#once again the quotes are squeezing my heart flat

[starrbright]

Last Degree Of Nature | Nanami K.

Stay longer in me. Take root. Vera Pavlova, A Weight on My Back (tr. Steven Seymour)

January 5, 2024—April 5

Last continuation for Prof. Nanami: X | X | X | X |

3k words. Sickening fluff, honestly. No smut, really sorry for that. 🙇🏽‍♀️🫶🏼🫂

image used: X | a quote i used is from the 2014 film 'about time'

I had a bad case of baby fever after december 14, so......yeah. And I really was going through it and I thought of this.

Still going through it.

A few months has passed. Everything continues to go well with Nanami. Too well. Is it stupid? Honestly, you could swear it is. You sigh under your breath, tutting your head sharply to wipe away the thoughts but it comes back, the voice of your professor speaking up almost unheard, what she discusses just passes by through your ears.

Your fingers gripped around your pen tightly and loose and tighten again and again in the moment of being filled with worrying bits, at least is is for you. It's difficult not to fall on your head on the table and try to bear away what's been stirring you for a bit of awhile now.

How could you even begin to explain what you're going through. Maybe it's normal. Maybe it's too early.

And it is normal. But it is too early.

Yet, God....like again, how could you not be in the state you're in--when the two of you have been nothing but lovesick fools. When he's been someone so, a man you never dared to wish for.

You've lost count how many times you drifted far off from replaying memories in a loop.

The first time you stepped into his home, it was one what would expect for a man like him. A home out of a novel. Grand but mirrored familiarity. You were glad for him to have seem that he knew of the warm little things that makes life big before he met you.

That's what it seemed. If one would only look once and flat, they'll only see how he presents himself; gray. And a big part of him is, his life and what makes him he.

Figurines of what a home is to fill the spaces.

And then along came you to be the muse of his colorful but now he realizes--empty canvases.

There never seemed to be a missing piece even when he seeked out to satisfy his flesh. Even when you arrived in his life only for both of your indulgence. There never was.

Until his heart wanted itself to be given to you. Until he offered and you accepted it. He found there were endless crevices that could be filled more beautifully.

To see you free roaming in his home. To have you in his arms, laying back against his chest as you read a book, with him savoring the rest he can have with you, free from the confines of his work for a while.

The sun beaming through the windows while the wind flows against the curtains. The shine of the sun on your brown skin, the specks of dust he sees from the light, every little marks and dots of hairs on your arm. With him holding you as he beholds all those; he's frozen in time. And what he'd give to capture every moment. To let it flow endlessly.

It doesn't need to be said, it's in all of it already anyways--at least not yet. One would say there's the kind of rush in the beauty of just letting it be.

Though how long? How long until it can be sees as not too early?

How much more walking through it to be enough?

A few times you two have been in the café you're now in to study, to wash yourself away from the distractions. Him, who else.

Though it's been less than ten minutes of being in the place, after being in the queue and now that it was your turn to order. The cashier already familiared of you, has a little smile, almost barely showing but it's a knowing one--and when you felt a presence behind you, she laughs.

Widened eyes as you recognized the scent of a perfume, the way those arms encircled around you, the squeeze of fingers to the side of your stomach. His voice. " Angel. " He greets sweetly with a kiss on your cheek.

You couldn't find your words, too abashed at his sudden presence, let alone in public as you both stand in the line, let alone the fine man holding a boquet in his other hand as he holds his woman. "Let's go." He says before you could even protest, he's already given an ample of money for someone who didn't buy anything, he's already got your things from the table you're supposed to be--he's already had you sitting in his car.

"I'm supposed to be studying." You spoke at last.

"I know." he only chuckles. "But I missed you." He simply adds as he leans close you, a hand delicately firm on your cheek to kiss your lips. The thick presence of his perfume dizzying against the vibrant scent of the flowers--to the way he drowns you with kisses.

How unfair.

And how cliche it is. You hadn't thought Nanami would have ever pulled the kind of act, In the library, among the aisles of bookshelves, you're pinned back against a shelf as he kisses you. But then again he has fucked you more than enough times in the campus.

You couldn't say it wasn't adorable that he asked for this. His office was a building away from where you're both in as he's to lecture in a few minutes and you to attend your own classes, so that is where you ended up; making do in the library for a mere time of kissing.

"This is risky." You uttered in haste the second you both stepped in the quiet facility, to which he only hushed with another one of his, 'I know'

Next thing you know, he's hovering tall in front of you, one of his arm laying against the shelf, the other on the side of your face. "Hi." He breathes. There's no smile on him. How is it possible his eyes says otherwise.

"Hi." Nothing from your voice but just a gentle mouth of the word, a mere smile painting to be wide.

Then it slowly fell as his thumb grazes on your lips. "Let me kiss you." he still utters those kind of words. Never fails to take your breath each time.

Resolve melting away every time.

The last one recently, one which is all too vivid in your head--was the last straw to have enable all the want for more.

It was the morning of Sunday when Nanami called. yourself fresh from breakfast and was just about to wash the dishes. He tells it was Gojo who planted the idea in his mind just last night from their usual night out to drink, and he himself wasn't opposed to said idea--he liked it, really. Despite he wouldn't credit Gojo too much for it, of course. A dinner later in his home, that is. With the two men and their children.

How could you say no?

You were too happy to prepare and cook all those dishes with him in his kitchen before the night arrives. Amidst a few conversation about Gojo and Geto, their children as well, the conversation went to a boy named Yuuji.

The said boy whom Nanami has invited for later. Telling of the little story as you continue all the work in the kitchen,

Evident that the man is very fond of the boy. Spoke of how Yuuji's late grandfather was the owner of the flower shop he sometimes go to before you both happened, the said boy taking over after while still studying along in the same school and class with Megumi. Spoke of how a good kid he is. Spoke of how the boy told him that his grandfather would have liked to meet the woman Nanami has found, the old man would've been over the moon to know the flowers Nanami usually buy for his house now would be for a lover. Spoke of how Yuuji was always thrilled when he walks in the shop, having known it'll be for you. Which all led to him insisting the kid to go for the dinner, telling how he literally brightened up when he heard it.

You couldn't wait for the night to arrive.

But nothing could have prepared you for it.

As some have said, 'no one can prepare you for the love people you love can feel for them.'

All so suddenly your nerves flutter rapidly when footsteps and voices make itself known further. "That would be them." Nanami says with a little laugh following as he wipes his hands with a kitchen towel before heading to them.

Though you only remain standing behind the island, your hands fresh off the powdered sugar from sprinkling them on the now done strawberry cake you made; a dessert for the kids, but of course much more for Nanami and Gojo that your man has told you who has a bigger sweet tooth than anyone else.

Your wandering mind filled with nervousness in those short seconds was abruptly interrupted with adorable loud voices of little girls as they run in the kitchen and around to the dining room. The three professors following after and behind them is who you figured to be Megumi and Yuuji. The pink haired boy must be certainly Yuuji, by his sunshine air and the beautifully arranged flowers he holds, eyes wide with a big smile. Megumi besides him with the jet black hair and cool demeanor he has. The little girls Nanami has told earlier, Nanako and Mimiko who were now running back to the kitchen, towards where you are, little hands reaching up on the edge of the counter and tiptoeing. Loudly delighted with the cake they see.

"They really rubbed off from Satoru." Geto huffs, a mere annoyance in his voice but the fondness in his calm eyes tells so much.

"They're children." Nanami reasons expectedly, the calmest smile on his face, eyes flickering to you. Your heart just keeps on fluttering.

"And I'm your soon to be husband." None other than Gojo speaks as ever proud he is, to which only Geto, Nanami and Megumi rolled their eyes to. You, Yuuji, Nanako and Mimiko however--and despite the little girl's already knows, they have the same look of awe you and Yuuji have. "That's....that's lovely." You speak up softly, wiping your hands clean.

"Congrats." Yuuji barely stopped himself from seemingly shouting.

Then Geto laughs lightly, "Thank you." Walking up to the counter with the bag he holds, delightfully reeking of a savory scent, Gojo as well with two bottles of expensive looking alcohol. "I asked him just last night--" he begins with a wide grin but was cut off by his fiance. "Barely. He was too drunk when he did." Geto scoffs as he takes out a food container from the paper bag. "I had to get hammered, I was too scared!" Gojo protests as he pop opens the one bottle of alcohol and looked for glasses.

"He couldn't have done it normally despite feeling so." Nanami chimes in simply as he starts to set up the dishes on the table, making Gojo just following him across the dining room with the glasses now on his hands, his own already filled as he goes with his mouth.

Leaving you with Geto as the two boys goes there as well, lightly playing along with the little girls as they converse.

"It's nice to see you again." Geto says while now helping you prepare all the little things for dinner to begin and go well. "In this kind of setting, I mean." he adds, a light chuckle he makes. Having seen you a few times in the campus, of course, with Nanami secretely or just around. "And I'm glad, by the way."

You nod, abashment about your relationship with their friend almost not there anymore. "The same to you. And I'm glad as well." Happily, you smile.

At last dinner began. If simply meeting them all has had your heart growing so much, you couldn't be more wrong. You were worriedly too happy to be wrong.

That's where you begin to get.....scared.

And how you now find yourself after days and days of contemplating it--standing in front of the door of Geto's office.

Doubts of confronting it plainly gone, you were just aching to let it all out, but not yet to the man himself, so instead it's Geto. You think it's only fitting for you to go to him.

Sighing almost tiredly, you then knock on the door, when you walk in and he's met by you. He just lightly smiles and nodded for you to go in. You sit on the chair across from him where he's still on his laptop, as your eyes are nowhere on particular, gathering the bare strength to speak it out at last--he just waits for you speak, having already as expectedly guess what the subject will be or rather who about.

You breathe deeply as your head turns away before it goes back to him.

"I think I want to marry Kento."

Geto's focus stops, fingers typing away on a sudden halt, gaze now to you and eyebrows raised, "Ah." His very mere shock fades slowly into a small smile.

"Yeah," you let out barely, lolling your head to the side. Your ears at last hearing those words, it suddenly feels ridiculous. But the arrow has already been shot in you. Too much and maddening it is, still you don't want it to go away.

You find yourself then to be unwavering. The resolve finding its permanent stay.

A shaking breath flows out of your mouth, a trembling hand ghosts on your forehead as you look down. "I want to marry him." Never mind your unsteady voice, you want to say it endlessly.

Nostalgia waves pass by Geto with what reveals. Several months ago, Nanami spoke you're the one. His everything. And there you are now with an admission any longing being would dream to hear for their own. He looks at his engagement ring. A few weeks earlier, his lover was clinging to him as he tear up, drunk, asking to marry him, rambling how he wants eternity with him, promising he'll be the bestest father for their children.

He didn't ever think their lives would be this happy, he only hoped.

Geto is wordless to say the least.

His eyes back on you, it's the mellowest you've ever seen on him, mouth opening slowly, it's what he thinks to say then. "Satoru wouldn't be too happy with a double wedding. You know how extra he is--"

A breathless laugh you make in a light disbelief, "I'm serious." You say in exasperation, tears starting to fill your eyes.

Geto just smiles gently, not saying aything. What more could be said when you're just too happy for a friend, to contentedly know that until an end, they won't be alone.

"What are you waiting for?"

Going on with your day after was still as distracting, it wasn't heavy anymore though. You don't remember when was the last time you were excited to see him again without any hesitations.

When you do at the end of the day, in his house, finding rest in each other's warmth, your heart remains to be thrumming of that same thrilling joy when time has allowed you both to be with each other again, that same rhythm of feeling when you first began to have a crush on him.

And in the quietness, you deem it's time to make it known to him.

As he keeps himself cozy with his face buried on your neck, your soft body laying against his chest and in between his legs--gently, you rose from his hold and awaking him in the process. You sit yourself back on the couch as he looks at you curiously, while ever sweetly gentle, your hands still twined as he makes so. So much for how much more.

After all the time of thinking about it, you didn't see the need nor want to beat around.

" I want to marry you. "

How does one even take that in?

You were sure you've never seen your lover lose the composure on his face like that. It's nothing but pleasant.

"Marry me." The bliss in saying it, truly.

And hearing it from you, seeing your smile you evidently keep from widening, the stars in your eyes. You've taken him from his paradise to a place far greater than he would ever thought of.

You've truly taken him aback this time. He hadn't seen you were visioning the same piece as him. It seemed both of you were going through the same dilemma after all. Drowned too deep to have seen it.

You hadn't seen his eyes looking at your ring finger when his hand is entangled to yours, thikning of all the kinds of rings you'd love. How could you have possibly know he's been wishing for you to never leave his house when the night falls, for him to wake each morning with you in his arms, to get up earlier than you and make you breakfast, have and enjoy meals together without looking at the time.

You didn't see what he was painting with his eyes upon dinner that one night. How you light yourself a flame and the kids a magnet to you.

Suddenly when he holds you from behind, his hand yearned to feel a life within you. Voices of little ones echoing pleasantly in his mind. Angels running around his home.

Despite unspoken, unknown; you've been meeting halfway.

Nanami let his lips break into an opened smile, a little laugh breathing out as he tightens his twined hand on yours. "You read my mind."

Your cheeks could already hurt from smiling so much, but couldn't find any words after, you only laid your hand on both of yours, pressing your lips on his knuckles and feel your eyes ache from the tears collecting. Your lover's smile turned gentle as he sees you. " Marry me. " He murmurs. Simply indulging himself in saying it. "I'll marry you. And you of me." He says, returning your kisses on both of your hands.

You feel what he feels when he said them, and he feels what you felt when you answered yes.

Laughter flows in the halls of his home when he takes you in his whole hold once again.

"Satoru wouldn't want a double wedding--"

"I would not dream  of being in the same altar at the same time with that man."

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Finally done with this 😭😭😭🗣️🙏🏽 i am so tired. just went to our dance practice for a subject and finished this after and still have to type it all after just writing it on paper as usual😀🫠 but here we are, and back home and still am miserable, ive been so busy with college, and it's midnight here, i have a group reporting tomorrow and i barely studied about it🫶🏼🫂 anyways, i thought of writing my little thoughts about this story, im sorry if it's silly or shit😭

i had nanami in his thirties, while our reader is twenty-five. i hadn't thought of what she's taking, really. i honestly forgot what nanami's expertise is 🤸🏾‍♀️ geto teaches art and field study 1, while gojo is in physics and physical education. they had nanako and mimiko just after they were born, heard from someone they know that the little girls' mother couldn't raise them, so they referred themselves willingly. megumi in an orphanage after the girls have grown. i really wish i involved shoko and haibara😔😔😔😔💔😔💔😔💔😔💔😔 let's just think of them being there. especially in their weddings😁 also while at campus earlier, i randomly chose songs in my playlists to queue and one of them is 'that part' by lauren spencer smith and i realized how this work is fitting for that song 😭💔😭😭😭💔😔😭💔

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love

(title/quote by john knowles)

book: open heart

pairing: bryce lahela x jensen valentine (M!MC)

words: 1358

warnings/rating: no warnings; mature

A/N: did not reread this basically at all i am just ready to be done w it. @choicespride valentines event for date night, bath, wine, and self-love. @choicesfebruary2024 (@jerzwriter) for eros, phila, storge, pragma, and philautia

~~~

Squeezing the bottle’s dropper, he let out the perfect amount of serum before moving to the next cheek, then his forehead. He carefully massaged it in with precise circular motions, ending by splaying his fingers, pushing back on his skin.

Date night preparation was a careful and calculated thing for Bryce, each product laid out in order of use across the counter. He set them back onto their assigned revolving tray to be put away in the closet once he was done.

He was in the middle of re-capping his toner when there was a knock on the door. He considered his reflection for only a moment—sporting a baby blue fuzzy headband to keep his hair back, only a towel around his waist—before quickly rushing to the door at the next knock.

Whipping it open, he nearly immediately slammed it shut again, leaving only a small crack between the door and the doorframe.

“What are you doing here? I wasn’t supposed to pick you up for another hour!”

“Can you open the door?” Jensen asked, no question in his tone about Bryce closing it in his face in the first place.

Bryce sighed, breaking his mystical, secret, pre-date process and swinging it open.

Jensen was holding his usual overnight bag in one hand, a grocery bag tucked under his other. Bryce stepped out of the way to let him in, but that didn’t stop his line of questioning.

“What happened to dinner and go-karts? I already had my outfit planned and everything!”

“I thought a night in would be fun. I got your favorites.”

He said it in typical Jensen fashion—flat and entirely lacking in further elaboration. Bryce sighed, leaning against the counter as Jensen started pulling ingredients from the bag.

“Yeah but…go-karts.”

Jensen didn’t seem deterred, still emptying the brown bag before folding it and setting it aside. “We can have sex sooner.”

Bryce tilted his head in a look, Jensen’s tone still blank and factual, listing the benefits he assumed Bryce would’ve enjoyed. As much as he wanted to argue, knowing Jensen treated sex as an excuse—or maybe a requirement—to be listened to, he got the hint.

“What happened—why are you upset?”

Jensen shook his head, pulling a pan from the cupboard below him. “I’m not, just tired. If I have to socialize with anyone else today, I think I’ll spontaneously combust.”

Bryce smiled, but he wasn’t easily fooled. “If that’s the case, I guess I’ll have to go, too.”

The glance Jensen gave him said everything it needed to. He was the exception, and it wasn’t a role to be taken lightly.

Without further protest, Bryce went to the bathroom to finish his routine, skipping a few steps and changing into a new outfit. Not the one he planned, but a comfortable crew neck and pajama shorts.

Jensen was putting their meals onto plates, setting the table in silence. He always carried his tension in his back, and Bryce knew the stress of whatever issue he failed to share was making him stiff. Before he could turn back to get their drinks, Bryce caught him by the arm, dragging him into his space. Jensen gave him a quick up-and-down, path only consisting of his eyes to his lips, before Bryce tucked his hand against his neck.

Every time they kissed like that, after a long day or time apart, Jensen responded as if he forgot what it felt like in the first place. His instant reaction—a hand on Bryce’s waist, the tension falling from his shoulders—was enough to tell Bryce that he needed it. When they pulled apart, Bryce could see the bone-deep exhaustion in his expression, more tired than one day warranted. Bryce was happy to give up his plans in order to provide some remedy for him.

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to?”

An offering. Jensen could either open up, or quietly sit and listen to Bryce chat on about anything he could think of—a specialty of his, and the whole thing an unspoken routine for the both of them.

“You,” he said before peeling off, grabbing wine from on top of the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard.

And that’s exactly how it went. Bryce kept talking, even getting a few light expressions from Jensen, but nothing too noteworthy. Trying to cheer him up wasn’t necessarily his goal, but it was always a satisfying bonus.

As they finished dinner, Bryce stopped him before he could head for the couch. “Bath?” Jensen’s expression moved from neutral to something resembling disgust. Bryce knew his opinions on baths, but he had tried things he felt similarly about for Jensen and came out with a better outlook. “For me?”

That was all it took. Jensen knew how this night was supposed to go, and he was the reason it didn’t, so it was only fair.

In the time it took Jensen to collect his pajamas and pour another glass, Bryce already had the bath ready. They switched places, Bryce heading to throw towels into the dryer as Jensen got settled. He kicked the crawling thoughts, just focusing on the hot water loosening his muscles and fizzing mound of bubbles floating on the surface.

Bryce happily came in a moment later, settling criss-cross on the floor near the edge of the tub. Wordlessly, he pushed past the pile of bubbles until he hit the water, running it through Jensen’s hair. Without reluctance, Jensen let his head tip back into his hands. 

Bryce paused a few times, going to collect some face mask or acne patch to try. Jensen melted into his touch at every new product. After a long while of silence and massages, Jensen finally started to talk.

“They took me off our diagnostics case.”

Bryce sighed out an, “Oh.” Though, it was a stepping stone, a bridge, a path meant to be tread on. “Why?”

“‘Per patient request’ is all Tobias said.” He could tell there was more to it—a sore detail that Jensen kept to himself—but Bryce was glad to be kept in the loop at all.

Despite what he would say to most—an empathetic, “I’m sorry.”—he held off and rerouted. It meant nothing to Jensen, and had nothing to do with himself. So, he settled on nothing. He stayed present, not letting himself dive down too many hypotheticals, and focused on massaging the shampoo on his hands into Jensen’s hair.

As he finished, rinsing his hands off in the water, he tucked one hand against Jensen’s cheek. He immediately nuzzled in, letting Bryce thumb at his skin, pushing back suds and curls.

As he turned, looking up at him through his lashes, there was a darkness in his gaze more hungry than desire—a longing only satiated by Bryce’s warm hand on his cheek—the sense of belonging, being wanted, and being more than nothing. Not a burden. Being loved.

It was nearly identical to the way he looked at his career; a gluttonous need to prove everyone wrong.

But here there was a softness in his eyes, no sign of the quick calculations and sharp wit waiting to strike. It might’ve been gratitude, it might’ve been defeat. Either way, it killed him to see—gratitude for the most basic generosity: a kind touch after so many slashes, or defeat after a lifetime of dragging himself out of hell with only the determination and spite under his skin.

“I’m tired.” Of what? This day, or this life?

“If you fall asleep, I’ll make sure you don’t drown,” Bryce offered. Jensen gave him a grin—the one reserved only for him in the sense that it wasn’t a grin at all. It was a barely-there twitch of his cheeks, the corners of his mouth spreading for hardly a blink before he settled once again.

Bryce sat up and planted a short kiss on his lips. He left to fetch the towels as Jensen rinsed off, wrapping him up and kissing down his cheek and to his neck, stopping at the crest of his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Bryce replied, knowing it was for more than just this night.

~~~

tagging: @cariantha @kyra75 @lilyoffandoms @gutsfics @inlocusmads

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Debrief, Pt. 1 (Intro)

(A/N: Politics! Verbal bullshitting! Thinly veiled threats! Overabundance of accessories and unnecessary magic use! POLITICS!

To quote Arya off screen, "I'd rather go through Gil'ead three more times than deal with any of this political hellscape, but *singsong* here I am! Putting on a STUPID dress uniform, about to be, for all intents and purposes, fucking INTERROGATED about being ambushed, losing my mate, teleporting a dragon egg, getting TORTURED while, haha, I was being asked a series of questions, also known as being interrogated, becAUSE THIS WON'T BE TRIGGERING AT ALL! :D GLEN WHY THE FUCK HAVEN'T WE RENOUNCED OUR FUCKING CULTURE YET?!"

