#listen all that smooth empty skin is just free real estate

[sapphorror]

another day another inescapable spate of zadr brainrot but I think Dib should kiss the blank patch of skin where Zim's nose isn't.

Experimentally, as a rare moment of compromise, because rubbing faces is an Irken gesture of affection and Zim has strong feelings regarding the germiness of mouth-to-mouth contact. Softly, in public, as an expression of intimacy and a power play, because it singles out one of Zim's most obvious alien features. Aggressively, with teeth and heat, because there's a billion nerve endings there and it's so much more fun than just making out with someone could ever be.

Just. Dib kissing Zim's dumb alien face, y'all. Imagine it.

[swishswishspiritsword]

Merchant Shang AU 2

The panic didn't really set in until they arrived at his estate–and that was still a weird fact of his life, an estate–and he had Xiao She settle "Empress Su Xiyan" in the guest house. The not-a-maid kinda bodyguard looked at him with obvious disbelief at his address for the young woman, so unnerved by it she slipped enough that her eyes were golden with slitted pupils. Shang Houhua could empathize. He too was freaking out about the sudden occurrence and realizing your boss might be involved with the Big Boss of the world you specifically emigrated away from is distressing.

Although that did mean he could check another point for her being a snake demoness over a crane demoness in his mental chart.

Shang Houhua offered her a sympathetic grimace and awkward shoulder pat.

"Xiao She should go take a break," Shang Houhua said kindly. Or at least in his best attempt. He'd gotten better at socializing since he'd actually managed to curate Actual Human (And Non-Human) Relationships, but he was still a "work in progress" as Luo Ren put it delicately or a "disaster in emotional understanding" according to the ever blunt Steward He.

Shang Houhua was kinda hoping he was somewhere in the middle.

Xiao She had given him a Look and Shang Houhua knew that it meant he would find his very irritable not-a-maid insisting on keeping watch over him personally until this situation was handled.

Or Shang Houhua was dead.

He wasn't actually sure which would come first. And was very carefully not actively thinking about it until his internal screaming could become external in the safety of his heavily warded fluffy bed.

"Yes, Master Shang," Xiao She said with a little more hiss on the words than usual. That may have been a flash of fang. 

Shang Houhua winced. So, his staff may be a bit more upset about the revelations than normal. He hesitated a little unsure if he should point it out considering the general Ignore Everything Rule the mixed species estate ran by.

"...Xiao She may want to compose herself in private unless she has decided to, ah, be more, hm, free with her identity."

That probably wasn't terribly delicate, but Shang Houhua was running on fumes, adrenaline, and specific Plot Related panic he hadn't had to deal with in a solid decade. Shang Houhua nodded again in awkward acknowledgment and Did Not See Xiao She dash up to the roof to avoid corridors or the way the charcoal girl had a thin rat-like tail poking out the bottom of her skirt. Shang Houhua had not seen things for years and went to his room to collapse in peace after one last order for the doctor to be sent to Su Xiyan's room.

-

Shang Houhua hadn't actually meant to turn his estate into some kind of halfway house for more pro-human demons or half-demons. Honestly, owning an estate in the first place had been an accident caused by picking up what could only be described as a side quest. During his early wandering around the great (terrible) world he created, free from his "fate" he'd stumbled into being a rogue cultivator to pay the bills. 

He needed money! Starting up businesses took a lot of it. And connections too! If Logistics Hell taught him anything it was this. So he used what he had to get by.

And honestly he wasn't actually terrible it turned out? He would never be a War God but he did pay attention to the basics, was a resourceful (read cheating) man,and had wanted to avoid being brutally murdered by what passed as a houseplant on some peaks. Besides as Author God he did know more than the average Sect Dropout.

Most people didn't really need big things either. He did minor things to get by. He made talismans to help ward off wandering monsters from farmers livestock and fields. He performed purifying rituals on a town's toddlers to help insure they were protected even after death. He helped fetch some plants to heal someone or an item to break a curse. It had felt a little like playing through an RPG and it wasn't the most stable but Shang Houhua was revelling in not having a bluescreen of death stalking his every breath of air.

The estate had happened when, a very tired and recently poor, Shang Houhua had met Old Sun. Old Sun was one of those eccentric independently wealthy men who never married and liked to collect weird shit. Among that weird shit was something cursed which made the entire estate a horror zone. Old Sun had done everything to stop it. He'd tried to get rid of it only for it to find him. He'd tried to get it blessed at a temple only for it to throw the monks around like dolls until they'd called quits. He'd tried to move away abandoning his home in the city for his estate in bumfuck nowhere. He'd hired cultivators, other rogues, only for them to take the money and split.

He could only dismiss his staff to protect them and set out to beg help from one of the righteous sects with the increasingly starving ghost dogging his steps and weakening him.

Shang Houhua had found the old man collapsed on the road and helped out, noticing the nice clothes he'd been wondering idly about a possible reward, when resentful energy started to waft off him making Shang Houhua choke on his lunch.

Thankfully he'd recognized the item, a minor cursed bangle of a famous courtesan that had been part of a mini quest. After working his way through as many cursed jewelry plotlines as he could he'd eventually remembered this specific bangle and set the spirit to rest, dispersing the resentful energy. 

Old Sun had woken up happy, healthy,and uncursed. He was so grateful he insisted Shang Houhua come spend the night at his home and be rewarded. Shang Houhua was not about to say no and happily accepted. He could, literally, not afford any chance at money.

He just hadn't expected the man to adopt him, shamelessly dragging him into his house.

After a while Shang Houhua accepted because he actually liked sleeping in a bed and he gained his third family. Fourth if you counted his shortly lived martial family. It took some adjustment but Shang Houhua wound up actually liking Old Sun and, even more bewildering, was liked in return. Shang Houhua helped him identify the weird shit he collected, occasionally adding to the collection, and Old Sun feed and clothed him all while cheerfully listening to rants about story ideas.

Shang Houhua had no trouble picking out his favorite, his first real and positive, family member. 

It was on one of his trips to buy ingredients to start up his soap business that had started him down the road of Demonic Social Worker. He'd helped hide one terrified teenager from a mob, sneaking her out of town, and next thing he knows she's turning up at the estate to ask to repay him. Old Sun insisted on offering her a position and kept insisting as others slowly trickled in as the Don't Ask policy of their staff choices spread and they slowly filled the empty house.

Old Sun had been delighted by the noise and people they gathered while he'd been alive. He'd happily bounced the stablemaster's baby with suspicious sharp teeth and pointy ears on his knee and chatted enthusiastically with Steward He about his collection ignoring when the man fell into first person describing the bloody history of some demonic items.

Shang Houhua had simply continued the tradition when he'd suddenly inherited and expanded it with his business, spreading out their household as traders and managers when he could.

He was fairly certain Luo Ren and himself were the only fully human people in the building. 

–

Honestly a future Demon Empress was only the next step up. Or at least that's what he tried to tell his panicking mind. And she wasn't permanent. He would lead her to Tianlang-jun and happily fuck off back to obscurity. 

Definitely. 

A knock interrupted his screaming and Shang Houhua removed the pillow from his face to clear his throat and give permission to enter. 

It was Steward He and the man was looking unruffled as always, at least until Shang Houhua noticed the way his hands were carefully hidden in his robes, his skin seemed unnaturally smooth and more youthful, and his eyes were amber tinted. 

Also upset then.

"Lady Xiyan is demanding an audience," Steward He said mostly neutrally in a way that meant he was far from neutral. "And we've received a request from a group of Huan Hua Palace cultivators to scour the town and our grounds in search of a missing disciple. The town's leaders have instructed them to obey your decision on the matter."

Shang Houhua shoved the pillow back down and Steward He allowed him a few moments to scream.

Part 1 - Part 3

[witchkings]

The Chaining of Melkor Reloaded

For @eol who’s been asking for morosexual!Mairon for forever and who also came up with this fun modern AU scenario. Hope you enjoy!

AO3

Mairon liked to lie which was probably why he was such an outstanding lawyer. He lied to the money-thick, disgusting men whose tax fraud cases he represented in telling them that they would go back to their life of luxury soon. He lied to their wives when they asked him whether he knew of any affairs their husbands might pursue in telling them that no, of course not, he was loyal. He lied to the Starbucks barista ever so often, claiming they had gotten his order wrong so they would give him a refund.

