FIND OUT MORE IS GOING TO BE TORTURE.

--

Pastor Position/Jesse and Clara + Cafe: I enjoyed Minnie in this episode and seeing her step in and help Clara and become part of the town was great. Jesse giving more credit to Joseph than Lee was pretty funny, and a nice set-up for Lee realizing that Joseph is a pastor. Lee is apparently head of the search committee to find a new pastor...which...sure...okay. Also apparently the newspaper died?? Uh.

I’m kind of hoping Rosemary’s new passion will be the newspaper since she’s supposedly going to dig her nose into things next episode and she used to write a column for the old paper (so she has some experience). Thoughts on that?

Anyway, Joseph agrees to pastor the church instantly the second Lee asks...so it feels weird that his original goal/plans/whatever just...don’t matter anymore? Okay.

They buy a bell.................WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY BIGGEST PETTY COMPLAINT OF THE EPISODE. BRO THAT BELL STRAIGHT UP LOOKS 3D PRINTED FJLKDSAHFLDSAHFLDSAHFKLDSA

Anyway I’m teasing. The Liberty Bell weighs a little over one ton, and two horses could easily pull that.

No complaints. My husband complained last week that there wasn’t a bell and now there is. It’s like he knew. 

Joseph talks about what a “calling” feels like (I think this will come back again with Rosemary which has me VERY HAPPY): a tug on his heart.

Joseph also tells Lee that the men in his yard earlier were surveyors and that he won’t move, at least not far, because he has a congregation to lead, now. Makes me wonder if he’ll actually sell!

Anyway, Jesse and Mike are cute pals and decide to have a snack in the cafe while the gals are socializing with Rosemary (who has just returned from the library).

Rosemary’s books are on land acquisitions, surveying, and territorial law. 

Minnie and Rosemary decide to talk about this while Clara leaves. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe just ‘cause it was boring lol.

She gets back as Mike and Jesse are talking about, uh, her, actually, and Mike asks if all is quiet on the homefront.

Yes, it is. Unlike the trenches of WWI.

But seriously I thought it could be a joke reference to “All Quiet on the Western Front”...a WWI novel. Since...you know...WWI is going on and hasn’t been acknowledged at all even though it’s almost over now.

Joke’s on me, though...that’s too advanced for Hallmark.

Anyway it’s only quiet for like two seconds, because Clara busts in, thinks they’re eating the food she’s been busting her ass over for the party, and yells at Jesse. It makes everything awkward. Jesse simpers about like a sad little clown instead of trying to be understanding. Yawn. Awful. Bye.

I don’t know what would fix that scene, but I think part of the problem is...I’m just not invested in Clara and Jesse anymore. It’s perfectly reasonable to expect them to need more time to get over the problems in their relationship but I don’t care about them enough to care about the journey...if that makes sense. I’d rather watch Bill dust for prints on the car some more.

They do have a chat, and work things out, so that’s good I guess.

--

Carson and Faith: Carson has officially stolen the dock from Abigail and Frank, and so my hatred for them doubled instantly.

Me, a territorial loon: THAT SPOT IS NOT YOURS!!!!! FIND YOUR OWN!!!

Anyway Carson makes things awkward and then busts out that he accepted the fellowship without talking to Faith.

She’s kind of hurt by this?? UNDERSTANDABLY?? But then he asks if it would have made a difference. I mean, common courtesy would be at least sitting down like this and telling her, “I’ve decided to accept it.” But no. He just. Accepted it without telling her he was going to. Bro...

They aren’t on the same page for even two seconds. He tells her he was committed to the relationship and put all his plans aside so that she could be happy.

Honestly, as much hate as Nathan’s getting right now, if people gave a damn about Faith I think Carson would be getting his fair share of hate, too. What a jerk???

He goes on to say it wasn’t a waste of his time (when she asks), but never bothers to tell her more or to prove he didn’t feel that way (BECAUSE HE SURE ACTS LIKE IT WAS A WASTE OF HIS TIME). He just says he hopes she changes her mind and comes with him to Baltimore.

At the party Carson and Faith go outside to talk where Carson admits that he should have told her he was accepting the fellowship before he wrote. She tells him that the year she was gone was almost too much time apart for her, and Carson promises to write her and tells her she can visit him, too, but she brings the conversation back to reality. They’ll both be super busy. 

He suggests they get married, and then immediately says he’s not asking (it’s not how he’d propose), but that they could look forward to getting married. (Good thing they laughed ‘cause I sure wasn’t. It was super awkward...) He suggests seeing how they feel in about a year. (Oh...perfect timing for...next season...hm.)

Faith tells him she loves him and wants what’s best for both of them, even if that thing isn’t them being together. They agree to just enjoy the night and worry about the rest later.

Anyway, I feel like these two just have NO chemistry (they’re worse than Bill and Molly in my books). I really appreciate the attempt to give them meaningful material, and I like that Carson has a passion again, but boy oh boy are these two hard to watch. The plotline is really good, but the characters just...aren’t great. I figured if anything they’d give a plot like this to AJ and Bill to tie that up (some kind of conflicting reason she can’t stay in Hope Valley to be written off the show for good) so I was surprised to see it going to Carson and Faith instead, but like...in a good way because it’s actually compelling for their situation! I've been in a similar situation and it feels REALLY BAD to like someone a lot but not be ready or willing to commit to an extreme for whatever reason. Faith doesn’t want to go to Baltimore because she loves Hope Valley and she undoubtedly doesn’t want to see it go without a doctor at all. Carson likes Hope Valley but his passion is in surgery and he can make a huge difference in a big hospital. He could still make a difference in Hope Valley, too (undoubted he’s the only surgeon for many miles around these smaller towns) but he also likes hospitals and their equipment and maybe misses what he had a long time ago.

So it’s a great plot. It’s compelling. It’s even a bit tragic when you think about it!

But my God do these characters just...not come off as convincing. :(

--

Mike and Fiona: The scene with Ned was SUPER cute. Genuinely funny. Mike asking Fiona out. Everyone teasing Mike about how much he likes her. It’s very cute and wholesome. So far I enjoy it a lot. There’s not a lot to talk about here but I like that it’s...simple.

I MEAN...she’s so cute.

--

END THOUGHTS:

I want the next three episodes right now immediately, but I’m also going to be pretty sad when this season ends...I think.

The biggest speculation from this episode, by the way, is that they’re opening things up to write Abigail back onto the show. How do we feel about that? 

Any other thoughts? Favorite scenes? Share!

[anastasiabeaverhousen87]

Make wise Choices Part 1:

Hold me (baby Danvers)

Never have I ever written something in my life (except for Christmas cards for Santa when I was a kid or you know the regular affidavit when I lose a ticket for my expenses report from work, and that should count like poetry itself 🤓)

Anyways after reading for a while in different platforms I became quite curious about writing something myself. I noticed a lot of Baby Danvers fics and developed a sort of attachment to the concept of a third sister. Also I’m a sucker for fluff and sick fics. Even though I do have a dark side I wanted to try something tame first.

I have no idea if its any good and also take into consideration English is not my native language, I’m sleep deprived and using an iPhone because I’m too lazy to get my laptop and it’s like 3 am and I’m supposed to be at work in 3 hours LOL 😂

Without further ado I leave you my first story with baby danvers going through some painful wisdom teeth surgery recovery (so not an original idea but this actually happened to me and I can relate, impacted teeth sucks big time )

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

PART 1

You had to get your wisdom teeth removed and you knew it was perfectly normal to experience some anxiety prior the procedure. In your case, your anxiety levels were through the roof. Your sisters knew this and of course they wanted to be there for you, and you couldn’t be more grateful for that; However, you were very nervous. Because of your anxiety you had to be sedated for the procedure and the effects very rough on you. You felt just awful and very loopy. Kara had to carry you from the dentist office to the car and up to her apartment. You were practically a rag doll in her arms, drooling saliva and blood on her sweater, because of course you were disgusted by the gauze and you took it out. Kara didn’t mind that at all, she felt bad you were feeling poorly after your surgery. You just cling to her like a koala and nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck.

Kara: “Careful there little one, don’t press your cheek into me so hard or you will hurt yourself” - Your sisters felt awful to see you like this, but you knew they were going to care for you during the following days after the procedure. Even thought you are a big baby when it comes to pain and doctors, the procedure was indeed very difficult, your teeth were impacted and required surgical extraction.

You just grunted in response and kept rubbing your face into your sister’s neck and shoulder. Until you did it too hard and felt a sharp pain in your mouth. Y/N: “Ow Ow Owie!” -You cried out and tried to move into a more comfortable position in her arms, you felt exhausted and wanted to sleep, but due to the weird feeling in your mouth and the odd sensations due to the medication you couldn’t quite find a proper spot to feel comfortable.

Alex: “Come one Y/N, don’t press your face like that and just hold on a few more minutes, we are almost home, and you can take your pain meds and sleep for a while. Don’t fall asleep before that, just hang on a little longer baby”

The three of you were in the elevator waiting to reach the apartment your shared with Kara.

Y/N: “Nooooo! I want to sleep now and eat a corn dog” – once again you rubbed your face into Kara and again, it hurt. – Ow Ow Ow!” You cried once again and tried to pout miserably, feeling just bad. You had tears in your eyes and you just looked like an overtired toddler with your big hazel teary eyes and rosy cheeks.

Alex: “Damn it Y/N, be careful you’re going to reopen the stitches and we will need to take you back to the dentist so she can patch you up. And no, you can’t have a corn dog just yet. It will hurt trying to eat something hot and solid”

Apparently, that was the worst thing to say because you just looked at her with big scared and hurt eyes and started to cry. – Y/N: “I’m sorry, but I just feel so awful and can’t get comfortable I just want to sleep. This suck! Dentists sucks, stupid wisdom teeth and stupid stitches! And I really want a corn dog Alex, pleeeease!!!!” - Moving your mouth to complain and speak your discontent made your incisions to bleed more and that of course made you cry more.

Y/N: “ugh blood taste awful!” – Kara tried to adjust you into a more comfortable position in her arms and rubbing your back in a soothing way to calm you down.  While Alex tried to clean the slobber and blood from your lips and Kara’s shoulder with a handkerchief. Both gave you a sad smile and just felt sorry for you. You were clearly in pain and felt just awful.

Alex: “Oh sweety please don’t cry, we’re almost there. Damn elevator it´s taking forever!” – she gave a frustrated sigh while trying to keep you from falling asleep and avoided mentioning the corn dog in order to make you forget about eating one.

Kara: “I know, I think there’s something wrong it, but we are almost there. Shhh… little one, we are almost there, and you can rest after your taken your meds. Ok?, Lena is waiting for us already with lots of cold juice and ice cream so you can feel better pretty soon”

You perked up at the mention of the green-eyed woman. Y/N: you sniffled and asked your sister- “Lena is here?”– It was no surprise for the Danver sisters that at the mention of the younger Luthor you would cheer up. You were very loved by your sisters and their friends, but it was no secret that you had the young CEO wrapped around your little finger. Lena was your sister Kara’s girlfriend, but she was enamored with you and she was very protective of you as well. She is like a hero to you; you admire and look up to her so much. Not that your sisters weren’t amazing as well, but the relationship you have with Lena is very special and strong.  She is always pampering you and spoils you rotten. You never take advantage of the way Lena is with you and her affection. You are not a brat, you are a very easy-going person, a ray of sunshine and everyone was smitten with you. But when your feeling down or sick you get cranky and you can be a little annoying. You know that, but you feel no shame whatsoever.

Kara: “Yes! She is waiting at the apartment and she said she was going to be prepared with lots of yummy things you can drink, and some things you can eat. We can watch movies after you rest for a bit if you want. What do you say?” – your bubbly blonde sister said while stroking you back and trying to make you stay alert for a bit more until you reached the apartment.

Y/N : You just gave her a tired smile and rubbed at your eyes with a fist and said- “Ok, that sounds nice.”

The elevator dinged and the door opened in the hallway. Alex and Kara, with you in her arms, stepped out of the elevator and walked to the apartment door. Lena was already waiting at the door with a big smile on her face, however she frowned a little when she saw your pained face and teary eyes. Your cheeks were starting to swell, and she knew the first couple of days were rough after that specific dental procedure. She also hated to see you in pain, so she just holds the door wide open to let Alex and Kara walk into the apartment.

Lena: “hi sweet girl”- she presses a kiss to your forehead while greeting Kara and Alex as well. She gave Kara a peck in the lips and asked her to put you in the couch. She walks to the kitchen to grab a bowl with cold water and a cloth to help reduce the swelling to your cheeks while Alex read trough the indications given by your doctor and sort your meds at the table.

Meanwhile Kara tries to lay you down on the couch, but you refused to let go of her and you just cling harder with your arms circling her neck and your legs into her hips. Kara just chuckles and rubs your back: “come on little one, let me set you down on the couch, you will  be more comfortable laying down and I’m just going to bring your blanket and some pillows and bring a pair of comfy pajamas so you can be more comfortable.”

But you, feeling poorly and cranky, shed some tears and asked to be held by your sister. You just felt so clingy. Y/N: “Noo… please Kara don’t go. Just stay with me I don’t need a blanket or pajamas.”