Arya is required to attend an official debriefing on the ambush and her captivity by the council of elf lords and ladies. She prefers when she gets stabbed from the front.)

~~~~~~

“I still think this could be done on paper.” 

Glenwing patted his commander’s shoulder and pulled her into his side for a quick hug, never once faltering in their pace as they meandered to the great hall. “You’ll do fine. You can handle questions.” He paused, a grim tilt to his half smirk. “Don’t handle these questions like you did the last ones you got. You’re supposed to answer these ones.”

The dark humor drew a similarly tight lipped grin from her. “I’m not worried about that.” 

Arya raised a hand to run it over her hair and shot her medic a sheepishly appreciative look when he caught her wrist. It had taken both of them an almost embarrassing amount of time to remember how to tie the Flat Crest braid required of elven women when in dress uniform. It was even longer for Glen to do it neatly enough for Rhunön to give the plait a passing inspection, the smith’s obsession with perfection not helping matters. 

They both hadn’t voiced what was on their minds during the entire, rather exasperating, process. The real reason why they had so much trouble tying what should have been a hairstyle they knew by heart after all these years. 

Fäolin had always been the one to do whatever hairstyle was asked of them for official events, even before he joined their squad. He’d laugh at their attempts whenever they returned to the forest, usher them into a chair and deftly weave bright silver or midnight black strands into the designs required in seconds. Arya and Glenwing had simply never had to learn.

Arya let out a rough sigh and tucked her thumbs under either side of the shiny belt clasped around her waist. She missed Wyrda’s familiar weight on her right hip. “This is just another political stunt. I can manage Islanzadí, we’re…I don’t know, figuring it out, I guess. But all of them?” The young elf gestured helplessly, a hint of sharp restlessness and budding frustration in the movement. “Who in the hells knows what they’re going to ask. There’s too many strings here, tangled in too many webs.” She made a face at the metaphors. “At least I’m falling into the stupid formal language again easy enough.”

“And just like that, you’re out of it.” Glen gave the combat liaison another squeeze around the shoulders, pointedly ignoring the open stare of a lone elf sitting in an alcove as they passed. “You can count Iläin to at least be fair. And Rendir’s still pretty fond of you, even if you haven’t really talked since you got back. They’re not all against you, and this is just another debriefing, not some official trial for blame.” 

Arya snorted softly. “Oh, we both know blame is going to be a factor. Valaria looked incensed when I said I wasn’t sure how Durza got through the preliminary wards on the outskirts without triggering an alarm. She’s got a lot to explain, but it’s not like I can question her.” 

Glen bobbed his head in reluctant agreement. “Yeah…Valaria might be an issue. She was pretty harsh on me when I had my own debriefing.” The medic tapped the tip of each mechanical finger against the end of his metal thumb, running through nerve check after nerve check as he realized a troubling fact. “Däthedr reigned her in, but…”

“But he and the Queen probably won’t do the same for me.” Arya shook her head. “Too much personal history. Any interference could be seen as them interfering with the investigation and trying to shield me.”

“It’s pretty clear there’s nothing to blame you for, even a Mani’s Cave salamander could see that.” The image of Lady Valaria of House Teorann standing at her podium as an eyeless, bioluminescent salamander, constantly pushing the useless spectacles she wore just for show up her slimy tube of a snout, made Arya crack a genuine smile. “Just be polite, don’t give them anything to jump on.”

“Or you could light a fire under their asses, see how they like it.” Both elves looked up, startled that there was already someone waiting outside the doors to the great hall. Brom shook out the match still burning from lighting his pipe and tucked it into a small leather pocket sewn into the inside of his armored coat. “Not literally. Why do I always feel like I have to add that on with you?”

“Because you taught me too well.” Arya flashed her former mentor a sharp toothed grin. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a remedial study hall to get to, old man?”

Brom grumbled into his beard, pipesmoke wafting up each time his lips parted. He had let the hairs grow again since they arrived, no longer quite as neat or well-kempt but passable as it grew out into a more formidable piece of facial hair. “As if I’d let you in there without an inspection. You’d probably go in with your boots untied and your shirt untucked if I wasn’t here.” He glanced at Glenwing. “Well, if Glen let you get away with it.” The medic gave him a grin of his own, knowing full well that was a lie. Brom cared far more than he ever wanted anyone to know, the sentimental old bastard. 

The old Rider gave his former ward a going over with his pipe clamped in his teeth. He tugged her sleeves straight and smoothed the lines of her shoulders, yanked the wrinkles out of the formal jacket by the hem. 

“Right. You pass.” His voice was gruff, but there was a certain warmth there. In a move only Glen or Brom could pull off, the man patted Arya’s cheek twice before he clasped her face in his hands. The gedwëy ignasia was rough and warm against her skin, tingling with everpresent magic despite his dragon’s passing. “You did everything you could and more, you hear me? Whatever those high and mighty idiots in there say, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of. Understood?” 

Arya searched his face, the determination and buried worry etched into his skin above wild eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The support she found meant multitudes, the support he had always shown, even when his rage and revenge was all he had in the world. She swore she’d never tell him, but despite the teasing they shared now, the arguments, the sometimes heavy handed tactics to try and prepare her for the world outside Du Weldenvarden…he had been more of a father to her than anyone. 

So of course there was only one response.

Brom felt the young elf just barely relax. She smiled at him, beaming, that little spitfire elfling again being reminded of her worth, of all the things she could do in the world. “Yes’sir. Understood.”

“Good girl.” The Rider released her and stepped back, giving her one last onceover. “Give them hell. I’m late for Oromis and Glaedr’s remedial lessons, or whatever you call them.” 

“Don’t pull a muscle, old man!” Arya called after his retreating back, getting an annoyed grunt in response. 

Glen checked the watch on his wrist as Arya’s smile faded. Two minutes. “You ready?”

The woman sucked in a breath and held it as she snapped to the familiar bearing of Attention, dropping into At Ease for a brief moment before letting the air out in a rush. “No. But it’s not like I can prepare for this bullshit.”

“I’ll be right here. Just yell and I’ll be in there in a heartbeat. Less, even.” Thirty seconds. Glen pulled his commander into one last quick hug before he smoothed out her uniform again. “Verrunsmal äthr.” 

Arya pushed her forehead against his and gave him a firm punch to the upper chest. “Verrunsmal äthr.” 

Then she turned, straightened with another steadying breath, and entered the great hall.

[runawaymarbles]

an incomplete list of things that really happen in Moby Dick, an absolutely wild book that I have just finished after four months

Note: events are in the order that I think of them and not the order in which they occur in the book:

Ishmael goes to an inn and they say “there are no beds but if you want to share with this cannibal that’s cool.” Ishmael shares with the cannibal, whose name is Queequeg, and after establishing that he is not going to get eaten, seems to fall madly in love with him.

Quote: "How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. Thus, then, in our hearts’ honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg—a cosy, loving pair."

Quote: “He pressed his forehead against mine, clasped me round the waist, and said that henceforth we were married; meaning, in his country’s phrase, that we were bosom friends; he would gladly die for me, if need should be.”

Fellas is it gay to kiss a man's nose, cuddle in bed with him, compare yourselves to honeymooners, declare love after 24 hours, and then declare you’re married repeatedly throughout the book?

Backing up a bit, it’s apparently taken for granted the Pacific Islanders are cannibals? But Ishmael also does not seem to have a problem with this, and at some point straight up defends cannibalism (at one point going on a “we’re all cannibals because MEAT IS MURDER” tangent, which is a bit rich for a dude whose day job is killing whales.)

He regularly refers the Polynesian characters as savages, but then will occasionally remind us that he thinks all people are savages, singling out Achilles and, for some reason, German painter Albrecht Durer.

(Occasionally Queequeg will be like “wow Christians are weirdos” and Ishmael will be like “oh shit... he’s right. Why are we such weirdos.”)

At one point while they’re still on land, Ishmael becomes convinced that Queequeg has killed himself, because he’s locked himself in their room. The landlady tells someone to get a sign made that says “no suicides permitted here, and no smoking in the parlor;” because, quote, “might as well kill both birds at once.”

It turns out that Queequeg has not killed himself, he is just squatting with a statue of his god held over his head and refuses to move a muscle until sundown. This is how Herman Melville thinks Ramadan is practiced.

Sidebar: Melville seemed under the impression that Ramadan was a Polynesian thing?

Ishamel drags capitalism at every opportunity

and if there isn’t an opportunity, he makes one

“Paying for things sucks but getting paid is the best even though money is terrible and people who chase money are all going to hell”

On one of the ships they run into, one of the sailors has declared that he is the Archangel Gabriel, and basically recruited most of the crew into a cult. This is never mentioned again.

Instead, Melville gives us entire chapters on: whale heads, whale tales, why whaling is a noble calling actually, rope, etc.

At one point Ishmael flat-out says that if you don’t respect whaling he will fight you 

There is an entire chapter about the color white, in which he lists other white things he thinks are scary. They include: great white sharks, polar bears, albatrosses, the Andes mountains, and albinos.

There is also an entire chapter about whale penis. At one point, if I read that chapter correctly, a dude makes the whale penis into a suit? Or possibly climbs into it? It’s all very euphemistic at that point.

After they kill a whale, they have to do something known as “squeezing sperm.” (He’s referring to parts of the sperm whale, not actual sperm." Ishmael REALLY LIKES squeezing sperm, and goes on about how how sometimes, when squeezing sperm, he accidentally squeezes the hands of his fellows by accident, because they are also squeezing sperm, and Ishmael really likes that and wishes they could hold hands more.

“Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever!” - Ishmael, chapter 94.

He admits that sure, maybe over-whaling could lead to fewer whales, but whales are so big and have been here such a long time that there can’t be any risk of them ever being endangered: look at Elephants! Elephants are doing fine!

The previous chapter did not age well.

There is a dude named Peleg with very strong @dril vibes who, when accused of being a little off his rocker, declares “say that again to me, and start my soul-bolts, but I’ll—I’ll—yes, I’ll swallow a live goat with all his hair and horns on.”

At one point Ishmael’s boat almost gets run over by the ship, and he’s like “is that normal???” and everyone is like “yep” and Ishmael is like “cool if anyone is looking for me I’ll be writing my will” and goes and does that. Which is hilarious because he established in the first chapter that he does not own Anything.

Ishmael is so invested in measuring whales that he tattoos’ whales dimensions onto his arm because he doesn’t have anywhere else to write it down

He’s also really offended that pirates are more famous than whalers.

Queequeg gets a fever and has the carpenter build him a coffin, but then he gets better so they turn his coffin into a buoy. This buoy is the reason Ishmael is the only one not to go down with the ship, so in a way, Queequeg did die to save him. Huh.

Captain Ahab decides that what he needs to kill Moby Dick is a Special Harpoon. He has the blacksmith make one. They are still on their wooden ship at this time and, despite over-explaining every other detail, Melville does not seem to clarify how they did this without burning the ship down.

Ahab also decides he needs to temper it in blood, and asks the harpooners if they’ll contribute some, and they’re like “yeah, whatever, man.”

(The harpooners are all POC who write off all shenanigans as Weird White People Shit, and seem to be the only ones with the braincells.)

The other character with one brain cell is Starbuck, the first mate, who really wants to go home to his wife Mary, and his son, “boy.” I am not convinced he knows his son’s name.

Ahab makes himself a nest on the mast so he can look for Moby Dick and a bird steals his hat

Some out of context quotes:

“Hark! The infernal orgies!”

“Long usage had, for this Stubb, converted the jaws of death into an easy chair.”

“Stubb knows him best of all, and Stubb always says he’s queer; says nothing but that one sufficient little word queer; he’s queer, says Stubb; he’s queer-- queer, queer; and keeps dinning it into Mr. Starbuck all the time-- queer-- sir-- queer, queer, very queer.”

“Alas! Dough-boy!”

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

[doyouevenshipbr0]

gruvia drabble

author’s note: ok. hi. here we are again. i go on a 1948392 year hiatus and then become inspired to write something from the most RANDOM thing. but this was too good to pass up. so essentially i saw a headcannon by @incorrect-ft-ez-quotes and then @bbygirljuvi added onto it:) look at my most recent reblog for reference if u want hehehe. yeah ok maybe i did add some bs healing abilities to juvia’s powers... sue me! ok here we gooooo i hope u cuties enjoy!!!

*

“Popsicle,” Natsu sighed. “What the hell are you doin’ back here?” He held his door in one hand as he stared at a recently familiar face.

“What, a guy can’t stop by and visit his best friend?” Gray nervously chuckled.

Happy and Natsu weren’t buying it, exchanging suspicious looks as Gray impatiently stood at the door frame.

“Best friend?” Natsu rose an eyebrow.

“And for the 4th day in a row?” Happy jabbed, hovering beside Natsu’s head

“Would ya’ just let me in?” Gray spat out, clearly looking jittery.

“Fine.” Natsu groaned, stepping aside so Gray could step in.

“But we’re gonna’ start charging rent!” Happy exclaimed.

“Whatever, I don’t care, just as long as I can hang out here for a little while.” Gray hustled in, plopping himself onto Natsu’s worn down couch.

“Ok, you can stay here on one condition, tell me what it is you’re freaking out about. And gimme’ the real reason you’ve been comin’ here.” Natsu folded his arms.

“Aye!” Happy mimicked Natsu, crossing his little paws.

Gray let out a groan, bowing his head between his legs before whipping his head back up. “It’s Juvia, ok!?”

“Juvia?” Happy asked.

“But, you haven’t tried avoiding her in forever. You guys have been all buddy-buddy lately.” Natsu was trying to piece this all together in his head.

Gray blushed, averting his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“So what’s the deal?” Natsu was doing his best to get straight to the point, as nuance was not his strong suit.

“W-well... we... kind of... sort of...” Gray scratched at the back of his head, searching for the gall to say it. “We got drunk the other night at the guild, and then I went to walk her home since she was pretty wasted, and...one thing lead to another and... we almost kissed.”

Natsu was as confused as ever. “So?”

“So?!”

“Well, don’t ya’ like her?”

“W-well-!” Gray stammered, and gave out a defeated sigh, bowing his head again. “Yeah.” He mumbled to the point that Natsu or Happy could barely hear him.

“So then why don’t you wanna’ smooch her?” Happy was almost as dense as Natsu.

“Gah! You guys don’t get it!” Gray sprung up. “Forget it. I’m gonna’ find a new hiding spot. Preferably, one that asks less questions.”

Just as Gray made his way to Natsu’s front door, there was a sudden knock. Gray froze in his tracks as a chill went up his spine. He had a knack for this sort of thing, knowing when Juvia’s around, and that chill only ever meant one thing.

“Shit.”

Gray needed an escape route, but his head wasn’t on straight. He frantically scoured the little house, looking from wall to wall, but there was only one door, and Gray was just feet away from it.

“Natsu, whatever you do, don’t-“

“Be there in a sec’!” Natsu shouted at the door.

“You idiot!” Gray whisper yelled.

Natsu opened the door to none other than Juvia. She was known for her expressive nature. The look on her face could tell you anything you want to know, without her having to say a word.

“Hi, Natsu-san.” Juvia said both frantically and nervously. “Juvia was just wondering if Gray-sama was here.” She held her hands together promptly, hoping that he would be there.

“Actually Gray-“ Natsu was cut off at the sound of shattering glass. He instinctively spun around to a disastrous scene, displaying a broken window, shards of glass everywhere, and no Gray to be found. “Just left.” Natsu finished the thought differently than he originally intended.

Juvia heard the shattering too, and she had her answer. Her Gray-dar never failed her. Using her Gray-dar she quickly scurried to the back of the house, crossing her fingers that Gray hadn’t gotten away yet. The first thing she heard was a hiss of pain, and as she turned the corner, there sat her Gray in the ground, holding his bloody knee.

“Son of a bitch!” Gray yelled in pain, applying more pressure to his cut knee. Sure, he was used to getting beaten to a pulp in a fight, but he wasn’t exactly expecting a busted up knee right about now.

“Gray-sama!” Juvia’s eyes widened at the blood, and she hurried to his side.

Gray finally realized her presence. He stopped writhing in pain for a moment, and tried to appear as casual as usual. “Oh...” He forced a laugh. “Hey Juvia. what are you doin’ here?”

“Juvia should be asking you the same thing.” She knelt by Gray’s side. “But first, let Juvia help.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let Juvia see it, Gray-sama.”

He sighed, giving in and releasing his hold. Juvia quickly took her hands and placed them on Gray’s knee. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and suddenly her hands became water, but it wasn’t normal water. It was soothing, and it was making the stinging in Gray’s knee go away.

“Juvia has been working on some healing techniques. It’s nothing like Wendy, but I can heal some minor, surface-level things.” She explained, using her water hands to massage the area.

“Now that Juvia has finally caught you, why have you been avoiding me?” She finally looked at Gray who blushed at the sudden eye contact.

“I haven’t.” Gray tried to sound as natural as possible.

All Juvia had to do was give him a look that practically screamed “oh, please.” before he cracked. “Ok, fine. I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Juvia knows!” She exclaimed.

“I just don’t want things to be awkward between us!” He explained.

“But you don’t think avoiding me for days would make it awkward?” Juvia finally finished his knee and reverted her hands back to normal.

Gray groaned. “You’re right.” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to hide his face.

“Is this about... the other night?” Juvia finally asked.

“Do ya’ really have to even ask?” Gray avoided eye contact.

“But Juvia thought the night went well! I had a lot of fun!”

“So did I! Until...” He cut himself off.

“Until we almost kissed?” Juvia finished it for him.

“Yeah.”

“I see.” Juvia paused. “Are Juvia’s lips chapped?”

“Huh?” He finally peaked up at her.

“Or did Juvia have something in her teeth maybe?” She was going into panic mode.

“No that’s not-“

Juvia cut him off with as gasp, and her hands slapped against her mouth. “Or does Juvia’s breath stink?! Is that it?!”

“Would you knock it off!” Gray finally stopped her. “It doesn’t have to do with any of that stuff.

“Oh.” Juvia sunk. “So Gray-sama just does not want to kiss Juvia then.”

“No!” He instantly cut off that thought, even though he was embarrassed by how eager he sounded. “Not that either.” He grumbled.

“Then..?”

“We were drunk. Yes, we were having fun and all, but, I dunno’.” Gray grumbled, looking for the right words. “We haven’t had our first kiss yet. So when we do, I want it to be... kinda’... special. I guess. In a way.” Gray finished with some filler words to try and take the heat away from his face, but it was no use.

“S-s-special?! Gray-sama wants our kiss to be special?!” Juvia lit up, almost freezing in time waiting for someone to pinch her, because she figured this had to be a dream. However, she still was a bit lost, so she put a pause on her momentary fantasy. “Wait, so then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because I didn’t know how to tell you all that. I was trying to buy some time until I could figure out what to say.” Gray released a deep exhale. “But I guess I’ve said it all now.”

“You sure have.” Juvia said giddily right before she launched herself at Gray, tightly clutching Gray’s shoulders in her arms as her cheek was pressed up firmly against his.

“Gah!” Gray shouted in surprise, trying to keep his balance as Juvia leeched onto him. They were still sitting, but she almost knocked him flat on his back.

“But you know what, Gray-sama?” Juvia broke her clutch, making sure she was looking right at Gray.

“What?” He looked down at her curiously.

“Juvia thinks every moment with Gray-sama is special. So to Juvia, any time is perfect for a first kiss.” She smiled so sweetly is made Gray’s heart just about burst.

“Yeah?” Gray felt the corner of his mouth tug up.

“Yep.” She nodded in assurance.

“If you say so.”

And without a second thought, Gray closed the gap between them, planting a sweet and soft kiss on Juvia’s lips. As they parted, they leaned in and pressed their foreheads against each other, both wearing matching grins.

“That looked pretty special from in here!” Happy interjected from inside the house, followed by Natsu’s laughter.

Gray and Juvia jumped, startled by the sudden noise. “Happy, shut it!” Gray turned his head, looking through what used to be a window, and seeing Natsu and Happy standing in their living room.

“Maybe we wouldn’t be able to hear you two slobbering on each other if there was a window here!” Natsu yelled, referring to the gaping hole in the middle of his wall.

“We were not slobbering, you moron!” Gray blushed furiously, finally standing up and facing Natsu.

“That’s what it looked like to me!” Natsu teased back, wearing a devious smile.

“Aye!” Happy seconded.

“Mind your business, flame-for-brains!”

“Next time you need to hide out for a week, you ain’t comin’ here!” Natsu shouted.

“Fine by me.” Gray scoffed.

He then looked back at Juvia as she appeared a little on edge, wondering if she was going to have to break up a fight between Gray and Natsu.

He grinned once again, at the girl he couldn’t wait to spend more special time with, making more memories, and growing even closer

He reached for Juvia’s hand and squeezed it. “I was gettin’ tired of running away anyway.”

[maliceinborderland]

From Here, to the Moon, and Back

Summary: A collection of moments in Niragi’s journey raising his daughter alone.

Word Count: 7,066

Warnings: brief mentions of character death(reader is deceased), mentions of depression, bit of swearing

Genre: Single Dad Niragi AU, oofc Niragi, slight angst, slice of life, fluff, some crack ig?

**oofc : out of character

A/N: this took me FOREVER to post. I wanted to make this MUCH longer and go more into detail as well as provide more dialogue but this new post restrictions are killing me. I might turn this into a mini series in which y’all give me prompts and I write more extensive scenarios depicting those situations/prompts. ALSO: the depiction of Niragi in this fic is akin to what I believe his behavior outside of the borderlands. **spoiler** he is nothing like his borderlands self in the real world, and he doesn’t even remember his action that took place there nor did they actually happen as they occurred in a different plane of existence **end of spoiler**

A soft, whimper snapped Niragi out of his slumber. He slowly sat up in bed, strands of his unruly hair falling over his eyes. The whimpering continued as he got up and walked to the crib by the window.

He stared at Tsuki as she wriggled about, her cheeks bright pink and small droplets forming at the brims of her wide eyes. She stared up at him, her lip quivering, not yet crying.

“What gives?” he said, quietly, more to himself than to her.

Niragi checked her diaper to see if she needed changing. Clean and dry.

He went to the changing station next to the dresser, fetching a clean bottle, formula, and a bottle of water. Already second nature, he prepared a bottle for her. He made his way back to the crib, nudging the bottle’s nipple against Tsuki’s mouth, to no avail.

“Come on, kid.” he mumbled. “We both need to sleep and you’re not exactly helping me out here.” He sighed and found her pacifier somewhere by her feet. Oddly enough, she suckled on it no problem.

What a weird kid, he thought, shaking his head. 

He let her lay there, hoping she’d end up falling asleep. He made his way back to his own bed, throwing himself face down onto the mattress, releasing a deep breath.

A few minutes later, having felt like seconds, Tsuki began to softly whimper again. 

Niragi groaned into his pillow. Just one night of peace and quiet. That’s all he wanted.

He debated on letting Tsuki cry it out as he had been. Deep down he knew it was wrong, but he just didn’t know how to go about this parenting business. 

Tsuki’s whimpers rose in volume, her whimpering becoming full fledged cries, and hopelessness began to overwhelm him.

Niragi crawled out of bed once again, and loomed over her crib, his breath heavy, teeth clenched. His fingers curled over the rails of the crib, his knuckles white. Tsuki’s cries continued, and Niragi felt himself starting to completely lose it. His breathing became shallow and heavy, and he felt lightheaded. 