But most of all, Mairon lied to himself. He told himself that being a junior partner in his firm was enough, that he did not have to make it as a state attorney, that he did not want to be a full partner or, better yet, have his own firm. He told himself he didn’t miss his family who lived across the ocean, miss the gloomily luminous charm of England and his endless number of siblings whom he had left to turn his long-distance relationship into one where the only separating space was that between the two mattresses on their California King size because Melkor hadn’t yet gotten around to ordering a single big one. The list went on.

The biggest lie Mairon told himself frequently was this: he was not attracted by stupidity, on the contrary, he dated a man of vast intelligence and many a notable achievement. Melkor’s pretty face was merely a bonus. It was a precarious construction, teetering and nearly brought down in instances when Melkor couldn’t name the current president, managed to wedge himself in between the car and the garage door again, or confused their for there for they’re for the umpteenth time, but he always made up for it. Melkor had an important job as the CEO of a real estate firm, he was as rich as they got without going into politics and participating in lobbyism. Melkor owned a whole library of books on various topics. Melkor was a man of standard and intellect and Mairon would not let himself be told any differently.

That was until he got back from the office one night, it was a Wednesday, he would later recall, the anniversary of their first chat on Facebook, to find a patrol car on the curb in front of their house. A lanky cop leaned against it, munching on a hamburger.

“Good evening,” Mairon said, putting on his pleasant voice. The one that hooked him his clients. “Can I help you, officer?”

“Finally, we could not reach your phone, mobile or office, and I’ve been waiting for you to get home,” the officer replied, crumbs flying. “This is about your client.”

“What client?” Mairon asked. He had been in a conference, that much was true, his phone still in flight mode, but if any client of his had done something that would involve the police needing to approach Mairon, they would have come to the office, surely.

“Mr. ah,” the cop stopped and consulted a wrinkly piece of paper in his breast pocket. “Mr. Melkor Bauglir. We’ve arrested him for vehicular manslaughter. Apparently, he was, and I quote, ‘not sure how to put in the reverse gear on his car and had to exit his parking spot by driving across the sidewalk’. He apparently lost control of the vehicle when a dog jumped in front of it, hit the brakes and swerved to the right where he ran the car into a construction side, causing the death of one and serious injury of four other construction workers.”

Mairon blinked. Then he brushed past the cop and went into their shared house without a word of reply. This was all just a silly dream, he told himself as he uncorked the wine he had saved for a particularly fine evening. Horrifying would do too. Just a dream.

 “You really had to go ahead and kill someone,” Mairon said in place of a greeting as he sat down on the panic-red plastic chair in front of the thick glass and picked up the receiver. He tried not to think about how many people had vented their frustration into it before him and how much of the subsequent spittle still crusted its edges. Melkor sat on the other side, his orange inmate overall clashing violently with his pallor so that he looked a little like he had a mild case of jaundice. His black hair hung in streaks down his front, his mouth was thin, lips nearly invisible. It had been three days since the cop had approached Mairon, and he had refused to see Melkor in that time, had only yielded because his boyfriend had sounded so hollow and miserable over the phone and because the house seemed too empty without him. “You look like hell.”

“Of course, I look like hell, I’m stuck in a dumpster,” Melkor muttered, eyes narrowed.

“It’s your own fault,” Mairon supplied, and when that got him no answer, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Look, they won’t let you out on bail. Apparently, the construction site belonged to the city so they’re going to sue the living daylight out of you and plead for a lifelong sentence.”

“No big deal.” Melkor swatted at the air as if to make away with the charges like with a nasty mosquito.

“Quite the big deal, if you ask me,” Mairon grated, teeth pressed together. He had to be back in the office in twenty minutes and Melkor didn’t even seem concerned.

“I’m sure you’ll manage to free me of all charges. Perks of having an up and coming lawyer for your boyfriend.”

“Melkor, listen to me,” Mairon said, leaning forward, He pressed his forefinger into the glass. “I cannot take your case, our relationship forbids it.”

“But if we’re not married-“

“Doesn’t matter, if they get a whiff of our relationship, it may discredit my whole case and you’ll truly be stuck. I can’t represent you, love, I’m sorry.”

That got Melkor to finally sit straight. Panic poured through the line as he spoke, and it twisted the knot in Mairon’s throat.

“But, but. I can’t stay here. You have to get me out. Don’t you know someone? Anyone? Mairon, do something,” Melkor shrieked, jumping up. In an instant, three guards were on him, restraining him and he was dragged out of sight before there was a chance to reply.  

Mairon rolled his eyes and slammed the phone back into its hanging, blood boiling. He strode out of the visitor’s room and left the prison behind, fuming with rage and frustration and underneath those layers, a spark that blossomed in the depths of his belly.

“What a moron,” he muttered as he slid into the driver’s seat of his Mercedes. “What an utter moron.”

 Mairon took a deep, shaky inhale to steady himself. He stood before the polished door of his colleague’s office space, not a junior partner yet, but surely on his way, and knocked.

“Come in,” came the smooth reply, and Mairon pushed it open, forcing his facial muscles to relax, thought of how funny it had been when Melkor had meant to replace the toilet seat in the guest bathroom and had accidentally pulled the whole thing out of the wall. Somehow, it didn’t get the job done though. Mairon’s mood only soured further. “Mairon, pal, sit, sit. Have a good lunch?”

Angmar sat in his high-backed chair, a ridiculous expense, his fingertips stapled together in front of his face. His hair was combed back, and his beard neatly trimmed. He smelled like burnt tea.

“Ah, you know how sensible my stomach can be, I’m afraid I had to revert back to grilled cheese,” Mairon lied in reply. Considering the whole debacle at the prison, he hadn’t had the chance to eat at all and his intestines were screaming with abandonment.

“Good old grilled cheese, a national symbol if ever I’ve seen one. I myself had two orders of California Rolls from the best sushi place in town, you know the one. But anyway, look at me, blabbing on. Back to work now, ain’t it? What can I do for you my friend?” Angmar grinned, exposing a set of pearly whites with one gold tooth to the upper left. Mairon remembered that evening, though he would have preferred not to. He cleared his throat, thinking it might be best to get to the point.

“Melkor managed to get himself into jail,” Mairon began and watched the shock unfold on Angmar’s face with slight impatience. “Vehicular manslaughter, destruction of property, mayhem, and a couple minor charges. No bail accepted, and I can’t defend his case.”

Angmar’s eyebrows rose. Then he burst out into hollering laughter.

“Please, Angmar, I know it sounds funny, but this is my boyfriend we’re talking about,” Mairon said calmly, though his insides were fuming. Then, he remembered Angmar’s weakness for a good love story, and put on the teary face. “And it was an accident, I mean. He would never actually want to hurt anyone.” Not something Mairon was confident in. “And we had meant to go on this big vacation and I think perhaps he wanted to propose and now he’s in prison, I can’t believe it.” Mairon sobbed, burying his face in his hands. If this didn’t get Angmar, then he would have to butter on the praise. But the laughter died instantly.

“Geez, I’m so sorry, Mairon, that’s truly horrible. How can I help?”

“Take his case. You’re the only chance I have.” He peered out between his fingers. Angmar was tapping his lips with a pencil, staring at the ceiling. “He’s very rich,” Mairon added.

“Consider it done,” Angmar said. He patted Mairon’s shoulder over the desk.

 “We’ll find another way,” Mairon said, reaching out over the sterile plastic table he and Melkor occupied. Now that Melkor was a permanent resident of the facility and had distinguished himself through well-adjusted behavior – meaning he rarely did anything, ever – they got to meet without the glass between them. Hand-holding was the absolute maximum though, and Melkor’s skin was dry, full of tiny rashes when Mairon touched it. Melkor stared down at their hands, his gaze glazed over.

“I’ll rot in here.” And Melkor had every right to claim that. Angmar had done a fantastic job, but the city had had too many of its own pawns in the game, and there had never been a chance.  Melkor would lose half of his fortune, would have to serve a reduced sentence of seven years and have to do civic work for another three. It was better than life-long, but Mairon would not stand it.

“No, you won’t,” Mairon promised. “We’ll find another way.”

He twisted his hand so the folded in Swiss pocket knife he had bought that morning pressed into Melkor’s hand. Melkor’s brow furrowed, then he pulled back his hand with the tool and brought it close to his face to inspect it. It lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Quick, hide it,” Mairon hissed, but too late. As Melkor flipped the thing open, blade gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light, a guard stormed towards them, gun at Melkor’s temple before anyone else could realize what was happening.