You were beyond exhausted and being up since early in the morning and since you didn’t get that much the sleep night before, you were just so nervous about the whole thing. Now that it was over, you felt all your energy drained, and in addition the pain meds were staring to wear off and that made you feel even worse.

Alex: “Sit down with her Kara, I’ll bring the blanket pillows and pajamas. Let me just grab the meds, and hey Lena can you bring a glass of water and – oh you already have a bowl of water and cloth that’s perfect, thank you. Go and sit down with Kara and set those on the coffee table. I´ll just change real  quick and we can give Y/N the meds and make her more comfortable so she can take a nap.”

Lena just nods and walks to the couch carrying the tray with a bowl with cold water, a few clean hand towels and a glass of water with your meds on it. She set the tray on the coffee table and takes one of the smalls towels and dips it into the cold water in the bowl to make a cold compress for your cheeks. She then turns to Kara and speaks softly to you.

Lena: “Y/N is it okay if I hold you for a little while so Kara can go change into more comfy clothes? What do you say, want me to sit with you for a bit?” - she gives you a big smile and you just nod and make grabby hands toward her. Kara chuckles once again at your antics and transfers you to Lena’s lap making sure you are settled alright and gives you a kiss to your forehead.

Kara: “I’ll be right back”- you just hum in approval and rest you head into Lena’s shoulder while the green eyed woman smiles down at you and brings the cool towel to your fast swelling hot cheek to make you feel better.

Y/N: “That feels nice”- you say in a sleepy voice while clinging to Lena.

Lena: “This will help with the swelling, I’m sorry you feel so poorly sweet girl. But don’t worry we are going to make sure you are comfortable, and you can take a nap after you take your pain meds. Look, Alex is here, come one just sit a little bit so you can take the pill.  Alex walks into the living room carrying several items in her arms.”

Alex: “Y/N come on kiddo I have your comfy jammies. Please sit for a bit for me baby.”  You sit with your back to Lena’s front and you hold your arms up while Alex works fast removing your current top and bra and pulls the button-up pajama top on you, while Lena keeps a hold of you supporting your hips and shoulder so you don’t fall from her lap. Next are your jeans, you let yourself fall backwards into Lena and she just chuckles and holds you close so you don’t slide down to the floor while Alex works on removing your jeans and putting the pajama short on you. Once you are  in your pajama set, Alex smiles at you and helps you try to lay in the couch, but once again you refuse and you move sideways on Lena’s lap so you face is nuzzled on her upper chest and sitting on her lap with your legs in the couch. Alex is about to try and make you move, but Lena just holds up her hand: “Its fine Alex, she is not heavy I can hold her and once she is asleep, we can move her to the couch or switch turns, because I think someone is  going to be very clingy for the next couple of days.”-  She says while looking down at you and giving you a soft smile.

Alex sighs but knows what you are saying its true, when you don’t feel good you turn into a koala bear and refuse to let go from your sisters or Lena’s arms. But you’ve been like this since you were little,       and your sisters love to provide any comfort you need. And right now, you want to be cuddled and sleep. So, Alex gives you a nudge and brings a small pill to your lips and hold a glass of water so you can swallow the medication. Alex: “Good job baby, now close your eyes and rest for a bit.”  

You let you head fall back into Lena and close your eyes mumbling something about corn dogs being soft. Alex smiles down at you while giving Lena the cool towel so she can press it down to your cheek and walks to the kitchen with the tray and to  figure out diner for Kara, Lena and herself and something soft and easy to drink for you. You won’t be able to eat anything solid for a few days, so that’s going to be a challenge. You love food as much as your alien sister. You don’t really like bland food nor drinking smoothies but that’s a fight for after you wake up from your nap. To say you are going to be an unhappy and very grumpy camper it’s the understatement of the century.

Kara took the opportunity to take a quick shower and walks into the living room in sweatpants and a lose top.  She smiles when she notices that you’re almost asleep with a small smile on your face while resting on top of her girlfriend. She spots your favorite blanket next to Lena in the couch, she drapes it over you and Lena and presses a quick kiss to your forehead and a kiss to Lena. Kara sits next to the both of you while surfing for something to watch on Netflix while Alex is busy in the kitchen. Lena is watching you fall asleep and still holding the cool rag to your cheek. After few minutes you are completely passed out and a little bit of drool and blood starts to spill from your lips.

Lena: “Kara, honey can you pass me one of those clean towels on the coffee table, please? Kara notices the little bit of blood and takes the clean small white towel and tenderly cleans your lips and chin. Kara takes away the other wet towel Lena was using for your cheek and leaves the new one so Lena can put it in between her shoulder and your chin. You sleep peacefully while being hold be Lena and Kara in the couch. Alex finally returns to the living room announcing she made diner, actually she made a phone call to order take out because she didn’t feel like cooking or cleaning dishes. She brings refreshments for everyone, a glass of wine for Lena, a glass of chocolate milk for Kara and a beer for her. She also brings a sports bottle with juice and ice, the ones that have a little rubber tip so you can drink easily and can keep the liquid cold. So once you´re awake you can drink something cool and remove the taste of blood from your mouth.

Yes, the next couple of day are going to be a little hard on you, but you have your sisters and Lena to keep you comfortable and dot on you while you recover.

 Next chapter: Y/N wakes up from her nap. And so, it begins…

[nekojitachan]

Hmm, I have no idea what this is, to be honest. Okay, so I know this is ‘what if Jean didn’t go to the Nest, if he ran away from home and stumbled across Neil/Nathaniel/Abram and Mary. And of course I’ve more in my addled head than this. But IDFK what I’m doing. *sighs* It’s been a bit of a crappy week and I’m still trying to focus on writing and at least I got this out.

Uhm, warning for Mary’s and Jean’s parents stellar parenting skills (child abuse but nothing too intense/graphic).

*******

“You will do as you’ve been told! Go pack the suitcase your mother has left in your room, and tomorrow you’ll-“

“No, I won’t! I won’t go,” Jean dared to argue, to yell at his father, confused and hurt by the unexpected news that he was being sent away, that his parents were getting rid of him. “I-“ His arguments were stopped by a harsh slap to his face, the blow just as startling as the pain; he heard Sophie gasp in surprise before his mother ordered his sister to go to her room.

He stood there with his hand pressed to his aching cheek while his father glared at him. “Go to your room and pack,” the man said, anger harsh in a voice which normally was bland with disinterest.

Jean fought to hold back the tears which threatened to spill down his cheeks, aware that his parents wouldn’t be affected by them in the least. No, most likely he’d only be slapped again, then shoved into his room for being so ‘emotional’.

Once he was inside his room, he heard the hushed voices of his parents as they discussed going to the airport in the morning and something about the Moriyamas, about things being over soon.

They didn’t mention when Jean would come back home.

He tried to do as he’d been told and pack his best (favorite) belongings in the suitcase, but then he caught his mother mentioning something about them moving, finding a better apartment for the three of them. A pain worse than the slap to his cheek made Jean double over when his father shushed his mother and told her they’d discuss it more tomorrow (after Jean was gone?), and then their voices faded as they walked away.

Maybe he really wasn’t coming home again.

It wasn’t… things weren’t always great. There were so many days when his parents left him and his sister to fend for themselves, when he had to feed Sophie (and himself) and get her ready for school. They moved around all the time, too, sometimes to horrid apartments where he and Sophie shared the same bed, and sometimes to very nice apartments. He never really understood what his parents did (and they discouraged any questions), but there were times when they had money and times they didn’t.

Rarely did his parents have any interest in him or Sophie, so it had been a surprise when they’d encouraged him to play Exy. They never attended any of his games, but at least he knew that Sophie was safe when she stayed to watch him practice or play, and his parents seemed somewhat happy when his team won.

He thought that maybe, if he kept improving… but no, all his parents wanted was to send him away, in the end.

The apartment was quiet for the next hour or two; he sat huddled on his bed in misery until he grew bored and got up to look at the suitcase as something to do. Unsurprisingly, it was cheap, poorly made and unlikely to last very long, adding to his suspicions that his parents weren’t expecting him to return. He gave it a sullen kick before he began to sort through his belongings to figure out what to pack. It was while he searched through his small dresser that he heard his sister’s voice; it appeared she wanted to know why he wasn’t joining them as his family went out for something to eat, and was told to shut her mouth.

Jean once more felt that sudden pain and remained as if frozen while the front door of the apartment closed behind Sophie and his parents. He didn’t move for at least a minute, until a sudden resolve made him lunge for his school bag then dump its contents onto the floor. Once it was empty, he filled it with the most important items he’d already set aside to pack in the cheap suitcase; a few pairs of underwear, his favorite tops and sweater, the most comfortable jeans, the pajamas Sophie had gotten him for his last birthday, and a small bag of toiletries. There was a pang of remorse over leaving behind everything else, only partially soothed when he tucked a picture of Sophie into a small pocket of the bag.

He crept out of his room, suddenly fearful that his father might have stayed behind, and let out a slow breath in relief upon finding the apartment empty. Right away, he went to into his parents’ room and looked for the one shoe box in their closet which he and Sophie had discovered one day was used to hide money. The amount changed over time, but there was always some stashed inside of it, and that day was no surprise.

The numerous rolls of bills inside of it were.

Indecisive for several breaths, he finally snatched about half the money and shoved the rolls into the bottom of his bag before he replaced the box then stumbled toward the front door. A tumultuous mix of guilt, panic and exhilaration made his heart race as he ran down the steps, still filled with disbelief over what he was doing and afraid that his parents would return at any moment.

He didn’t stop until he was several blocks away from home, out of breath from running and stunned that he’d dared to run away, to leave Sophie behind. Yet what choice did he have? Stay there and go through with whatever his parents had planned for him?

He might not know exactly what his parents were involved in, but he knew enough that the people they associated with were… well, not very nice. There was a spike of fear for Sophie, but his mother always made sure she was in her room or with friends when those people came by. As much as it hurt, he forced himself onward.

(What else could he do?)

The next few hours were spent wandering the city while Jean attempted to figure out what to do next; would it look odd if he rented a room for the night? Should he buy a bus ticket and go somewhere else? If so, where? Maybe he could go back in the morning and fetch Sophie? But what if his parents (or worse) were looking for him?

Tired and confused, he sat down on a bench overlooking the Old Port; he would have to decide what to do soon for the night. He hugged his bag against his chest and struggled with the urge to cry when he saw an older couple with a young child walk past, appearing to be tourists, laughing and pointing at the seagulls.

What was it like to have a happy family?

His view of them was disrupted by a middle-aged man who approached him with a wide smile on his face. “Hey, I haven’t seen you here before. What-“

“Ah! There you are! I thought we were going to meet at the café!” A young boy suddenly dropped onto the bench next to Jean and nudged him in the shoulder. “You’re buying now!”

“Eh?” Jean barely noticed the man, now frowning and muttering to himself, walking away since his attention was focused on the stranger next to him; he looked at least a couple years younger than Jean and was tiny, barely bigger than Sophie in fact, with a mop of unruly brown hair and light brown eyes. There was a light sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks and upturned nose, his clothes were over-sized and baggy, and he had a large backpack hung over his left shoulder. “Who are you?”

The boy glanced to the left, where the older man had been. “Nobody, really,” he said in a quiet voice. “You need to be careful. Guys like Phillipe jump on newbies like you.” At Jean’s confused look, the boy’s thin brows drew together. “You’re a runaway, aren’t you?”

Jean gaped at the boy. “How did you- who are you?” He hugged the bag even tighter to his chest and flushed with embarrassment when his stomach rumbled in hunger.

“Nobody,” the boy repeated with a sad smile, “but you can call me Lucien.”

Jean frowned as he studied the boy; did that mean that ‘Lucien’ wasn’t his real name? “I’m Jean, and how did you know that about me?”

Lucien shrugged as he slung his bag forward then rummaged through it to pull out an apple, which he offered to Jean; after a moment’s hesitation, Jean accepted it. “You’re out here alone, holding that bag as if it contains your most important possessions. You also have a lost look to you.”

Jean thought about that while he ate a few bites of the apple. “I… my parents… they don’t want me anymore. I don’t know what to do,” he admitted as he stared out over the port.

It was quiet for a few minutes, until Lucien sighed. “No other family?”

“No.”

“Ah.”

They sat there in silence once again, yet Jean was grateful for the companionship, the warmth at his side. They drew a few odd looks, but no one else approached them; it made him feel safe while he once more tried to figure out what to do. Perhaps a homeless shelter?

He was startled when Lucien stood up. “Oh, you’re leaving?” For some reason he felt sad about that, even though he’d expected the boy to go back home at some point.

“Come on,” Lucien said as he tugged at Jean’s left arm.

“What?”

“You going to stay here all night? Have anywhere else to go?” When Jean shook his head to both questions, Lucien made a tsk’ing sound. “Then come with me.”

Jean stumbled to his feet, grateful that he wouldn’t be alone any longer. “Thank you.”

