#so its fun to imagine him wavering in that regard. where not only is his willpower tested but his entire self

[aria0fgold]

Also can yall tell I love putting Alec in situations where he's pushed past his limit? It's so fun (I swear I love him). It's cuz of the fact that it takes A LOT for Alec to even reached the border of his limit and a liiiil more push for him to get past that, it's just fun to think about the "What will it take for him to just Lose Himself?"

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD OFFICIAL VISUAL FANBOOK ー Interview Vol. 1 feat. Saki Ito

Source: DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD Official Visual Fanbook

Release date: 2013

Huge thank you to @keithvalentinex​ for providing the raw scans!

SECTION 1: Q&A

Q1. How did you feel when a sequel game got green light?

A: Not only were we fortunate to receive many passionate messages and feedback from the players, but we also received the news of an anime adaption alongside a game sequel, so amidst the joy, I also remember a distinct feeling of responsiblity and pressure.

Q2. Does the feedback you received from the players reflect in any parts of the game?

A: The series features characters who all have very strong and distinct character traits, so they tend to stand out based solely on these specific elements, which is what made us reflect upon the scenario parts of the previous game. Therefore, in the sequel, we decided to flesh them out so we let Idea Factory know that we would like to create sceranio’s on events of their pasts, so we can give a better understanding of how they think as individuals. We received a positive response but this ultimately required quite a bit of scenarios so later both me and Nakamura suffered because of it. (lol) However, even though there is still room for improvement, I would like to think that we succeeded in creating scenario’s in which the players will get to know them on a deeper level.

Q3. Who did you struggle most with when creating the setting for the new characters?

A: Ruki. Both in terms of design and personality. At first we thought of having him be on an almost equal footing with Karlheinz in terms of power and status, so basically the character who stands at the very top of the Mukami family, with everyone following his lead as they have no other choice but to acknowledge his superiority . But he’s a Do-S...We played with various ideas like that.

Q4. What did the process of creating these characters look like?

A: After settling on their visuals and personalities, we moved on to building a set image of them. I was impressed that at the time of initial recording where we would add the voices to these characters, there was already an agreement amongst the production staff about how they viewed these brothers inside their minds. 

Q5. Were there any moments during the recording which left a strong impression on you?

A: I am sure everyone feels the same in this regard, but I was very much impressed by Midorikawa Hikaru (Ayato’s VA) and his ability to voice a single line in so many different ways and apply minor adjustment time after time. I was baffled how the same phrase could be voiced in so many different ways, and while this may be embarrassing to admit as part of the production staff, I felt as if I could learn a lot from him.

Q6. How did you approach the blood-sucking scenes?

A: We start by creating a fixed image inside our heads of how each character would suck someone’s blood. However, we initially opted to leave things up to the casted voice actors. We figured that if their voicing was somewhat off from how we envisioned it, we would guide them into the desired direction afterwards, but so far that has yet to happen! The voice actors seem to understand that the blood-sucking scenes are a huge selling point of the Diabolik Lovers franchise, so they anticipated on this and had already thought about which personal quirks they want to include in these scenes before the recording. Afterwards they would tell us things such as ‘I wanted to make it sound a little dirty’ or ‘I imagined ____ would suck blood like this’, showing us their effort to voice these characters while thinking about their personalities, which is why we - the production staff - were able to feel the unique traits of these boys through their performance as well, I believe. I cannot express with words just how greatful I am for everyone’s excellent voice work. 

Q7. When writing the scenario’s and the character dialogue, were there any conscious changes you made from the first game?

A: In the first game, there were very little interactions between the different characters, but with the introduction of the Mukami brothers, we focused on these kind of interactions where one of the Sakamaki brothers would fight with one of the Mukami brothers. Additionally, this would allow for us to express the changes in their feelings towards the main character.

Q8. What did you struggle the most with while writing the script?

A: There were just so many different scenarios to write, I recall feeling as if there was no end to it. Every time you think you’re done adjusting one part, you have to move on to the next and by the time you’re done with that, something just doesn’t feel right about the first scenario again...This game includes many scenarios about the characters’ pasts so there would be times where we suddenly went ‘...Hold on!? I feel like the previous scene doesn’t quite make sense anymore...,’ So we’d have to go back and make sure everything remained consistent.

Q9. Which character caused you the most problems while writing the script?

A: Every single one. In case of the Sakamaki brothers, all because of the same reason. For starters, despite this being a sequel game, the intial setting remains the same as before with the main character having arrived at the Sakamaki manor, , so we were worried whether or not the audience would accept this without it feeling weird or off. The Mukami brothers are then added on top of that, so we struggled a lot expressing the wavering feelings of the main character. Each of the Mukami brothers has their own dark past and setting which we came up with beforehand, so it was very difficult to then later add the element of romance to this.

Q10. Is there a character who underwent drastic changes compared to the last game?