“DROP THE KNIFE INMATE,” the guard screamed, spittle flying. Melkor complied.

“Sorry,” he said to Mairon with a small, apologetic smile. Mairon pinched the bridge of his nose. Moments later, Melkor was gone from the room and an escort was sent to take Mairon out of the prison.

He was barred from visits for the next three months, and that memory of Melkor’s skin against his, the soft plains of his awed expression as he had realized Mairon’s plans were all he had to cling to, all that kept him company at night when he was doomed to fulfill his own aching desires.

 Without volition on Mairon’s part nor with active awareness on Melkor’s, it got to be a pattern.

Mairon slipped Melkor a written note on the security systems which he had procured after dissolving into tears at his colleague’s Gothmog’s desk who had worked a case to do with an escaped inmate once. Gothmog had let Mairon review the file under the guise of research for a new client and Mairon had jotted down the most vital points so that Melkor could work on an escape plan with all the free time he had. Melkor mistook the note for trash and discarded of it in the visitation room’s bin.

Then, he sent large sums of money onto Melkor’s prison bank account so he could buy some of the guards’ favors and Melkor used it all on communal bathroom slippers and toothpaste because his got stolen so frequently, he needed new ones by the day. If he had been any more inclined towards intentional violence, Melkor could have reigned that place, but all his aggressions were accidental. He had a lot more enemies than friends in that place. In general, now that Mairon thought about it.

Later, Mairon brought candy spiked with narcotics for Melkor to distribute amongst the guards and slip out of the prison in the ensuing disruption, but Melkor forgot about the contents. He ate the whole bag himself which meant Mairon received a call at three in the morning informing him that Melkor had fallen into a coma and was unlikely to ever wake up again. He did, eventually, but Mairon was careful to change tactics.  

He dug up shady details about other inmates’ lives so Melkor could blackmail them into helping him organize an escape plan or a riot or really anything that would provide an opportunity for Melkor to get out. In true fashion, Melkor mixed up the inmate’s names and, rather than threatening anyone, insulted a lot of people which resulted in him becoming the victim of a planned attack. No pudding for a whole week.

The list went on and on, and every night that Mairon went to bed alone, jerked off under angry tears and cursed the day he had clicked on Melkor’s profile, a part of him died.

 “I’ve had enough of this,” Mairon announced once upon a visit. His nose was red and runny from the biting cold outside and the first snow had fallen the prior weekend, an emissary of the loneliest holidays he would ever celebrate. He had half a mind to go back to England, just for Christmas, but he couldn’t well leave Melkor here to rot on his own. No, he was devoted and not at all happy about it.

“Enough of what?” Melkor asked. He looked the same as he always did, orange cloth in constant warfare with his taint, his hair open, greasy, now down to his waistline. The prison hairdresser only dropped in once every six months. Their hands lay on the table, twined together, no space between them and it felt to Mairon like he was stranded in a desert, half dead from thirst and only given drops of sea water to drink. He needed to feel Melkor’s mouth, his face, his chest, his cock which no dildo had yet been able to replace. He needed for this nightmare to be over and for Melkor to come home, abandoned though it was as Mairon spent almost all day at work or at various begrudging friends’ houses so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Enough of waking up to a cold mattress beside me, enough of cooking too much because I forget I’m by myself now, enough of fingering myself in the bathtub pretending you’re with me.”

A guard near them cleared his throat noisily.

“I have apologized extensively,” Melkor said, shrugging. “Believe me, if I could, I would bend you over this very table and have my way, but alas. Rules.”

The guard spluttered, but Mairon ignored him.

“There might be a way. Ever heard of a conjugal visit?”

“A what now?”

Mairon explained it patiently, thinking himself clever, and accentuated this whole idea with a sheet of paper he pulled out of his bag. Melkor’s expression darkened, his eyes stormy-wild, his mouth set.

“What is that?” he growled.

“Paperwork. I’ll have the guard lend us a pen and we can seal it right here and now.”

“That’s the worst proposal ever,” Melkor muttered and retracted the hand that was holding Mairon’s to cross his arms over his chest.

“It’s the only one either of us is going to get in the next five years or so. At best. Face it, Melkor, you ruined any prospects of a proper wedding with your accident.” Mairon leaned back, tapping the paper with a nail. “If we sign this, at least we get to fuck ever so often.”

“No.”

“Sorry?” Mairon smiled, thinking of a hundred different ways he wanted to make Melkor sign the papers already. He had been patient, clever, smart, loving, supportive. He had not left Melkor, was going to stick through this with him. And here he was, this boyfriend he had sacrificed everything for, denying him the simplest of carnal pleasures.

“I am not marrying you in a prison’s visitation room,” Melkor said, a finality in his voice that had Mairon wish he could turn back time or at the very least, make Melkor understand that this wasn’t the place for romantic touches.

“You should,” he said through gritted teeth, anger flaring. His stress levels were through the roof.

“No. Absolutely not. I’d rather wait and run on fantasies of you than throw away something so special. You can only get married once.”

“That’s not-“

“End of discussion,” Melkor said and gestured for the guard to lead him out of the room.

 The solution Mairon came up with was, perhaps, far from ideal and very costly, but it was the only one he saw, the only scenario in which he wouldn’t go insane with longing. Mairon bought a rifle, waited for nightfall, and snuck into the nearest air base. Then he only had to apply what was left of Melkor’s savings to impress upon the right people. A prison selection here, a cell assignment there, and wouldn’t you know. They dressed him in that horrid orange, gave him a bedroll and lead him to a sorry, colorless room with two cods, a few shelves on the walls and his boyfriend, idling away.

“Oh god,” Melkor gasped, sitting up. Mairon laughed as he was shoved into the cell, stumbling into Melkor’s chest. They fall back against the creaky, hard prison bed, Mairon on top of Melkor who still wore a startled expression. “What did you do?”

“Aggravated theft of a military vehicle,” Mairon said, feeling rather proud to have pulled it off. He would have gotten away with it too if he hadn’t gambled for them to catch him trying to escape.

“You are impossible,” Melkor laughed.

“And you a moron.”

They met in a soft, exploring kiss, the first in forever, the first in a million. All the time in the world to make up for the last year or so.

 “I love you for going to prison with me,” Melkor panted into the crook of Mairon’s neck later that night.

“And I love you for…” Mairon paused, trying to think of something redeeming about this situation other than the bites littering his chest, the rigid cock that pounded into him with reckless abandon. He came up short, but that was okay. “For you. I love you for you.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Cross Cut

A/N: Another in the Play the Hand You’re Dealt event, this takes a look at the day Logan met his buzzkill from his point of view, and what you did that made him sure that you were the right person for this job. 

Warning: language. and William’s face, gross. 

Word Count: 3,432

Requested by:  @something-tofightfor See You in New York Logan, General, Secrets & Lies, Logan’s POV

Logan tugged at his left shirtsleeve, fixing the toggle of the silver rimmed onyx cufflink. He twisted it with his long fingers, pushing it back through the buttonhole to tighten the fit around his wrist. That’s better. His eyes flicked up to the numbers above the elevator door, lighting up as the vessel carried him swiftly to the 38th floor. Leaning back against the shiny railing,  he slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and crossed his ankles. Wonder how this is gonna go. He took a breath before letting it slowly out through his nose. Could go a few different ways, depending on… He uncrossed his feet and shifted his weight away from the railing, removing his left hand from his pocket to check the time. This could be good. Or it could be a disaster.  

He’d been preoccupied with the defamation case for the last few weeks, working long hours  with the legal team to prove his innocence, and between that and trying to get caught up on the work that he’d missed while dealing with that, he’d given little to no thought about what today’s introduction would be like or how it might change things. It would be the first time that he would be working with someone so closely that he hadn’t personally chosen or worked with previously, and while he knew the date Cynthia had mentioned as her associate’s start date, Logan hadn’t had time to consider anything else regarding the situation. He trusted Cynthia’s judgement and wanted to believe that the woman wouldn’t send him someone that wouldn’t be a good fit- that she wouldn’t send a goldfish into the shark tank. Annoyed enough already that his father and the rest of the Delos board were insistent upon this being a necessary step, he didn’t want to be locked into 6 months of interaction with someone that he himself would fire in 6 minutes if given the choice. Guess we’ll see. 