“You’re too trusting,” Lucien chided as they hurried into the ‘old’ section of the city. “We need to work on that. And let me do the talking when we get to the apartment, okay? My mom… she’s strict and she doesn’t like surprises, but she looks after me.”

“Okay.”

Lucien was fast on his feet; despite their height differences, Jean struggled to keep up with the younger boy. It took them over ten minutes to reach an apartment on the fourth floor of a building which had seen much better days, into which Lucien slipped in after undoing several locks. “Mum, I’m home, and I brought a guest,” he called out, almost like a warning.

A small woman with similar brown hair cut into a shoulder length bob and light brown eyes stepped out of the kitchen to give Lucien an intent look before she turned to Jean. She stared at him for a moment before she grabbed onto her son’s arm and dragged him into another room. Confused by her actions, Jean jumped when he heard what was clearly the sound of someone being slapped, then a furious voice speaking quietly. It sounded like a woman’s, and the words were in English.

While he could speak English somewhat well, he couldn’t follow the conversation in the other room, other than a few words – ‘danger’, ‘foolish’, ‘confuse them’, ‘three not two’, ‘no one else’. Jean got the impression that Lucien was arguing for him, and after several minutes, things quieted down. There was another slapping sound, and a few seconds later, the two came out into the sparsely furnished living room.

Lucien’s mother gave Jean a cold look, her arms folded over her chest, while Lucien, his left cheek reddened from the slaps, offered an encouraging smile. “My son tells me that you’ve nowhere else to go.” Her voice was had a slight rasp to it, as if from smoking, and her gaze was sharp as if she missed little. Jean’s impression of her was that, despite her small stature, she was someone to listen to and respect.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave a slight nod as in approval for his respectful manner. “My son thinks we should take you in, even though we’re not in the best situation ourselves. Are you truly willing to leave everything behind, to do exactly what I say and not ask questions?”

Jean thought about Sophie… then thought about the cheap suitcase, about all the money in the shoe box, about his parents’ plan to move on without him. “Yes,” he agreed; if he had to leave everything behind, at least it was his choice. “Uhm, I can help out a little,” he offered as he dug into his bag for the money.

There was a slight (very slight) thaw in the woman’s demeanor (what did Jean call her?) when she saw the money; she motioned for Jean to set it down on the small coffee table. “That will help,” she said with an approving nod. “Go with Lucien, listen to what he says since you’re his responsibility now.” She gave her son a stern look while she fetched a coat which was draped over the back of the worn couch. “I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re leaving in the morning.” She grabbed three rolls of money which she stuffed into her purse and left the apartment.

Confused and amazed over what had just happened, Jean turned toward Lucien, who motioned him into a tiny kitchen. “Let’s get something to eat while I explain things to you,” the boy said. “It’s going to be a busy night.”

Jean set his bag down and followed his new friend.

*******

So without being all info-dumpy... Neil argued for Jean to tag along so they throw off anyone looking for them by there being three people/ a woman with two boys not a woman with one boy. Or even hey, a woman with a boy and a girl, not just a woman with one child. Mary (and even Neil, let’s be real) probably thinks that she can dump Jean in a few weeks or something, but yeah, that’s not gonna happen. It’s JEAN.

I figured this is within the first year after they left Baltimore, so Neil is easily swayed by Jean’s big grey eyes. He’s a bit of a softie. Mary is willing to try something different for a couple weeks (ha!) and the money helps.

And no duffel bag yet, the thing would be about the same size as our little Neil. He’ll get one in a couple years.

[sachigram]

Telescope Now Chapter 5

((click here to read on ao3!!))

“Okay, can you explain this to me one more time?”

Izaya stays where he is, doesn't want to look up at either of the men in his apartment. He can feel them both watching him with judgment disguised poorly as concern, and at this point he's not very interested in what either of them has to say. He knows what he sees, knows his own mind better than anyone else. He won't be swayed into thinking differently.

“I already fucking explained it to you!” Shizuo is angry, which is refreshing. He was acting much too friendly before, much too human. It's funny to Izaya that Shizuo is acting so upset on his behalf.

“Yes, but it was over the phone, and you were acting...frazzled,” Shinra answers in a placating tone. “Just once more, please.”

“It's what I said! Flea's fucking losing it way worse than you let on before. He's acting weird as fu—“

“The urns?” Shinra interjects. Izaya can hear Shinra moving towards the counter, the sounds of glass sliding, and then there's a pause.

“He says they're empty,” Shizuo says lowly, but it's almost as if he's incapable of whispering.

“They are empty,” Izaya says, sitting up at last to face them both. The blanket falls down into his lap, and he rubs at his eyes, blinking lights out of his vision. He was lying in the dark for so long with the TV as the only light source, and now Shinra has the main lights on.

“Izaya-kun, they're not,” Shinra says, lifting an urn into his arms. He pads towards the couch and tilts it towards Izaya. “Look.”

Inside is the same emptiness Izaya saw before. He thought it was a joke at first, the urns being empty, thought maybe the staff of the funeral home were trying to pull one over on him, but no. Everyone else thus far has found the urns to be full. Izaya scoffs and flops back onto the couch, pulling the blanket over his head.

“I can't look at nothing, Shinra. I don't know what you want me to say.”

“See?” Shizuo asks, and there's the rustling of fabric, the sound of footsteps. “He really thinks it.”

“Well, I didn't think he was faking,” Shinra says. There's some more movement, and then pressure next to Izaya as someone sits beside him. “Izaya-kun, I want you to come stay with me.”

“No. You think I'm crazy, I can tell. Who knows what horrible experiments you'll do as soon as I'm unconscious?” Izaya curls further into himself, wishing the others would just leave. This is awful enough without them both observing Izaya as if he's a rare exhibit at the museum.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don't think you're crazy?” Shinra asks, and he tugs at the blanket until Izaya relents to letting it pull away from his face. Shinra smiles at him sadly. “Will you trust me, please? Let's just talk through this. What could the urns being empty mean, exactly?”

“That they're actually alive, that something worse could be happening to them, that Shiki-san is somehow involved—“ Izaya lists, and Shinra holds a hand up.

“You realize what you're saying. You realize how this sounds. You're saying a powerful executive, a made man, is trying to convince you that the twins are dead. What exactly would his motivations be here?”

“I don't even know how they died!” Izaya shouts. He's gone over these facts, assessed them over and over in his mind, and having Shinra spout them as if Izaya is just being willfully ignorant is asinine. “Every time he starts to explain it to me, he stops short, like he can't piece the story together for himself.”

“Izaya-kun, he has explained it to you. He's explained it to me as well. You're blocking it out because—“ Shinra sighs and reaches for Izaya's shoulder, but Izaya swats his hand away. “You're traumatized,” Shinra continues. “This is a perfectly acceptable response to what you're going through.”

“Bullshit,” Izaya snaps, sitting up once more. He glares at Shinra, wants nothing more than to strangle the man, and he wonders briefly if this is how Shizuo feels all the time. “Tell me, then. Tell me how they died.”

Shinra opens his mouth, and his lips move, but Izaya can't hear anything. He looks from Shinra to Shizuo, trying to decide if they're messing with him, but Shizuo looks uncomfortable, as if he doesn't want to hear this story, and Shinra's expression is morose, like he's giving a patient bad news.

“They aren't dead,” Izaya says, and he draws his knees up, rests his head on them. “If they were dead, I'd know it.”

“I saw the bodies, Izaya-kun,” Shinra says gently.

“You fucking didn't. You don't even know how they died!”

“Flea, he just—“ Shizuo tries, and Izaya throws his hands in the air.

“I didn't ask for either of you to be here! I'm not asking you to believe me! What the hell do I care what either of you think when you,” he points to Shinra, “work closely with Shiki-san, and you,” he points to Shizuo, “hate me anyway?” Izaya glowers at them both, and then he flops back down, exhausted suddenly from all these emotions.

“We're trying to help you,” Shinra says, and his voice is calm. Shizuo scoffs in the background. “Neither of us has anything to gain from lying to you.”

“Yes, you do.” Izaya doesn't elaborate, doesn't think he needs to. “Get out.”

“As your friend, I can't do that, and as your medical professional, it would be nothing short of irresponsible of me to leave you on your own when I think you might be a danger to yourself or others,” Shinra says, and Izaya rolls his eyes.

“Yeah? You just said you didn't think I was crazy, and now you're saying I'm dangerous?”

“If you really think I'd be out to get you, then I have to assume something might not be right,” Shinra says coolly, and he narrows his eyes when Izaya glances at him.

“Then you leave. Shizu-chan can stay,” Izaya says.

Shinra has the gall to look hurt. “Izaya-kun...”

“I already know Shizu-chan hates me, so I won't be inclined to listen to him. Get out, Shinra, I mean it. I'm not interested in convincing you or anyone else of the truth.” He folds his arms over his knees and looks over at Shizuo, almost daring him to say something. Shizuo is uncharacteristically silent, though he still looks as annoyed as ever. He shrugs at Shinra, his lips turned down, and Shinra sighs loudly before standing.

“Have it your way, but I'll be back soon,” Shinra says. He passes by Shizuo and motions for Shizuo to follow him, and the two of them move towards the door while murmuring back and forth.

“I'm not crazy,” Izaya says to himself, and he glances at the urn Shinra left on the coffee table. It stares back at him almost vindictively, a worthy foe, every bit as empty inside as Izaya is.

The door opens and closes, and Shizuo returns, his hands in his pockets, his dark eyes focused on Izaya. “I really, really don't know what to say here.”

“I don't expect you to say anything, monster. Actually, I'd rather you not talk at all.”

“Why the hell would you prefer me to Shinra? He's right, you hate me.”

“Most of the people in my small inner circle hate me, Shizu-chan. It's easier to deal with openly hostile people, as there's no trust between us. You can't possibly betray me, as I don't trust you to begin with.” Izaya lies down once more and turns to face the TV. “Can you turn the lights back off? They're hurting my head.”

“Shinra said you should eat. Come on, I brought you fatty tuna.” Shizuo moves to hover over Izaya, and he lifts the bag as if to remind Izaya of its presence.

“I'm not hungry.”

Shizuo growls, and Izaya smiles, wonders how far he can push Shizuo before Shizuo lunges at him with intent to kill.

“Fucking eat it, or I'll shove it down your throat,” Shizuo snaps, throwing the bag at Izaya. “Dying of starvation is too nice a death for you.”

“That's absolutely terrible, Shizu-chan! It's a slow, painful death, you know?” Izaya considers throwing the bag to the floor, but the ootoro smells delicious. His stomach rumbles.

“See? You're hungry. Just eat it.” Shizuo sits down, his elbows on his knees as he leans toward Izaya. His fingers twitch.

“Did you poison it?” Izaya asks.

“I didn't even take it out of the bag!”

“Mm, you could've put poison all over the lid though... It could seep into my skin and leave me paralyzed or worse. I doubt you could come up with such a scheme, but that little friend who works with you would definitely know where to get poison. She might even be on her way here to help you dispose of my body as we speak.” Izaya knows he's reaching here, but it's just so easy to make Shizuo angry. It's Izaya's favorite toy to play with.

“Do you mean Vorona? Don't fucking talk about her to me,” Shizuo says, and he grits his teeth. “She doesn't even know I'm here. No one does except Shinra.”

“Are you saying I'm your dirty secret, Shizu-chan?” Izaya lifts his hand to his mouth, feigns shock. “I see your angle now! I never would've expected this from you, but... You always surprise me, Shizu-chan! Okay, so then the next thing for me to ask is this.” Izaya sits up, purses his lips, bats his eyelashes at Shizuo. “I don't have any money for this sushi. Is there any other way I can pay for it?”

Shizuo looks like he swallowed something sour. He snarls at Izaya before he stands up and looms over him. “You have until the count of three to eat a piece of sushi, and if you don't do it, I'm gonna make it where the only way you can eat anything is through a straw.”

“But then how will I suck your dick, Shizu-chan?” Izaya lilts, and he barely manages to move before Shizuo roars in what can only be pure frustration and lifts Izaya's entire couch to throw it across the room. It crashes into the bookshelf, knocking all the books into the floor and splintering the wood. “Ah. I guess this means you want to go to the bedroom, then?”

“Would you fucking quit it?!” Shizuo yells, and he stomps towards Izaya, lifts him by the front of his shirt. “What's with you? Why are you saying all this gross shit? Is this some new plan of yours to piss me off more than you usually do?”

“Well, being openly hostile to you doesn't seem to be working as well as normal.” Izaya shrugs as best as he can with Shizuo shaking him around. “I thought I'd see how you responded to a little flirtation.”

“How about you shut the fuck up and eat your sushi off the floor like the rat you are?” Shizuo asks, and then he lets Izaya drop.

“I think you like the flirtation! It really seems to be getting a rise out of you. That's good, Shizu-chan, you were being boring before.” Izaya turns away from him and goes to the kitchen where he fetches a bottle of wine. He's in the middle of opening it when Shizuo follows after him.

“Goddammit, Izaya, I'm just gonna call Shinra and ask him to come back. I can't be nice to you, okay? It's too fucking weird for both of us, and you're only gonna hurt yourself more to spite me.”