He sunk to the floor, his back against the railing of the crib, tired out of his mind. His eyes ached and throbbed from lack of sleep, eyelids heavy, and his body felt like it was being weighed down from exhaustion.

He just wanted to rest. Just a little bit. 

He wanted to go numb. 

He wanted to feel nothing.

He wanted everything to stop.

Just a few moments of peace and quiet was all he wanted. He just wanted to sleep and forget the reality he was condemned to live in.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, what sins he committed that he was atoning for now.

Stop… just stop… be quiet…. he thought.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his ears, covering them.

Be quiet, he begged silently. Please just be quiet.

Tears began to threaten to fall from his own eyes.

If she was here, she’d know what to do, he thought. She should be here.

Tsuki’s cries became piercing and impossible to drown out.

Niragi stood up almost too quickly, stumbling slightly over his own feet, and leaned over the crib railing.

“What? What?! WHAT?!” He asked, a little too loudly. “You’re not messy. You’re not hungry. You won’t sleep. Just what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Tsuki’s cries hushed, and the baby girl looked up at him eyes wide, her lip quivering.

Whether she stopped crying to listen to him or because she was afraid of him, Niragi couldn’t tell.

Tears began to spill down his face.

“I’m trying. I’m fucking trying.” He cried. “I don’t know what to do. Do you think I wanted this? No! I wasn’t even ready for kids! But your mom…” his voice broke, “your mom wanted you so bad. And I went along with what she wanted. Mommy always got what she wanted, and now look! She’s not even here! How fucked is that?!” Sobs began to bubble up from his throat. “How could she leave like that?” He rested his head against the railing, allowing himself to let it all out. He didn’t care how loudly the sobs ripped out of his throat, he just couldn’t hold back.

The whimpering began again, and he looked at the baby girl with his piercing eyes.

“What? What do you want?!” He yelled, and Tsuki became silent once more as she stared up at her father, their gazes connecting.

He looked over her. She’d grown quite a bit in the past few weeks. Her downy hair had thickened, and was nearly a full head of dark, raven colored hair. Her milky skin was tinged bright pink from her crying, especially near her eyes and cheeks. But his heartstrings tugged as he looked deep into her eyes. Your eyes. Sure, they resembled his eye shape more, but the gaze, color, lashes, and depth… that was all you. 

She stared up at him so intently and after what seemed like an eternity, Niragi felt like he understood.

“You just want someone to hold you, huh?” A stray tear fell from his right eye. Carefully, he did his best to lift Tsuki out of the crib, her whimpers shushing altogether. “That’s all you wanted, huh? It’s what you needed?” He felt a knot form in his throat again, and more tears began to fall. “Me, too.” He gingerly caressed her cheek, his scarred hands a huge contrast compared to her soft, unblemished skin.

How could he have been so careless?

He hadn’t been the only one hurting.

He wasn’t the only one who missed you.

Slowly, Niragi began to softly rock her back and forth in his arms as he paced around the room.

“You wanna know how Mommy and I met? Hm?” He asked her. “We met at a support group. There was an accident a few years ago in Shibuya, and your mommy and I got caught in the middle of it. That’s how I got all these scars, you know? Your mommy had some, too, but she was still the most beautiful person in the room. Always.” He smiled down at Tsuki, who had begun to coo quietly. “She asked me out first, too. I thought she wasn’t serious, but she was. My scars aren’t so bad right now, but they were back then. She still saw something in me, though. Something worth loving. We loved each other a lot.” Tsuki took hold of Niragi’s finger, squeezing it tightly. Niragi went on to tell her several stories of how he and you started off your relationship, your milestones as a couple, and even your wedding. “When your mom told me she was pregnant, I was scared shitless, but you know what? We loved each other. And it’s because we loved each other that you exist. You were made out of love, Tsuki.” Niragi stood by Tsuki’s crib, where moonlight from the window began to pour in.

He shifted the curtain open a bit more, the moon coming more into view. “You see the moon? That’s where mommy is, along with all the stars in the sky. And you wanna know what else? There’s a famous quote about it. ‘月が綺麗ですね(Tsuki ga kirei desu ne?).’ You know what it means? It means ‘the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’ But you know something really cool? It’s that some people use this phrase to tell each other they love each other. Like their love is so true and obvious just like how there’s no doubt in the moon being beautiful. That’s why we named you ‘Tsuki,’ you know?” 

Tsuki cooed curiously at the repetition of her name, but her eyelids began to flutter with sleepiness. 

“For us, your mom and I, nothing was more certain than our love for each other and our love for you.” He gave her a sad smile, shifting his weight as he lay himself on the bed, with her resting on his chest. Tsuki wriggled a bit as she settled into the unfamiliar position but ultimately sighed with content. 

Niragi did his best to find a position ideal for the both of them without jostling her too much and being as gently as he could, so as to not disturb Tsuki. He looked down at her and he was met with her tired gaze. Tsuki sighed deeply, bewildering Niragi completely, because frankly, he didn’t know babies could make such deep gestures. The corner of his mouth lifted. She was a weird baby, indeed.

He felt her muzzle up against his chest, cooing quietly. He chuckled softly, his fingers twitched and he reached his hand up to place the palm of his hand over her small back, lightly patting. He’d seen people do it in movies to try and coax babies to sleep, but he’d only ever done this action when trying to burp her, so he figured he ought to give using it to put her to sleep a shot. Niragi watched Tsuki’s eyelids flutter shut with a deep exhale.

She had been tired, too.

Niragi felt his heart swell at how Tsuki looked as she slept. The way her lashes lay flat against her cheeks, how her lower lip pouted out in her sleep. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the light thrumming of heart against his chest.

This little girl was his world.

“I love you, you know? I love you so much, Tsuki.” he hummed, as he gently rubbed circles on her back. “From here, to the moon, and back.”

Niragi had done his best to figure out how to manage on his own, doing his best to limit the amount of phone calls he made to either Usagi or Arisu with panicked parenting questions.

Tsuki was a relatively easy baby to take care of. She was quiet for the most part, only becoming fussy when she was hungry or sleepy. Her sleep schedule seemed to have adjusted to Niragi’s, as he had found that the kid could only really fully fall asleep if she slept on his chest. Sometimes he took advantage of her midday nap to catch a few Zs himself.

Niragi also found that she didn’t particularly like not having him where she could see him. She was a clingy little freak. He didn’t mind having her around though, and would often sit her on his lap while he worked at his desk. Sometimes he’d offer commentary as to what he was doing to the games he was working on, or what he’d fixed to make them run smoother. He knew Tsuki didn’t understand, but when she’d gurgle or make baby noises while he talked, he almost felt like she was responding to his conversation. Whenever he’d play video games himself, he’d still keep her on his lap and he found it amusing how entranced she’d become by all the colors and flashing lights coming from the monitor. Cutely, she’d giggle and kick her feet whenever Niragi would voice his excitement in the games he was playing. Clearly she found him entertaining.

When it came to eating, there wasn’t anything Tsuki wouldn’t eat. Except peas. She really hated peas. The one time he tried feeding her pea Gerber, she ate it just fine, only to spit it all back up on one of his only white t shirts. He assumed the experience of having to eat such an atrocious mash traumatized the poor kid because when he tried feeding them to her again, she just about slapped the pack out of his hand and refused to open her mouth to accept the spoon, even if he made airplane noises. She usually got a kick out of those.

Still. Niragi learned quickly.

He had come across a baby book you had put together with spaces left blank for pictures and writing, meant to document Tsuki’s milestones. He’d made sure to keep it up to date as much as he could. He’d managed to capture pictures of the first time she tried solid food(which was really just a piece of fruit she tried sucking on), the stunned look on her face when she’d gone to get her vaccines and to his surprise she did not cry, he also captured the first time she sat up on her own, and another where she was midway to rolling on to her back, one where she was aggressively nibbling on her foot, he also included a few selfies in which he’d caught her tugging on his nose ring or one of his many ear rings. The kid liked shiny things. He knew that you’d have gone crazy trying to fill the book up, wanting to capture every moment.

At 9 months old, Tsuki learned how to crawl. The way Niragi found this out was rather unconventional.

He could have sworn he set her down in the living room. On the carpet right in front of the TV. He knew exactly. Why was there no baby there? All he’d done was leave her there for 5 minutes while he answered the door to receive and sign for a package and as soon as he’d come back she was gone. There was no one else in the house. She couldn’t have moved on her own.

Could she?

“Tsuki?” He began to call out.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Niragi ran through the kitchen, checking under the table, inside the pantry, nothing. He continued to call out to her, staying quiet enough to try and listen for a response, but nothing ever came. His socks slid across the floor as he ran into the nursery. A few toys were laying on the floor but no baby in sight. He poked his head into the bathroom, checking behind the clothes hamper, and inside the bathtub, with no luck. He checked the laundry room, inside the clothes baskets, inside the washer and dryer, hoping she hadn’t crawled in there.

Thankfully, she did not, but still he had not found her.

“Listen, kid, your papa’s not really into hide and seek, so if you’re hiding, you best come on out before I totally lose my shit.”

He ran to his room, this time stumbling onto his knees before running into it only to see that it was perfectly empty. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and dialed.

“Hello? Niragi?” Her voice sounded tired, almost as if she was just waking up.

“KUINA! I NEED YOUR HELP!” He was beginning to panic.

“Sheesh! Not so loud, you’re gonna busy my eardrums!”

“It’s Tsuki! I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Where’d you leave her? Are you sure your mom or Yuzuha didn’t pick her up?” Her tone was a little too cavalier for his taste, especially in the situation he found himself in.

“I left her in the living room, and I left to answer the door, and when I came back she was gone! I looked everywhere! The kitchen, the bathroom, my bedroom, her bedroom, the laundry room, the fucking closets.”

“Did you leave your back door open? Could anyone have gone inside at any point?” Her voice sounded more awake, now assessing the situation.

“Yes! It’s locked and dead bolted. No one’s been in here other than me and her, so unless someone climbed through a fucking window-“

“Okay, smartass, just check the rooms again. UNDER the furniture this time. Maybe she crawled under somewhere.”

“I told you I checked everywhere!” He checked under his bed, just in case, to find nothing. He walked through the rooms again, looking under furniture, to no avail. “The kid’s gone! I’ve got to call the police and make a report-“ he got to the end of the hallway and noticed the door to his study was slightly ajar, a faint glow coming from the dark room. No...

“What are they gonna do? You said no one’s been in or out of your house. God, how irresponsible could you have been to leave a baby on her own, Niragi?”

“Kuina, I’ll call you right back.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOULL CALL ME BA-” he hung up, cutting her off.

He walked into his dimly lit office, the faint glow of the tv he kept in there lightly lighting up the room.“Tsuki?”

He heard a soft mumbling coming from the room, and as he moved further inside, he saw his daughter on standing while holding on to the couch. She turned her little head to face him, his game controller in her hands, before letting herself fall back on her behind to sit on the floor.

“Uhhuh banana pplllbt,” she mused in her baby speak. Without so much as a glance his way, she began to chomp down on the controller with her gums.

“God damn it, kid!” He groaned in frustration. And relief. He sunk to the floor, running his hands through his hair, breathing shakily. “Holy shit.”

This caught Tsuki’s attention, and she released the controller to crawl his way. Despite his racing heart and frustrations, Niragi watched in awe as his little girl crawled his way. She giggled and squealed as she did so, clearly excited that she had learned something new. As soon as she got to where his legs were, she sat up and outstretched her little arms up at him, asking to be picked up, to which Niragi obliged. He held his little girl close to him, gently combing down her unruly hair. “You really had me scared for a minute, kid.” Tsuki cooed up at him. “Yeah. How’d you learn to move around like that, huh?”

He knew she was around the right age to start moving around, but he hadn’t really mentally prepared for it to actually happen. He did his best to read all the books and guide her so that she stayed at the same pace as other babies, but he still found himself in awe when she succeeded. All of the reading in the world, however, didn’t prepare him for what she did next. She bounced on his lap, reaching up to touch her baby hands up to his face. “Paaa... paaa... baba..”

His eyes widened. She mumbled things all the time. Ma, ba, ga, goo, all sorts of noises. But that felt a little too... smart. She had looked right at him, pointed at him and everything, and said what sounded like papa. That was too much of a coincidence. “Kid, you can’t play with Papa’s emotions like that. I’m not ready.”

“Papapa?” She repeated, smacking her little hand on his face.

“Are you seriously saying what I think you’re saying? Or am I crazy? I’m crazy aren’t I?”

“Papa!” She called out, giggling.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He held his little girl close, doing all he could to not cry.

Niragi learned that Tsuki didn’t like strangers. She wouldn’t get too fussy, but she hid in the crook of his neck whenever they were out and she didn’t recognize the people that approached them.

She also got visibly excited when she did recognize people. Especially Kuina, or “koo” as she managed to say. Y/N had told her early on in the pregnancy that she hoped Kuina would be the baby’s godmother, and this was a role she took very seriously, always coming to visit with tons of toys and clothes. Kuina’s mother also deeply grew to love Tsuki, often sending food and side dishes with Kuina for them. Tsuki wasn’t particularly fond of her doctor, Dr. Chishiya. Matter of fact, she often kicked or smacked his hands away whenever he tried checking her, and only really let him do anything if he bribed her with candy. One time, he tried carrying her to put her on the baby scale, and pulled on his hair right at the root, causing him hand her over back to Niragi and say “I don’t need to check. She’s healthy enough,” whilst rubbing at his head.” Niragi noticed that the doctors and nurses made a point of tying their hair up whenever Tsuki was around for an appointment.

“Serves him right for prancing around with that mane of his. He reminded you of one of your dolls, didn’t he, Tsuki?” Niragi didn’t quite like him either at first, but the doctor had understood their situation and made himself available 24/7, which led to Niragi considering him as a family friend, much to the doctor’s chagrin.

“She can call me Uncle Shuntaro.” He had said whilst visiting the Niragi home after Tsuki had a late night fever. Despite her little attitude, Dr. Chishiya had developed a sort of liking to the kid. She had character, he thought.

“She can barely say Papa, and you expect her to say that mouthful, Shuntaro?” Niragi asked, incredulously.

Chishiya eyed him coldly with his feline eyes. “I said SHE could call me that. Not you.”

As Tsuki’s first birthday approached, no one really knew how to ask Niragi on whether they’d be having a birthday party for her. After all, it wasn’t just Tsuki’s birthday. It also marked the first year anniversary of you being gone. He had done his best to not think about it, even with the lack of prompting from the others, but this was something he still kept in mind. Birthdays only came once in a lifetime, but then again, so did a love like the one you and he had shared. How could he celebrate one while ignoring the other, or have a service for you and not doing anything for his daughter. He loved you both more than life itself.

He came up with a plan to try and do both. He wanted to make it a day for you both. So, Niragi had packed a bag for Tsuki and taken her on a tour of all the places the two of you frequented as a couple.

He took her to the arcade the two of you had gone on your first date, telling her of how you’d kissed his cheek when he managed to get the high score on the Alien FPS game. He took her to the cafe the two of you had often gone to during your lunch hours, and even fed her a bit of the filling from the egg sandwich you used to like so much. He found that Tsuki liked it a lot too. He took her to the botanical gardens. You had absolutely loved flowers and the two of you had gone almost every weekend. He took her to the zoo and made a point to take her to the aquatic exhibits and tell her how much you loved water animals, especially how “mama loved how cute the seals looked when they bounced all over the place.” He made sure to buy Tsuki a white seal plush at the gift store. He took her to an old video store, where the two of you often found yourselves on boring nights without much to do and had filled the void with movies. He bought copies of a few of your favorites, along with a few of his, making a mental note to watch them with Tsuki when she was old enough. Lastly, he took her to the carnival. He didn’t play any games, but he walked by them and told Tsuki all about which ones the two of you would play together. He told her about how he couldn’t explain how, but the two of you had always been drawn to this place and how free you both felt being here, almost as if you’d been there together in another life. He showed her the old swinging pirate ship and he told Tsuki about how it was your favorite ride and how one time you rode it so many times that you ended up puking cherry icee all over the side of the ride. He’d never seen so many people run away screaming. Niragi took Tsuki to the photo booth, and told her about how you had both gotten the idea to kiss each other on the cheek at the same time and ended up kissing each other for the first time on accident. The second one that came after wasn’t. He took her on a ride on the Ferris wheel, doing his best to hold her tightly and show her the view. He told her about after 3 years of dating, he had asked you to marry him at the very top.

Tsuki had smiled a lot throughout the day, notably whenever he used the words “mama” and “papa,” this didn’t go unnoticed by Niragi, and he felt partially guilty. He felt like maybe he should be talking to her about you more, but some days it was too much.

The ride home was a quiet one, other than for Tsuki’s babbling in the backseat as she tried to sing along to the faint music from the radio. He peeked at her through the rear view mirror. She was really starting to look like you. As she grew, her hair had gotten longer, and aside from his hair color, the texture resembled yours. Her eyes, although the shape resembling his, were the same color as yours. She had his nose, but her lips were yours. She was the perfect combination of you both with just the right amount of your features to ease his mind that the image of you wasn’t totally lost. He missed you. A lot. You had blessed him with a daughter, and he knew she was not meant to fill the void he had in his heart, but having her around really eased some of his pain.

As he approached the dark house, he spoke. “You know,” he began, Tsuki’s face perking up to look at him. “Back when Mama was around... I used to come home and the lights would be on.” She gurgled in response. “I’d go in and tell her I was home, and she’d always be there to welcome me. She always had dinner just about done by the time I came home from the office.” Tsuki hummed. “This is a house. But your Mama made it feel like a home.” Niragi pulled into the driveway, and with a heavy sigh gathered Tsuki out of her car seat and her souvenirs. He fumbled with his keys only to find that the door was unlocked. “That’s fucking weird,” he thought out loud. “I could have sworn I locked it...” He stepped inside, feeling the wall for the light-switch, only for his hand to touch someone else’s. Before he could react, the lights came on.

“SURPRISE!”

Niragi jumped back in shock, holding Tsuki protectively.

The room was filled with all of your close friends, all of which were wearing ridiculous party hats, and the living room was decorated with pink balloons and a sign that read “Happy Birthday Tsuki.” Dr. Chishiya aka Uncle Shuntaro. Kuina and her mother. Yuzuha and Arisu. Mr. Aguni the landlord. A few of your workplace coworkers were there too.

“What’s all of this?” He asked, stunned.

“We couldn’t let Tsuki’s birthday pass without a proper celebration.” Kuina explained. “No birthday is a birthday without a cake.”

“She’s right,” said Chishiya. “You celebrated the day your way, but we wanted to celebrate, too.”

“She’s such a precious baby, we just wanted to do something special for her.” Kuina’s mother chimed in.

“We know how much you’ve through...” Yuzuha began.

“We just wanted to show our support.” Arisu continued.

“For the both of you.” Yuzuha agreed.

“You’re both real fine kids, so all of us got together and put a little something together for ya.” said Aguni.

“I can’t... I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am to you. All of you.” Niragi began, “the past year... really hasn’t been the easiest. With Y/N gone, and having to raise Tsuki on my own, trying to get my life together for the both of us... all of you have been such a big help to me. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll never be able to repay you for all you’ve done for me and Tsuki.”

“There’s no need,” Aguni waved his hand, dismissively.

“He’s right.” Kuina smiled. “Everything we’ve done is because we wanted to.”

“You’re our friend.” nodded Yuzuha.

“You’re like family.” Arisu corrected.

And Niragi agreed. All these friends had become like an extended family of his. Always there.

His knees were shaking, a cold sweat formed on his brow. He felt queasy and on the brink of throwing up. He wasn’t ready for this. Quite frankly, he’d never be.

“You know, if you want to wait another year, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Papa, I’m five. I gotta go to school.”

They said the first day was the hardest. Niragi had held the slightest hope that Tsuki would throw a tantrum and outright refuse to go to school, but to his disappointment she had been rather excited. She was incredibly bright for her age, already knowing how to count to one hundred, knowing her colors, as well as all the letters of the alphabet. She even knew how to write her name in Kanji, Hiragana, and Katakana.

“I know you do, but still, Papa will be lonely without you.”

“But you’ve got work stuff to do.”

“But you’re my little helper.”

“I’m a kid, papa.”

“Since when are you a little smartass?”

She shrugged. “If I’m smart, that means I gotta go to school.”

“I- Now where the fu-”

“Papa, hurry up! I’m gonna be late!” Tsuki grabbed on to his hand and dragged him away from the parking lot and closer to the school gates. He could feel the eyes of others burning holes into his figure. This was another reason he worried about her coming to school. The prying eyes of others. Even though the surgeries he’d gotten had managed to make him look relatively normal, upon closer inspection, there was still visible scarring. He’d never forgive himself if he became the cause of Tsuki being bullied.

He signed in at the front desk and gathered all the paperwork for Tsuki’s schedule, class directory, and list of school supplies.

“You’ve got art class.” He mused.

“Really?” The corners of her eyes perked up in curiosity.

“I didn’t think kids could learn art.”

“Aunt Yuzuha’s kids draw on the walls. Uncle Arisu calls that art.” She said. “I think it’s messy.”

“Well aren’t you a little critic.” He chuckled.

“It’s true. What kind of dummy makes grass red?”

“Tsuki, you can’t call other kids a dummy.”

“But you call other people things, too.”

“I’m a grown up.”

“Then can i call them dummy when I’m a grown up, too?”

“For sure.”

Tsuki nodded in understanding.

The two reached her classroom and while Tsuki was led to her seat by the teacher, Niragi stood to the side with all the other parents, most of them being moms. If he was being honest, he felt awkward and out of place. Compared to the other parents, he was sure he was the youngest parent there. Chills ran down his neck, as he looked around and saw the other parents throwing side glances at him, and a soft hum of whispers surrounded him. He tried to shrug it off and focus on Tsuki, who was now chatting away with her classmates. He noticed that the other kids say something and pointed in his direction, to which Tsuki would shrug and and answer like it was no big deal. Oh no, he thought. It’s starting.

“First time?” A voice said behind him.

Niragi turned to see an older man with shaggy black hair covered in a beige fedora, his eyes hidden behind big dark sunglasses. What kind of a freak wears a hat and shades indoors? Niragi thought, but nonetheless, he nodded. The older man patted him on the back. “It’s never easy.” He said with a smile. “Which ones yours?”

“Umm, the little girl over there. The one with the silver clips in her hair.” Niragi described. “Her name is Tsuki.”

“Oh, she’s absolutely precious!” The older man gushed.