The bright white bulb behind the stencil cut 38 lit up and the elevator car came to a smooth stop as the doors opened silently. Logan tilted his head to the right and rolled that shoulder, a small pop coming from somewhere in his neck. He could see Charlie standing a few feet away, an espresso in one hand, his touchpad and a few files stacked and tucked into the crook of his bent elbow, ready to prep Logan for the day’s meetings and deadlines. New to the company, Charlie had just graduated the intern program and Logan had made sure to snatch him up, the young man showing more promise and attention to detail than any other prospective assistant Logan had considered. He was sharp, capable and dedicated without being cocky, pretentious or a kiss-ass. But why does he look like he’s ready to shit a brick? Logan watched the man’s throat undulate as he swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Mildly concerned, Logan strode from the elevator. Only one way to find out. 

“Mornin’, Charlie,” Logan greeted him with the same relaxed demeanor that he did every morning no matter how stressed, frustrated, exhausted or busy he was. He smiled, taking the coffee that was offered to him in his left hand, right digging his phone from his pocket. “What does today look like?” Aside from meeting my new ball and chain. Quickly entering his passcode to unlock his phone, Logan took a sip of the bitter espresso and opened his calendar. 

Charlie switched the items in his arm as they started walking towards Logan’s office, tucking whatever files he carried under the touch screen tablet. With a few deft swipes that he could have done blindfolded, he opened the same calendar portal so that he could go over Logan’s schedule. “Good morning, Mr. Delos.” He cleared his throat, covering his mouth by making a fist with his free hand before bringing it up to press his pointer finger to his eyebrow, dragging it towards his temple. It was his tell, the dead giveaway that his nerves were bordering on nausea. Terrible poker face, Charlie. “There’s an R & D budgetary meeting at 11. They want to propose some new synthetic materials and software upgrades they’ve been working on.” 

Logan took another sip of espresso, nodding. He approved that meeting on his agenda by highlighting it with one finger, the entry vanishing from Charlie’s screen and showing up in bold font on his own. That could be interesting. Having a hand in the research and development of new technologies for the parks and for other branches of Delos Inc. was one of Logan’s favorite things about his position. Though he didn’t have a degree in engineering, he often contributed to brainstorming sessions combining his experience in the parks with his creative ingenuity to help spark new ideas or solve existing glitches or issues. “Should run about an hour, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly as he turned to Charlie,  just in time to catch another press and drag of his finger over his forehead. What the fuck is he freaking out about? 

Charlie nodded. “Yup, it should, usually does.” He dropped his hand back to his tablet to swipe at the next item on the list- a conference call with an investor in Paris at noon. Logan groaned internally at that one, but approved it anyway. Turning the corner, they passed Juliet’s office. Her door was closed, but Logan waved to her through the glass wall, raising two fingers on the hand he held his beverage in. Hey, Jul. She was on the phone, a frown creasing her face that only deepened as she pressed her lips together and half-heartedly waved back. Okay, who the fuck died around here? He used the same fingers that he used to wave to his sister to unlock the keypad on his office door, then pushed it open for Charlie to follow him inside. 

“After that you’ve got-” 

Logan closed the door with his elbow, the lock engaging automatically as soon as it clicked shut. Even though two of the four walls that made up the executive offices were glass, the soundproofing made them as private as they needed to be. “Cut the shit, Charlie.” He drained the rest of his espresso and crossed to his desk to toss the empty white cardboard cup into the recycling bin. I know something’s up, so tell me what it is. 

‘Um, well,” Charlie stammered. Logan watched him clench his hand in a fist in an effort not to bring it up to his brow. He shuffled the file he’d been holding beneath the tablet, opening it and pulling out two magazines with obnoxiously bright yellow lettering emblazoned across the top, and photos and headlines collaged all over their covers. “The legal team got them to pull it from their website but…” With a shaky hand, Charlie held out the glossy prints. “I figured you would have seen them already but…” He sighed. 

Is that? Logan’s eyes widened as he reached out and took what Charlie was handing him. But before he’d even turned it around, he knew exactly who he was looking at. That fucking piece of shit. The shiny, waxy paper crumpled beneath his fingers as he flexed them, a hot rush of anger flushing through him. That’s why Jules looked at me like that, he glanced up at his assistant, why he looks like he’s gonna blow. He looked back down at the photo staring up at him, his top lip curling in thick, vicious hatred.  

Ousted Delos Exec Breaks Silence on Sex Scandal Rumors: It Wouldn’t Surprise Me- drugs, debauchery, and other things you didn’t know about Logan Delos as told by his former brother-in-law. 

Fucking William. He flipped to the second cover, scanning a similarly damning headline featuring an equally pathetic looking photo of Juliet’s ex-husband, the man’s complexion looking off, his blond hair long and lanky in appearance. This is low, even for you, you fucking- Logan’s eyes slipped closed and he clenched his jaw. No. Not gonna let this asshole… Exhaling slowly, he dropped the tabloids to his desk and blinked his eyes open. Pulling out his chair, he sat down and set his phone on top of the prints, blocking William’s face. Following the suggestion of his addiction counselor, he’d taken all name notifications down from any publication that didn’t relate strictly to business so he wouldn’t be inundated with opinions on how long his sobriety would last and pictures of him at his worst. So when William’s “tell-all” went to print, Logan knew nothing about it. But I’m not gonna let him get under my skin and fuck around. He’d done enough damage, and now that he’d finally been dealt with, Logan wouldn’t let him gain an inch of real estate in his mind. Not again.  

“Well,” he looked up at the other man and cleared his throat. “Never a dull moment, is there?” Charlie’s mouth opened and closed, his shoulders rising with a breath as though he were going to say something, then deflating as nothing came out. It’s fine, not your fault. Movement behind Charlie caught Logan’s eye as he saw Juliet leaving her office and taking long steps towards his. Here we go. “Listen, Charlie, do me a favor and just accept all my meetings for the day. If anything changes and I need to reschedule anything, I’ll let you know.” Juliet raised her fist to rap her knuckles on his office door, three assertive knocks followed by the muffled call of his name. Charlie raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the door. “Yeah,” Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let her in. Wait!” Charlie froze with his hand on the door knob. “You’ll let me know when the rep from the New York firm gets here, right?” 

“Of course. She’s scheduled to be here within the hour.” Great. “Mr. Delos?” Logan tilted his head indicating that Charlie should go on. “I’m sorry about this bullshit. I hope this is the last of it.” 

Logan saw in the man’s eyes that he was being genuine, another trait he valued in his personal assistant. He nodded, the slightest smile of appreciation curving his lips to the side. “Thanks, Charlie.” He stuck his chin out at the door as Juliet knocked again, harder this time. “You better let her in before she breaks it down.” 

Charlie’s hand resumed motion, turning the knob to open the door. He barely sidestepped out of the way as Juliet spilled through, the young assistant skirting around the woman and scurrying out the door and out of the way. “Logan, I’m fucking livid. I’m...this is… how can he still be…” His sister paced around in front of his desk, arms and hands punctuating every words she was saying with their rigid movements. Good morning to you too, sunshine. She turned to him, finally seeing him through the haze of red. “I’m fucking pissed, I’m…” She swallowed then, tears springing to her eyes that Logan knew were caused equally by anger as they were by anything else. He got up and stepped around his desk as she wiped at her eyes. “I’m so sorry he’s still trying to hurt you, Logan, I’m...this is my-” 

That initial swell of hatred built up again as Juliet tried to take the blame for William’s latest stunt. “Hey. Don’t, Jules.” He warned. She sniffed, nodding as a tendril of soft brown hair fell over her eyes. Her slender fingers came up to tuck it back into place as tears still rolled slowly down her cheeks, leaking from dark eyes brimming with frustration and contempt for her ex-husband, sympathy and love for her brother.  “I mean it, don’t. This is not your fault, okay? There’s nothin’ you could have done or not done to stop him from being what he is.” Not after you married him, anyway.

He chased that thought away, wrapping her in a one-armed hug that she returned eagerly. Since Juliet and William’s divorce had gone through roughly one month ago, Logan had been working on repairing his relationship with Juliet, and was just starting to build one with his niece. He looked down at his desk, at a photo taken just a few weeks back of him and Juliet with Emily at the aquarium. Both siblings were pointing to the brightly colored fish and gently swaying coral that filled the enormous tank that they stood in front of, but the one and half year old’s wide tawny eyes were stuck on her uncle. He brought his second arm around his sister and squeezed quickly before letting go. Of course he would have preferred that she listened to him about William in the first place, not just because her disbelief had cut him deeply, but because she could have saved herself from having to have married him. But he’s out now, and I’m not letting him hurt you- either of you- anymore. 