“The real question here is why do you care?” Izaya asks, and he pours himself a glass of wine. “Call Shinra, leave, it doesn't matter to me. I've got no problems being on my own.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shizuo asks, moving forward. He has Izaya cornered, Izaya's back pressed to the counter. “You wanna know why I care? Because you're a fucking wreck. I said I didn't pity you, and I meant it. Anything that happens to you is still less than a leech like you deserves, but letting you lose your mind first is an act of mercy I'm not capable of. I'm gonna kick the shit out of you one day, but I wanna make sure you feel every bit of it, and I wanna make sure you know why it's happening.”

Izaya sips his wine before he sets the glass on the counter. Keeping his eyes on Shizuo's face, he hops up to sit beside the wine, spreads his legs to make room for Shizuo, who growls when he realizes the suggestive position they're in.

“There's nothing wrong with me, Shizu-chan. You want me lucid so you can kick my ass? Fine, I'm perfectly aware of everything now. Get it over with and then get out. And put my couch back where it was. I'd tell you to organize my books, but I think even holding a book in your hands might send you into a meltdown.” Izaya smiles sweetly, and then he picks his glass back up.

Shizuo slaps the glass into the floor.

“Can you stop destroying my things?” Izaya asks with a pout, and Shizuo leans closer, his arms on either side of Izaya's thighs.

“Can you stop being a pain in the ass?” Shizuo asks.

Izaya lifts his finger to Shizuo's nose, taps it playfully. “Boop.”

Shizuo shouts angrily and shoves away from Izaya. He goes to the window and opens it, fishes in his pocket until he's pulling out his cigarettes and a lighter. Izaya watches him with a frown, and then he carefully gets off the counter, mindful of where the broken glass is. He carries the entire bottle of wine with him to his desk.

“I don't remember telling you it's okay to smoke in here,” Izaya says.

“If you want me to stop destroying your shit, you'll allow it.” Shizuo blows smoke out the window before he scowls at Izaya. “You piss me off.”

“Yes, I know. Those were the first words you ever said to me, you know? I'm well-aware.” Izaya logs into the Dollars chatroom as Chrome and reads over the conversation thus far. He blinks as a private message opens.

Kuru: Is this really what you're doing with your free time? You think everyone is pulling an elaborate joke on you, and you're getting drunk off wine and doing nothing about it?

Chrome: I know this isn't real.

Kuru: Real enough. Real to you.

Kuru: Why do you think the urns are empty?

Chrome: Where is Mairu?

Kuru: She's here too. She doesn't talk much in the chats. She's on a time-out for being vulgar.

Chrome: Where are you?

Kuru: The real question is where are YOU?

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, and his voice trembles.

The anger drains away from Shizuo's face. “What is it?” he asks.

“Can you tell me what the screen looks like to you?” Izaya scoots his chair over to make room for Shizuo, who flicks his cigarette out the window before moving to Izaya's side.

“Just looks like the same chat Celty is always on,” Shizuo says.

“You don't see the private window? You don't...” Izaya grips the desk to stop his hands from shaking. “Why is it just me?”

“Flea.” Shizuo nudges Izaya with his arm, and Izaya glares daggers at him for it. “Look, I'm not a doctor or anything, but maybe the alcohol isn't helping?”

“Fuck you,” Izaya mutters, and he takes a pointed sip from the bottle.

“Like I said,” Shizuo says, moving away from the desk. “You're a wreck.”

“I don't need your help.” Izaya uses his feet to push his chair, and he wheels after Shizuo. “You keep saying I hate you, but you leave out the part where you hate me right back. You leave out the part where you hated me on sight.”

“What's that gotta do with anything? We were teenagers.”

“It fucking matters!” Izaya snaps, and he stops the chair short of crashing into Shizuo when Shizuo freezes in place and whirls to face him. “It matters,” Izaya repeats.

“Okay. Okay, fine, then I'm sorry for that.” Shizuo rubs the back of his neck, and he looks uncomfortable. “That was a rough time for me.”

“That's it?” Izaya asks in disbelief. “You're apologizing, just like that? Your excuse is that high school was a rough time for you?”

“Well, it was!” Shizuo says. “People kept picking fights with me and Shinra wouldn't leave me the fuck alone about meeting you, and then—“ Shizuo stops abruptly, a faint color rising in his cheeks. “And then you came at the worst possible time.”

“Right. I should've booked an appointment before meeting you.” Izaya scoffs and scoots the chair back towards the desk. He grabs the wine again. “You're the one who ruined it. You're the one who started this.”

“I just said sorry! Fuck, Izaya, what else do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave.”

“No. You don't need to be alone,” Shizuo says, and he crosses his arms, a stubborn set to his jaw.

Izaya laughs. “What kind of idiot are you? I'm always alone, Shizu-chan. Believe me, I've gotten pretty used to it.”

“Me too. Doesn't mean it's not lonely.” Shizuo watches Izaya take another drink, and then he holds his hand out. He rolls his eyes when Izaya gives him a dubious look. “I'm not gonna pour it out. I want a sip.”

“All I do is share my expensive drinks with you,” Izaya laments, but he passes the bottle. He's aware Shizuo doesn't seem like a wine drinker, and his assumptions are confirmed when Shizuo makes a face. “You just don't want me to drink it all.”

“You're an annoying drunk.”

“I thought I was a sad drunk?”

“Crying is annoying.”

Izaya snorts before he slides the chair to the cracked bookshelf. He finds the takeout bag close to the couch, and he opens it, pleased to find the little plastic container isn't crushed. He pops it open and eats a piece of ootoro, a smile appearing at the taste. It's been so long since he's had it.

“Good flea,” Shizuo says, and he wheels Izaya out of the way before he cracks his knuckles and lifts the couch. He carries it back to its place in front of the TV and drops it.

“You know, if you get fired from your current job, you could be a professional mover,” Izaya says.

“You try to get me fired again, and I'm gonna snap your neck,” Shizuo replies.

“We'll have to work on your customer service, but otherwise I think you'd be good at it.” Izaya eats more sushi and feels almost happy for the first time in a long while. He doesn't say so, of course, but Shizuo seems to be aware. It's easier to ignore the elephant in the room with someone else here to provide a distraction.

“Its weird. You were right before when you said I don't know anything about you. I guess I made it a point not to know things. But now I know your favorite food,” Shizuo says as he crosses the room to pick up the discarded couch cushions. He carries them back to the couch and throws them on.

“All you have to do is pay attention. I know a lot of things about you,” Izaya says, and he smirks when Shizuo glowers at him.

“See, that's creepy. You're a creepy bastard.”

“Ask me something about you! Go ahead!” Izaya wheels back to the desk where Shizuo sat the bottle of wine down. He takes a long sip.

“No thanks. I'd rather not know how long you've been watching me.”

“Why not? It's not the least bit flattering to you?” Izaya asks.

“Why would it be?”

“I'd be flattered if someone cared about me so much,” Izaya says, and he immediately regrets saying it. His face heats up, and he turns his back to Shizuo, absolutely mortified. “I'm usually overlooked, is all I mean.”

“Overlooked? You?” Shizuo asks, and he barks a laugh. “Sorry, flea, but you really suck at blending in.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I'd know you anywhere.”

Izaya spins his chair around, laughing to himself. Shizuo is probably the only one in the world who always notices him, never looks past him. Izaya has wanted it more than anything else, no matter what he had to do to get it. Shizuo needs to look at him, even if it's with hatred, even if it's out of the desire to kill. Shizuo needs to look.

“Do you think things would be a lot different if we were friends?” Shizuo asks suddenly. Izaya stops spinning, feels a little sick to his stomach.

“Oh, come on, Shizu-chan. You wouldn't stoop to the level of being friends with me.”

“I mean it.”

“Don't you know it's rude to kick someone while they're down? How monstrous of you.”

“Flea. I mean it.” Shizuo moves closer to Izaya. “Maybe if I hadn't been fighting that day, maybe if I was in an okay mood when Shinra introduced us...”

“Stop it.” Izaya has had the same thought himself plenty of times: What if? “Even if you liked me at first, you still wouldn't like what I do, wouldn't like who I am as a person.”

“Can't you just stop being a prick?” Shizuo asks.

“Can't you just stop losing your temper all the time?”

“It's not the same thing!”

“There's that hypocrisy again! Tell me, how many excuses do you give about your temper? Someone always pisses you off, even when they aren't doing anything to you. There's always a reason for your fights, right? It's not just the fact you have an extremely short fuse to go along with your incredible strength?” Izaya smiles, sips more wine before passing the bottle to Shizuo, who snatches it.

“What's your fucking point?”

“I don't make excuses, Shizu-chan. You ask me why I do the things I do, it's because I enjoy them. It's as simple as that.” Izaya spins around. “Have you considered the reason you fight all the time is because you actually like it?”

“No, because that's not true. I hate fighting,” Shizuo says.

“Then tell me this.” Izaya stops spinning and scoots closer to Shizuo. “Have you considered you chase me around so much because you might actually like me?”

“God, are we back to the flirting now? You're running out of tricks, flea.”

“Mm. Maybe you should think about it. All those excuses of yours, you must really not know much about yourself. Denial is enough to give anyone an anger problem.”

“You wanna know what I think?” Shizuo barks, stomping forward and putting his foot out to stop the chair from moving. “I think you're the saddest, loneliest, most twisted piece of trash who ever lived. I think you tell yourself all this shit and make excuses to yourself. It doesn't matter if you own up to them out loud, does it? Not if you still try to convince yourself you're happy being alone when really you hate yourself. Don't you?”

“You're not saying anything profound, Shizu-chan. I already told you I was a coward,” Izaya says, not bothering to address the rest of it.

“Yeah, well now you're a hypocrite, too.”

They glare at each other, and then Izaya turns away, laughing at the absurdity of all this.

“Maybe we're both cowardly hypocrites. Maybe that's why we're in each other's lives. Maybe you hate me so much because I remind you of yourself.”

Shizuo removes his foot from the path of the chair, lets Izaya roll away. His eyes narrow. “So is that the reason you hate me, then? Or do you hate me because you actually like me?”

Izaya stops rolling, huffs and eats another piece of sushi. “I don't like you.”

“Right.” Shizuo drinks some wine, scrutinizes Izaya's expression. “It's okay if you do.”

“Oh, is it?” Izaya asks, eating the last of his sushi and throwing the container at Shizuo's head. “Well, thank you, Shizu-chan, that really cleared things up for me. I'm a new man, and I'll never have to bother you again!”

“God. Fuck. It's impossible to be civil with you, you know that? You make it impossible.”

“So call Shinra, call him and leave. I'm not asking you to stay.”

“No. I'm not gonna let you be by yourself.”

“Why? Why not, what business is it of yours—“ Izaya starts, standing from his chair. He falters when Shizuo kicks the desk, splitting it into pieces so the monitor crashes into the floor.

“Shut up!” Shizuo shouts, breathing heavily. “I fucking mean it, flea. One more word, and I'll kill you.”

“That desk was top of the line, you know? It probably costs more than you make in a month.” Izaya steps forward and snatches the wine from Shizuo. “I don't care what you do anymore, monster. You want to sit in silence and keep an eye on me, convince yourself you're saving me? Go ahead. It won't change anything, will it?”

“Do you really think the urns are empty?” Shizuo asks, breathing heavily, and Izaya scowls.

“Yes.”

“Then I'm staying.” Shizuo goes to the couch, flops down onto it. Izaya grins, takes a gulp of wine, and sits close to Shizuo, probably too close. “Flea,” Shizuo says warningly.

“I'm cold,” Izaya says. He pouts up at Shizuo. “You're here to help me, right?”

“If you try anything weird...” Shizuo trails off.

“Define 'weird',” Izaya says.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Shizuo hisses through clenched teeth.

Izaya's grin stretches into a leer, and he fits himself against Shizuo's side, surprised to feel just how warm Shizuo is. He wraps his arms around Shizuo's arm and nuzzles his face into Shizuo's sleeve.

“Get off me!” Shizuo hisses, and Izaya shakes his head.

“Nope. You're like a monster space heater. I'm tipsy and I'm cold.”

Shizuo grumbles and leans back into the cushions. He changes the channel to some MMA thing, and Izaya allows himself the liberty of inhaling Shizuo's scent. It's odd, it's exactly how he imagined it: the musk of sweat, cheap cologne, cigarette smoke. Izaya loves it, hates that he loves it. He loves it so fucking much.

“Shizu-chan could wipe the floor with all those guys,” Izaya says, voice muffled in Shizuo's arm.

“Nah, they have actual skill. I just get mad,” Shizuo replies. “Your TV is amazing, by the way. I feel like I'm really there.”

“Mm.” Izaya passes Shizuo the bottle of wine, watches Shizuo's throat bob when he drinks. Shizuo tilts towards Izaya's body very slightly, probably for comfort reasons. Izaya smiles, closes his eyes, wants to memorize this exact moment down to the tiniest detail because it's already so much more than he ever thought he'd get.

“Just tell him you love him,” Mairu's voice says, and Izaya jumps backwards, away from Shizuo, who looks at him with alarm.