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve got two. The boy and the girl on either side of your girl. Twins.” He said proudly. “Nara and Naoki. Little devils, those two.”

“Is this your first time here, too?”

“Me? No. I’m an old timer. My oldest, Nanase, is a second year at the middle school nearby.” He sighed with a smile. “But just looking at your face I can tell this is your first time.”

“Really? You can tell?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wove his hand up and down, dismissively. “We’ve all been there. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Kobayashi?” He nudged the lady next to him, who gave him nothing more than an awkward side eye. “Don’t mind her. She’s a hoot at PTA meetings.”

The teacher interrupted the parents’ chatter and asked them to bid farewell to the children so that they could commence the first day of school. Niragi panicked and looked at Tsuki who flashed him a dimply grin. He took a deep breath. She’s fine. She wants to be here. The two shared one last look before he walked out of the classroom with the other parents.

“Hey, kid.” He heard the strange man call out, causing Niragi to look back at him once more. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Niragi. Suguru. I’m Niragi Suguru.” He bowed politely.

“Nice to meet you, Niragi.” He tipped his hat in acknowledgement. “I’m Danma Takeru.”

The two chatted for a bit more and exchanged numbers with Mr. Danma, or Hatter as he liked to be called due to his profession, saying the kids just had to get together for play dates sometime.

The day passed by horribly slow, with Niragi getting virtually no work done. His thoughts consumed with how Tsuki must be doing at school. 3 o clock couldn’t come soon enough and be just about sped to the school. Tsuki waited for him by the gate, holding several papers in her hands.

“Papa!” She exclaimed, running excitedly up to her dad.

“Hey, kid!” Niragi crouched to pick her up in his arms. “How’d it go?” He asked as he walked them back to his car.

“It was kind of boring.” She admitted. “But that’s cuz I already know all the stuff.”

“Really!”

“Uh huh.” She nodded.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh!” She held up the papers. “I made these! Ms. Nobuo let us use paints to draw shapes! And the art teacher lady Ms. Osaki let me use pastel thingies!” She held up her work for him to see.

“Wow! You did great, kiddo.” He took the papers from her hands as he ser her into her car seat and buckled her in. As he got into his own, he looked over the papers, smiling at her work. She really had a knack for creativity. Tsuki chatted away about her day on the ride home, and Niragi felt at slightly at ease that her school experience had gone better than his.

“Oh my goodness! Papa, I almost forgot!”

“What’s up?”

“Papa, all the kids kept asking me about you.”

His eyebrows shot up, a bit concerned. “Me?”

“Uh huh. All the kids said your hair and the shiny thingies on your face make you look like a rockstar.”

“Huh.” He chuckled, dryly. “They said that?”

“Uh huh! And then all the boys went all crazy cuz I told them you work on video games and that you and Mama helped make that Borderland game.”

He smiled at her through the rear view mirror. “You told them about Mama?” He felt his heart tug a bit. Kids always said what they thought, so he could imagine what kind of responses they might have at Tsuki’s... situation.

“Yup! They think you guys are so cool and that they wished their parents were like you guys.”

“Is that so, kid?” He chuckled, relieved she had managed to get positive attention. “Did you make friends?”

“Not really... all the kids were kinda noisy... I talked a lot with these kids... what were their names? Naka and Naori!”

“You mean Nara and Naoki?” Niragi laughed.

Tsuki gasped. “How did you know?!”

“I met their dad. He’s kind of...”

“Weird?” Tsuki answered. “They’re weird, too.” She giggled.

Tsuki’s school years came and went, and she had grown quite a lot. She had become taller, and her hair had become longer and fell down to her waist. Unfortunately, she’d inherited his eyesight and needed to wear glasses, but she didn’t seem to mind. Some time in her early teens she had asked him if she could get her ears pierced, to which he was a it stunned she felt she needed to ask, since he had gotten his without permission from anyone and just cuz he’d felt like it. He agreed, and went along with her. What he didn’t expect was her wanting to get four done on each ear on the first sitting, and had been slightly proud at his daughter’s determination. However... Niragi wasn’t too happy when he found out she’d gotten her belly button pierced while on a school trip to a beach resort.

She did well in school, she participated in school clubs, and never complained about doing her chores around the house. She even had a handful of friends, for which Niragi was thankful for. On one occasion, he’d overheard one of them refer to him as a dilf, which he didn’t understand, and when he asked Tsuki about it, she became flustered and urgently changed the subject, and when he asked Kuina, she laughed in his face. He didn’t dare look up the meaning online.

They say parents are never prepared for their children’s milestones, but when Tsuki graduated high school with honors, he really couldn’t believe it. 18 years had gone by quickly right before his eyes, and the little girl 

25 years had passed in the blink of an eye. Tsuki had graduated from university, having pursued a degree as a software engineer specializing in AI development. During her internship, she’d met someone special and developed a friendship which blossomed into romance. Of all the things Niragi had never given much thought to doing, giving his daughter away was at the very top.

Tsuki had shook nervously as Niragi walked her down the aisle, whispering to him “Please, don’t let me fall, Papa.” To which he replied that even if she did, he’d be right there to pick her up. He was thankful her groom came from a large family, believing it to be a far less lonely atmosphere. Nonetheless, he was happy that he had been lucky enough to amass a good deal of close friends to accompany him on this journey.

At the reception, Kuina and Yuzuha had just about shoved Niragi on the dance floor for his father daughter dance with Tsuki, who had taken it upon herself to choose the song. With the lyrics of “When She Loved Me,” matched to the scene of Niragi and Tsuki, rest assured, there was not a single dry eye in the house.

During the dinner, somewhere within him, Niragi felt the courage to stand and tap his spoon against his champagne glass. “I’d like to say a few words. I didn’t prepare anything, but... I’d like to speak from the heart.” He announced, to which everyone in the hall suddenly hushed in respect. “The last time I went to a wedding,” Niragi began, “was about 26 years ago. And just like the bride and groom, I was marrying the love of my life.” He looked down at his glass of champagne, briefly, before continuing. “Love is a crazy thing, really. It’s having this connection with someone that you just can’t explain and you really don’t have to because they already understand. Love is scary. It’s finding someone that accepts you, flaws and all, whether they be physical, emotions, psychological, metaphorical, what have you. Love is pretending to lose at a video game you’ve cleared at least 20 times just so you can watch them be happy.” He chuckled as the crowd quietly laughed. “It’s about getting a call at three in the morning asking you if you want to go out and get donuts at the 24/7 donut shop downtown. Love is... not being able to hear anyone say your given name because no one else says it as beautifully as that one person. Love is hating rainy days all your life but learning to love them when they drag you under the rain to dance. It’s when you’re driving and she reaches out to hold your hand. It’s about holding each other after nightmares and reminding each other that none of it’s real, even when reality sometimes feels like it’s a nightmare. It’s about treasuring every single moment because you’ll never know when it will be the last.” At this point, everyone who wasn’t crying already was tearing up at the realization of Niragi’s words. “It’s about being scared together. When your plans change and suddenly you’re getting ready to bring another life into the world together. That look between the two of you when you feel your baby kick for the first time at the sound of you voice. Staying up until dawn figuring out baby names because your child deserves something totally unique. Love is when you hold your baby girl and you realize that you really can love someone just as much, if not more, than the love of your life because... she is your life. As some of you know, Y/N isn’t with us today, but I know better than anyone that she would have loved to be here, and even though we can’t see her, she’s still with us.” He smiled. “the love she and I had... I like to think of it as something that only happens once in a lifetime, because to me, there really was no one else I could see myself with that wasn’t Y/N. But the way I see you two kids with each other... this is YOUR once in a lifetime. Treasure it. Always.” He looked directly into his new son-in-law’s eyes. “My life is in your hands now.”

[moonofthenight]

Welcome to New York

@spookypotato and I (thank you again <3) wrote a fic for the server event that is going on at the moment and I wanted to share it here too, enjoy!

*

O'Darwin and O'Knutzy belongs to @lumosinlove

*

CW mentions of food and beverages 

It knocked on Leo’s door at 2pm sharp, which didn’t surprise him at all; Kasey was always so dead on time, it scared him sometimes. The two had planned this day for over two weeks now and since Finn and Logan had their date today, Leo used the free flat to invite the other goalie over. He closed the fridge before he made his way into the hallway to open the door.

“Hello Knutty, long time no see,” laughed Kasey as he pulled the blonde in for a short hug.

“Come in, come in. I got everything prepared in the kitchen.”

“I hope you can still live here after today.”

“Honestly Blizz? No one is as bad as Finn and Logan at cooking, believe me. What they are able to do to food shouldn’t be possible.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

To prevent that from happening, Leo chose a simple meal to start with. When Kasey asked him to teach him how to cook he was a bit surprised at first, but he actually enjoyed the idea of teaching someone. 

“Let’s start with chopping the vegetables, that should be easy, non?”, Leo suggested. It was better to know now, if this would be like the times he tried to teach Logan and Finn.

Surprisingly, the following minutes weren’t a complete disaster like he had expected, Kasey was actually quite decent at cooking and followed Leo’s instructions without trouble. It was fun to spend time together and their cheeks were still a bit red from all the laughter when they went over to the kitchen table.

Just as Leo was about to sit down his phone rang, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

It was a text from Finn.

Alex will be home over the weekend too, just wanted to let you know.

He was halfway through typing out an answer when he got an idea.

Don’t tell him Lo and I will be there

What? Why?

Let's bring Nat and Kase as a surprise. It won't be as obvious if he thinks we all can't come

I love you

Knew you'd like it, lyt

***

They had lost Kasey and Natalie in the airport, when Finn decided to buy Leo and Logan each an 'I heart NY-boys' shirt. A quick call told them that the couple was already outside.

It was colder in New York, the sky was grey but Finn felt warm when he stepped out of the airport. New York was home to him, it would always somehow be, and bringing Leo and Logan with him, especially Leo, since he hadn't been able to bring him as often yet, felt amazing. A warm body snuggled under his arm and he smiled.

“It’s cold,” Logan pouted and hid his face in Finn’s chest.

“I thought you were used to it. I'm pretty sure you even quoted Elsa on that once, baby."

When Logan just continued to pout, he gently leaned down to kiss his messy airplane curls, "If you let me go you can have my jacket.”

Logan was quiet for a minute, “No, you’re warmer.”

Leo chuckled and grabbed their suitcases, “Kase and Nat are over there. I think they spotted the taxi, let’s go.”

Logan peeled himself off of Finn, still pouting a bit but the thought of a warm car seemed to do the deal. Finn and Leo followed quickly, helping Kasey to put all their bags into the back of the car before getting in themselves. Finn leaned forward to tell the driver their destination.

It was quiet for a while after that, everybody was quite exhausted from the flight, Logan was already dosing off on Leo’s shoulder; he carefully moved his fingers through the brown curls, a loving look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” said Nat suddenly, looking at Leo.

“What did I do?”

“For coming up with the idea,” Kasey added, “We haven’t seen Alex for three months now, so, thank you for thinking of us.”

Leo smiled at them, “It’s unfair that you can't see him regularly and I thought it might be a nice surprise for him.”

“I hope he will like it,” Nat said sleepily, resting her head on Kasey’s shoulder.

“I’m glad my brother found you two, I really am. I mean, the distance sucks but he’s so happy with you. He deserves that more than anything,” said Finn and bumped his shoulder lightly with Kasey’s, careful not to wake Nat.

“I’m sorry.” Kasey said and Finn wasn't sure if it was to himself or someone else.

“What?”

“Well, I knew I loved your brother since Tampa and I didn’t have the guts to do something about it. It probably would have saved us some time.”

“Nah, who knows if everything would have worked out like it did now. Sure, maybe you could have saved some time and pain but I’m just glad you found your way now.”

“Thank-” Kasey started but got interrupted by the driver, “We are here, sir.”

Finn reached for his wallet but Kasey was faster, “Take it as some kind of thank you.”

Finn smiled at him. “Will we do it as planned?”

"Yep, we will wait around the corner, you go in."

Natalie and Kasey walked as quietly as possible but the loud noise of the three other suitcases was enough to drown out the rest anyway. The moment Finn knocked on the door, it flew open, as if the older O'Hara had been behind it for some time. 

"Bubbles!"

"Alex!", Finn screamed with equal enthusiasm, laughing at the silly nickname. He threw his arms around his older brother and just held him tight. Finn missed him too, it's not easy if you grow up in a close relationship with your brother and suddenly you are miles and miles away.

Finn didn't want to let him go just yet and decided to continue their hug. It had been too long, really.

Alex just laughed and squeezed him tightly. "Come in, Mum and Dad already made tea and coffee and they bought your favourite- Leo? Logan? What are you doing here?"

At that Finn stepped back, looking at his brother sheepishly, but determined.

Alex's confused face made Logan chuckle, "Hello to you too, Red. How are you doing? I'm good, thank you. I missed you too." Alex rolled his eyes but gave them both a welcoming smile. "Finn can't go a day without us, so he asked us to come with us."

"I did not say that!"

"Mhh, whatever makes you sleep at night, sweetheart," Leo leaned down to kiss their pouting lover. Finn rolled his eyes at him. 

Alex still seemed to be trying to piece everything together, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Guess I just forgot," Finn shrugged and moved past his brother to greet his parents, pulling Leo with him. The taller boy had of course met the O'Hara's but he was still nervous. They had barely made it into the room before both got tackled by hugs.

"It's great to see you Haley," Leo said when he let go and received a loving pat on the cheek as a thank you. They switched places and her arms were replaced by a firm grip around Leo's shoulders.

"Where is my other boy?" Finn's mother asked, going up to her toes and looking around the room.

"Here," Logan said, who came into the living room right that instant, Alex close behind him. "There you are! Oh, come here I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Why do you get so excited to see Logan? You weren't that excited with me. Betrayed by my own mother, I can't believe it!" Alex complained, holding his hand over his heart. 

His mother snorted at Alex's dramatic reaction. "Stop whining and make yourself useful, get some tea for Leo. You still prefer tea, right?"

"Yeah I do, thank you," Leo said with a smile and then blew Alex a kiss, who just subtly flipped him off in return.

The six settled down shortly after and Leo sent out a quick text to Kasey; not a minute later the doorbell rang again.

"Alex, would you be so kind?"

Alex gave his mother a quick nod, before making his way over to the door. He was expecting the mailman but the people in front of him were most definitely not a package. Alex just froze in place and he was pretty sure his mouth fell open too. 

"Hi, baby," said Kasey with a soft exhale, his smile as bright as ever. 

"Wha- I- What?" Alex still hadn't moved.

"Surprise!" said Natalie who threw herself at Alex, jumping up to wrap her legs around the boy's hips. He caught her easily and after another minute of shock, tears formed in his eyes and he pulled the blonde impossibly closer to his body. Alex put a hand on her cheek, kissing her softly. He blinked rapidly and looked up when they parted and Natalie jumped down to the ground again.

"That bad to see us, eh?", said Kasey softly, who still stood in the doorway and watched the whole interaction with a warm, fuzzy feeling around his heart. 

"God, just- come here."

Alex didn't care about anything at all when he finally locked his lips with Kasey. His hands immediately went into the soft long hair of his boyfriend, craving as much closeness as possible. After another moment, Alex pressed their foreheads together, catching his breath. 

The rustling behind them, broke through their shared breaths, "We'll give you a moment to catch up," Haley told them, a knowing smile on her lips as she ushered the other men into another room.

Somehow his mother always knew what was going on. He turned back to his partners, still unable to grasp that they were actually here, in New York City, with him.

"Missed us?" Nat asked as she stepped up close to Alex again, slotting herself underneath the already held out arm of her oldest boyfriend.

Resting his head on hers, he gestured for Kasey to join their group hug. "More than I could ever put into words."

"Love you, Alex." Kasey breathed out as he felt his boyfriend's arm wrap around his waist, snuggling his face into Alex's neck and placing a few soft kisses there.

Another arm was placed around Kasey's waist as Natalie gathered her boyfriends closer to her, breathing in the familiar smell of Mango Shampoo and of the sanitizer Kasey always uses after flights. It mixed with Alex's aftershave, that she still couldn't assign anything else than home, love and safety. It was Alex.

"Love you." she murmured, not willing to move her head further away that was necessary to get the words out.

Alex smiled at them. Oh, how he had missed this. How he had missed them.

"Love you both."

[winterscaptain]

the pleasures of the elder.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: the people have spoken, and they all love sean hotchner. this fits after mean it in the joyful future universe, but no context is actually required to enjoy a little bit of sibling rivalry. title comes from jane austen’s quote: “the younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder.” 

words: 3k warnings: language, alcohol use, sex mention, jealous!aaron, perceptive!sean

summary: when he arrives for an impromptu visit, sean knows his brother too well to give him any moment’s peace - especially when it comes to you. 

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed

A man, both very handsome and vaguely familiar, pushes through the glass doors and walks across the bullpen - a visitor's badge pinned proudly to his leather jacket. You try to place him, but come up short. 

You’re alone, for the time being. Almost everyone is off running some kind of last-minute errand around the federal building - making copies, finishing paperwork, or in a meeting (in Hotch’s case). It’s the last dregs of the day, the sun setting over the river. 

The man stops in front of your desk. “Hi. Are you part of the BAU, or am in the wrong place?” His eyes are bright, roaming over your face with a kind of curious, warm, knowing air. 

You smile at him, and before you can answer -

“Sean!” JJ’s fond tone carries across the bullpen, and she arrives with an armful of cases. 

Sean? 

Oh my god. 

Sean Hotchner. 

“Hey, JJ, right?”

She laughs, sounding a little younger than she is. You can’t blame her. Sean is exceedingly handsome in an entirely different direction than his older brother. And if your memory serves correctly, just a year older than you. “Yeah, that’s right. Good to see you.” He offers her a hand, and she shifts her files to take it. His handshake is firm, and lasts just a moment too long. 

You kick back in your chair, almost inviting him to lean against your desk. “Hotch is in a meeting, if you’re looking for him. He should be out in,” you check your watch, “about five minutes.”

Sean turns back to you, his shockingly blue eyes meeting yours. “Thanks.” He smiles at you again, and you’d be lying if you said your heart was doing normal things in your chest. “Sean Hotchner. I’m Aaron’s - sorry, Hotch’s - little brother.”

Those eyes are dangerous. 

Oh, poor Aaron. 

You shake his hand and introduce yourself. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.” 

Just as you suspected moments ago, he takes the initiative and leans against your desk. JJ hovers nearby, a little smile on her face. You watch as she sends a quick text, and puts her phone back on her belt. 

Gotta tell the girls...

“So,” he starts, brisk and businesslike, “you definitely weren’t here during my last visit. What’s your story?”

“Well, if you must know -“

“I must.” He flashes you another smile, and you can only imagine all the trouble he caused growing up. Or, rather, you can imagine all the trouble he would have caused if his brother wasn’t around to bail him out. Five years ago, you would have been drawn into his pretty eyes and wide smile. Now, you can only see a boyish, overt, almost-inelegant version of the understated warmth you love in Aaron. 

You give him a quick rundown of your history: hometown, alma mater, etc. “- I was an academy grad in 2007, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Ah, so not a newbie anymore. And you’ve worked with my brother the whole time?” He almost looks impressed. His glance down to your ringless left hand doesn’t escape your notice.

Oh Sean, if only you knew. 

You nod. “Yeah, I’ve worked under Hotch for five years now.” 

And I’ve worked over him for about three months. Also under him, around him, on the couch, in the kitchen, etc.

Shut up. 

C’mon. It’s funny.

A low whistle leaves him as you bite back a smile. “Damn. I’m so sorry. He’s a real hardass.”

You lean in conspiratorially, and you’re almost cheek-to-cheek as he leans down to listen. “You know, that’s what I hear, but -” 

Penelope bursts through the doors and calls your name, carrying an armful of papers that have absolutely nothing to do with the work going on upstairs. Emily is close behind her, an amused grin on her face. 

Sean leans back so you can finally see her. “Yeah?”

“I have these for - Oh, hi Sean!” She says it like she hasn’t already decided her primary objective is to get his attention. 

“Hey!” He looks over at her, one finger up to stop her in her tracks. “Wait, don’t tell me. Garcia, right?”

“Penelope,” JJ supplies helpfully. 

“That’s right. It’s good to see you again.” He offers her his hand, and she takes it. You’re almost certain he winks at her, and she smiles through the blush rising on her cheeks. 

He really is a heartbreaker, huh?

Aaron must have had his work cut out for him.

Derek rounds the corner and immediately rolls his eyes at the scene before him. Sean has his body angled toward you (in your chair, completely open, with your chin in your hand) while he shakes Penelope’s hand. JJ pretends to do work off at her desk behind yours, but she’s completely tuned into the conversation. Emily’s sitting on her own desk off to the side, watching the whole thing with a certain degree of good humor. 

“Sean, good to see you, man.” Derek walks over and takes Penelope under his arm. It’s almost possessive, and you almost laugh. 

Sean releases Penelope’s hand and takes Derek’s. “Hey, Morgan. How’ve you been?”

Their bro-to-bro catch-up fades into the background as you see Hotch appear on the breezeway by his office. You look up at him before pointedly glancing at Sean beside you. He sighs, then calls, “Sean.”

The man in question turns, and a smile breaks out over his face when he sees his brother. There’s something cocky about it, and you don’t miss the way his body language remains keyed into you as he speaks. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Aaron takes another deep breath and walks down the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just come see my big brother at work?”

Aaron’s eyebrow is dubious at best. “What do you need?”

Sean laughs, and it reminds you enough of Aaron’s that it draws a wide smile from you. You find yourself looking fondly up at Sean, seeing more of the resemblance now that they’re beside each other. Aaron’s jaw flexes. You notice. 

Oh, see, now this is fun. 

“I was just in town and figured I’d stop by to see if you were here or out on a case.” Sean glances down at you with another charming smile before looking back at his brother. “I guess I got lucky.” 

He’s just full of those smiles, isn’t he?

JJ jumps in. “We’re actually planning on going out to drinks once we wrap up in a couple of minutes. You’re more than welcome to come.”

While JJ pulls attention elsewhere, you glance up at Hotch and throw him a wink. Hey. Relax. 

His jaw relaxes just a touch, and his lips twitch. As usual, he covers it by crossing his arms over his chest. Don’t be a shit. 

You wet your lips and purse them a little. Nice try. 

He shifts, just a little, raising an eyebrow. You’re really gonna go there?”

Watch this. You toss him a quick smile. “That would be great!” You brush Sean’s sleeve as you unnecessarily reach over him for Penelope. “What do you think, Pen?”

“Oh, we’d love that!” Penelope takes your hand, squeezes it, and looks up at Derek. “Wouldn’t we?”

Derek nods. “We’d love to have you, man. It’ll be good to hear what you’ve been up to in New York.” 

Aaron does his best to suppress his eye roll. You’re lucky he loves you, childish antics and all. 