A: No. Although the ‘MORE, BLOOD’ games feature the Sakamaki brothers struggling with an immense ‘thirst for blood’ which is different from our previous approach, so we hope this allows the players to enjoy a different side of them.

Q11. The endings are now named ‘Vampire Ending’, ‘Manservant Ending’ and ‘Brute’ Ending. Could you tell us what kind of thought you put into these names?

A: They do each have their own fixed image attached to them. We divided them into the ‘Vampire Ending’ which is supposed to be the most natural ending. The ‘Manservant Ending’ which emphasizes the element of sadism the strongest and lastly the ‘Brute Ending’ which is the most violent. Depending on the character, there might be minor changes such as the main character developing sadistic tendencies herself or it being another character who grows violent. We hope the audience will enjoy this wide array of endings.

Q12. What are parts which have greatly improved or parts you want us to focus on in comparison to the first game?

A: My apologies for repeating myself, but it would have to be the scenarios. Also please pay attention to the upgraded sprite artwork for everyone, as well as the addition of the sprites for the brothers as children!

Q13. Why do you think the series has received such a great amount of support?

A: During the development of the first set of CDs, we made them with a specific niche audience in mind, so never did we expect the franchise would grow this large. We truly are grateful. We would like to believe that Satoi-sama’s illustration are the biggest contributor in this case. I was already acquaintanced with Satoi-sama at that point but due to certain circumstances, we weren’t able to work on a project together. However, when the development for Diabolik Lovers started, I immediately reached out to her. I believe that the way she draws these Do-S Vampires as handsome guys is what the fans enjoy the most!

Q14. Please leave a message for the fans.

A: First of all, thank you all from the bottom of my heart. If it wasn’t for you guys’ reactions, we wouldn’t have been able to deliver this much content. I won’t go as far as to tell you to continue to loving ‘DIABOLIK LOVERS’ and its characters forever...! Even if it’s somewhere in the very back of your mind, I’d be happy if you could at least hold onto the fond memories of these characters. Honestly, thank you so so much.

SECTION 2: THEIR FAVORITE EPISODES

Sakamaki brothers: Laito’s Vampire Ending. It conveys that feeling of loving someone, yet still keeping you on the edge of your seat as he doesn’t quite fully want to admit to his own feelings, even though you can tell that he does properly love the main character, which made me feel joyful inside.

Mukami brothers: Rather than one specific scene, I loved the interactions between the Mukami brothers. When they are all enjoying a meal together, they would fight over the food, or Kou would make a fuss because he wants to eat Vongole Bianco. I found it cute how they would talk in a way you’d expect from normal high school boys. 

SECTION 3: SAKI ITO CHOOSES ー SITUATION-DEPENDENT CHARACTER SELECT

Who would you choose in these situations? What’s the developer’s opinion?

S1. To sleep together with?

Best: Shuu, he probably wouldn’t bother me.

Worst: Reiji, he seems like the type to get upset if you don’t keep perfectly still while sleeping.

S2. To go on a trip together with?

Best: Ruki, I feel like he would come fully prepped. 

Worst: Azusa, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my trip if I get hurt because of him.

S3. To eat together with?

Best: Shuu, I feel like our eating styles would match.

Worst: Reiji, I’d constantly feel nervous.

S4. To study with?

Best: Ruki, I feel like he’d be able to explain things in a comprehensive manner.

Worst: Laito because he might just blow air into my ear all of a sudden.

S5. To go on a date with?

Best: Kou, he probably knows all the good places so it could be fun.

Worst: Kanato, I can’t stand the thought of him suddenly lashing out at me.

S6. To play a video game with?

Best: Yuma, I feel like he wouldn’t be the best at it, but it’d still be enjoyable regardless.

Worst: Subaru, he would destroy the console!

S7. To play sports with?

Best: Kou, I can imagine his sweat sparkling in the light as it bounces off him.

Worst: Reiji, he seems stiff.

S8. To go on a drive with?

Best: Ayato, it just seems fun.

Worst: Yuma, he strikes me as a speed devil. 

[sorcererrezan]

golden hour

prompt fill for @ataleofcrowns. congratulations on the chapter 6 release cherry! 💛

prompt: facade pairing: navid/xelef  rating: T word count: 2,042 warning: spoilers for X’s scene during chapter 6!

—

Xelef is rather partial to the color gold.

Gold meant a full belly. Gold meant a job well done. Gold meant having survived yet another battle.

Gold motivated him and the people around him. Gold got him into trouble as easily as it got him out of it.

So when gold eyes looked defiantly into his, a spark of light brightening that nebulous place where his intuition resides, and dropped a heavy sack clinking with a familiar sound, there was no other option but to say yes.

Xelef’s not quite sure when he starts thinking of the flash of cleverness in Navid’s eyes more than the sparkle of coin. 