“Flea?”

“I heard Mairu,” Izaya says, looking around. He doesn't see her, but the urn is still on the coffee table.

“What'd she say?” Shizuo asks.

“You didn't hear her?” Izaya asks, though he knows the answer already. He laughs, falls to his side, and curls his knees to his chest. “Shizu-chan, do you think I'm losing my mind?”

“I don't know,” Shizuo says honestly. “I have no idea what you're going through. It could all be normal. And even if it's not, I think you're allowed to be a little crazy right now.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? Is it just because Shinra asked you to?”

“I don't know,” Shizuo says again, and he doesn't say anything else.

“I'm going to go to bed,” Izaya says, and he stands, lingering over Shizuo. “Stay the night, I don't care. I have a guest bed, or you can crash here in front of your beloved TV.” He looks at the urn in front of him, and then at the one on the counter. “I can't be around these things anymore.”

He goes upstairs and quickly brushes his teeth, doesn't bother with washing his face. He's so tired, so tired of everything, and somehow, knowing Shizuo is below him calms him enough to fall asleep.

He wakes in his parent's house.

He's on the couch, rubbing at his eyes as the twins argue loudly over a doll, Mairu pulling an arm, and Kururi pulling a leg. He groans and sits up.

“Can't you two just share your toys?” he asks, and they both glare at him.

“Easy for you to say! You never had to share!” Mairu shouts.

“And look at me now, sharing everything,” Izaya replies. He reaches out, takes the doll from them, and moves her around through the air. “She wants you to share her, and...what's that?” He places the doll next to his ear. “Ah. She also wants you to let me sleep.”

“She does not. It's daytime. Why are you so tired anyway?” Mairu asks, swiping for the doll. Izaya pulls the doll out of reach.

“I study at night. I also have to work.”

“Work...” Kururi repeats, tilting her head.

“I have my own private assignments, you know?” Izaya looks between them as he remembers everything, and the dream seems to shift. “Are you really dead?” he asks suddenly, and they look at each other before looking back to him.

“What do you think?” Mairu asks.

“I think you aren't. I don't think it's denial on my part. I really think if you were gone, I'd know it.”

“So then...what do you think is going on?” Kururi asks softly.

“I don't know. It...” Izaya inhales, smells a floral scent, but he doesn't know where it's coming from. “I don't know what's happening.”

“You do,” Kururi says, and then she smiles. “You've known for a while.”

“It's okay, Iza-nii,” Mairu says, and she reaches out to squeeze Izaya's hand in hers. “We're here!”

Izaya wakes up thrashing. It takes him a few moments to realize he isn't alone. Shizuo is hovering over him, holding his arms in place.

“Calm down, dammit! You woke me up again,” Shizuo says, and his grip relaxes when Izaya stops fighting him.

“You're still here...” Izaya says dazedly, his eyes full of tears. He's grateful for the darkness of his room, doesn't want Shizuo to see his face.

“Well, yeah, you...” Shizuo stops talking when Izaya's hands settle on either side of his face.

“Shizu-chan...” Izaya murmurs, his hands pulling. Shizuo follows his lead, inhales sharply when his forehead rests against Izaya's.

“Flea?” Shizuo asks.

“I had a dream. Only they aren't dreams. Or they aren't always dreams. I just...” Izaya caresses Shizuo's face, doesn't care anymore how this looks. “Can you stay up here?”

“You sure?” Shizuo asks, though he makes no motion to leave.

“I need to know you're real.”

“What are you talking about?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya shakes his head.

“I can't explain it all. You'll really think I'm insane. You can go downstairs if you really want to, I just...”

“No, I'll stay.” Shizuo rolls off Izaya, settles next to him, and Izaya doesn't hesitate at all before he's scooting closer, wrapping his arms around Shizuo and pressing his face into Shizuo's chest. “You're really freaked out, huh?”

Izaya doesn't reply. He takes greedy breaths, tries to keep Shizuo's scent in his nose for as long as he can. He feels Shizuo's arms settle around him, but he doesn't dare read too much into it. Shizuo has no choice here, after all. He's trying to make sure Izaya is okay, is doing a favor for Shinra. It's not anything more than that.

“Fuck, Izaya, you're shaking.” Shizuo hugs Izaya tighter, his face pressing into Izaya's hair. “Talk to me. What is it?”

“They're alive,” Izaya says weakly. “I know it. I know they are.”

“They aren't, flea. It's like Shinra said, you're protecting yourself from the truth.”

“I am, but I don't think the truth is that they're gone.”

“So then what is it? What's the truth?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya clings tighter to him. They lie together in silence, and Izaya is so warm, so content in Shizuo's arms that he's close to sleep once more when he hears footsteps below. He jolts, and Shizuo grunts irritably.

“I heard something,” Izaya says, trying to lift to his elbow. Shizuo pulls him back down.

“You didn't. C'mon, Izaya, just try to sleep. You'll feel better if you do.”

Izaya hesitates before he curls back in to Shizuo. All these bizarre instances, these things he can't explain, he's almost willing to overlook all of them for this: the feeling of being held, the feeling of being worried over. Izaya has never known this kind of comfort in his entire life, and he thinks he's beginning to understand why he's feeling it now.

“Christ,” Izaya mutters. If he was at rock bottom before, he's lower now, somewhere in the layers of Hell. It's cruel that it's like this, but Izaya can't say he doesn't deserve it. He reaches up with trembling hands and undoes the buttons of Shizuo's shirt. Shizuo only watches him, a calm expression on his face.

“I don't think you're a coward, Izaya,” Shizuo says, and Izaya raises an eyebrow in response, though he's not sure Shizuo can see it in the darkness. Shizuo continues anyway. “Before, you said you were, but I don't see how. You're not scared of anything. You're not even scared of me, and you really should be. Even I'm terrified of me.”

“There's more than one definition of a coward, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, and then he presses his face into the warmth of Shizuo's bare chest. He slides his hands up and under the back of Shizuo's shirt, sighs softly and blinks back tears.

“Oh, yeah? Well, some of us don't have the time to dig up all these other definitions for simple words. Must be nice to be self-employed,” Shizuo huffs, but he keeps holding Izaya, and Izaya wonders if Shizuo might be the only thing holding him together.

“It is, it's nice. It's lonely. I'm...” Izaya's voice trembles. He swallows, forces his voice into neutrality. “If being brave means you're afraid to do something, but you do it anyway, then a true coward is someone who never tries in the first place to face their fears. Someone complacent.”

“But you put yourself in crazy situations all the time. You don't back down even when I'm trying to kill you,” Shizuo argues.

“I have a list of fears, actually. Whatever you think of me, I'm a person.” Izaya listens to Shizuo's heart beating faster. “I accept everything about everyone, I tell myself nothing they do can hurt me, not as long as I'm willing to accept any and every outcome. I love all of humanity because I see the worst of humanity every day and I can still love them, but no one sees me. No one does, and no one can, because I won't let them. You were right before when you said I'm a hypocrite, too. I am, and I know it. I want to see everyone, but I don't want anyone to see me.”

“So you hide,” Shizuo says.

“The only one who knows me is me, and I don't even like me. How am I supposed to just let people see me as I am? It's amazing, isn't it, that people can be so vulnerable with others! To let your guard down and seek comfort and love from your fellow man— It boggles the mind! Humans are social creatures; we subconsciously drift together and long for another's touch, but at the same time, we fear each other, fear existence, do terrible things to avoid being known! Isn't that amazing?! We're a paradox in ourselves!”

“I'm pretty sure you're doing the opposite of calming down,” Shizuo says, and he punctuates it with a yawn. “You're getting all manic and flea-like. Hiding from other people doesn't make you a coward, and if it does in some way, then I'm a coward, too. Whether it's to protect yourself or others, sometimes it's better to be on your own if the alternative is everyone getting hurt.”

“You're not on your own, you barbarian. You fucking should be, but you're not. You don't know the meaning of true loneliness.” Izaya seethes, digs his nails into Shizuo's back, but of course Shizuo probably doesn't feel it.

“And now you're getting all pissy. See, this is why it's hard to talk to you. You go on and on about random bullshit, and then you work yourself up, and then I just really wanna punch you. It's a cycle.” Shizuo nuzzles his face into Izaya's hair, and it has the tightness leaving Izaya's shoulders before he knows it. “If you wanna be comforted, then I'm right here. All the other shit you were saying doesn't matter, does it? You're a person, you want comfort. What's wrong with giving into nature every now and then?”

“That's so easy for you to say. You're a creature of pure instinct. And I really want you to know the emphasis I'm putting on the word creature.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. You know, the more you babble about things, the easier it is to see through you. I can actually tell you're putting all these walls up, and it's kind of stupid. It's actually really stupid for some brainiac like you. Aren't you supposed to know better?” Shizuo asks.

“It's paradoxical, as I said,” Izaya replies, and Shizuo hums.

“It must really suck to have so many thoughts all the time. No wonder you're crazy.”

Izaya lifts his leg and kicks Shizuo, and Shizuo rolls over him, partly on top of him, and he presses his face into Izaya's neck.

“Go to sleep, flea,” Shizuo says.

“That's your expert advice?”

“It sure as hell can't hurt anything, can it?”

Izaya purses his lips, chooses not to answer that. He feels Shizuo falling asleep on top of him. It happens gradually, Shizuo's body sinking further, the tension leaving his muscles. He makes a soft noise, and then his breathing evens out, his exhales tickling Izaya's skin. Izaya waits until he knows for a fact Shizuo is out of it, and then he lifts his hands, threads them through Shizuo's hair.

“I don't need this,” Izaya murmurs. “I'm doing this because I want to, not because I need it.” Shizuo's breathing is the only answer he receives, but somehow it's an answer all the same.

Izaya stays where he is even after day starts to break. It's still dark out, raining again, and he has no idea what time it was when Shizuo came to bed with him, but it must have been close to morning already, because Izaya doesn't feel like much time has passed. He doesn't sleep, doesn't dare to. He refuses to miss a single moment of this, Shizuo clinging to him, completely relaxed, drooling the slightest bit into Izaya's neck. Izaya keeps his hands in Shizuo's hair, keeps them moving, because when he tries to stop, Shizuo grunts in irritation. Izaya stops a few times anyway, just to feel Shizuo's angry little breaths against his skin.

More time passes, it must, because soon enough Shizuo is moving around more. Izaya thinks Shizuo is awake already and choosing not to get up, though whether it's from wanting to stay the way they are or not wanting to acknowledge it, Izaya can't say.

“Did you sleep?” Shizuo asks after a while. His voice is deeper than normal, gravelly from the remnants of sleep. He still doesn't move.

“Nope. I was never planning on sleeping in the first place. I'm tired of the dreams, you know?”

“Hmm.” Shizuo lifts his head slightly, rests his lips against Izaya's pulse point in imitation of a kiss, but there's no pressure. “This is nice.”

“You're spoiled, you know? I spoiled you overnight. You just wouldn't let go of me, you clingy beast.” Izaya closes his eyes when Shizuo's impression of a kiss becomes more accurate. He inhales sharply, his hands clenching in Shizuo's hair when Shizuo suddenly bites down.

“It's raining again,” Shizuo says, and he kisses Izaya's neck again, slightly higher than before. “And it's early, isn't it?”

“Probably. I can't say for sure.” Izaya shivers when Shizuo's tongue meets his skin, bites his lip on a gasp. “Fuck, what are you doing? I didn't say you could drool on me even more than you already have.”

“I think you like it,” Shizuo says smugly. “I think you really like it, flea.”

“You don't know anything about me or what I like,” Izaya argues. He opens his eyes when he feels Shizuo lifting up, feels Shizuo's nose on his cheek. Shizuo pulls back, and their eyes meet.

“Don't gotta know you to know what you like.” Shizuo leans in and stops short of pressing his lips to Izaya's. He grins at Izaya's frustrated little noise. “But I guess since I don't know you at all, I won't force it.”

“Yes, we can't add this to your list of atrocities,” Izaya replies. They watch each other closely, and when it becomes clear Izaya isn't going to budge, Shizuo breathes a laugh before he rolls over and sits up.

“Man, I hate working in the rain.” Shizuo lifts his arms, stretches until his joints pop, and Izaya lifts to his elbow.

“So then call out,” Izaya says. Shizuo turns to look at him from over his shoulder.

“I can't call out. I have a job to do.”

“That woman is there. She's capable.” Izaya tosses the covers off himself and scoots closer to Shizuo. He wraps his arms around Shizuo from behind, rests his head on Shizuo's shoulder. “Stay with me.”

“Flea...” Shizuo leans back against him, his hands settling over Izaya's. “You sure?”

“Just for today.” Izaya presses his face into Shizuo's shoulder. “I feel like it's the end of the world. Maybe it is, for me. Just indulge me this once, and I won't ask you for anything else.”

“That's a lie if I ever heard one,” Shizuo huffs, but he makes no motion to leave Izaya's grasp. “Hey. Goddammit, you're shaking again. What is it?”

“This is Hell. Isn't it?”