+++

When you split up into your respective cars, Sean elects to ride with you over his brother. You and Hotch play the role of designated drivers. You’ve fallen into the routine, finding it's much easier to sneak around your coworkers as they get more and more inebriated through the evening. 

Aaron doesn’t look too happy with the ride arrangements, but he lets it slide. Dave and Emily ride with him, while you have Derek, Penelope, and JJ in the car with you and Sean. 

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust Sean. 

Logically, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. He woke up this morning to your patient, adoring eyes and your hands playing with his hair. You ate breakfast together (read: sat in his lap with a bowl of cereal while he read his emails), were (almost) late due to your showering arrangement, and only parted after a (very) good kiss in the driveway. 

Still though, he can’t quite shake the insecurities he always felt with his brother. Thirteen years his junior, Sean always seemed to excel in every social pursuit. Music, girls, friends - he was able to settle into things Aaron always struggled with. It was stupid. Aaron was well into his thirties when Sean was in undergrad, but that prickle of envy never seemed to fade. 

Their mother never put the pressure on Sean the way she did on Aaron, and in some ways it made sense. He was a teenager when their father passed, and Sean was hardly a child. More responsibility, more weight, less credit. 

Aaron might be his mom’s pride and joy, even to this day, but Sean will always be her baby. 

Thus, watching Sean easily weasel his way into one of your smiles wore on almost thirty years of tension. 

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Emily asks, tapping Hotch’s shoulder with gentle fingers. Upon making contact, she snorts. “Wow, you’re really tense.” 

Hotch shakes his head and shrugs her off. “I’m alright.” 

It’s Dave’s turn to snort. “No you’re not. You’ve been scowling since Sean showed up.”

“He just has that effect on me. Always has.” 

“C’mon, Aaron.” Dave says. Aaron’s grip on the wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. “He’s just a kid.” 

With a flat deadpan, Aaron replies, “He’s thirty.” 

Emily leans forward on the center console, inserting herself into the conversation. “Hotch, you don’t have anything to worry about. Sean doesn’t have anything on you.” She bumps his shoulder with hers. 

He sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Emily and Dave share a look and a little smile. 

+++

You hop out of the car, swinging your keys in your hand. Hotch is a couple of spots down from you in the parking lot, and your little groups meet up somewhere in the middle. Falling back, you let Derek and Emily lead the way. When they’re all in front of you, Sean included, you press your shoulder to Aaron’s for just a moment. 

“Are you going to be childish?” he says, quietly. 

You suppress a smile. “You’re fun when you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous.” 

“Alright.” Your hand snags his for just a moment, before you jog forward to catch up to the rest of the group. 

“There you are!” Sean’s voice rings out, and you let him tuck you under his arm. You wrap an arm around Sean’s waist and chance a look back to grin at Aaron. 

Gotcha, babe. 

Aaron rolls his eyes so loudly you can see it from twenty feet away. Ridiculous. 

I love you. 

I know. 

+++

You’ve all managed to secure a table. While not incredibly crowded, there are plenty of people around. You planted yourself next to Aaron, and Sean planted himself next to you. The music is just loud enough to encourage dancing without requiring a shout to communicate. 

Derek downed his first drink and led Penelope on the floor within ten minutes of your arrival. 

The round table is crowded, and your pinkie locked in Aaron’s belt loop goes unnoticed. He stretches his arm out behind you to clap Sean’s shoulder, and his fingers quickly trace across your shoulders as he pulls it back. 

“So what have you been up to, Sean?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.” He pulls from the drink in front of him and you’re almost certain it’s just a Coke. 

Sober? Getting there? 

Remind me to get the skinny on that later. 

10-4.

Aaron chuckles darkly. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

Sean shrugs, and leans back, checking out the dance floor. You pull your pinkie from Aaron and put both of your hands on the table. Emily’s looking a little too watchful tonight, and you’d hate to lose your bet. 

Your money is on making it more than six months without alerting the team you’ve been sleeping together. Aaron, always of little faith, took the alternative. 

“Dance with me?” Sean offers you a hand, and you take it. Before you get too far, you lean across Aaron to take another sip of your drink. When you lose your balance (on purpose), Aaron steadies you with a hand around your waist, making sure you’re settled on your feet before you jet off with Sean. 

“Thanks, Hotch!”

He takes a long pull from his beer - his only drink for the evening. Hotch. Gimme a break. 

“Looks like they’re hitting it off great,” JJ says with a laugh. “That works out. I mean, Sean’s about our age, right?”

Don’t remind me. 

“Yep. Turned thirty last month.” Aaron does his best to not sound too bitter. 

JJ smirks at Emily, who turns to smirk at Dave. They don’t know what they don’t know, but they certainly know enough to keep an eye on Aaron for the rest of the evening. 

“That’s in-flight entertainment, baby.” Emily whispers to JJ. “I can’t wait to tell Will. He’s going to die laughing.” 

JJ lets out a peal of laughter. “Absolutely.”

Out on the floor, you’re having way too much fun, sandwiched between Derek and Sean. You pull Penelope between you and Derek, and loop an arm over Sean’s shoulders. 

“So,” he says, his lips close to your ear and his voice barely audible over the music, “how long have you been sleeping with my brother?”

You freeze for just a moment, but it’s a moment too long to recover. “What?”

“Oh, come on. Question in response to a question? That’s like profiling 101.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sean rolls his eyes. “He’s halfway in love with you, if not completely fucked, in case he’s failed to tell you.” He spins you out, and back in so your back is against his chest. 

“We’ve got that covered, yeah.” You twist in his arms. “You gonna do anything about it?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I think it’s pretty funny to get him all worked up, though, don’t you think?” Another bright smile crosses his face and his blue eyes seem to glow in the dim light. 

“Oh, Sean. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” You laugh and reach for him again, but a finger appears in your belt loop. Derek pulls you back toward him by the hip. He’s stupid strong, and you can only tumble back into him with another laugh. 

You’re sweaty, sober, and having way too much fun.  

“Careful, kid. I think Hotchner has a crush.” Derek’s playful jab is warm against your ear as you fall in with him, cheek-to-cheek. 

“What can I say?” You ask. “I’m irresistible.” 

Derek throws you under his arm in a spin and you land back at his chest with the wind knocked out of you. “He’s gotta get in line though.”

“Oh?”

“I think his big brother’s gonna give him a run for his money?” 

That’s enough for you. “Gimme a break, Morgan.” With a laugh, you shove at Derek’s chest and leave the floor. Returning to the table, you sidle up to Aaron again. “Hey, Hotch. Having fun?”

He gives you a weak glare out of the corner of his eye and takes a sip of his beer. “A blast.” 

“Couple more hours, if that, then we’ll be home.” You drop your voice, almost whispering into your glass as you take another sip.

Aaron nods. “Can’t come soon enough.” 

The rest of the team gets more and more sloshed as the evening progresses, and you can get away with a lot more. That said, Sean’s eyes are playful, sober, and more than a little amused. 

“What did my brother say to you?” Hotch murmurs, under his breath. The girls went to the bathroom (and to call Spencer a cab home) while Derek and Sean posted up at the bar, itching for an excuse to give some asshole the what-for. 

You bump his shoulder. “Just that you’re half in love with me, if not already completely fucked.” 

He heaves a sigh. “Can’t catch a break.” You link your pinkie through his belt loop again. “He’s right, though.” 

“How’s that?” You look up at him and you know he can see how much you love him. 

“I’m completely fucked.” 

If any of your team members wonder what’s so fucking funny, they don’t ask. It’s just good to see Hotch smiling again. 

+++

At the end of the night, you drop Sean back off at the hotel on your way home. He’s the last in your car, so he can speak his mind with a certain degree of freedom. You idle in front of the building for a moment, just enjoying the silence.

“Hey.” 

You look over at him. “Yeah?”

“You’d make a great in-law. Just wanted you to know that I’m here for it.” He offers you a hand. You shake it and it almost feels like you’re making some kind of gentleman’s agreement. “Take care of him. He needs it.” 

“Oh, don't worry. I know.”

The smile you share is that of a pair of co-conspirators, of siblings, of friends. 

We’ll do just fine, you and I. 

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts  @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @lilsiswinchester @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @writerxinthedark @mrshotchnerrossimulder21 @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @lcvischmitt @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @garcia-reid-lovechild  @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas  @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @jeor @spencers-hoodrat 

[magalidragon]

Romantic one-liners

“However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you.”

Can it be some fluffy angst? 🥺😁

Sooo when I saw this quote I IMMEDIATELY thought of leap of faith universe. 🥺🤭 This is angsty fluff/fluffy angst in the only way I know how....with a happy ending! Enjoy! (?)

(Oh this has a TW for cancer)

Romantic One Liner Prompts

When his mother died, he'd been too young to be in hospital rooms with her for longer than a few moments at a time, the doctors afraid that he'd be bringing in all the germs and general dirtiness that followed around a preteen boy. It had been relatively quick; she fell off her horse and broke her neck and after a few days on a ventilator, his uncle made the sad decision to turn it off, with the knowledge that her organs would go on to help others. It was what Lyanna would have wanted.

All he remembered was entering the room a couple of times, the last time kissing her forehead, whispering he loved her and would miss her, and then being ushered out by his Uncle Benjen. The woman lying there with all the machines and tubes was not his mother, so it was easier for him to process. He'd kissed her goodbye when he had been on the way to school, surrounded by her earthy scent from spending her waking hours with horses in the stable, and the faintest sweetness of winter roses.

Any other time in the hospital as a patient, he had blocked it out, because he hated it so much, but there was one thing he oculd never get rid of when he walked through the doors nad it was that antiseptic coldness. It gave him a headache, forced him back to those days saying goodbye to his mother, to his uncle Ned after his heart attack, and then when he'd been there after his accident, his discharge from the military already stamped the moment he'd coded on the trauma room table Beyond the Wall.

Now, he was not here as a patient or as a visitor, but as a supportive partner. That antiseptic smell was still there, the room cold and sterile, and he maintained his composure, because he had to be strong. He couldn't afford to succumb to his own fears about why they were there or his spiraling thoughts of doom and gloom.

The papery gown crinkled under his light touch, his hand running up and down her cold arm, comforting her as best as he could. He didn't say "it will be fine" because they didn't know if it would be fine. He studied her blank expression, her lavender eyes sunken, dull shadows under them. It had been a long time since he'd seen those shadows.

They'd only been married a year, he thought, glancing at his silver wedding band. He leaned on the edge of the exam table, his arm wrapping around her shoulder, bringing her head to his shoulder. She rested it there, eyelids fluttering closed, her tiny body sagging against his, exhausted.

"What if it's back?" she whispered.

"Then it is back and we deal with it."

She nodded, turning her face into his chest, her hand clutching his shirt. He covered it with his, lifting to kiss her knuckles. "You didn't go through it the first time with me," she murmured. Her eyes clenched shut, tears trickling down her cheeks, wetting his hand when he tilted her chin up so he could gaze down a ther. She sniffed. "I was so sick, Jon. I thought the cure would kill me."

He cocked his head, knowing that all to well form his own accident recovery. "You have me now," he said. They'd talked about this, breifly, when she'd been having the headaches again, when he found her on the floor of their bedroom, sick to her stomach, too dizzy to stand, the pain blinding. She'd called her doctor immediately, scheduled an appointment.

They were waiting on rush lab results now, to determine if she would go down the hallway to get a brain scan. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, tucking the long strands back over her shoulder. It had grown out since he'd met her, tumbling beautiful over her shoulders, like a silver waterfall.

The motion had her tears falling faster, but she remained silent. "I don't want to shave my head again," she mumbled. "It's stupid, but...I don't want to have to do that again."

"Dany we don't know yet if..." If it's back, he didn't say, the words stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath and moved his arms from her, placing them on her cheeks, her face tilted to his. He wasn't very good with words, he hoped he could explain this to her. "I love you, Daenerys, and I have loved you since the moment you walked into my life and jumped out of a plane with me." He dragged his thumbs over her cheekbones, her forehead furrowed. The motion drew his attention briefly to the thin silver scar that he could see in a part in her hair, from the first surgery she had.

He took a deep breath, his heart hammering into his ribs, swallowing down that fear that he'd almost lost her, but he didn't, because he had her now. And he would have her forever too, she wans't going anywhere. "Dany whatever those results show, I am here with you, forever. For a thousand years and more, like we promised each other before the heart tree and however many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you."

She hiccupped, her hands wrapping around his wrists, smile wavering. "I love you too. So much...but it's a lot..."

"You're my wife," he breathed. He grinned. "My dragon, my partner, and whatever happens I'm here. I'm with you Dany."

She nodded quickly, eyes closing again as he brushed feather kisses over her cheeks, kissing away the tears. Her arms snaked around him, holding tight, and she released a long, shaky breath, mumbling, "I am so lucky I found you."

Me too, he thought, eyes screwed shut, squeezing her close. He had made his peace with the idea that if it was back, he was going to be there for her in everything. It would be better, he thought, because he was here for her. Last time she had been alone. Sure, she had her brothers-- one of whom was an esteemed doctor himself-- along with Missandei, but this was different.

They remained in each other's arms for a long time, until the door opened, her oncologist entering, Dr. Mel a tower of crimson hair and odd robe-like dress with her medical coat. "Good afternoon," she drawled, her accent unique and entracing. She turned her blue eyes to them, smiling serenely. "Daenerys, how lovely, you have found your promised prince."

Dany laughed, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Um, yes, I suppose I have."

"Lovely. I reviewed your blood tests and I am pleased to tell you upon first look I do not see indicators of a cancer resurgence, however I will do a CT scan to confirm. That being said, there was an anomaly in your bloodwork." Mel smiled again, unblinking, her head cocked. "One I suspect you will be pleased with."

Pleased? Jon barely registered that, because all he heard was Dany's relieved sob, her hand clutching his, her other going to cover her mouth. "Oh! Oh thank you Mel! There's nothing?" She frowned, realizing there was more. "Wait...what...pleased? I don't understand."

Jon didn't either, an arm around her shoulder now, his hand so tight in hers he wondered which one might break the other's first. "Whatever it is," he began, but didn't finished, because Mel spoke over him.

"You're pregnant."

His heart stopped beating, before it lurched into his throat, strangling any sound he might have made. In his arms, Dany cried out, shocked, her hands over her mouth. She dropped them after a second, whispering, incredulous: "Pregnant?"

"Hmm, indeed. I suspect your migraines were the result of fluctuating hormones, the dizziness and the nausea were morning sickness that perhaps carried out throughout the day." She squinted. "Are you still jumping out of planes? That might also have something to do with it, you're dehydrated again."

"But I..." she stuttered, while he was also at a loss for words. She pressed her palm over her belly, breathing. "I wasn't supposed to be able to...after the chemo and...and the radiation..."

"This is a miracle from the Lord of Light," Mel cooed.

Jon thought it more a miracle from his Old Gods, but as Dany believed in neither the Fire God of Mel or the Old Gods of his forest, he said nothing. He wasn't sure how he felt, the knowledge that they were having a baby...he met her gaze, the joy within her formerly sad eyes. "A baby," he whispered.

"A baby," she laughed, beginning to sob, arms clutching him. "I didn't think it was possible!"

"I'll give you both a moment," Mel said, turning and leaving them, door closing quietly behind her.

In his arms, Dany cried, relief and exhaustion and happiness at once. He scrubbed his palm over his face, dropping it to her back, rubbing lightly. She pulled back and lifted up her gown, peering at her flat stomach. "Hello in there," she called, lightly touching her fingertips to her hipbone. "It's Mummy and Papa."

He lightly pressed his hand over hers, touching her belly, and smiled, unable to stop. It was frozen to his face, the dopey grin. "It still stands," he said, a moment later, after they had quietly reflected, fingers joined over her stomach.

"What?"

"However long in this life we have, whether it's just a year or for a thousand of them, I want to spen dit with you." He brushed his lips over her brow, embracin gher, amending it slightly. "With you both."

Dany nodded, touching her fingertips to his cheek. "Me too." She laughed, glancing down at her tote bag. After a second, she climbed from the bed and went to it, pulling out her battered notebook. She flicked to her list, which was all checked off and removed the pen, making a notation at the bottom.

When she left with Mel to go get a CT scan, just to double check, he took a quick look at the note she'd made.

Have a baby dragon.

He picked up the pen and made a simple edit, before folding the book back up and returning it to her tote.

Have Hatch baby dragon dragons.

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 15 (Kiro’s Chapter) Part 3 [Land of Map Country] Translation [CN]

I’ve mentioned before in an earlier post about how s2ch15 is the BEST Kiro chapter I have ever read so far in MLQC. This part 3 is the start of it all.

Thanks again for helping @link4eva​

 ***Once again DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE SPOILED!!!*** 

Enjoy~

For the previous translation of Chapter 15: Part 1, Part 2.

[Land of Map Country]

The footsteps behind me suddenly sped up as if they were close. I stepped forward without hesitation and quickly jumped into the tram.

The tram closed its doors at the same time and started to move.

I looked out the window behind me with lingering fears but saw no one.

Kiro: Don’t worry, he can’t catch up to you. This is a superhero’s car.

Kiro seemed to read my thoughts and comforted me in a relaxed voice.

I steadied my breathing, looked around the car, and found that the monitor on the roof was lit with red dots, so I turned off the map and waved to it.

MC: Thanks for all the help, superhero!

Kiro: Eh? Wasn’t that already obvious?

He deliberately dragged out his words to show disappointment which made me instantly laugh.

Kiro: I thought you would make a long list about how you really feel right now.

MC: True emotions can be said face-to-face.

Hearing my words, Kiro was silent. After a long time, he laughs and replies to me in a low voice.

Kiro: I’ll remember what you said.

Kiro: I have controlled the route of this tram and it will bring you safely to my side.

Kiro: Next, Miss Chips will have a good rest in the car and she will arrive at her destination soon.

“Soon”…

I was taken aback for a moment and felt a somewhat uneasy.

Do I really want to see Kiro? Why did he hide during this time?

I glanced out of the window and the fog blurred the boundary between heaven and earth, looking chaotic and at a loss.

To this day, I still don’t know why Kiro suddenly put on the “Helios” mask, but I am quite sure what must have happened.

He is like a Rubik’s cube, its colors shuffled with different secrets scattered on each side. ***Sidenote: What an absolutely perfect analogy to describe Kiro!***

No matter how hard I try, I can’t put together a complete Kiro.

He seemed to have carried many secrets and heavy responsibilities from the beginning.

I know that everyone has secrets and they don’t want to show them to others.

He didn’t want to tell them, so I didn’t ask.

Because of an adult’s self-righteous maturity and tacit understanding. Because he is afraid of touching the corners he does not want to touched….

Because I am afraid of being hated.

And in this way, it seems that the distance between us is gradually drawn further.

I took a deep breath and decided to abandon those inexplicable adult principles and looked at the surveillance with a sincere expression.

Even if he will be hated, I have to hold on tightly to his hand.

MC: Kiro, I miss you very much.

MC: Although I don’t know why you left suddenly, but now that you found me, I’m really happy.

MC: In fact, I have been looking for you all this time and I have been looking forward to seeing you.

MC: No matter what happens to you or what you become, I don’t care.

MC: To me, a healthy Kiro is the most important thing.

There was silence over the collar. After a long time, there was small, low voice.

Kiro: MC, I….I miss you too.***Sidenote: WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! TAT***

Kiro: I have also been looking forward to meeting you at that time. You may not believe it but I missed you much more than you can imagine.

His voice is very soft, but I can hear it very clearly.

During this time, the tram came to a halt slowly and I found that it stopped at the door of a department store near the city center.

Kiro: MC, go to the underground parking lot.

His voice was muffled and a little nostalgic.

Kiro: You can just follow the No.2 safe passage and go down. The signal in the underground parking lot isn’t good…..I’ll have to cut off the communication for now.

MC: Okay, I’ll go in right away.

Kiro:…Mm. Miss Chips, goodbye.

Kiro: Also, to “see” you again, I am very happy.

As soon as his voice fell, the collar was completely silent. My heart felt a little strange but I quickened my pace nonetheless.

Maybe he listened to what I said just now.

Thinking of this, I started running, wanting to see him even sooner.

Running out of the safe passage, I saw a figure standing at the door.

MC: Kiro!

I ran and leaped forward. The figure paused, then slowly turned around, revealing a sharp profile—

At the moment I met his eyes, my footsteps became slower and slower, and I finally stopped in the open space a few meters away from him, unable to smile.

MC:….Helios.

Helios looked straight at me. The indifference between his brows and eyes made my heart feel weak.

Why is this happening?

He clearly said just now, “I’m looking forward to meeting you.” Is it a temporary remorse? Or can he only face me in this way?

I couldn’t hold his cold gaze and lowered my head in a daze.

That invisible line seemed to have shown up again, between me and him.

No wonder his tone was so helpless and low just now. No wonder he never mentioned meeting with me.

He still remained in the circle of the map and refused to come to me.

Helios looked at me, concealing the complex emotions in his eyes and his mouth became a sharp thin line.

Helios: From the look on your face, you really don’t want to see me.***Sidenote: DAMN!!! TALK ABOUT A COMPLETE 180 JUST LIKE THAT!!!***

I took a deep breath, smiled and raised my head.

MC: How could that be! I think it’s a coincidence, Helios, meeting you here like this.

No matter what kind of him, he is him. If Kiro only wants to face me in this way, then I will do so with sincerity.

He turned and strode towards the depths of the parking lot but something seemed to flash in his eyes.

I ran to keep up and walked to his side.

He didn’t wear a collar, so he should be a “human” card. I deliberately kept my distance from him to avoid accidentally touching him.

MC: Helios, where are we going?

Helios: It’s “I”, not “we”.

MC:…..

I frowned but since he didn’t flat-out refuse me, I just assumed he accepted that I would act with him.

Soon we walked into a fire control room.

Helios stopped in front of an unremarkable wooden door in the room. He took a key from the door frame and opened the wooden door.

Behind it seems to be a utility room. The space isn’t large.

MC: What are we…”you” doing here?

Helios: Last time you said that you want to investigate the hunter game and the lighthouse. Are there any results?

MC:…..

MC: Helios, the conversation should be about you and me, not selectively ignoring each other’s problems.

Helios: Let me ask again, what is the relationship between the hunter games and the lighthouse?

I calmed down my emotions and explained my conjecture about their relationship based on the overall situation.

He listened without saying a word and squinted when he heard that the hunter game might be related to opening the lighthouse.

Helios: According to you, the hunter game relies on powerful Evol energy fluctuations to open the lighthouse.

MC: Yes.