Juliet took a steadying breath and stepped back with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” she scoffed. “I can’t believe he is Emily’s…” she couldn’t even say the last word. Yeah, me either. “Anyway,” she resumed her pacing, but much more slowly and far less aggressively and Logan returned to his desk chair. “I was on the phone with legal when you got in before. I’m sure Charlie told you that we got the...articles…” she was careful not to use the word story when they both knew that there was no truth to the facts that William claimed to know. “Those were taken down from these two websites.” Logan nodded, leaning against the backrest as he tapped his thumb against the edge of his desk. “Well, we’re slamming them for running it at all after the trial, after you,” she rolled her wrist, looking for the right wording. “Running it after you proved she was lying, well… they’re in deep shit.” As they should be. 

“Good.” Logan sat forward, wetting his lips as he dragged one hand through his hair. It’s been a long day and it’s not even 10 am. He sighed, pushing the tabloids even further to the side of his desk so that he couldn’t see William’s face. 

“Logan?” Juliet looked down at the floor before bringing her eyes level with his. He tilted his head in response. “How are you...are you doing okay? I mean with all of this?” She chewed her bottom lip. It occurred to him that she wasn’t only asking how he was handling the accusation, but also if he showed any signs of falling back down the stairway to hell. 

Surprisingly, even the shock of being dragged through the mud for things he’d never even think of doing hadn’t been enough to push him back over that edge he’d fought three times to climb, this last bout with recovery feeling like it would be his last. I got my sister back, got my family and my company back and… He thought of Emily and how she was the only child in the world he gave two shits about.  He smiled, and though it wasn’t one of unbridled joy and happiness, it didn’t feel forced and that was something. “I’ll be okay, Jules, don’t worry. Besides,” in a display of timing so perfect that he couldn’t have choreographed it better, his phone screen lit up and he pointed at it. “My fairy godmother is here to fix all my bullshit.” He picked up the phone as Juliet actually let out a small laugh. “I’ll fill you in later, yeah?” She nodded and wished him luck before leaving to head back to her own spacious office. The phone in his hand lit up and buzzed again, and he swiped Cynthia’s name to answer. 

“Good Morning,” he answered the call, skipping the formal greeting.

“I’m assuming you saw the trash rags?” She, too, forwent any sort of official bullshit, which was one of the things Logan admired most about her. 

“Sure did. Guess you saw it before it was pulled from the internet?” I wonder what it says… He glanced sidelong at the magazines on his desk and tapped his pointer finger against his phone. 

“Who do you think called your legal team?” Of course you did. “That ex brother-in-law of yours looks like shit in those pictures.” Logan had to laugh at that. He heard the clacking of a keyboard as Cynthia fired off an email while she had him on the line. He does.  

“Thanks, Cyn, I owe you one.” He was vaguely aware of movement outside of his office, the elevator door opening and closing as Charlie escorted a woman- you- out of it. “Speaking of which, I think your rep just got here.” 

“She did. She texted me from your elevator.” Oh. So she’s just like you then. “I wanted to touch base with you one last time before you were introduced.” Interesting. 

Logan watched Charlie guide you towards his office, noting your confident posture, the practiced way that you made the elevator-to-office walk look as though you had done it countless times instead of this being your first time setting foot in the building. Your eyes stayed on Charlie even as she took a sip of the coffee in your hand, sharp and focused. “I’m listening.” 

“She’s the best I’ve got, so you have to trust her. She can be stubborn, like you.” Fantastic. “And in this case you’re going to have to be the one to concede, understand?” Yeah, Cyn, I get it.  “I’m telling you, she’s going to tie this off in such a nice little bow that no one will be able to say a word. And this new layer of garbage with your sister’s ex? Consider it gone, she’ll have a statement prepared by lunch.”

“Sounds great, Cynthia.” I hope you’re right. After three years of dealing with the aftermath of his trip to Westworld with William, depression, addiction, and all the havoc those things wreaked on his personal life and career, Logan was in dire need of a break. Cynthia assured him that she was in fact right, and ended the phone call the exact second that Charlie’s knock came on the door to introduce you to him. Damn. He had to admire Cynthia’s ability to run a well-oiled machine in her firm. And if she stands by this rep then I should, too. 

You’d given him your name, extending your hand to shake in a show of trust, briefly discussed your background and what you already knew about the case. She’s intense. He licked his lips as you rifled through the file that you carried, the deep burgundy polish on your nails standing in stark contrast to the manila folder as you pulled out page after page of preliminary drafting that you’d done for a blueprint back into the good graces of the dear old public. This is gonna work, she’s gonna- 

“Is that?” You pointed to the two tabloids still sitting on his desk, not waiting for his answer, simply striding over to pick them up. Oh, alright. “These are ridiculous, and the fact that he went to this level speaks volumes about the type of person he is.” You’re right. You shook your head muttering. “Garbage people in these damn garbage… does this thing do cross cut? And can it take staples?” What? Yeah, it- You were pointing at the industrial strength paper shredder located next to his desk, and again without waiting for him to answer, you pressed a button on the machine and sent both magazines through the slot, teeth catching the thick paper and slicing it to ribbons. 

“Guess I’m not reading those.” 

“You don’t need to,” you shrugged, a spark in your eye catching his attention. “They’re lies, right?” 

“They are.” He watched the remains of the magazine crumple and curl into confetti, William’s face and words obliterated before his eyes. 

“Then what they say doesn’t matter.” You smiled and pulled your phone from your pocket, tapping the screen to answer a message as you took a sip of your coffee, tossing your empty cup on top of his in the bin. Finished with the message you were sending, you put your phone away and reorganized the file you brought with you. “Now,” Logan watched the way your left eyebrow lifted as a determined tone entered your voice. “Should we get started?”

.

.

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@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @gollyderek​ @thesumofmychoices​ @lexxierave​ @belladonnarey​ @ymariejp​ @obscurilicious​ @songtoyou​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​  @drinix​ @jigsawlover10​ @getlostinyourparadise​ @nananananananananananabatman​ @with1love1anu​ @malionnes​ @luminex3​

if you would like to be added or removed to the tag list for this event or any of the individual series, please feel free to let me know! 

[meraki-loki]

It’s Okay - Chris Evans x Reader Fic

Word Count: 1,771

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: fluff, suggestive material, slight adulty scenario

My very first public fic on tumblr! I hope you enjoy and feedback is very much appreciated!!

You take off your glasses and rub your face. You sigh heavily before whimpering and dropping your head on the desk.

"I don't understand this..." You whimper, nearly sobbing into your hands.

You were currently studying for your math exam. It was stressing you out because you couldn't understand this one topic that just so happens to be one of the most important.

You’ve watched millions of videos and read your textbook over and over. Yet you still can't comprehend it.

You were desperate to just stop and give up completely. Throw all these papers in the trash and give up but you can't. You have to pass this exam, you have to get a good score, you need to be the best.

You lift your head and wipe away the tears staining your cheeks, taking a deep breath.

Putting your glasses back on you pick up your pencil.

As you try to solve an example problem the front door opens. It was Chris.

"Baby? Are you still awake?" His voice carries through the hallway from the living room. As he set his coat and keys down he listened for a response.

Nothing.

He toed off his shoes before making his way to your shared bedroom.

You could hear his feet padding against the floorboards but you still paid no attention to him.

Your face was starting to hurt from how hard your brows were furrowed in confusion, only becoming more and more frustrated.

The door creaked open and the sweet voice of your boyfriend spoke, "Hey sweetheart. what're you doing still up? It's kind of late."

"Studying." You were not in the mood to be bothered. With your job and your exams you were very stressed out and couldn’t deal with any distraction.

"Oh. But it's late, you should rest. Knowing you you've been studying since you got home I’m sure you'll do amazing." Your mind barely registered the surprise and the small hint of hurt in his voice but it also quickly dismissed it.

He came up behind you and placed his large hands on your shoulders trying to coax you to bed.

"No i can't. I need to get it all right. I need to understand everything. I have to." You moved your shoulders hoping he'd take them off and let you study but he didn't.

He sighs and spins your chair around, kneeling in front of you.

Shining baby blue eyes stare into your own.