“Okay, no more flea shit.” Shizuo turns and cups Izaya's face. His hands are callused, but his touch his gentle, as if he's being as careful with Izaya as he can. “You're spouting nonsense, and all that's gonna do is piss me off. You want comfort, right? You want me here with you?”

“Yes.” Izaya leans in, brushes his nose against Shizuo's. What has he got to lose anymore? This probably isn't even real.

“Then shut the fuck up,” Shizuo says, and then his lips brush against Izaya's. There's a slight pause as they pull away, both of them apprehensive about the other, but then they're kissing forcefully, hard enough that Izaya forgets to breathe at first.

“Shizu-chan...” Izaya gasps, pulling back. Shizuo doesn't allow him to retreat far, just tugs him closer and seals their mouths together once more.

“I said to shut up,” Shizuo murmurs. His hands trail down Izaya's sides, his fingers sliding under Izaya's shirt as they make their way back up Izaya's body. “I've heard enough of your yammering over the years. Does it really make you so happy to deprive yourself and be miserable?”

“Fuck you,” Izaya spits, and he groans when Shizuo answers by licking into his mouth. There's a hint of desperation to their kisses, to their touches. Izaya wonders if Shizuo can also feel how finite this is, but he must.

It's all effortless, much smoother than it has any right to be. They fit together, and there's none of the awkwardness Izaya would usually associate with Shizuo. Shizuo is a fumbling moron in his own right, scared to touch and to be touched, but there's no issue with this, and that's enough to drive home that something isn't right. Still, Izaya is incapable of listening to himself at the moment. Shizuo was correct before: Izaya is so tired of fighting against himself, and just this once, just for a little while, he wants to feel what he's always been so afraid of.

“Shizu...!” Izaya's mouth drops open when Shizuo slides inside him. Their breaths mingle between them, and Shizuo is watching Izaya through dark eyes, his lips red and wet from kissing Izaya.

“Fuck...” Shizuo winces, his hips snapping forward minutely as he tries to let Izaya adjust around him. “I've thought of this so many times. Thought I was...crazy for it...”

“Move, you idiot!” Izaya swats at Shizuo's shoulders, angry that Shizuo is so calm during this when he isn't. Shizuo grins at him and thrusts forward, and Izaya's insults die on his tongue.

It's good, it's perfect, it makes no fucking sense. Shizuo knows exactly how to touch Izaya, exactly how to move, and Izaya has watched Shizuo enough over the years to know Shizuo has absolutely no experience with this. Still, Izaya is left panting, biting back screams as Shizuo pounds into him with powerful motions, with a confidence he shouldn't possess. Izaya comes hard, hard enough to where he forgets where he is, and he clings to Shizuo as Shizuo growls in his ear and keeps fucking into him.

“This...isn't... Fuck, Shizuo— How are you...doing this?!” Izaya manages to blurt between his gasps. Shizuo doesn't respond, but he does bury himself as deeply as he can inside Izaya before coming. Izaya shivers, barely recognizes that he's got his arms and legs wrapped tightly around Shizuo's body. He offers a soft moan when Shizuo kisses him again.

“I gotta call Tom-san,” Shizuo says when he pulls back a bit. He growls and looks around. “Fuck, where did I throw my pants?”

“How should I know?” Izaya asks. He's boneless and satisfied, too happy for it to be a good thing. He can't lose himself in this fantasy. He bristles when Shizuo smiles at him. “What?”

“You're so cuddly like this. It's like all the fight's gone out of you.”

“Keep thinking like that and I'll slit your throat.”

Shizuo has to leave the bed to find his pants. They're in the corner, close to the door, and Izaya watches listlessly as Shizuo calls Tom and feigns an illness.

“You don't get sick. You really should use a better excuse,” Izaya calls, and Shizuo flips him off.

“Yeah, no, it's just like...a tickle. A throat tickle. Yeah, it's weird. I feel weird.” Shizuo is pacing now, his eyes trained on Izaya in bed.

“Tell him you killed someone, that's believable,” Izaya says. Shizuo throws his pants at Izaya.

“I will. Yeah, I'll let you know. Sorry Tom-san. I'll see you tomorrow,” Shizuo says into the phone, and then he hangs up, tossing his phone off to the side. He hurries back to the bed and pounces on Izaya, and they continue where they left off long into the afternoon.

Later, when they've exhausted themselves, Izaya is once again carding his fingers through Shizuo's hair. He doesn't think he'll ever forget Shizuo's taste, his scent, the way Shizuo feels inside him. It's too good to be true, Izaya knows that, but he also knows this is probably the most he'll ever get, and like all things in his life, good and bad, he accepts it.

“Fucking flea,” Shizuo mumbles, his voice muffled against Izaya's chest. “How am I supposed to leave the bed when you're being all cuddly?”

“You aren't,” Izaya says simply. He tugs on Shizuo's hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” Shizuo answers, and Izaya snorts.

“Mm. I suppose I could order something for you, since you stayed here with me today.”

“Least you could do,” Shizuo replies.

“You'll have to grab one of our phones for me,” Izaya says.

Shizuo groans. “I'm not hungry after all.”

“You are. Your stomach is annoying me.”

Shizuo sighs loudly and lifts up, pouting at Izaya, and then he rolls out of the bed. He fumbles around, trying to find his phone in the floor, and then he glares at Izaya.

“Where's your phone, huh? In your pants?”

“Nope. Downstairs. Guess you have to look harder for yours, Shizu-chan!”

“I-za-ya.”

“For fuck's sake. It's right there.” Izaya points to a spot on the floor, and Shizuo looks from it back to Izaya.

“Where?”

“There! Where I'm pointing!”

Shizuo shuffles forward and turns in a circle, looks around thoroughly. “There's nothing here!”

Izaya grins and lifts his own phone up. “I know. I have mine right here; I just wanted to watch you look for yours.”

Shizuo scowls at Izaya, and then he crawls back into bed, fitting himself into Izaya's side.

“Do you care what I order?” Izaya asks.

“None of your super healthy shit. I want something good.”

“'Good' doesn't mean covered in grease.”

They wind up ordering Thai food. Izaya orders his spicy, and Shizuo growls before saying he wants the same, refusing to let Izaya beat him in this nonexistent challenge. When the food arrives, Izaya is the one who answers the door, his bathrobe haphazardly tied. The delivery man pointedly looks away, and when Izaya grabs the food and closes the door, Shizuo is immediately behind Izaya, mouthing at his neck and untying his robe.

By the time they eat, the food has gone cold. Shizuo complains about the spice, and Izaya rolls his eyes, informs Shizuo that no one made him order the spiciest items on the menu, though it's almost too hot for him to enjoy either. They're camped out on the floor, their bodies entwined as they share all the food they ordered. Izaya is slurping up noodles when he notices Shizuo is staring at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing, just. This. Us.” Shizuo smiles and takes a bite of his own food. “I'm happy.”

“Oh? Shizu-chan is happy in the arms of his greatest enemy?”

“Yeah, I am.” Shizuo leans in and kisses Izaya's bare shoulder. “I'm happy to see you coming back to life.”

“Yes, I'll be terrorizing you within the week, I'm sure.” Izaya swirls his chopsticks around in the noodles, a contemplative look on his face.

“What is it?” Shizuo asks.

“Do you really think we could ever be like this? If things were different, if we were different, could you have really been happy with me?”

“What are you talking about? We're here now.”

“This isn't really Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo's brow furrows, and he sets his takeout container down before he gently takes Izaya's from him as well. He pulls Izaya into his lap, wraps his arms around him.

“I want you to be okay, Izaya. I think maybe you should...talk to someone. Someone besides me and Shinra. You know, like a grief counselor. I can't really help you deal with this aside from being here, but...” Shizuo's arms tighten.

“This helps,” Izaya says, tilting against Shizuo. “Certainly makes it harder to focus, but maybe that's your goal.” Izaya laughs breathlessly, his eyes closing as he inhales the scent of Shizuo's skin. “I imagined so many times how we'd be if we came together like this. I always went back and forth with it, thought you'd either be overeager and clumsy or surprisingly good at it because you're an instinctual beast. In the end, I guess I don't know how you'd be, Shizu-chan, because you always surprise me. But like this, it's easier to say I don't think you'd be this gentle. Not with me.”

“Izaya—“

“I think you'd try, but that would just annoy me. I've never liked being treated like I'm delicate, and that's part of what drew me to you in the first place. You looked at me and you weren't fooled by my appearance. You knew immediately I was someone who could keep up with you, and that's why we gravitate together the way we do. Life without Shizu-chan would be so boring. I imagine you feel the same way, but you don't allow yourself to think it. You've gotten so used to the idea of having a quiet, peaceful life that you hate me for not allowing you to have one, but you've never considered how bored you'd be if you attained it. You've never blended in. You don't know how it feels to yearn to stand out.”

“Izaya.”

“And that's stupid, isn't it? You and I, we're so different and so similar. As cliché as it is, we really do complete each other, and coming together like this, it would be so easy if we only allowed it to happen. But we won't. We won't because I'm me, and you're you, and if we stop fighting and actually coexist, we won't have anything left but to accept the fact we need each other, and that's terrifying to us both.”

Shizuo is squeezing Izaya now, his eyes wide as he observes Izaya's face.

“You've done everything possible to isolate yourself, and I've done all I could to keep you alone, but here you are, beloved by others. It really is so stupid, Shizu-chan. I wonder if you really did try to save me. I don't put it past you. I think you probably tried to.” Izaya smiles at Shizuo before he kisses Shizuo's worried frown. “It really would be so easy, to stay with you like this.”

“So stay.” Shizuo's hands cup either side of Izaya's face, and he looks so scared, so human. “You want to, right? You want to be with me?”

Instead of answering, Izaya kisses him again, sighs when Shizuo deepens it. He allows Shizuo to pull him down, allows Shizuo to taste him, spread him open, fill him until the empty spaces inside Izaya feel fuller than they ever have before. It really is so real. It's cruel, so cruel, and Izaya knows he deserves every bit of it.

Shizuo winds up passing out on top of Izaya right in the middle of the floor. The takeout containers are still scattered around them, as are pieces of shrapnel from the various things Shizuo destroyed. The urns look on, looming, daunting, and Izaya holds tightly to Shizuo, a smile on his face.

“Iza-nii.”

Izaya tilts his head, looks to Mairu. She's standing above him, isn't fazed by his nudity or the compromising position he's in.

“I know,” Izaya says. “I always told you both to have a little bit of patience.”

“We're bored. And worried, but not just for you! For lots of reasons!”

“Mostly for you,” Kururi says, appearing at Izaya's side. She touches his hand.

“We just don't fancy being alone. Plus, we owe you so many kicks, you know? You can't get off this easy!” Mairu chirps. She touches Izaya's other hand. “Maybe it'd be easier to give up, but you can't! You're a super stubborn jackass, so we know you're not the type.”

“The urns are empty because you're not dead,” Izaya says.

“We have lots of things to tell you. You love gossip, right?!”

“You're really here with me, but you can't hear me, can you?” Izaya asks.

“We think Shizuo-san visits you. We don't know for sure, but we've seen him around,” Mairu continues.

“I'm the one who isn't really here,” Izaya says, and his sisters vanish. Shizuo vanishes. The apartment around him blurs until he finds himself sitting on the rooftop of Raijin once again. His younger self is there, watching him, book still in his hands.

“Welcome back,” he says, closing the book. He stands.

“Is this the part where you tell me all I've done wrong?” Izaya asks, and his younger self grins.

“Why would I do that when you've already tortured yourself?” His head tilts to the side. “You figured it out faster than I thought you would.”

Izaya smiles, thinks of Shiki and Akabayashi coddling him, thinks of Shinra caring about him, of Celty asking him for cooking lessons, sincerely enjoying his presence. And then he thinks of Shizuo.

“People are rarely so nice to me.”

Izaya turns to look as Shizuo marches onto the roof, his uniform jacket tied around his waist. He stops in front of the younger Izaya and picks him up, slams him against the wall before devouring his mouth in a hungry kiss.

“In this universe, Shizuo wasn't in a mood that day. He was happy when he met you, because you were just a little softer, a little less damaged.” Another version of himself appears at his side, watching the scene unfold with indifference.

The roof blurs and disappears, and then it becomes Ikebukuro at night. Izaya watches himself face off with Shizuo, watches them fight, neither of them running or holding back. He recognizes the look on his own face, the look of someone who has nothing left to lose.

“Do it, monster.”

“Here, he really does almost kill you. You wind up in a wheelchair, traumatized. You run away from the city!” Mairu appears, taking the place of Izaya's doppelganger. “You leave it all behind!”

“I've always been a coward,” Izaya says, and the scene dissolves again, is replaced with another.

He watches himself meet Shizuo as a child, watches as another version of himself never meets Shinra, and therefore, is never introduced to Shizuo. He sees a world where his parents are around more, where he doesn't grow up too much, too fast. He sees every possible variation of himself all at once, and he realizes no matter what, even when they aren't together, even when they never meet, every version of Shizuo completes every version of Izaya.

“Do you have regrets?” Kururi asks, appearing by her sister. They look at Izaya, and he smiles, laughs before he can hold it in. He shakes his head.