Helios: How did you open the lighthouse last time?

MC:….. After being pricked, there was a “click” and I fell.

He frowned and looked at me with a confused look.

Helios: Describe all the events that occurred at that time.

Helios: Start from when you squatted by the stone slab.

MC: Were you close by?

My eyes lit up and looked at Helios. Hearing my question, he instantly stopped.

Helios: Don’t ask boring questions, just say it.

MC:….I just squatted there, carefully looked at the slab for a while, then reached out and touched it.

MC: It’s like it was alive and then I found a cut on the palm of my hand and my feet lit up.

MC: Then I felt the ground under my feet moving along with the sound of gears turning and I fell.

MC: And then, I met you.

He raised his eyebrows, showing a familiar expression of disdain.

Helios: Blindly feeling your way around without knowing what’s hidden, how foolish.

MC: It was just a matter of trial and error.

***Sidenote: Had to look these above quotes up online cuz Google Translate wasn’t making any sense and found out it was an idiom. Basically, Helios thought it wasn’t wise for MC to just reach out and touch things without knowing what would happen afterwards. I hope I interpreted it right***

He ignored me, turned around and took out a sealed test tube container.

Helios: Reach out your hand.

I do not know why he said this.

He took out the knife he carried close to his body and quickly cut my finger with a sharp movement. I didn’t even feel any pain.

Helios: Drip the blood in by yourself.

MC: …..

Although I was very confused, I obediently dripped the blood from my finger into the glass test tube according to his instructions.

Worried that it wasn’t enough, I squeezed my finger a little bit harder.

Helios: What are you doing?

He snatched the test tube, furrowed his eyebrows and stared at me.

MC: What? Didn’t you say to drip blood into it?

Helios: …..

Maybe it was my very calm attitude that made him speechless, but his mouth was slightly open and he didn’t say anything.

In the end, he just lowered his head and opened the paper bag in his hand, took out the iodine and band-aids from it, and threw them to me.

MC: You forgot again. No matter what you say or do, I trust you.

There was a momentary pause in his fingertips, trembling slightly. He didn’t speak but he knew what I was talking about.

Whether you are Kiro or Helios, yes, it’s all the same to me.

My heart will always trust you unconditionally.

Helios watched in silence as I bandaged my finger, took out a small knife, turned the hilt and handed it to me.

Helios: Keep this with you.

I looked at the heavy knife which made me feel somewhat distant but familiar.

A long time ago, I also received this knife.

Many things are like a circle. I thought I had walked for a long time, but I found that I had come to a certain corner where I had left.

MC: Is this kind of self-defense alone really enough?

Helios: No need to repay me.

I quickly took the knife and saw him turning around to leave the room and I hurriedly followed after him for a few steps.

He stopped, making me pause mid-step, then he put his hand on the doorknob, horizontally in front of me.

Helios: Stay in here, I put enough aerosol in it.

MC: If you’re going to solve the hunter game, I can help you.

Helios: I said no need.

Helios: I will end this game in my own way.

He didn’t give me time to speak and took a big step back, closing the door of the utility room with a “bang”.

“Click--”

The door was locked.

-End of Part 3-

Continue to Part 4 

[sisterspooky1013]

A Lack of Color by SisterSpooky1013

2403 words / Rated M / Read it here on AO3

This is a Darkest Timeline fic. No fluff to be found.

Part of my Inspired By Songs series, this work is inspired by A Lack of Color by Deathcab for Cutie.

2010

The phone rang and she checked the time. She’d stopped answering his calls after 8, too heartbroken by the slur in his words and the pain in his voice, knowing that she was the one who caused them. If she could access the purely logical part of her mind she knew that it was his depression that was responsible for the fact that they could no longer be together, and his own actions after she left were the responsibility of no one but him, but when she heard the choked back sobs around his pleas for her to come home, she felt guilt so profound it twisted in her gut like a knife. Even her mother had gently questioned her as to whether leaving him alone was the right thing to do, whether that would really help him get better. She’d tried to explain that the point of leaving wasn’t to make him better, it was to save herself from going down with him, but she often wondered if this life she’d built for herself alone was much better than the one she’d left behind. Was coming home to an empty house devoid of the clatter of his keyboard and tiny piles of sunflower seed shells preferable to living with his ghost? At least when they shared a home she knew he was okay.

Home. Where was her home? Was it this impeccable, modern house just outside the city? Was it her mother’s house, where she’d spent her teenage years? Was it her apartment in Georgetown, long since occupied by someone new who would never know the depth of loss and joy that lived in its walls? Was it apartment 42, where she had loved, lost, and had Mulder returned to her? Was it the unremarkable home in the country she’d shared with him? These places all held meaning and memories, significance and importance in the story of her life, but in the end they were just buildings. Sticks and boards and concrete that housed each tear and yawn and laugh, that made space for her to fall apart and rebuild again, countless times. If home is where your heart is, then Mulder is her home, and he always will be. There is no distance great enough to separate her heart from his, even that of death or divorce, grief, pain, depression. Depression so profound that it snuffed out the spark in his eyes and drained the life from his smile. Depression that robbed him of his passion for everything, including her. Depression that made her feel invisible and unimportant. Depression that destroyed her home.

It was just past 7, so she picked up the phone, hoping that a sober voice would come through from the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey. How are you?” He sounded good, like he had some energy. She was hopeful.

“I’m okay, just reading. How are you, Mulder?”

“I’m okay. Hanging in there.”

Silence hung between them. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to ask him why he’d called or he may think she didn’t want to talk to him, so she said nothing. She heard him swallow on the other end of the line.

“I miss you” he breathed, and she could feel the ache forming in her rib cage. She closed her eyes.

“I know. I miss you too.” She fought to keep her voice neutral. She didn’t want to go to the dark place, not tonight.

“Will you come over?” He asked, and she noticed that he didn’t say ‘come home’ just ‘come over,’ which was different than all the other times. He sounded more alert, and she felt something akin to hope tug at her heart.

“Uh, I can, sure, if you need me to.”

“I do need you.” His voice was low and she felt a twinge between her legs. This wasn’t the voice of the Mulder she knew and loved, but she could hear him in there, underneath all the hopelessness. She flashed on the desire in his hooded eyes when he used to hover over her, devouring her body with animal-like urgency. What she wouldn’t give for him to touch her like that again.

“Okay, I’ll be there in about a half hour.”

He sighed, maybe from relief. “Thank you, see you soon.” The line went dead.

She had the urge to shower, to shave, to put on a pair of the sexy panties that were now relegated to the back of her underwear drawer, but she resisted. Too many nights she had paraded around in front of him only to be ignored. Too many times she had reached for him to find him unresponsive, not returning her embrace. Too many times she had slipped her hand into his boxers only to have him push it away, rejecting her advances. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, recalling the ache in her bones as she longed for physical contact. She had gone 7 years without having him in that way, but found that it wasn’t as easy to revert back to a platonic partnership. It was more than just desire, though that was there too. Their physical connection, once established, rooted her to the Earth in a way she never knew was possible. When he was inside her she was more present, more aware of her place in space and time than she had ever been or ever would be again. She hadn’t known that she wasn’t really alive until he breathed his hot, salty breath into her lungs and ignited her. He was her oxygen and without him, she suffocated and slowly faded away. She only barely escaped before she died out for good.

Settling on brushing her teeth as the sole means of preparation, she got in her car and drove to his house, their house, feeling nervous and afraid. Stopping to get out and open the gate at the end of their long driveway, she was reminded of so many nights coming home from work, wondering if today were a good day. If she’d get some shred of the man she loved, or spend the evening staring at his closed office door, eating dinner alone. Going to bed alone. Waking up alone.

“Quelquefois, on est seul chez les hommes;” The quote from Le Petit Prince had never meant so much to her as it did then.

Pulling up in front of the house, she took in the neglected lawn, the porch swing he’d built for her dilapidated, the steps rotting. The house itself seemed to embody their relationship; initially bare and full of potential, blooming into a safe haven with the care of their love, only to collapse under the weight of his demons. She killed the engine but stayed in the car, debating turning around and leaving. Why was she here? What did she stand to gain from answering his call? It was pure hope that drove her. Unrelenting need. As much as she tried she couldn’t give up on him, on them. Would she ever be able to truly walk away from him? Only time would tell. Today, it would seem, was not that day.

As she sat in her turmoil, she saw light escape the front door and his tall shadowy frame appeared, his silhouette gaunt, his hair wild and unkempt. Despite everything, her heart leapt and she felt drawn to him, her true North pulling her magnetically towards home. She exited the car and walked towards him slowly, trying to read his body language and set her expectations realistically. As she maneuvered the steps he came forward, holding out his hand to her.

“Those are getting a little perilous, I keep meaning to fix them” he joked good naturedly, the soft pads of his fingers brushing her palm. Not the hands of someone who was going to hold a hammer anytime soon, she noted. Not the calloused hands of the man who built this porch himself 7 years ago. They stood awash in the light that poured from the open door, hands still clasped. She searched his eyes and all she found was sadness, which was actually an improvement. The last time she’d had occasion to meet his hazel irises, they were empty, devoid of any feeling good or bad. He was gone entirely. Moving from his eyes, she noticed that his cheeks were ruddy and dry without her reminding him to moisturize. It looked like he’d probably shaved recently, though now it was grown into an almost-beard. His lips, though, they were still him. She bit her cheek to keep from crying, wanting more than anything to kiss that mouth, to tug that lip between her teeth. She closed her eyes.

“Thanks for coming over” he said, his voice flat.

“Of course. What did you need?” They’d done this dance before. Where’s my birth certificate? What’s the password for the online banking account? Where is the key to turn off the gas fireplace for the summer? When are you coming home? He always found a way to lure her back in. she could never resist him.

“I just wanted to see you” he replied, and she was surprised to see him roving his eyes over her body, sighing as they came to rest on her cleavage. When was the last time he’d looked at her that way? There was that throb again between her legs. She was afraid to move.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a hug, squeezing her to him. She stiffened at first in surprise, but then melted into him, her arms threading around his waist and her head falling against his chest. Home. He smelled metallic, the signature scent of his sweat. No one else smelled the way he did. It was what she imagined the core of the Earth might smell like. He sighed against her and she felt the rush of air from his nose blast against the crown of her head. What a specific feeling to miss. What a strange loss to understand.

His arms loosened and slid down her sides, grazing the dip of her waist, then her hip, and finally passing over the curve of her ass where he gripped her, lifting her up. She inhaled sharply and moved her hands to his shoulders, allowing him to carry her inside and to their abandoned bedroom like a bride, only this was the end of the romance instead of the beginning. He laid her down on the bed and started to suck at her neck while fumbling with the button of her pants. Her eyes were wide on the ceiling, wanting to stop him and ask what he was doing, what it meant, but she didn’t. Even as her mind raced, her body was opening like a flower, straining towards the sunlight of his touch, desperate for nourishment that had so long been withheld. She could feel that she was dripping wet, and she allowed him to strip her pants from her legs in one fast motion, pushing her shirt up to reveal her breasts as he unbuckled his belt. The animalistic way Mulder wanted her had always been a huge turn on, the lust in his eyes as he tore at her clothes and feasted on her body sending her over the edge.

But that was not what was happening now.

He wasn’t looking at her. He hadn’t kissed her, not once. He didn’t want her, he wanted her body. Freeing his erection from his jeans without even bothering to pull them down, he moved to line himself up with her entrance. He still had his T shirt on, her shirt askew as he grasped one breast in his palm, pushing inside her. She let out a single cry as her long-neglected body accommodated him once more, and he didn’t even look up. Didn’t ask if she was okay, hadn’t checked to see if she was ready. She could admit that it felt good, but not that good. This wasn’t how they made love, or had sex, or even fucked. Never once had he skipped right to pleasing himself. His strict “ladies first” policy was a non-negotiable, a given. So as he barreled into her, his eyes on her breasts, she brought her hand to cover her eyes as hot tears rushed down the sides of her face, collecting in her ears.

He finished within a minute, grunting as he came inside her before collapsing on her chest. Eventually he rolled off of her and pulled up his jeans, then grabbed her by the waist so that she was spooned against him, naked from the waist down.

“I’m sorry, I know that probably wasn’t the greatest for you. I’ll make it up to you next time” he whispered hotly into her ear. He held her until he fell asleep while she lie there, shell shocked, realizing that as bad as this all had been, it could get worse. She thought that being completely ignored was the worst way he could hurt her, but she was wrong. This, being treated like a vessel, was so much worse.

She slipped out of the bed and found her clothes on the floor, leaving him snoring. As she walked out the front door and carefully navigated the porch steps, she vowed to herself that she would not set foot in this house ever again.

It was not a promise she would keep.

*Authors note: “Quelquefois, on est seul chez les hommes” translates to “sometimes, one is alone among men”

Tagging @today-in-fic

[writingsbychlo]

let me down slow (epilogue)

word count; 2830

summary; it’s moving day, and stiles is getting his dorm all set up with the sheriff, while you and mitch still have a considerable amount more unpacking to do.

notes; I know some of y’all didn’t like the events of part eight, but you’re just gonna’ have to deal with it, because they’re adorable, it was all a misunderstanding, and they deserve the world.

warnings; none, really. some vaguely dirty innuendoes, that’s it.

Smoothing your hands over the poster on the wall, you pressed it flat to the plaster, holding it steady as Stiles pinned it down straight, and you cheered once the final one was up, the collection of Star Wars posters lining the walls making the room seem entirely perfect for your best friend. Hopping down from the bed, you smoothed out the covers, before letting both of your hands fly up to meet Stiles’ in a set of high fives, and the pair of you cheered as you took it all in.

“It’s really getting there!”

The oversized corkboard he loved so much was sitting against one wall, a shelf you’d spent almost an hour trying to put up between the pair of you as the Sheriff laughed was now assembled, with three baskets sitting along it. The first contained bundles of assorted pins and paperclips for putting up the vast assortment of photos and collage pieces that added, the space freshly cleared so that he could build it up ready for the new year. The second basket contained his camera, with a selection of different types of film for interesting shots, and the third was filled with pens and note pads for all the annotations and quotes he would put under each picture. 

The opposite wall was lined with six matching Star Wars posters, showing off the promotional pictures and titles of the originals and the prequels, a prized possession that you’d bought for Stiles as a graduation present, so that he didn’t have to take his collection at home down and travel them across the country. His desk was already cluttered with notebooks and pens, and the closet was brimming with flannelled shirts. The bookcase was stacked with textbooks and DVDs. Above the desk was pinned a campus map, class schedule, time table and a calendar, all for his convenience, because Stiles had already voiced his desire to cram as many college experiences into his first year as he possibly could, he wanted to live life to the fullest.

Along the windowsill were photo frames with his favourite pictures of everyone from back home, and he was proudly staring at the final few boxes on the floor, as his dad carried the last one in, the final clothes he had ready to be unpacked into the set of drawers beside his bed, your hand coming up to wipe across your forehead in false exhaustion as you looked around. 

“It’s fitting for you, kid.”

His voice was a little rough, and you could tell that the Sheriff was holding back his emotions as he sent his youngest son off to college, too. He held his arms out of you both, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he let out a string of curses at the affection, but pressed his face into his father’s neck as he wrapped around one side of his body, not covering the little sniffle he let out as well as he thought he had. You were quick to follow in his footsteps, tucking yourself happily under the older man’s chin, and you squeezed the two men in a tight hug. 

You easily remained that way, knowing that the two were each trying to hide their emotions, and you smiled to yourself at the thought, rolling your eyes softly. “You know, dad, I’m going to be checking with Melissa that you’re still eating healthy. Don’t think you can start eating bacon and fries every day now just because I’m gone.”

“You’re the worst.”

You giggled as he pushed you both away, but he ruffled your hair fondly, and you decided to lighten the mood a little, turning to swipe the camera from its place on the shelf, checking it was loaded with film before handing the polaroid device over to Noah. “I think we need to take the first picture to put up, don’t you?”

Stiles gasped, nodding happily before turning to you, and you pressed your hands to his shoulder once he’d turned back to face his father, and you jumped up as high as you could, sealing you legs above his hips and he gripped at your thighs, letting out a laugh as you landed on his back, your hands wrapping around his neck. With the cheesiest grin that you could muster, the Sheriff gave you a count down, before clicking the camera and waiting as the small piece of paper pushed it’s way out of the device, before handing it over to you both and putting the camera down on the desk.

Holding up the little slip, he waited patiently as the colour began to drip into it, the picture slowly revealing itself, and you let out a squeal once it became properly formed, so that you could see the image clearly. “I love it! Pin it!”

You tapped his shoulders, and he moved eagerly across to the board, selecting a pin and pushing it through the card, securing it to the very centre of the board. Only a second later, he was grabbing a red pen and a yellow post-it note, scribbling down a reminder before adding the note to the photo, and you peaked over his shoulder to read it. 

‘Move-in Day, August 2020’

You grinned, taking the pen and adding a little heart to it, before placing your hands on your hips and looking around the room. The phone you’d left on the bedside table a while ago buzzed loudly, chiming a little tune as it did, and you jumped at the interruption. Stiles moved across the room for you, picking up the device before letting out a long groan, and you chuckled at his reaction, already knowing who it must be.

“It’s my brother. Your boyfriend. Ew, I hate the sound of it, still.” You grinned at his words, sticking your tongue out as you took it from him, scanning your eyes over the message, before reaching for your bag and sealing the device inside, lifting it up onto your shoulder. “Time to go?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. You’re unpacking these last few boxes alone.” You joked, and he huffed, kicking at one lightly with the toe of his shoes. 

“Not alone, Dad is here to h-”

“Dad is going back to the hotel to rest his back and take a shower. Stiles is alone and putting his own laundry away for the first time in his life.” His dad grinned, and the boy let out a whine at it, stomping his foot a little before giving in. 

“See you tonight, at the restaurant?”

“We will meet you there.” His face scrunched up once again.

“I can’t get with the referring to you and Mitch as a ‘we’. I’m not used to it.” You shrugged, but leaned up to press a friendly kiss to his cheek, before letting him wrap you up in a tight hug, and brush his lips to your temple. “I’ll get used to it. I’m just glad you’re happy.”

His dad left the room, leaving you both to your moment, even though you were only saying goodbye for a few hours, but he was a little jittery once the door had closed. 

“Can I tell you something, before you go? I don’t want it to be a big deal, but I do want to tell you first.” You nodded, brows furrowing as he fiddled with his fingers between your bodies worriedly, and you reached up to place your hand over his own, letting him lace your fingers together. “Now that I’m not obsessing over Lydia anymore, and I’m in college and really taking a minute to get to know myself, I think I discovered something.”

“Is it good?”

“Yeah.. yeah, I think so.” He was nervous, biting down on his lower lip, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly in an attempt to tell him that it was okay. “I think I might be bi.”

A blushing tinge spread over his cheeks, his eyes ducked to avoid your own as the heat spread up to his ears and painted his pale skin pink, and you leaned in to press your body to his, your arms wrapping around him tightly, and he let out a deep sigh, before wrapping himself around you once again, his body sagging out of relief. 

“There was this guy in my welcome lecture, and he was really good looking, and while I was still in my Lydia phase I didn’t really think about anyone else that way, so I was pretty shocked when my first thought was about a guy, but then he asked me if I wanted to get coffee before the semester starts, and I said yes. We’ve been texting for a few days, now.” The words came out jumbled and hurried, and you stepped back to look at him, making sure to catch his gaze as he gave you a nervous smile. 

“I’m so happy for you, Stiles.”

“I’m going to tell my dad and brother at dinner tonight, but I just needed some support.” You nodded, before stepping back as he let out a relieved laugh and wiped a hand over his face. “God, I feel so much better. I hate keeping things from you. I don’t know how you did it for months, having secrets with you kills me.”

“It wasn’t without a lot of suffering, trust me.”

He grinned, before nudging you towards the door. “See you in a couple of hours.” You simply nodded, waving your goodbye to the Sheriff as he chatted with the other parents of Stiles’ various roommates for the year, and you made your way to the door, stepping out into the corridor. 

With hurried steps, you made your way down the stairs, knowing it would be quicker than taking the elevator, and you were just glad Stiles was living on the first floor, you really weren’t sure he’d be able to handle hiking up twelve layers worth of stairs to the top floor on a tired day if the lift ever broke. 

It wasn’t a short walk to the place you had promised to meet your boyfriend, and the walk was enjoyable, hot sun shining down and a light breeze carrying through the campus, cooling you down from the heat. Shuffling through your bag, you searched for your sunglasses, lifting them out to place them on your face, and letting out a happy sigh when you no longer had to squint. 

You could already see the man you were waiting to meet, his body coming into view as he sat on the edge of the fountain, scrolling idly on his phone as he waited for you, the bag slumped on the floor beside his feet was spilling out with textbooks and his laptop, and his hair was messy from constantly running through it. Picking up your speed a little, you made your way over to him and took up before him, your shadow falling across him. He glanced up, expression stoic and stony before he realised who it was, and his face split open in a wide grin as his entire demeanour brightened. 

“Thought you were standing me up for a second there. You’re late.”

“Yeah, well, I got caught up. You can believe that I will never just leave you hanging.” You offered, and he scooped up his bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder before standing up, and he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