"Babe. You have to relax. You're gonna do great I know you are. All you do is study and-"

You cut him off, "Chris you don't understand. I don't need to do great, I need to do amazing! I need to be one of the best. And if you're gonna keep bothering me just leave."

Your harsh words obviously take a toll on him as hurt flashes in his gorgeous blue eyes.

He doesn't say anything and stands back up. Closing your eyes, you place your head in your hands as you hear the bedroom door close shut.

You try to continue my studying but now all you can think about is how you harsh you were to Chris just now. The person you trust with your life, the person you love with all that you are, and you hurt him.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, throat burning, making it harder to breath.

Everything hits you all at once and you break. You cry silently, hoping Chris won’t hear you.

All of your stress and anxiety really hits you all at once and you can’t stop it. You cry for a couple of minutes before wiping your face dry and stepping out of the room to find Chris.

You step into the living room and look into the kitchen but he isn't there. The bathroom was also empty when you passed by it.

Tears well up in your eyes and panic fills your mind. You brace yourself on the wall and breathe heavily, trying to ground yourself.

You push off of the wall and make your way to the last spot that you haven’t checked.

A special spot to either be together or in some cases be alone.

You remember the day you were left to explore the house together and you both instantly knew it was perfect.

It was a beautiful fall evening when the house's real estate agent left us to explore on our own.

I was walking down the hallway when I found a staircase leading upwards.

That's weird. I thought this was only one floor. Hm.

"Hey babe! Come look!" I yell out to my beloved.

"What's up sweetheart? Ooh I wonder where this leads."

We both went up the stairs to find a gorgeous balcony that overlooked the backyard. You could see the sun setting in the horizon over the trees.

"Oh wow. This is amazing. I bet this would look beautiful at night when everything is covered in a blanket of darkness."

I stood at the railing, feeling his warm hands on me. One on my hip, the other sneakily trying to slip under my shirt.

"You and your writer words. You know you'd look beautiful under my blankets tonight." He whispered in my ear. I couldn't see his face but I knew he had a stupid shit-eating grin.

I raise my hand and hit the mass of muscle that is his bicep, giggling, "Chris shut up!"

He chuckles and I feel his warm palm press against my bare stomach, "You say stop but your body says something else baby."

I feel his warm breath on the side of my neck as he whispers and presses a small kiss.

I turn around and flip the position so that he's now leaning against the railing.

His hands are planted on my hips and I push myself closer to him, spreading his legs.

He gives me his signature smile and I take one hand and slide it up his shirt, feeling his smooth skin and muscle, whispering in his ear, "I don't think it's just my body that's saying something."

I wrap my free hand around his neck and weave my fingers through his hair tugging a bit causing him groan softly.

"Now, weren't you saying no earlier?" he says.

I lean in closely brushing my lips with his. I see the different shades of blue in his eyes as he stares at me intently.

Chris bites his lower lip, trying to suppress a smile, and lowers his hands to grip my butt.

He smirks when I gasp quietly, "Sorry but you know I'm an ass man."

At that I laugh and press my forehead on his.

"I love you, you dork."

"I love you more sweetheart."

You run up the stairs going up 2 steps at a time.

By now the tears have created a slight pulsating headache and your heart was beating faster than ever.

If he isn't out there you may just lose it all.

You stop at the door and take a breath to calm down. Slowly you push the door open.

Mentally you let out a sigh of relief but physically you don’t think you were breathing at all.

Chris' head turns to side slightly as he hears the door creak open, peering behind him. He lets out a sigh, his body visibly slumps against the railing.

The moon is so big and bright tonight that it lights up the entire balcony as if it was on a movie set.

My tears start running again and this time you know for sure they won't stop. You let out an almost choking and strangled sound.

And just as he turns around you latch yourself around his torso, only seeing his worried face for a split second.

"Hey, hey what's wrong?" He forgets why he was upset and tries to get you to look at him but you shake your head and cry into his chest.

"I-I'm sorry. I s-shouldn't have acted t-that way towards y-you." You stutter as you try to apologize but it proves difficult as you basically choke on a mixture of your tears and sobs that rock your body.

Chris doesn't say anything and instead holds you tightly. One arm around your shoulder, the other holding your head, and his cheek pressed against your hair.

"I was s-so stressed but I s-shouldn't have taken it out on you. I was so scared you'd l-leave me."

Chris shushes tries to shush you and holds you tighter if that was even possible.

“I’m s-so s-sorry. Don’t leave me. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything, just places a lingering kiss on your head and lets you cry.

When your sobbing turns into small sniffles he sits you down on one of the balcony chairs and kneels in front of you like earlier.

He rubs soothing circles into your knee and simply stares at you lovingly.

You think about the moment that you blew up at Chris and your face crumbles again, eyes welling up with tears.

Chris looks up at and wipes away a stray tear,”Hey. Don’t worry about it. You’re okay. I understand, you’re stressed. Don’t feel bad sweetie.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble looking down at your hands before looking back up to him.

He smiles and can see that his eyes are full of worry and love.

“Come on, let's go inside,” He stands up and takes your hand leading you to your shared bedroom

He strips down to some pajama pants, pulls back the covers and climbs in pulling you into his broad and bare chest.

When he settles in with your arms around his waist he speaks, “You’re gonna do amazing. Don’t doubt yourself ever, you’re the smartest person I know.”

He takes your head into his warm hands and says, “And don’t ever think I’d leave you. You are the light of my life y/n. You understand my job is unpredictable and I can be gone for so long but you still stay here. With me. Most people would grow tired of it but you don’t. You have no idea how grateful I am for you, I would never leave you. I love you so much, you can’t even imagine.”

Tears yet again fill your eyes and his eyes crease and fill with worry yet again.

You let out a small laugh, “They’re happy tears, Chris. I’m so happy and I love you more than you could ever know.”

The rest of the night is full of you both quietly talking and sharing small quick kisses until you finally fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[tact-and-impulse]

Eating Together, Drinking Alone Chapter 27

There is a Disney song that would be kind of appropriate for this chapter. :D Also, this is the last update until May 20, at least. Sorry guys, I had eight exams since the last update and I’ll have five more before May 20. But yeah, this is a pretty big chapter to make up for it. Let me know what you think! FF.net, AO3

Chapter 27: Okayu

There was a stranger, hovering around the Akabeko. His graying head wasn’t the first she had seen, and Tae’s stomach sank. She should have expected this, because business was doing so well. It raised the value of the land, and then the men would arrive, thinking she’d sell her life’s work for a meager profit. Well, she had to keep her chin up and tell the new waitresses to be strong too.

She walked towards the front door, calling out. “I’m very sorry, but we aren’t open yet.”

The man startled, answering. “Oh, I’m not a customer. I’d like to speak with the owner.”

“I’m the owner.” She forced on a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah, you must be Sekihara-san.” He chuckled, but Tae could only hear the false note in it. She sighed, deciding to meet him outside the building. He paid the usual compliments to the Akabeko; it was to lower her guard and pave the way for more visits. Then, if he followed the typical negotiation, he’d offer the terms of a transaction in another month. It was unfortunate, but she could only endure this strategy. These people, as crafty as they were with words, did not like hearing ‘no’ from a woman.

“Tae-san? We’re back with what you needed.” Tsubame’s voice interrupted, right on time. She and Yahiko had returned with the groceries.

“Welcome back.” She turned to them, trying not to sound relieved. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have to prepare for today. Have a good day.”

“And you as well.” On the surface, he was polite, but she did not like the way his gaze lingered on Tsubame and Yahiko, as if noting that she employed children. Yahiko glared back, and Tsubame had to tug him inside.

“Ugh, I thought we got rid of the creeps.” He grumbled.

“It’s alright, we just have to endure it and keep doing our best.” Tae reassured, and it was partly for herself too. “Now, let’s get ready, we have a busy afternoon ahead.”

***

The end of the week approached, and it was a sunny afternoon when Kaoru stopped by. She looked overcome, her ponytail half undone. Kenji writhed in her arms, screaming displeasure and waving angry little fists. The lunch rush had just ended, and Tae was cleaning one of the empty tables when she noticed them. “Oh, Kaoru, you’re out for a walk with Kenji?”

She nodded, but her smile was strained. “He’s been teething, and he doesn’t want to nap.”

“The poor dear. Do you need anything?”