“I never blamed anyone else, did I? I stayed true to myself no matter what. I didn't let anyone destroy me but me.” Izaya laughs again, his body shaking with the force of it. He falls to his knees, still cackling. “How many people can truly say that?!”

The twins observe him with pitying eyes, and they blur until they're gone, leaving Izaya in Ikebukuro on a sunny morning. He's on the sidewalk, and he turns as he hears hammering footsteps, watches as another version of himself rounds a corner, narrowly avoiding being grabbed by Shizuo, who looks pissed beyond belief. There's the sound of honking, some shouts, a woman screaming, and Shizuo stops abruptly, skids to a halt as he tries to grab Izaya's hood, his eyes wide with fear, and Izaya watches himself step into the middle of the road, solidifying what he already knew: the truck didn't miss him after all.

[haberdashing]

I Am Destruction, Decay, And Desire (4/?)

Martin finds out that Jon’s going to meet with Jude Perry and acts to intervene. It goes… poorly.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

on AO3

Martin had never been a fan of the old idiom that time heals all wounds. In his experience, if time made you forget about certain wounds, it was only because newer ones took precedence. That being said, however, by the time Martin returned to the cafe where the life he’d known had ended just twenty-four hours ago, his mood was as least somewhat better than it had been the previous night. He still was all too aware of what had happened, but it didn’t sting quite as badly as it had when it was fresh.

He still had a purple smudge on his finger that had not in fact washed out during his bath, or rather his mostly-unsuccessful attempt at the same, but that was... fine. It would be fine.

Martin had made a point of being on time to the meeting he had arranged, but even so, he saw as he had arrived that both Jon and Jude had beaten him to the punch, having taken a seat at opposing sides of an outside table.

Jon was wearing the same ridiculous fluffy pink coat as he’d worn the day before, though if it was especially chilly out Martin couldn’t feel it, and Martin felt a pang as he got closer and saw that it was still visibly stained where his waxen hand had brushed against it.

As Martin approached the table where Jon and Jude sat, he found that that same coat he had fixated upon was apparently the current topic of discussion.

“Look, I lost my normal coat, and i-it’s cold. Some of us actually feel it, you know?”

Martin’s stomach sank a little further at that confirmation that it was indeed cold out, that he simply couldn’t feel the cold anymore, that that was yet another sign that he was no longer human. (Even if it was kind of amusing to watch Jon get so indignant about that coat, of all things...)

“You wouldn’t shake my hand.” There was a strange grin on Jude’s face as she spoke, a grin matched in intensity by Martin’s growing certainty that this conversation was going to be... well, simply “uncomfortable” was probably a best-case scenario, now, wasn’t it?

Martin pulled up a chair and sat down between Jon and Jude; Jon glancing his way for a moment before returning to staring at Jude, and Jude nodded vaguely in his direction but didn’t otherwise acknowledge him. That was fine, though. There were worse things to be than overlooked.

“Well, no, I’m not stupid! I saw what happened-”

Jude’s grin only got even wider as Jon spoke, and evidently he noticed, as he switched conversational tracks quickly enough.

“L-look, will you stop that?”

The wild grin turned to biting laughter, though only for a brief moment. “Oh, alright. Ah… I hate explaining jokes, but, um… Imagine you’re, um… a butcher, and one day an injured little lamb walks into your workshop, and strides right into one of the mincing machines, but when you go up to it, knife in hand, it shakes its head and tells you ‘I’m not stupid’. Do you get why that’s funny?”

“Right.” Jon didn’t sound the least bit amused even after the explanation, but honestly, Martin didn’t exactly blame him. “But no more abattoir metaphors, please.”

“Suppose it’s not really me, is it? Would you rather be a really stupid piece of firewood?” Jude’s grin and the playful tone in her voice suggested that she was amused enough by her own jokes for the three of them.

And then Jon just... plunged ahead, asking questions about names and dates and places that Martin by and large didn’t recognize; perhaps it had been foolish of him to assume that Jon’s research, Jon’s search for answers, would have stopped just because of a little thing like, oh, being on the run for murder. In hindsight, Martin knew Jon well enough that he really shouldn’t have been surprised that the man kept searching for information come hell or high water, kept seeking out danger even when he was already knee-deep in it.

Really, the surprising part was that Jude actually cooperated, more or less. Sure, she protested, she threatened, but she also answered Jon’s questions in the end.

(Some might have found it even more surprising that Martin managed to remain little more than an onlooker in the conversation, but not Martin himself; he was too used to it, too used to being overlooked and underestimated, and honestly, given the circumstances, he didn’t much mind not being the center of attention at the moment.)

“Yes, yes, I understand, you could easily kill me, I’m at your mercy...” Jon barely blinked an eye at Jude’s latest not-so-veiled threat, a reference to a statement Martin actually did remember and a man who ended up horrifically burned because of the events within it. Martin doubted anyone else could sound quite so bored when being threatened with agonizing pain and disfigurement by a woman who had already proven that she could easily make good on such threats if the mood struck her. “So... why haven’t you done it?”

“We’re in public.” Jude, for her part, seemed more amused with the situation than anything else, the grin on her face sneaking its way into her voice once again.

“Well-” Jon started to say, but Martin interrupted before Jon could finish the thought.

“That didn’t seem to stop you before, now, did it?” Martin didn’t bother hiding the aggravation in his voice--it was one thing to discuss weird happenings Martin wasn’t privy to without including him in the conversation, but ignoring the events of yesterday, ignoring the very relevant fact that Jude had burned him in a setting every bit as public as the current one, went a bit too far for his taste.

Jude tilted her head to one side, and both she and Jon looked Martin’s way for a long, silent moment; Martin couldn’t read the look in Jude’s eyes, but Jon’s contained something like guilt, or perhaps pity.

“I was a bit careless there, wasn’t I?” The upbeat tone of Jude’s voice was only slightly dampened, far from the apologetic tone her words might otherwise have signified. “I shouldn’t have given you time to scream. If I moved fast enough, I could-” Jude turned her gaze back at Jon as she continued to speak. “-reach through your chest like runny wax, and hold your heart while it cooked, and no one would even notice.”

“Right. R-right.” Jon finally sounded at least slightly affected by Jude’s threats rather than just bored of them; perhaps it was the graphic nature of this one that did the trick, or perhaps being reminded that Martin was now living proof that Jude’s threats weren’t empty ones was enough to make the seriousness of the situation start to sink in. “So why don’t you? Does your ‘god’ not want you to?”

“...mmm, hard to say. When I look at you, I feel that burning liquid pain, eager to flow out and purify your rotten carcass...” Jude glanced over at Martin, and her gaze looked almost conspiratorial, like she was expecting him to be in agreement, but all Martin felt upon hearing that was a bit sick. “But I feel that a lot.”

“Oh.” Jon looked a bit peaky, and if Martin had to guess, he felt at least as ill as Martin himself did upon hearing the graphic details of Jude’s desire to burn and destroy. “M-more or less than normal?”

“Hard to say when every nerve ending’s on fire. Hard to tell degrees.” Another glance Martin’s way, looking for something in him that wasn’t there. (Or wasn’t there yet, at least--Martin thought back to Prentiss’ statement, how she could recognize that something was wrong before becoming little more than a worm-filled husk. Maybe that’s where he was now, in the in-between period, no longer human but not yet monster.)

“Third degree, maybe?” Jon muttered, the words probably meant mostly for himself rather than for the benefit of his conversational partners, but Martin still snorted with amusement, though Jude looked more annoyed than amused (apparently in her mind, she was the only one allowed to make jokes in this conversation).

“Sorry, sorry, it was a...” Jon trailed off before finishing his sentence, and when he started speaking again it was to start on another train of thought. “I have a god too... right?”

“Is that another joke?” Jude’s wry grin was back, despite the fact that what Jon had said didn’t strike Martin as a joke, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that any laughter in response to it would have to be at his expense.

“N-no, I... I’m new to this. Everyone keeps calling me ‘Archivist’, like I’m special, and that... that I serve the Eye. Trying to kill me for it.”

“Yes.” Jude leaned back a little in her chair.

“S-so... i-it’s like your ‘god’, right?”

“Oh please, your god is nothing!” Jude wrinkled her nose, apparently disgusted by the mere thought of comparing the two “gods” on equal terms. “The Eye, Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher...  whatever you call it, that’s all it does. It watches and knows, sitting bulbous and comfortable in the ignorance of infinite knowledge. I serve a reckoning, a surging tide of destruction and pain.”

Martin could feel his pulse racing as Jon breathed, “The Lightless Flame.”

“The Desolation. Blackened Earth. The destructive, agonizing heat of burning flesh and land scoured of life. The light, the comfort of fire stripped from it, leaving nothing but the terror of its approach. When it triumphs, it will leave The Eye a burned and shriveled husk that sees nothing but its own agony.”

Jon spoke up again, starting to get into yet another tiff with Jude by the sound of it, but Martin wasn’t really listening as the two went at it, too preoccupied by dissecting the information Jude had just given him about the “god” she worshipped, the power she had pulled him into serving by force.

Martin rather preferred the term Jon had offered up for it to those Jude had given; lightless flames could still provide warmth if one didn’t get too close, after all, while desolation, blackened earth... those phrases spoke only to landscapes with all the life in them stripped away, spaces emptied by force of any comfort that might once have been found there.

The mere thought of it made Martin’s stomach turn a little... and yet, part of him wanted to agree that their “god” was the better one, the stronger one, destined to reign superior, even if all it could cause was destruction and pain.

Martin hoped, distantly, that he hadn’t reached the point where all he could cause now was destruction and pain.

[dustedmagazine]

Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Toshinori/OC piece for the very lovely @evaesis​, as a follow-up to this oneshot. It’s always so refreshing to work with new quirks and powers, and it’s even more refreshing to use those new quirks and powers to beat up Endeavor. If only because I can, honestly.

Word Count: 3.5k

TW: NSFW, A/B/O Dynamics, Physical Violence, Non-Consensual Touching, Delusional Mindsets, Mentions of Kidnapping and Stolkholm Syndrome.

Kit didn’t care for Enji on the best of days.

It was a matter of contention, really, a difference in morals that proved to the fatal factor in their association. She understood his current rank, his effectiveness as a Hero, but Kit couldn’t help but shudder and bristle any time they were in the same room. Call it animal instinct, but she didn’t want to be near him, much less spend any elongated amount of time alone in his company. Not when she could help it. Not when she had Toshinori.

Needless to say, she wasn’t pleased to find him sitting in the living room when she woke up, pouring over case files with her mate sitting on the other side of a low coffee-table, talking about villains and statistics and all the logistics she never had an affinity for. Not angry, but unpleasantly surprised, a feeling that didn’t improve when Toshinori smiled and asked her to come sit with them, if only for a few minutes. He said she was a Pro, too. That her insight was important, and she should join them.

The ‘or I’ll put your quirk-canceling cuffs back on again’ was only implied. For her pride, she assumed.

And that was why she was now seated on a loveseat much too small, next to a man much too big and much too focused on the file in front of him, one he didn’t seem to notice was deemed inconsequential in their earlier discussion. If he noticed, though, Kit couldn’t tell, watching out of the corner of her eye as Enji tried to seem interested in anything except her. Toshinori had been gone for a minute or two, off to make tea and take a call from another detective who needed his assistance, leaving Kit to wallow in awkward silence to her heart’s content. She didn’t have a problem with it, not if she was being honest. As far as she was concerned, it was better than speaking to him.

Surprisingly, Enji was the one to break the tension. “How long will you be staying with Yagi?”

She grit her teeth. She’d never been kidnapped in the eyed of the public, her sudden disappearance masked as an extended medical leave, eventually becoming an early retirement as she accepted her situation, but the question still irked her. As if Enji had suggested she planned for her bond to be temporary. “We live together,” She said, her agitation poorly veiled. “I don’t plan on leaving, if I can help it.”

A nervous glance towards his file before he discarded it, an anxious rub to the back of his neck. He straightened his back, but there was nothing respectable about the long, silent second he took to scan over her, his eye lingering far longer than they should’ve. “And you’re happy with him?”

“He’s my mate.” It felt more like a declaration than a reason, not that she had a problem with announcing it. He had to right to know. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Of course,” He muttered, his voice heavy with grudging acceptance. His continuation is nearly inaudible. “I can smell him all over you.”

Oh. Right. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, leaning against the arm of the loveseat. She’d almost forgotten about Enji’s… view of omegas, or at least the omegas he deemed worthy of his leering gaze. His divorce was recent, but his separation had been the topic of gossip for years, not that it made a dent on his oh-so-spotless reputation. There wasn’t much to talk about, not when the details were brushed under the rug as quickly as all of Enji’s other scandals. She’d already gone through extensive measures to keep her name from being added to that growing list. With this in mind, she refrained from indulging him with a response, her concentration soon dedicated to the swirling patterns dyed into the floorboards.