Pulling you in towards himself, he bumped the tip of his nose with your own, before letting out a sigh. “I know you wouldn't.” He pressed his lips to your own, a sweet kiss that made your heart thud and your mind spin, before you were pushing up into him a little further. Resting your hands on his shoulders, his own slipped down to your waist, holding your body to his as his mouth moved with your own in gentle rhythms, and giving you one final peck when he pulled away. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely.” He took your hand in his, pulling you away toward the direction of the apartment the two of you had so carefully chosen together, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked. He twisted, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, and you squeezed you hand in acknowledgement of his affections. “Guess who I ran into earlier?”

“Who?”

“The redhead from a few weeks back.” He stiffened underneath you, only relaxing when you paused, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips as he fixed you with a worried glance. “Her name is Cassandra, which you never told me, and she’s actually really nice. We arranged to go for coffee.”

He practically choked on his breath, turning to look at you with wide and worried eyes as he held the door to the building open for you, and you slipped through, letting him follow as you laughed lightly at his reaction. “What was she doing there?”

“Her friend was moving into Stiles’ building, and she was helping out.” You shrugged, the two of you stepping into the elevator and you were glad to be alone, leaning back against the wall and pushing your glasses up onto the top of your head to peer at him, raising a brow. “Hey, stop freaking out. I can see the cogs working in your head. She asked about us, you know.”

“What did she say?”

“Just wanted to know if I was all good, and if things worked out.” You shrugged a little, your glasses slipping on your head, and you detangled them from your loose hair and put them away once again. “I told her that we’re doing amazing, and that I’ve never been so happy, and that we have a place together with a whole bunch of plans for the future.”

He finally let his shoulders drop from the tension he’d built up, before tucking some hair away behind your ears and stepping in towards you, crowding you into the wall a little further. “Never been so happy, huh?”

“Totally and one hundred percent in love with you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered the words into your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you, barely getting a chance to do so before the elevator was chiming and the doors were sliding open. You grinned in the kiss as he huffed out, pulling away and letting the two of you walk along, both of you patting down your bags to find your keys, but he found his own first, and lifting the set up to the door to open it.

Boxes still littered the room, labelled with things to be unpacked and brought out, but whereas Stiles had been unpacking only one room, the two of you had been unpacking an entire apartment, and there was still a lot to buy and a lot to set up, the flat-pack furniture box holding the coffee table the two of you had yet to assemble was sitting with coasters out and rings on top from drinks, using it for its purpose before it was even constructed. 

“We’re still on for dinner with Dad and Stiles, right? I don’t think we have any leftovers from last night’s takeout and I’m too lazy to go for a supermarket trip.” He flopped down onto the couch, and you nodded, hanging up your bag on the hooks and taking your phone from it, running you fingers through your hair and tugging on some of the knots that had built up.

“Yes, we are. Are you going to get changed, or wash up?”

“No, I'm going to take a nap.” He grinned, settling along the couch and tucking a hand behind his head, pouting his lips when he felt you lean over him. Pressing a soft and quick peck to his lips, you brushed some hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes, before standing up. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to take a shower before we go.”

You jumped when his eyes snapped back open, and he rolled up from the couch, grinning cheekily as his hands found your hips and he turned you around. “You know what, maybe I should wash up. We haven’t christened the bathroom yet, and I bet you look great on your knees in the shower.”

He tapped your ass cheekily in a light spank, and you gasped at the impact, but laughed anyway as he guided you through the halls, tugging at the bottom of your sundress as you went, until he had the material over your head, dropping it to the floor in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You love it.” He teased, switching on the water and waiting for it to get hot as he stripped himself down, and you let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“I love you.”

“Good, because I love you too.”

[darknessisafriend]

We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside us. Joe x Reader

Another request from the pick a quote challenge. Thanks to @fly-like-a-phoenix​ for requesting it <3 I hope you will enjoy it!

You yawned as you took out your keys and unlocked the front door, another long day working in university which had exhausted you, and you felt a headache not far behind to make it worse.

“Joe, I’m home!” you called as you entered and closed the door behind you, putting your bag on the floor. You looked around and felt something was wrong, it wasn’t the usual silence of the house; the TV was on as a background noise and you saw the faucet open in the kitchen, water running freely. You frowned, that wasn’t normal. “Joe?” you called again and walked to the kitchen to stop that water running, wondering where he was. As you looked around, you suddenly gasped as you tripped over something and caught yourself against the counter to avoid falling.

“Joe?” you exclaimed as you saw him on the floor, understanding you had tripped over him, he was in a prostrated positions, his head in his hands, breathing fast and hardly paying attention to you.  You crouched down in front of him and gently put your hand on his knee, he was going through another anxiety attack. “Joe, baby that’s me.” You said again, a bit louder this time and it made him finally look at you, his eyes wide.

“Y/N…” was the only thing he could say, he was terrified. Did something in the house, in the TV perhaps had triggered this attack? He kept trembling and panting even though having you here slowed down his anxiety attack. “Monsters…everywhere…everywhere…”

“Joe, there’s no danger, no monsters in the house. There is only me.” You said calmly, now touching his hand, slowly tracing small circles on his skin to sooth him and keep him focused on you. But he shook his head.

“No…they’re here, they’ve always been there…” he put his finger on his temple “I…I stopped checking for monsters under my bed when I realized they were inside me…my fuckin’ father…war…criminals…myself…why can’t I get them out!?” he growled, tired.

“You can overcome this Joe, I know you can, focus with me, stay with me.” You told him, your tone calm and strong, you were getting used to his panic attacks, his depression episodes, it was heavy, but you loved him too much to leave him like that.

Your hand kept caressing his soon he slightly started to calm down, turning his hand to hold yours, and finally making eye contact with you, it was full of pain, he was sorry to put you through this. “Hey…” you said softly, smiling at him, your other hand coming up to caress his cheek.” What happened? Tell me.” You encouraged him, once again showing him you were ready to share his burden.

“I was just washing the dishes and thinking…and I ended up thinking too much, I got lost in my mind and in bad memories.” He explained with a sigh, you nodded understanding and squeezed his hand, encouraging him again. “I was thinking of how my hands are full of blood and death…those assholes I killed to protect people but also the blood of the people I couldn’t save…I hate it. And I dare to touch you with them.” He explained and you looked at him with pain, Joe had a big heart and was more sensitive than what he showed to others.

“Joe.” You said firmly, catching his attention again “I know you now and I know you did the best you could, you always did your best to help people.” You took his hands and filled them with kisses. “Those hands are covered in blood, but they are full of love, they touch me and those in need with gentleness, they are not disgusting, they are helpful and the weapon of true justice. You dare and take risks that others don’t. You saved so many people. I am proud of your convictions and of who you are Joe.” You told him without hesitation, keeping on kissing his hands.

“You are a surprising woman you know? All those I had before ran away, but you don’t...” he commented with a little smile, opening his legs to let you in. Which you gladly did, settling between his legs and wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a tender kiss on the lips.

“Well, the only difference is that I truly love you. And perhaps I have more the strength to support you no matter what.” You replied softly, brushing your nose against his beard. “You know, I was thinking about something. I don’t like leaving you alone like that, especially when you risk having an attack like the one you just had. I was thinking maybe we could get you PTSD service dog to keep you company…what do you think?” you asked him, hoping he would understand it could really help him.

For long second, he stayed silent, thinking about it “I actually saw something about it on TV…we could give it a try.” He said in a flat tone, but he couldn’t hide the hope in his eyes, he wanted to feel better.

“Perfect! Tomorrow I’m off so we will take a look and see how to get one.” You beamed with a happy smile, you were relieved, you wouldn’t spend your days worrying at work that Joe might be going under a rough moment, he would be pampered by a companion as well and he deserved it. Joe hugged you tightly, he wouldn’t be alone with his inner demons anymore.

Joe's protection squad: @skaravile​ @lyoongx​ @weirdflecksbutok​ @niniitah-ah @stardancerluv​ @sgtsavoytruffle​ @charlie-sisters @thedamchii​ @arthurismybby @radio-hoo-ha @ninathefandomcollector @kiddastle @lovesickforjoaqvin @joaquins-angel​ @rajacero  @ohcarlesmycarles​ @morrisonmercurryphoenix @fly-like-a-phoenix​

[officerjennie]

A spiteful continuation of my last Geskel piece (which will be linked in the comments), with Ace!Eskel (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

CW: Smut with feelings (lots of feelings). Bottom Geralt Rights. Intercourse. Teasing that’s (mostly) not meant to be teasing. Eskel getting a little overwhelmed with feelings. WC 5k+

--

Ever since Geralt had opened up to him, their time together had shifted. Change was something that always came a big more difficult the older one got but Eskel rather liked this change, liked that Geralt relaxed down onto the bed for him, let Eskel’s hands run over his still clothed body and slowly peel the layers off of him.

In all honesty, Geralt had more practice in all of this than he did, and it wasn’t entirely due to his scars. Oh, Eskel was not naïve, he knew the way most humans looked at him. It’s exactly the reason he avoided so many of them - and he’d never fancied himself a hero anyway, simply there to do the dirty work and clean up the messes the world created, dealing with curses and monsters and the like. But he knew he wasn’t a pretty sight to many, his scars playing into their fears, reminding them of what was out there that could hurt them.

And reminding them that he could survive it and far, far worse.

He wondered, sometimes, whether they were more afraid of him for surviving it, or afraid of whatever had attacked him. Not that it really mattered, but it was a thought that drifted in and out of his head throughout the years as he traveled his own path, sticking mostly to the shadows and remaining an anonymous figure for the most part, never creating or wanting to create a name for himself.

“Eskel.”

But Geralt might change his mind about names. Eskel sat straddled in his lap, tilting his head as he watching how the morning light lit up the fan of Geralt’s hair on the pillows. His chest was bare and his abdomen warm beneath one of Eskel’s palms, the muscles subtly clenching in a way meant to entice him to touch more, stomach expanding and collapsing as Eskel simply felt him breathe.

The bulge in Geralt’s pants told him quite clearly the other man was interested in much more than breathing. Eskel’s mouth quirked upward, the scar stretching tight as it did. “Did you want something?”

“Want you to get on with it,” Geralt growled at him, no real heat to his glare. 

Humming, Eskel ran his hand flat over Geralt’s stomach, admiring the strength there, stopping to trace a scar along the right side. “Not in a rush, are we?” He’d never cared for rushing. Sex in a hurry held no appeal to him, getting off really not being the purpose. What did it matter if he came if it didn’t mean something between them? If he didn’t have time to show the man beneath him how loved he was?

Geralt never really minded them rushing. Most times he was rather impatient if Eskel was being honest. But now that Geralt had handed him the reigns, it wasn’t up to him to decide how quickly they got to it.

Eskel planned to take his time with it.

At least he was kind enough to divest him of the rest of his clothes. Geralt helpfully hitched up his hips when needed, propping his head up proper to get a better view when Eskel settled down between his spread thighs. Eskel’s fingers got distracted once again by the expanse of skin underneath them, tracing scar after scar, knowing the stories of many and tilting his head curiously at the few others. One was even new, a crescent shaped one just at his hip, with indents in it that Eskel knew had to have hurt more than the smoother ones - knew from experience what missing parts of himself felt like. To soothe the old wound he bend down low to brush his lips against it, closing his eyes, chapped lips hardly able to feel the difference between the scarred flesh and the rest of him.

The feel of a warm, broad hand at the back of his head made Eskel’s eyes flutter back open. He stared up the expanse of his lover, up the pale skin and rather large pectorals that were covered with curls, all the way up to the heated pools of gold that stared at him as if Geralt wanted to devour him whole. It made him smile, a hint of a smirk in it, as he rubbed his nose gently at his hip.

A growl made him laugh, which just earned his hair a bit of a tug - nothing rough, Geralt knew he wasn’t a fan of rough between them, just a gentle reminder that Geralt’s wants were still left resting heavy and full against his thigh.

“‘Patience, little wolf’,” Eskel teased, his eyes glittering with humor at the expression that caused. Geralt groaned and dropped his head back, grouching about not quoting their teacher while they were like this, and Eskel took his chance to run his lips all over the skin he so dearly wanted to spoil and adore.

The thighs were next. He squeezed them and memorized the scars all over, his cheek dangerously close to Geralt’s now leaking cock but he still paid it no mind, far more invested in kissing each and every mark he found on his body. There were no new scars down here but he knew there was a single beauty mark right where his left arse cheek met his thigh and he found it with ease, eyes closed yet again as he pressed a gentle kiss right overtop of it before flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat on his skin. Geralt groaned again but it sounded nothing like the last one, the scent of arousal thick in the air around them, his pre’s scent sharp and cutting through it when Eskel inhaled.

“Fucking tease.”

Eskel didn’t even look up this time, humming as he kissed up Geralt’s thigh, adoring him. Just to make sure they both got an equal amount of love he switched to the other, smattering it with kisses, his heart fluttering in his chest as he did.

There was no doubt in his mind that there had been many hands and lips on this same skin. Nights and days alike where many had roamed Geralt’s body, seeking out his pleasure and their own, men and women and others riding his thighs or cock. Sex workers and those just looking for a thrill, those who had seen the beauty inside of him or had simply wanted a go. They were both no longer young pups and had traveled the world, experiencing much of it, and Geralt had never been shy over seeking out adult pleasures.

His were not the first hands to run over his thighs and marvel at them. His were not the first fingers that squeezed and dug into the muscle there, or to skim oh so close to where he wished they would be wrapped around him. Many eyes had drank him in hungrily before, many lips had found their path just next to his sack - but how many, he wondered, held the trust that Geralt had in him?

Perhaps it was wistful thinking, but he doubted any of them at all. He doubted any were allowed to hold him close the way he was allowed to, doubted any had seen him at his worst and loved him still, that any had allowed to see him so vulnerable in the way Eskel had many times before.

Doubted any had given their hearts so willingly over to him as well.

“Tease - sweet Melitele, Eskel, if you don’t start using that tongue I swear to fuck-” Geralt hissed down at him, his patience breaking and hand tugging at Eskel’s hair in his own sort of plea.

Right. He huffed out a breath that made Geralt swear at him again with it so close to his cock; he really should remember that this was, well, different for the both of them. Maybe he got all he needed just kissing every inch of him but Geralt was after something more.

Didn’t mean Eskel had to be nice about it though. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he flashed a smile up at Geralt, and then immediately wrapped his lips right around his cock and swallowed around him. The taste of pre was thick on his tongue as Geralt swore, practiced experience having Eskel’s hands coming up to hold Geralt’s hips down since he saw the jerk of them coming. Choking on his love’s cock had never seemed all that appealing to him, no matter that he loved the feel of having him thick against his tongue, feeling the weight there.

Eskel sunk down low, humming very lightly to feel Geralt’s nails scratch gently at his scalp, his love trying to find purchase but being as gentle as he could. He relaxed his jaw to keep from aching, hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled back until just the tip stayed in his mouth, licking the slit and feeling Geralt leak for him.

This was something they could both enjoy greatly. He heard Geralt moan as he sunk down again, his own cock twitching in his pants but he ignored it, not really caring if it got any attention throughout their evening. Though, he supposed, it would eventually once they were joined, but Eskel was much more concerned with their current connection.

It was why he loved this so much. He rested his head briefly against Geralt’s thigh just to feel it warm against him as he sucked lightly on the head of his prick, one hand coming up to fondle his sack, rolling a testicle and feeling Geralt twitch beneath him. There was just something so soothing about being connected like this, in such an intimate way, that Eskel had to fight against the urge to relax and simply lay there, simply exist in that connection - it would drive Geralt up the wall for him to do so, it would earn him so many accusations of teasing but there was no purposeful teasing meant about it. Eskel just…

Perhaps he loved differently, he mused, as he lifted his head once more to sink down and run the flat of his tongue against the bottom of Geralt’s shaft. Perhaps he simply loved being as close as physically possible to his love, and this was one way he could do that. Feel Geralt inside of him and know there were little ways they could be closer than this, than to be intertwined in such a way. 

Geralt’s moaning had deepened, rumbling above him. Some words managed to escape him here and there, the occasional praise, his name, his hand cupping the back of Eskel’s head as Geralt did his best to not push him to go faster - as they both knew he wanted to. It gave Eskel a thought that he made sure to put away for later; sometime, he should let Geralt use his mouth as he pleased, but for now he wanted to enjoy this entanglement the way he best knew how.

When the ‘tease’ word slipped out again, Eskel hollowed his cheeks and lifted his head until he let Geralt’s cock slip out with an audible pop, watching it fall heavy and swollen and wanting in his absence. He kissed its leaking head a few times, then kissed down its shaft and over to one of his thighs once more, looking up between his eyelashes in that way he knew Geralt loved as he purred, “You love it” in accusation right back.

Sure, he never meant to tease - well. Usually his actions weren’t meant that way. But it didn’t mean he was entirely oblivious to how much Geralt actually loved being worked up into a tither. 

But, Eskel supposed, he’d been ‘teased’ enough. He patted Geralt’s thigh affectionately and then pushed himself up, letting Geralt grunt at him all he wanted while he got up to fetch the oil. It had been left in his pack when they’d gotten to the inn, tossed somewhere into the big pocket, which meant it took him a minute to fish it out. When he finally stood back up he turned to find Geralt palming himself, his eyes heady as he watched Eskel’s movements. 

“Pants off,” Geralt ordered, and Eskel found it just amusing enough to listen. He tossed the oil at his face first, not doubting for a second that his hand would snatch it right out of the air, and in no rush finally undid the buckles for his own pants and slipped out of his smalls.

The cold air hitting his own prick made him want to hiss. He glanced down, not having really even realized how much his body had been reacting to this, finding himself heavy and wanting - only natural, he supposed. The scent of sex and arousal was heavy in the air and it had been a while since he’d given himself any sort of satisfaction; Geralt had gone off on his own for the past few months to try and hunt down his friend, after having shown him his arse on top of a mountain, leaving Eskel to his own devices in the meantime.

And left to his own devices, Eskel had little to no real interest in taking the time to relieve himself in such a fashion - most days he forgot about it entirely, until he was perhaps a little too grouchy when asking for the right payment for a hunt, or when he found himself staring a little too long at some cute thing that passed him by.

He climbed back into bed and resumed his position between Geralt’s thighs, this time hooking his fingers under his knees and lifting him up so he could get a good look at his entrance. With an outstretched hand he asked for the oil back, catching it when it was tossed at his face in revenge, flashing his love an amused smirk and loving the one he saw on Geralt’s face as well.

The look lost its amusement when he swatted Geralt’s hand away from his cock, replaced with a glower that held no real heat. He apologized with a kiss that made Geralt buck his hips just to be a prick, and Eskel nipped his thigh in revenge. 

“Get on with it.”

One of these days, Eskel was going to ignore him. He shook his head fondly, already missing the way Geralt’s fingers felt in his hair and the way he felt on his tongue but more than willing to ‘get on with it’ if that’s what Geralt wanted.

He popped the oil open and slicked up three of his fingers, though he would only be using one for the time being, before pouring some directly below Geralt’s sack to watch it drip down his crack. It made Geralt shiver and made a bit of a mess on the sheets but Eskel was, if anything, very careful about this sort of thing. The last thing he wanted was to cause Geralt any sort of discomfort, though he knew there was always going to be some measure of that whenever stretching him open; his plan was always to cause as little unnecessary discomfort as possible, all things considered. 

With his slicked up middle finger, he slipped down and followed the path of the dripping oil, running it against Geralt’s entrance and watching it twitch at the light attention. As Geralt tried to push down into it, Eskel held one of his legs up further, pushing it up by the thigh to give him a good view of what he was doing, of the attention he was giving his love. His finger glided so easily over where Geralt wanted it, and he circled it on his entrance, pushing ever so gently to see how easy it might give to the pressure.

Didn’t take much to push in just to the first knuckle, feeling the ring of muscle clench around him. He heard the gasp and subsequent exhale of air when he did, heard Geralt’s heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he rubbed inside of him, feeling the tug of it all. Geralt clenched down at the hint that he might take his finger out and it made Eskel huff out some air of his own; Geralt really didn’t want to let him go, did he?

But he was a bit too tight, not relaxing for him. He worked that one finger in gently, in and out slower than Geralt would have preferred, feeling his thigh clenching under his hand as he did. Slowly, the resistance faded, Eskel kissing the leg that he held up and murmuring for Geralt to relax for him, let him take care of him.

It made his heart ache in the best of ways that Geralt did let him. That Geralt moved about as best he could in his position to gather the pillows up to prop his head up with, aided by one arm behind his head, so he could watch what Eskel was doing with hungry eyes - that Geralt laid back and relaxed even as his arousal laid heavy against his stretched out thigh, still dripping precum, still wanting the touch it was now denied as Eskel was busy elsewhere. 

Meant the world to him that Geralt let him do this. Let him take the reins and work him open, slipping two fingers in now as he peppered more kisses anywhere he could reach, bending down to kiss at the back of the thigh he held tight to stretch his hips wider. 

When he finally had two fingers fully in him, he let Geralt move just enough to rock into them. He loved feeling Geralt clench around them and hear him groan at the connection - though, he suspected it was more how full he felt than the connection itself, given the heady sound of it. That didn’t stop Eskel’s heart from feeling just as full; he had to bite his lip to stop from getting too emotional over this, just like usual. Something about being with Geralt like this always made him turn into such a sap it was nearly embarrassing. He was just grateful Lambert would never catch wind of any of this, to at least spare him the constant embarrassment and teasing over getting teary eyed over making love. 

At least Geralt had either not ever noticed or was choosing to ignore the sap that bubbled up and threatened to spill over. Eskel crooked his fingers and felt them drag across Geralt’s inner walls, drawing a low moan out of him, flicking his gaze up to quirk an eyebrow at the hand that inched towards Geralt’s cock.