“No, I think he’ll calm down soon.” Sure enough, Kenji wore himself out in a matter of minutes. He began to whine and hiccup, and almost sulkily, he closed his eyes. Kaoru was visibly relieved yet exhausted. She had accepted Tae’s offer of a corner table, sitting down with a sigh. Kenji dozed in the crook of her arm, and she shook her head. “Finally.”

“Mm, he’s sleeping so soundly.”

“Yeah, this will be the best hour of today.” Her mouth twitched. “Forget that, I shouldn’t complain like this.”

“You can let it all out, you know.” Tae gently said. “Even mothers need to vent sometimes.”

She swallowed before speaking. “This morning, the police came to our door, saying that someone at the hospital was requesting for Kenshin. There weren’t any details, they took Kenshin away so quickly, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. I couldn’t go with him, because Kenji would get sick. Then, the students forgot the most recent steps so I had to scold them, and Kenji hasn’t been happy at all either.” She blinked rapidly, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “Geez, I’m just stressed.”

“And you have every right to feel that way.” Tae pulled a napkin from her apron pocket and handed it towards Kaoru, who accepted it.

“But I shouldn’t. I know Kenshin will be home soon, and that the students forget sometimes, and that Kenji’s in pain.” At that, she flashed a worried look to the baby. “I wonder if I’m overreacting.”

“You can’t help being frustrated, Kaoru, but you haven’t overreacted at all. You’ve actually been very patient, and you sought me out, didn’t you? Because you needed to talk to someone.”

“I guess so.” She seemed steadier, returning the damp napkin. “And I had to get out of the dojo; I can’t think straight when I’m worked up.”

“That’s right. Now, it’s been a long day and you’ve endured it well. If you’re hungry, I can take over and make something quick.”

“It’s alright. I feel a lot better now.” She blew out a breath. “Well, I should take Kenji home so I can properly put him to bed. Maybe, Kenshin’s already back too.” She slowly stood, with a grateful smile. “Thank you for listening, Tae.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll stop by tomorrow, after we close.”

She did keep her promise, and the spring breeze was refreshingly cool on her skin. As she was about to cross the gate, she couldn’t help hearing a snatch of conversation.

“Did you really slow down your fall, by slicing into a tree?” That was Yahiko’s voice, brimming with doubt.

“It was only the basic Ryu Tsui Sen, by taking advantage of the jump’s momentum. That took minimal thinking, of course.”

Tae stopped. That was definitely a familiar person. It couldn’t be anyone other than…

“And yet, you fractured your leg, Shishou. Your recovery will take at least six weeks, and because the police are still searching for Ueda-kun and his associates, you have to remain here.”

“I’m not happy about it either.”

Tae remembered to pick up her feet, and in a matter of moments, she was facing Hiko-san once again. He was sitting on the porch, stretching out one leg bound in a cast. Kenshin and Yahiko stood over him, but they looked up once they noticed Tae.

“Oh, Tae-dono.” Kenshin greeted her. “Are you here to see Kaoru-dono?”

“Yes, just to visit.”

“She’s laid down Kenji for his nap. This one will get her.” With a harmless smile, he went inside.

Tae was about to speak, but Hiko-san then turned to Yahiko. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

He glanced at both of them, before backtracking. “Er, I guess I’ll get the tea…or something…”

“Oh, it’s alri-” She interjected too late, and with a sigh, she seated herself on the porch. “Hello, Hiko-san, I couldn’t help but hear that you hurt yourself. And was this Ueda-kun the same person, whom Hatsu-san did not want to marry?”

“Ah, so you eavesdropped.” He noted without malice. “Yes, he was. He tried to ambush me, so I had to think quickly. Even after landing on the ground, I still made it to the nearest inn. Considering the circumstances, it was an excellent decision to use the surroundings to my advantage.”

She eyed his cast. “If you say so, Hiko-san. Did you come to visit Kenshin?”

“That wasn’t the only reason. A merchant here has taken an interest in my pottery.”

“Oh, that’s good news. Your business is doing well.” She paused. “Forgive me for asking, but has anyone ever tried to undermine you?”

“There have been merchants who tried to skim off profits, but I took back control over sales and the artisans in Kyoto keep to themselves. Someone’s bothering you, is that it?” He gave her a pointed expression.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” She waved in dismissal. “This isn’t the first man who thinks he can buy the restaurant from me. Land in this city is highly valued, and I knew that when I built the Akabeko. I was only wondering how else I can shoo this one away, while still being polite.”

“You can always sharpen more knives.” He bluntly said.

She laughed. “That was another instance where I came close to losing my temper. It’s not that bad now, so I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? If you wait until the situation worsens, it may not work. Take the first strike, Sekihara, and let me know when you do. I want to be there when it happens, it’s bound to be entertaining.”

Embarrassed heat flooded her face. “It may not be that exciting….oh, dear.” The wind had picked up, rustling her apron and her bangs. She hurriedly smoothed herself down, but she must have missed something, for Hiko-san leaned closer.

Almost too gently, he plucked a grass blade from her sleeve. “The weather’s unpredictable, since it’s spring.” He looked tousled as well, and the messiness was endearing. If she wanted to, she could have lifted her hand and fixed his hair.

Yahiko’s footsteps approached, and he was griping. “Ugh, all three of them are napping together, so I can’t bother them…” He stopped, the tea tray swaying in his grasp. “So, should I just leave this here?”

Tae jolted. “That would be perfectly fine. Thank you, Yahiko-kun.”

“Sure.”

Suddenly, Hiko-san declared. “What was that about my idiot apprentice? It’s been a while since I’ve seen him drool in his sleep. Sekihara, help me up.”

“Only if you won’t wake them.” She evenly replied, but she took his arm to steady him. “I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to carry you there myself.”

She meant it jokingly, but he only looked at her. “No, I’d rather walk like this.”

Somehow, she couldn’t find a response to that, and her throat tightened as they peeked into the bedroom. She blamed it on the adorable sight on the large futon, where Kenshin and Kaoru slept with their foreheads touching, and their baby son was nestled between them.

***

Thankfully, the real estate hunter had disappeared. Then again, some regular customers had as well. Apparently, there was a spring cold going around, and like the wind itself, it came to the Kamiya dojo. Tae only heard one morning, when Yahiko, red-eyed and snappish, asked her how to cook okayu.

“Who is it for? Not you?”

He shook his head. “Well, Kaoru caught a cold from one of the other students, and Kenshin got it from her. I had to stay up most of the night, warming up the blankets. Not that I could have, with all the nonstop coughing.” He muttered, folding his arms together. “Anyway, when I tried to make the rice porridge, it came out too watery.”

“Ah, that’s because you didn’t have the correct ratio of rice to water. Here, for two people, you need these amounts.” She showed him how to measure, using a clean pot. “Have they seen Dr. Gensai yet?”

“Yeah, he just said they have to fight it off. Kenji’s been quarantined with Kenshin’s master for now.”

Tsubame entered the kitchen, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. At her inquiring gaze, Yahiko informed her of the situation. She sympathized and asked. “Is there any way I can help?”

“Well…” He crossed his arms, considering. “I guess you could come over during our lunch break. We could cook faster, if there are two of us.”

She turned to Tae. “Is that alright, Tae-san?”

“Only if you two don’t get sick as well.” She gently said. “And if there are smaller tasks, you can also ask Hiko-san to do them. His hands are free, after all, when Kenji’s asleep.”

“Oh, right. They don’t really eat either, they’re both picky.”

“I see.” It was definitely more difficult, to cook food that was appealing enough for a fussy baby and a man like Hiko-san. “In that case, I’ll join you when I can.”

She didn’t have to wait long. Two days later, the restaurant was quiet enough for her to slip out. She informed the waitresses that she would be back, and she caught up with Tsubame and Yahiko. Hiko-san was sitting on the porch, when they arrived. Next to him, Kenji was on his back, gumming at the head of a kokeshi doll.

“Kenji-chan likes that?” Tsubame smiled. “I’m glad I still kept it.”

“It keeps him quiet.” Hiko-san grunted. “Good afternoon, Sekihara. Are you not busy?”

“Good afternoon to you, Hiko-san, and yes, I have some time. I heard that Kenshin and Kaoru have gotten over the worst of it? I should greet them.” She made to step inside, and Yahiko added.

“Oh, take a handkerchief for your face. They’re better, but they’re still coughing.”