That didn’t stop Enji from going on, though. She wasn’t sure why she thought it would. “He’s getting older, you know. Retirement does strange things to Heroes, makes them…” He trailed off, rolling his wrist in some vague, abstract gesture, hinting at something she didn’t want to know. “Less attentive. They start to get distant, and before long, they’re throwing themselves into the newest public welfare project, or an up-and-coming charity. They try to keep themselves busy, even if they refuse to make a full-blown comeback.” Another pause, this one accompanied by a wayward glance. “Bonds don’t tend to last very long, under those conditions.”

Kit fought to keep her expression neutral, but her quirk betrayed her, tails curling and bristling as her ears flattened against her scalp, blending into a mess a snow-white hair. She wanted him to stop talking. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“You never do.” He moved an inch towards her, then another, stopping just short of her side. Instead, his hand came to occupy the space between them, forming a much-needed barrier. “I’d just be prepared for the eventuality. Yagi’s a… He’s a good man, of course, but it never hurts to have another plan. Just in case things don’t work out.”

Another inch, broad fingers soon resting on her exposed thigh. Exposed skin he shouldn’t have been touching.

“Just in case.”

She wasn’t sure what it was. His tone or the slight, professional frown ghosting over his lips, but something, something about the way he looked at her, spoke to her, touched her… It was bad, it was repulsive. She had a mate. She had a mate she was loyal to. Toshinori took care of her, and even after all she’d done to him, he loved her. Enji wasn’t her mate. Enji didn’t look after her. He had no right to say a word about her relationship, no one did. They didn’t know what Toshinori did for her, they didn’t know how little she deserved that kindness. Enji didn’t know, and neither did anyone else. They didn’t deserve to. They hadn’t earned it.

She almost didn’t know the rage building inside of her, more volatile than any she’d summoned during the heat of battle. That familiar warmth emanating from familiar flames, striking at her humanity until it gave way, melting her composure like wax just begging to be sculpted. It was a painless process. One moment, she was human, and she couldn’t imagine being any other way, and the next she was changing, shifting, turning into the monster she’d only seen on newscasts and blurry pictures in sketchy magazines, the uncontrolled beast she loathed having her name tied to. It didn’t feel wrong, though, not this time, it didn’t feel forced. She guessed it never did, in the moment.

The regret would come later. She’d be able to live with it, later.

Right now, it felt good to bare her teeth, to dig still-sprouting claws into the back of Enji’s hand and tear down, razor-sharp talons separating skin from muscle and making it impossible for him to pull away before she allowed him to do so. Instinct took over in a matter of seconds, consciousness becoming little more than a thick, gauzy haze pushed into the back of Kit’s mind, soon forced into submission by an array of reflexes and urges and desires, raw, primal desires. She felt the loveseat’s cushion tear under her feet as she reared back, now on four legs and more focused than her actions than their repercussions, a set of wide, vulpine jaws soon locked onto the first part of Enji she could see - his forearm. He could’ve avoided her easily, but he was in shock, too stunned to fight back, and her teeth had sunk through his flesh in a matter of seconds. Biting back a pained groan, a ball of flames burst to life in his free hand, the fire soon pressed against her side, forcing her to release him as the smell of burnt fur filled the air.

Abruptly, Enji was on his feet, clutching his injured arm to his chest, but Kit didn’t want him to go anywhere. Why did he get to leave? Why did he get to run away? She never got that choice. She never got to hide when things got hard and loud and violent. She didn’t see why Enji should, either.

She didn’t think. She just lunged at his chest, jaws open and aiming for his neck. In an effort to restrain her, large hands locked around her body, her muzzle, anything he could get a hold on, but the power of her attack still sent him stumbling backward. Suddenly, they were falling, time beginning to slow as Enji’s back hit the large, glass table decorating the center of the room. She’d forgotten about it, in her haste, but the damage was impossible to ignore, now, a stark crack knocking her out of her haze a moment before she could rip the man’s throat out. Her awareness returned quickly, flowing in like the sense of regret quickly overriding her vengeance, but it didn’t matter. Flying shards of glass and wood cut into her skin, some finding a place to root, some not. It didn’t matter. White fur was stained with a deep red in a matter of seconds, injuries made worse as Enji pried her limp body away from his, pitching her into the debris, something long and jagged finding its way into her thigh as she landed.

She didn’t try to get up, her energy sapped as thoroughly as her will to fight. Enji was still standing, though, panting and bleeding and marching towards her, heavy footsteps like gunshots to her ears. She considered standing, continuing on the fight despite her stolen strength, but what was he going to do? Maim her? Kill her?

She couldn’t say she wouldn’t like to see him try.

But, it was a fleeting hope. As Kit’s eyes closed, her vision having gone black around the edges ages ago, she heard a door open, a hitched breath, then yelling. So much yelling.

Enough to make her welcome sleep, as it drowned out her remaining senses.

~

She was sore, when she woke up.

It was an aching pain, the kind that needed too much rest and too little scarring for Kit’s taste, pulling a muffled, disgruntled grunt from her lips as she sat up. She wasn’t surprised to see the minimalistic furnishings of the master bedroom - Toshinori’s bedroom, although they shared it more often than not, these days. Glancing towards her chest, she found that she’d been stripped of what was left of her clothes, the tattered remains replaced with medical tape and gauze, each flex and flinch revealing some new bruise or cut she’d have to be wary of for the next few days. Weeks, more realistically, but she tried not to think about that.

Instead, she concentrated on the rustling in the next room over, movements poorly concealed in an attempt to not disturb the peace. She didn’t call out, choosing to bite the bullet rather than delay the inevitable. Swinging her legs off the bed, she made her way to the bathroom, finding Toshinori sitting on the edge of a tub too big to be considered anything but overly-luxurious. He turned as soon as she crossed the threshold, but chose to scan over her silently, testing the water before he spoke. Trying to see if she was still frenzied and feral. It was all she could do to smile, digging her nails into the doorframe unconsciously.

“I… I’m ready, if you want to get it over with,” She started, watching Toshinori’s expression carefully. He looked surprised, if anything, but it was understandable. It’d been months since she did something bad enough to warrant discipline. “The punishment, I mean, for attacking Endeavor.” She paused, averting her eyes, her voice barely audible when she continued. “I’m sorry. I really, really don’t want you to be mad at me.”

He frowned. Then, he laughed. “I’m not angry.”

Her lips parted, no sound coming out, but Toshinori only chuckled, gesturing for her to come closer. She obeyed without a second thought, a fully prepared bath coming into view, steam still rising off the top of the water. She didn’t have to be told what to do, stepping in and taking his hand, tugging him towards her when he showed no signs of following, a playful smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Toshinori relented without an argument, and a moment later, she was settled in his lap, her head resting against his chest as he idly traced the shape of a smaller wound, just to the left of her spine. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to, either. Her concern was palpable, whether or not she chose to voice it.

“You know about the security cameras,” Toshinori explained, kissing her shoulder between words. They were soft little things, as careful and as matriculate as she’d come to expect from Toshinori, but she melted into it, letting out a low, languid purr as his lips brushed over her mating mark, the bruised area still sensitive to the touch. “I saw what happened. Enji tested you, and you defended yourself. I can’t hold that against you, not when I wasn’t there to stop it.”

“I’m your mate,” She mumbled, the words little more than a hum. “I don’t want anybody else.”

“Of course.” Another kiss, this one longer, drawn out. She felt her ears perk up, standing on edge. Ready and waiting for any lingering sensation. A long finger trailed down her spine, and unconsciously, Kit bucked her kips against Toshinori’s thigh, the water abruptly becoming more of a menace than a helping hand. He chuckled, the sound muffled by their proximity.  “My loyal, beloved mate. My perfect mate. I couldn’t have asked for a better omega.”

Her response comes in the form of a whine, pitiful and high-pitched. They hadn’t been… they hadn’t been intimate since her heat ended, and although the memories were blurred and cloudy, only accessible through rose-colored glasses, but the desire was natural, the longing as instinctual as breathing. Without thinking, she ground against him, the tiny amount of friction rushing straight to her core, to her exposed, dripping cunt. Toshinori wasn’t oblivious to the atmosphere, either, something hard soon pressed against her pelvis, giving him away before those soft, light grunts slowly working their way through his lips ever had a chance to. Kit couldn’t help but laugh, nuzzling against him, his reactions filling her with a sense of confidence she’d come to miss. “My alpha.”

Nothing needed to be said. She pulled away, wrapping her arms around her neck and straddling him properly, only hovering above him for a moment before she sank onto his cock, trusting the hand resting on her hip to guide her. She moved slowly, taking her time to feel every ridge and curve and foreign sensation, all of it so much more vivid than it’d been, last time, so much more real. There was no rush to satisfaction, no need to race towards a climax, and she let herself savor it, slotting her chest against his and pulling him into a kiss. Slow and steady seemed to be the order of the night, but Kit was forced to pull away as she bottomed out, a handful of light, breathy pants interrupting the steady silence. Kit closed her eyes, attempting to adjust to his size, and Toshinori brought his hips up in short, shallow thrusts, getting her comfortable on his cock. It was a passing courtesy, though. When he leaned back, his eyes meeting hers expectantly, she knew what to do.

Experimentally, she ground downward, her pants quickly turning to whimpers as she began to roll her hips in earnest. It didn’t take her long to build up a rhythm, bouncing in Toshinori’s lap and targeting that special, spongy spot inside of her, the one that had her seeing white around the edges of her vision, the pursuit of her pleasure becoming an end that needed to be met. As she worked, Toshinori’s hands ran over her, starting at her waist and trailing up her sides, Kit shuddering despite the room���s nearly over-whelming heat. To say he groped would be a disgrace, it was too caring for such a casual name, too focused on her needs. Each knead was tentative, focused on drawing the longest whine from her throat or the loudest moan, heat rushing straight to her core with every movement, forcing her to arch her back and keen and melt in the palms of his hands, whether or not she wanted to. She wasn’t opposed, through, burying her face in the crook of his neck, if only to hide how flustered she’d become.

It was an invasive thought, at first. How smooth his skin was. How there wasn’t a mark where there was supposed to be. It took her a moment to realize why, and another to come to a resolution.

He didn’t have a mating mark.

She needed to fix that.

“T-Toshi’,” She stuttered, his name coming out shakily as he fucked into her, making up for her distraction with an erratic, enthusiastic pace, despite his disadvantage. Still, she forced herself to continue, not trusting her voice to hold out for much longer. “You’re not… I need to bond--”

He didn’t let her finish, kind enough not to make her explain herself. “It’d be my honor,” He muttered, wrapping his arms around her waist, drawing her closer. Her was the one to pull her in, this time, to kiss her so sweetly and so lightly, she almost wanted to deepen it, to turn the gesture from reassuring to intimate. She didn’t have time, though, not as Toshinori straightened his back, meeting her stare as he went on. “Are you sure, angel? You’re still injured, you might not be in the right mindset to do something so… permanent.”

“That’s why I want to do it,” She responded, unperturbed by his caution. Subconsciously, she ran her tongue over her canines, keen for an omega, but dull compared to Toshinori’s. Sharp enough to do the job, hopefully. “I don’t want to leave you, anymore. I want to be here. And… I want you to know I’ll be here, too. You can trust me, and I want you to know that. I’m done trying to run away.”

A sharp breath, followed by a hasty nod. That was all the permission she needed before picking a spot on that tender patch of skin and biting down. Blood, thick and warm, flowed over her tongue, but the metallic taste was blocked out quickly by the sudden rush of something euphoric into her veins, hormones flooding into her mind and blocking out everything else, pride and common sense included. It felt good, right, and briefly, Kit wondered why she hadn’t done it sooner. Had if felt this good for Toshinori? She wanted to dig her teeth in deeper, leave a bigger mark, make sure everyone knew he was claimed, he was bonded, he was hers. Hers, hers, hers.

Toshinori didn’t seem immune. It might’ve been the adrenaline rush or its accompanying emotions, but the next time he was fully sheathed inside of her, his hold on her waist tightened, keeping her in place as his cock twitched, singling his upcoming end. It couldn’t have come at a better time. Already, Kit felt herself tending up, that familiar heat rising to her skin as her toes curled and her nails dug into his shoulders, just in time to feel hot, burning cum stain her cunt as Toshinori pistoned his hips harshly, making sure she was filled to the brim.

Her strength didn’t last much longer, and soon, she was resting against his chest, her grip around her mate still iron-clad for minutes before she dared to let it loosen. Exhausted by both her injuries and her recent excursion, she hardly noticed as he took her into his arms, her body weightless for a moment or two as he carried her back into the bedroom, both uncaring that they were still soaking wet and dotted with open wounds. Toshinori left, for a short time, returning with towels and bandages and painkillers to be used generously the next time she woke up. Still, he didn’t waste time slotting himself into her arms, and she didn’t oppose the development, simply holding him closer and taking everything in, from the distant scent of herbs in the air to the feeling of silk against her back, welcoming and embracing.

Idly, she opened her eyes, running her fingers through damp blonde hair and letting him lull into her palm, but her attention soon fell to the ring of bruises forming at the crook of his neck, the shape of her teeth perfectly engrained on each blackened spot.

Kit couldn’t help but smile. He was hers, now, almost as much as she was his.

Her alpha.