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, searching around with his two fingers. “Let me take care of you.” 

The hand paused, and Eskel continued his searching. It took a little while, perhaps a minute or so, but he wasn’t in any rush - but when he finally found that bundle of nerves he rubbed against it firmly, feeling Geralt suddenly clench around him with a much louder moan this time, his thigh clenching again and his breaths hitching.

Eskel had to shift about, feeling a little uncomfortable, the scent getting to him and making his own prick leak. He’d never been much of a leaker, finding it actually a little difficult to get to that point of arousal, but it dribbled out onto his thigh then and made his skin itch. But he ignored the urge to wipe it off, pulling his fingers out to the tips so he could press in with a third, feeling some resistance as he did. Not enough that it wouldn’t give but enough for him to watch Geralt’s face as he worked all three in, making sure there wasn’t any discomfort there - but the furrowing of his brow didn’t have anything to do with pain, just impatience, the urge to seek out pleasure but the knowledge that he had to be patient and wait.

It was almost cute, how frustrated Geralt could get over sex. Cute enough to earn him some more kisses, Eskel even dipping down to press one nice and firm against the side of his shaft, peppering more all the way up to swipe the precum up with his tongue. 

There it was. That hand back in his hair, fingers running through his locks and making his eyes flutter closed as it gently grasped a handful at the back of his head. He hadn’t meant to just yet but he slipped Geralt’s cock back into his mouth at the feel of them, loosening up to take his entire length in, letting his nose rest in a nest of white curls and he just stayed there. Jaw slack, tongue pressed against the length of him, fingers moving while his head stayed still and he just listened and felt. 

Every once in a while, he had to swallow, not wanting to drool all over his love. He worked him open and listened to him moan, listened to his hitching breaths and his heart beat faster and faster. When at last four fingers worked in and out of him with little effort Eskel decided that was enough, that he was decently stretched and wouldn’t hurt from them joining - not that Eskel had much to worry about there. His own prick wasn’t as thick as Geralt’s, rather modest in size and girth, which made it much easier to stretch him appropriately beforehand. Much faster than the other way around, when their norm had been Geralt inside of him, one reason Eskel had never quite understood the societal embarrassment over smaller pricks.

As he positioned himself closer, not wanting to pull Geralt down from his comfy position propped up on the pillows, he hitched both of his legs up to wrap them around his hips. Geralt helped pull him closer and squeezed him gently between his thick thighs as Eskel took himself in hand, guiding his prick towards that well stretched hole and gently grinding it between his cheeks.

“Fuck, wait.” Eskel paused, looking here and there, not immediately spotting what he was after. Which earned him an impatient growl but he just soothed a hand over Geralt’s stomach and ignored the bucking of his hips, finally spotting and grabbing the previously abandoned oil - which he had thankfully remembered to cap before it had been tossed recklessly to the side. At least it had also stayed within arm’s reach. He poured a generous amount into his palm before stroking himself a few times, squeezing just because he could, making sure he was oiled up nicely before guiding himself back to where his love wanted him.

He slipped in with ease, pushing passed that ring of tight muscles and shuddering at the feel of it squeezing around the tip of his prick. When he showed signs of stopping there to enjoy it a moment Geralt pushed back onto him, pulling him closer with his crossed ankles, and Eskel huffed in amusement but obeyed. It didn’t take long before he was fully inside of him, feeling him contracting around him in pleasure, Geralt’s eyes closed and his back arching ever so slightly off of the bed as he enjoyed their joining.

Eskel could not have found a better home than here, where he was. His own breaths shuddered, head dropping as he closed his eyes and took it in. The warmth that spread through him had little to do with the sexual pleasure and everything to do with how close they were. How impossibly close, but never close enough. Suddenly he needed to be closer, needed to have his arms around his love- Eskel moved them around until he was laying against Geralt’s chest, worming his arms underneath him to hug him tight, feeling Geralt’s thighs squeeze around him as he did.

Eyes shut tight, Eskel buried his nose against Geralt, letting it all wash over him and melting the second he felt those strong arms envelope him right back. One hand flat against his back, the other in his hair, scratching at his scalp and cradling his head with such care.

He breathed. That’s all he could do then, as they were, closer now than ever before. He felt wrapped up tight and safe in that moment, and felt complete, like the warmth in his chest would never go away. It felt like the cumulation of all he’d ever wanted each and every time he took such care of his love, what he’d always been chasing every time he wrapped his lips around his prick or felt how warm Geralt was around his fingers.

All of it had led to this, feeling impossibly close and complete now with him. Like they trusted and loved each other like no other could, the intimacy of it all making the corners of his eyes wet with emotion.

“You alright?”

He cracked his eyes open, peeking up through thankfully dry eyelashes at the gentlest of tones. Concern was written on the downpull of Geralt’s frown but Eskel tugged one of his hands free, reaching up to sooth it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“‘M fine.” He pressed his hips closer and shifted just enough to feel their connection, sighing into it. “I just...love you.”

It sounded lame to his own ears, but mercifully Geralt didn’t tease him over it. He kissed his thumb instead, a softness taking over his expression then as he rubbed gentle circles into his back and held him closer.

“Love you too.” He shifted as well, a noise escaping his throat as his now trapped prick rubbed against Eskel’s stomach. “But can the cuddling come later? After?”

Eskel kissed the pectoral he’d been burying his nose into, humming thoughtfully. “Didn’t think you a cuddler, Geralt. Wonder what your bard would do with that knowledge.”

He got bucked for that tease, breaking the softness that had overcome him and replacing it with warm humor. To say Geralt had been patient with him would have been a lie but he had allowed him this much so far; the least Eskel could do was help him come, and then get on with his soggy emotional cuddling.

It still took a lot out of him to peel himself off of Geralt enough to be able to continue on like he wanted. He had also gone a little soft in his emotions, though he knew it wouldn’t take too long to remedy that - a few rocks of his hips brought most of the interest back, tingles of pleasure working their way through him, deep inhales through his nose letting his brain go a little foggy with the scent of oil and sex about them. Since Geralt had had plenty of time to get used to him, the glide of his prick in and out of his arse was smooth, allowing a nice amount of friction to have them both letting out small noises.

Chasing his own arousal had never really mattered to him, but helping Geralt build up his own sounded quite delightful. Especially so with how Geralt laid himself out so beautifully for him, one arm back behind his head so he could take in what Eskel was doing to him, for him, the other reaching down to take one of Eskel’s hands. His heart skipped in his chest as their fingers laced together, his hips starting a steady rhythm.

He hadn’t found quite the right position yet, though. That bundle of nerves was evading him; Eskel frowned in concentration, feeling the scars on his face pull at the movement, searching for it as he tilted his hips here and there. And he knew the moment he found it because it jerked a moan out of the both of them, Geralt bucking and clenching tightly around him as his eyes squeezed tight and his back arched upward.

Yes, he quite liked helping Geralt find pleasure. He did his best to aim for that spot, knowing Geralt liked it hit dead on - he himself usually preferred a light touch there, not really caring for how brightly it took over his brain when it was impacted so directly - and doing his best to do that for him. Like always it wasn’t a perfect thing, his cock slipping out once and he had to unlace their fingers to guide himself back in while Geralt hissed at his absence, clenching around air and telling him quite clearly how he needed his cock, needed to feel full, full of him.

Soon, Eskel felt the telltale signs of his own orgasm nearing. A coil in the pit of his gut clenching and needing release, his breaths coming quicker, his heart joining the symphony of fast breaths and skin hitting skin in his ears. Geralt’s neglected cock lay against his stomach in a pool of pre, begging to be touched, and Eskel reached for it then, dragging Geralt’s hand with his own by their laced fingers.

With both of their hands gripped tight around Geralt’s cock, gliding easy with the help of his precum and the oil that had kept Eskel’s hand slick, it did not take long for Geralt’s movements to become jerky. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight but mouth slightly open, the only sounds coming out of him now being his shuddering breaths. A few more jerks of their hands and he exhaled sharply, come spurting out as Eskel fucked him through his orgasm, swallowing back his own moan at the feel of it hitting Geralt and making him contract almost painfully around him.

This time, Eskel felt his need far too heavily to think of stopping himself. His hips stuttered and words fell out from between his lips, incoherent things that slipped out as pleasure washed over him as well, his spend soon dripping out from Geralt as he slowed and finally stopped altogether.

It took effort to not drop down on top of him. Eskel stretched his back and groaned at a pop, then lowered himself onto his love, not caring that they were covered in sweat and spend - and Geralt didn’t care either, wrapping his arms around him to tug him close and placing kisses to the top of his head. 

Eskel did his best to not slip out of him, pressing them close as he burrowed himself right back into his love’s chest, feeling that warmth spread through him yet again. He was home in his arms, wrapped up safe and warm, and if he had any say in the matter he would not be leaving anytime soon. 

“I love you.” It meant the world to him that he was allowed to say it, to whisper it against that sweaty chest, to press lazy and lingering kisses there as he wished. But it meant a whole world more to hear the words right back and feel fingers trace nonsensical patterns into his hair and skin, the day carrying on outside of their room as they found peace within each other.

[tmae3114]

IT MAY HAVE GONE MIDNIGHT MY TIME BUT IT’S STILL HERO APPRECIATION DAY IN SOME TIMEZONE AND THEREFORE YOU GET THIS FIC I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED AFTER WORKING ON IT FOR A WHILE ON THE BEST DAY FOR POSTING IT

The position of this in the Book 3 timeline is ~nebulous~ but it’s sometime after the hero sees Warlic again for the first and before Warlic and Alexander started working together

trust in me (and I’ll trust you too)

For a moment, the words refuse to make sense. He knows what everything she just said means individually but those words put together in that order don’t make a coherent concept. Only for a moment. All too soon, clarity crashes on him like icy water down his spine.

“…you’re here to invite me to a party?”

Or: a hero and a mage have a conversation, trauma sucks, and actual age differences mean nothing in the face of Big Sister Instincts™

[AO3]

-

There is, for some yet-to-be-determined reason, an adventurer asleep on his couch.

Warlic pauses mid-step to contemplate this fact for a few moments, then realises that the cup of tea he forgot in the kitchen is going to keep going cold if he doesn’t return to hurrying to fetch it.

One severe disappointment in the form of a stone cold cup of tea and the necessary subsequent brewing of a replacement later, there continues to be an adventurer asleep on his couch. In full armour, no less. Even after all these years, he is no closer to understanding how that can possibly be comfortable, for all it never seems to bother her.

He sips his tea contemplatively, then clears his throat pointedly.

That prompts a stirring. Ro blinks up at him, looking for all the world like there is no reason at all to question her napping on his couch. She yawns widely, her jaw audibly popping, and stretches languidly in a very catlike way.

Then, in a movement that is all seal, she twists and flops sideways off of the couch.

“Hi, Warlic,” she greets from the floor, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Hello, Ro,” he replies, taking another sip of his tea. “I assume that Cysero let you in?”

“Mmhmm.”

There is no elaboration on that. She seems perfectly content to simply lie on the floor and wait for him to say or do something else.

He drinks more of his tea.

She tilts her head slightly.

His sigh is fonder than he’d care to admit.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you,” he says, arching his visible eyebrow “But are you here for a reason?”

She clicks her tongue and twists in a way that is probably supposed to help her get upright but more strongly resembles a seal in the banana pose than anything else.

“I needed a nap and your tower is always so nice and quiet,” she says, voice cheerful and dry.

In the distance, something – hopefully on Cysero’s side of the tower – explodes.

Ro giggle-snorts as she leverages herself upright using the arm of the couch she rolled off of.

“Aye, awright, point taken!” she calls in the general direction of the explosion.

“A social visit, then?” Warlic prompts, hiding his smile behind the rim of his teacup. “You usually give advance warning for those.”

“Ehhh,” Ro replies, making a wobbly see-saw motion with one hand, halfway sitting on the arm of the couch now “Social with a purpose?”

“Do tell.”

“Artix is wanting to dae a thing,” she says, twirling one hand in a circle as though to encompass the incredibly vague concept of ‘a thing’ “Away out at the keep? Hanging out and having a meal and stuff, ‘cept he doesnae know who’ll be up for it. I-” here, she makes an overly dramatic gesture to herself, the fingers of one hand splayed over her heart “-volunteered tae come see if you lot-” a wide sweeping gesture, clearly meant to encompass the tower and its inhabitants “-were free and when, seeing as I’m popping ‘round t’see Cysero aw the time anyways,”

For a moment, the words refuse to make sense. He knows what everything she just said means individually but those words put together in that order don’t make a coherent concept. Only for a moment. All too soon, clarity crashes on him like icy water down his spine.

“…you’re here to invite me to a party?”

“I mean…” Ro leans back, one arm braced against the back, one ankle loosely slung over the other, casual and so, so at ease “Less a party and more just dinner wi’ friends but aye, thereabouts.”

Are you mad?

The words stick in his throat. His stomach twists painfully. Just as he vaguely begins to hope that it isn’t showing outwardly, that he’ll be able to excuse himself quickly and without a fuss, his tea betrays him by sloshing loudly over the side of the cup.

Ro is by his side in an instant, one hand whisking the cup away from him and the other winding around his back to support him by the opposite elbow, gently but firmly steering him to the couch. He is vaguely aware of a quiet narrative litany – “Woah, ‘kay, c’mere, let’s just-” – accompanying these actions, then he blinks and is sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, knuckles white and chest tight. He blinks again, once, twice, staring down at his hands, then up to look at the adventurer sitting at his side. The way that she meets and holds eye contact with him for a few moments more than gives away the worry lurking underneath the calm on her face. His cup of tea is no longer in her hands. A quick glance reveals it to be set down on a coaster on a side table.

“So,” Ro says, pulling his attention back to her “That was a reaction.”

The noise he makes in response to that is somewhere between a snort and a gasp.

“Do you realise,” he asks, voice trembling despite his best efforts “how dangerous what you suggested is?”

She leans a bit closer and rests one of her hands over his clasped ones. The cool metal of her gauntlet is almost grounding.

“It’s not,” she says. Just like the way she guided him to sit, her voice is both gentle and firm. Kind but unyielding. It’s the voice she uses for Heroics.

“It is, how can you not-”

“Ah, of course, silly me,” she interrupts, voice now completely flat. “How could I not have foreseen the incredible danger inherent in you leaving this tower for a few hours to spend some time with your friends. You’re right, that’s an absolutely mental idea. Whatever was I thinking.”

His breath shudders. A distant part of him notes that she seems to have switched from the casual mix of Common and her native tongue she favours in the company of friends to the – as she puts it, with air quotes, rolled eyes, and disdain – “more proper” Greenguardian dialect of Common that she uses for everything from strangers to snotty nobles; the one she uses to ensure she’ll be understood, for better or for worse. She almost certainly doesn’t realise that she’s done it. That distant part of him aches.

He takes another hitching breath.

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“You weren’t supposed to.”

She sighs and shifts to face him more fully, tucking one leg up underneath herself as she sits sideways, and moving her other hand so that both of hers are covering both of his. It helps stop the shaking, a little bit.

“You’re scared. I get it. You’ve told me it wasn’t safe for you to leave before and I believe you. But it’s been years now, Warlic, and if it’s safe for me to come here, why isn’t it safe for you to leave, just for a little bit?”

Because it’s different. Because he could lose control at any moment but maybe here it could be contained. Because it’s his fault, all of it, Alex and Jaania and the Rose and-

Because that monster was a part of him, is inside of him still, and what if I-

Because-

“-I’m dangerous.”

Ah.

Oops.

The look that she gives him somehow manages to be drier than the Sandsea and utterly sympathetic at the same time. He has a feeling that he knows what she’s going to say next, can practically already hear it – So am I. We’re all dangerous, it comes with the territory.

He can see it in her face, begins preparing his counterargument.

“You’re not a threat, Warlic.”

Crystallised disbelief is, apparently, a noise and his vocal cords are capable of making it.

“You’re not.” She squeezes his hands. “You’re in control. You’re not Wargoth-” He flinches at the name, the one he’s only heard in his own thoughts for some time now “-and you’re in control. You are exactly as dangerous as you choose to be and not a whit more and I think I know you well enough to say that that amount is minimal.”

“You didn’t see,” he replies, quietly, staring past her head to trace the grain of the wooden beams in the wall behind her with his eyes “What it was like in the early days. What I was like when I was only just recovering.”

It’s a statement, not an accusation. They both know she would have been there, given the remotest choice. They both know she couldn’t be there. They both know why and who is to blame for it.

She flinches anyways.

It’s the Wargoth in him, Warlic thinks, that makes him be so cruel to a friend who is only trying to help.

Ro breaths in, holds it for a few seconds, then breathes out. She flexes her fingers where they rest across his clasped hands. The motion draws his focus back from the wall just in time to see something in her eyes go firm.

“Right,” she says, with the air of a decision made. “Palms up, in your lap.”

Before he can respond to that non-sequitur, she has swiftly, methodically, somehow still gently, pried his interlocking fingers apart and arranged his hands so that they are resting in his lap, one arm to a leg, palms up. He twitches his fingers a little, wincing at the stiffness in his knuckles after clasping them so tightly for so long.

“Now, close your eyes.”

“Ro, I-”

“Wheesht and dae it, Warlic.”

He closes his eyes.

There are several long moments filled with the sound of rummaging and rustling. She grumbles under her breath a couple of times – at one point, he hears a distinct “why do I even have that?” – and then makes a distinctly satisfied rumble that would be much more suited to her seal vocal cords than her human ones.

A beat after that, something heavy and so very soft is settled into his arms.

“’kay, you can open your eyes now.”

He doesn’t want to. His heart is pounding so wildly he half wonders if it’s visible from the outside. A part of him is desperately hoping that she’s just handed him a blanket, some sentimental symbol of comfort she hopes to share, maybe even something with childhood importance. Something, anything, like that.

The rest of him knows better.

Definitely not a blanket.

The noise he makes isn’t so much a vocalisation of her name as it is a plaintive cry made of vaguely similar sounds. His eyes snap to her in panic and-

-she’s smiling. He can tell not just by the way the outer corners of her eyes have tilted up but by the way he can just barely see her teeth because her mask is pooled around her neck and she’s smiling and she looks absolutely, utterly at ease and-

-and her sealskin is in his hands.

“I trust you,” she says, as thought that isn’t a completely redundant thing to say, as though she hasn’t just made herself impossibly vulnerable, hasn’t just- “I trust you, Warlic. Even if you can’t trust yourself right now, can you trust me? Trust my faith in you?”

The sealskin in his lap is thick and soft and warm. He’s bunched his hands in it, pulled his arms in a bit to hold it closer, without even realising he was doing so and he can’t quite convince himself to let go. He’s never seen it close enough to realise just how much the white-on-blue markings look like clouds before.

His heart pounds and his mind races. There are a million and one things that a mage of his strength and knowledge could do with a selkie’s coat and almost none of them are good. I trust you she says but how can she be anything but terrified in this moment, this moment where she has all but put herself into the worst horror stories of her people, how could she just hand this to him-

Wargoth enslaved people. He’d stolen them from themselves, reached in to grab the fire in their souls and twisted to chain them to his will, to turn them into puppets in his hands-

-and his friend has just unhesitatingly handed him the power to do it again. To do it to her.

“Warlic, hey, Warlic, look at me.”

Her hand is on his shoulder now and he turns to look, a million repetitions of the same question on his tongue – how can you…- and then she stands up.

She stands up and takes one step backwards.

A second.

A third.

She stops there, three paces away, smiling all the while.

“I trust you,” she repeats for the third time.

As his vision first blurs, then swims, Warlic finds himself thinking it’s a good thing that selkies live in the sea, it would be incredibly rude of me to give her coat water stains after a gesture like that. He takes one breath, then two, and then lets go.

Warlic bawls like a baby.

Ro returns to the couch, sitting close enough that their legs are pressed together, and starts rubbing circles on his back, between his shoulder blades.

It should feel ridiculous, with how much younger than him she is. He remembers when she had to look up just to look him in the face while he tried to convince her to take a nap, assuring her that the world wouldn’t end when she wasn’t looking if she took some time to rest. She’s grown a lot since then, he knows, but the number of years is such a drop in the ocean of those he’s lived that it feels like she must have barely aged at all. And yet, somehow, the rhythm of her comforting him as though he’s the child in the room doesn’t feel out of place at all. It just feels…

…safe.

Inevitably, he runs out of tears to cry. Ro wordlessly passes him a tissue to blow his nose, then another to wipe his eyes. He has no idea where she got them from, as there aren’t any nearby. He can’t remember the last time he cried like that. It feels… good, in a way, to have let it out.

When his breathing settles into a more sedate pace, Ro pats him on the shoulder.

“It’s okay to be scared, Warlic,” she says, voice quiet “You know that I know what it’s like to be scared of yourself. I get it. Just… don’t go letting your fear control you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out “Yeah, okay.”

She shuffles aside a bit, giving him some space, but makes no movement to take her coat back. Not even an aborted grasp towards it, though he can see a line of tension beginning to form in her shoulders that she is clearly fighting.

…oh.

Oh. Of course. Trust. The whole point is trust.

He gathers her coat up in his arms, allowing himself just a moment to appreciate all that just being allowed to touch it would represent, let alone having the entire thing dropped in his lap, and passes it over to her.

“Thanks,” she says as she takes it from him, as though this is in any way a casual exchange. She slings it up and over her shoulders, settling it against her neck where the fur will rest against the few uncovered parts of her skin.

He nods, not entirely trusting his voice.

They sit in silence for a few moments and then she tilts her head to the side.

“So,” she says, drawing the vowel out, deliberately light-hearted, testing the waters “Artix’s thing?”

He thinks it over for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. Considers all of his reasons for saying no; considers the possibilities for saying yes. Thinks about keeping himself locked away where it’s safe; thinks about spending time with people again.

He takes a deep breath in, feels his lungs expand. He thinks about a time when, despite everything, he had trusted himself. Even if you can’t trust yourself right now, can you trust me? He breathes out.

He knows his answer.

“No,” he says, letting the syllable hang in the air for just a moment before turning to face Ro with a small smile “But tell him… maybe next time.”