“And that’s why they’re still kept away from the brat.” Hiko-san said, as he nudged Kenji away from the edge of the porch. The baby made a noise of protest, around the doll’s head. Tae spared a backwards glance, but she decided to leave them be. After she ensured that her nose and mouth were covered by the handkerchief, she knocked on the bedroom door.

“Excuse me, can I come in?”

“Yes.” That was Kenshin’s voice, and so, Tae slid the door aside. Kenshin was looking out the window, as Kaoru sat on the futon with a book in her hands. They both turned towards her, and Kaoru blinked.

“Tae! Yahiko did say you might be coming. Sorry, we’re troubling you.”

“No, not at all. I’ll leave you alone to rest, but I only wanted to ask if okayu was alright for lunch.”

“Geez, again?” Kaoru sighed, but Kenshin squeezed her shoulder.

“Yes, that should be fine, Tae-dono. It’s best for recovery, and we need to do so as quickly as possible.”

“And you’re worrying about the house and Kenji again.” Kaoru chided. “I told you, at least Hiko-san is here.”

“That is exactly why this one worries.” He was almost sulking, and Tae laughed.

“He seemed to be doing very well.”

Kenshin and Kaoru looked at each other, exchanging smiles. It was quick, and they only told Tae that if there were any mishaps, they wanted to be notified. Then, Tae headed for the kitchen. Yahiko and Tsubame had already set out the ingredients, and she started instructing them.

“We’re short on time, so we’ll just make one pot of okayu. Even Kenji can eat that. We’ll add vegetables and some of the salted salmon, to make ours more filling. But it won’t take long at all.” With that, they prepared the toppings as the rice soaked.

Tae focused on slicing the salmon into thin strips, only looking up when she heard the floorboards creak. “Hiko-san?”

He was supporting himself with a wooden pole, which served as a makeshift walking stick. In his other arm, he held a whining Kenji. “What? I’m tired of sitting out there, and the brat is tired of chewing.”

She smiled. “Well, his portion should be ready soon.”

Tsubame ladled out some of the plain porridge, blowing at it before feeding Kenji in her lap. The baby’s expression slackened, and the spoon emerged clean from his mouth. Yahiko divided the rest and placed two bowls on a tray. He tied a handkerchief around his face, heading for Kenshin and Kaoru’s room. “I’m giving them their shares.”

Tae set his bowl aside. “Alright. And Tsubame, remember to eat yours. Hiko-san, this one’s for you.”

“Thanks.” As he accepted the bowl, his rough fingertips brushed hers, and prickling warmth radiated beneath her skin.

She pulled away, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “If you’d like more, let me know.” Then, with some relief, she began to eat hers. The porridge was thick, the fish and parsley lending salt and bitterness. But too quickly, the hour ended, and Tae prepared to leave first. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

In the corner of her eye, she caught Hiko-san smirking, as he did when he was pleased. Somehow, she wanted to laugh.

***

Three days later, Kenshin and Kaoru were almost back to full health. Tae had visited every afternoon, first to prepare okayu and then to supervise Tsubame and Yahiko. Today, Kenshin had been well enough to help them, so she stayed in the Akabeko. Still, she decided to check on them in the evening.

Hiko-san was sitting on the front step, and she relaxed upon seeing him. She didn’t have to go around to the porch, and she approached. Kenji must have been put to bed, because he was only accompanied by his sake jug. “Ah, so you showed up after all.”

“Only to make sure everything’s fine. Is everyone asleep?”

“Yes, today was overly long.” He griped about his idiot apprentice exhausting himself, how the tanuki girl was frustrated at how she couldn’t help, and that the brat had taken to pulling hair. “But of course, I endured it all, because I’m just that patient. And speaking of which, what about that man circling your business? Has he shown up lately?”

“No, thank goodness.” She sighed. “I hope he’s given up.”

“If he hasn’t, there are the knives.”

“I didn’t forget.” But that made her smile. Despite the late hour, it was a nice evening: breezy but quiet. In the darkness past the open gate, there were a few moving shadows, and she blinked.

She recognized those silhouettes. They were two of her new waitresses, Jun and Machi. They were roommates, and they seemed to be walking home together. Jun’s stoic expression cracked, as she lifted an eyebrow, while Machi cheerfully called out. “Hello, Sekihara-san! And hello, sir!”

Hiko-san gave a dignified nod.

“Are you the one Sekihara-san’s been visiting?”

“That’s right.” He sipped from his jug.

Machi seemed to be even more curious, but Jun bowed. “It was nice to meet you, sir. We’ll leave you two alone.”

“Oh, I was just leaving.” She said, although the two women had already disappeared into the night. “Then, good night.”

He thought otherwise. “I’m walking with you.”

“Hiko-san, you don’t have to.”

He noticed her gaze on his cast, and he snorted. “I’m not an invalid. Let’s go.” He had improved his pace with the wooden pole, and she didn’t have to slow down for him. In fact, they reached their destination in a matter of minutes. They hadn’t spoken at all, and she felt a little disappointed.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked at him. “Tha-”

“It’s no problem.” He interrupted, already turning away. He definitely was faster, and he spoke again just before he turned the corner. “You should go inside, it’s cold.”

She pressed her lips together. She still wanted to properly thank him, and the following afternoon, she departed once more for the Kamiya dojo. Kaoru was alone, having finished nursing Kenji. She greeted Tae and explained. “Kenshin’s escorted Hiko-san to the hospital, so they can check his leg.”

A knot of worry formed in her stomach. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, it was time for his appointment, and they’re going to the police station after that. Two men were caught, and they need to be identified. Well, hopefully, it won’t take that long. Why don’t you stay for lunch?”

Tae accepted the invitation, and it was pleasant, to chat with Kaoru for the first time in a while. She had hoped to return quietly, but she almost bumped into Machi, who grinned as she called out over her shoulder. “Ah, Sekihara-san’s back from meeting her suitor.”

“It’s more like she’s courting him. We’re cheering you on, Sekihara-san. The emancipation of women is upon us.” Jun lifted a fist in restrained encouragement.

Tae’s face grew hot, and she gave a nervous laugh. “No one’s courting anyone.”

She tilted her head. “Then why do you visit him?”

“Well, he was injured, and his hosts were sick.”

“But Yahiko-kun said that they’re better now. Surely, can’t they take care of him?”

“That’s true.” Her heartbeat was rather loud, and she tried to brush off the conversation. “Then, it must be my own thinking. It’s nice to visit him, and I don’t know when I’ll see him again.”

“Will you miss him when he leaves?”

“It would be strange if I didn’t.” She had intended to end the conversation there, moving on to the next task at hand. But Machi spoke up again.

“You know, you always look happy, when you leave to meet him. So, isn’t that love?”

Love?

In love? With Hiko-san?

That’s silly. That had been her first thought, but the idea still rattled in her head, even after she closed for the evening. She liked Hiko-san’s company, but wasn’t that how it was with friends? She had missed him, she looked forward to visiting him. When she usually searched for him, it wasn’t as if she blushed like a young girl.

I only thought ‘oh, there he is, I’m glad I found him’.

So if it was love, why did it have to be him? In the novels she read, she liked the talkative, romantic characters the most. She had yearned for warmth, which had been missing from her first marriage, so why had her thoughts turned elsewhere? Hiko-san could be sardonic and brusque, and she shouldn’t have liked being around him. However…

However, he cared in his own way, about his apprentice and even to strangers who needed help. He respected her business, and he had never insulted her. He carried a deep sadness within him, yet he had trusted her with it. She had trusted him in return. When she spoke with him, she liked the flow of their banter. But she liked him best when he laughed. She had missed him, and she had been pleased to see him again, despite the circumstances. She liked spending time with him.

He’s a friend. He’s supposed to be a friend. It was late into the night, and she reached for her comb to smooth out her hair. Out of habit, she opened a different drawer instead, and her gaze caught the folded corner of a portrait. Oh, my collection of drawings from Tsukioka Tsunan.

As she smoothed the crease, she couldn’t help but look at the familiar features of Iba Hachiro. The sharp jawline, the fall of dark hair, the broad shoulders. She blinked hard. Was it her imagination, or did Hachiro-san suddenly resemble Hiko-san? Or was it the other way around?! Quickly, she closed the drawer, her heart pounding.

It made her wonder. Is it really love?

It was a terrible feeling, to be uncertain over this at her age. But she slowly decided that perhaps, Hiko-san was not exactly a friend, not anymore.