Just the night before, Heval forced him to examine this new tendency and why they haven’t yet moved on from Marabad. He’d resisted giving Heval the satisfaction of his admission at the time, but that was before his tendency powered his sprint to the tunnels and the burst of fire that kept Navid safe. 

If Xelef’s urgency directed his aim closer to the kill than he intended, it was only because he wanted to do a thorough job. Certainly not because for a split second, the jagged edges of fear pierced through the hard acceptance that has fused with the shell of his heart. 

That was before he discovered just how common of an enemy he and Navid have. Before gold also became something to defend instead of just throw at his leisure.

He didn’t divulge anything to the Blades besides the public warning that the Palace issued—which he still disagrees with, but spirits know there’s a reason it’s not him making those decisions. 

Xelef felt Heval’s questioning suspicion curb somewhat, as well as the Blades’ recommitment to Navid. It helped him regain some stability in himself. As long as he’s not the only one with a soft spot for the newfound Crown he can tell himself that the way Navid affects him isn’t unique. 

None of them had embraced Navid until his tears and the grip of his nightmare dissipated though. The intensity of Navid’s vulnerability had stunned him that night. Xelef thinks he might be able to relate to the way that his walls must have crumbled under their own weight during that moment, when the relief of a mission accomplished finally gave way to exhaustion. If he ever experiences it for himself, that is. 

Instead of being unsettled by the raw display of emotion he’d had to insist on leaving Navid behind, lest the way his eyes wavered like coins at the bottom of a fountain compelled him to do something neither of them were ready for. 

Despite the magnetic tension between them, he knows that they don’t trust each other. He’d considered Navid’s feelings only briefly when he conceived his plan before deciding to just deal with the consequences. 

Well, now here they are. He’d anticipated how Navid might feel once his shrewd mind pieced it all together, but Xelef hadn’t foreseen how much he’d care. 

It needles at him, the way Navid takes his motivations regarding coin at face value when they discuss the coronation. And it needles at him that it needles at him. That’s what he wants the Crown to believe anyway, right? 

The dissonance isn’t really something he wants to entertain so he distracts himself by distracting Navid. 

It’s rather more fun to catch the Crown staring at him than contemplate why there’s a kernel of him that anticipates an opportunity to be seen. Not just looked at as he so often is, up for strangers’ interpretation as he is now so used to, but seen. 

The gold in Navid’s eyes is alive in a way coin could never be. There’s a playfulness that seems to live in Navid’s irises, which Xelef’s learning is partly a diversion for the cunning survivalist underneath. 

Xelef stares right back, shameless in the way he parts the seam of his lips to drag his tongue across the bottom before letting Navid see how the plump softness of it gives under his thumb. He delights in darkening that sparkling mischief into something imaginative and promising and it’s not long before he gives the two of them a reason to leave the room together. The indulgently sly way that Navid looks at him insists that Xelef get him alone. 

Awareness thrums between them as they walk together, but he can sense a contemplative mix of emotions from the man next to him. It’s enough to make him curious. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Oh, nothing much, only the fact that I’m now responsible for millions of lives,” Navid is just as practiced as he is at showing who he’s supposed to be. If Xelef couldn’t sense his anxiety he might’ve believed his blithe tone.

The stakes are high and Xelef can feel the weight of that reality on Navid’s shoulders as if it sits on him like a pauldron. It’d be a flattering and dashing pauldron the way Navid wears it, but a symbol of conflict and its inevitable consequences nonetheless. 

Xelef meets the slight bite of Navid’s sarcasm with his pragmatism, forged in fire and quenched to harden like steel. “If you obsess over the weight of your choices, you’ll become paralyzed by fear, and in that state you’re of no use to anyone.”

Navid eyes are sharp as he seems to consider not just his words but also his intent. Whatever he decides to himself seems to satisfy him because some of the spark in his eyes returns. Xelef wonders what conclusion Navid came to, to look at him like he knows something Xelef doesn’t. 

He thinks he sees some relief in there too, and Xelef tells himself it relieves him in turn because he needs the Crown to be clear-headed and not because of the possibility that sharing his genuine perspective might have made him rise in Navid’s esteem.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Xelef steers them back into familiar waters with a self-satisfied twist of his lips. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Navid lets out a huff of a chuckle. He must be more exhausted than he let on because they slide into silence again. Xelef’s attempt at distracting Navid is successful though and soon enough he’s unable to contain his amusement. Xelef puffs up at the suggestion of his altruism, sliding back into the easy role of carefree rogue. 

“Altruistic? Pah! Disgusting.”

But Navid promptly tugs at his facade. “You can drop the act, you know. I know you’re not wholly selfish at heart.”

“Is that what you really think, or is that what you hope for?” A devious rhythm softens the quick reflexes of his defenses even as his heart starts to race. Being exposed is terrifyingly thrilling. Or thrillingly terrifying. Both? 

“You do like to perform. The role of carefree mercenary suits you well, I admit. But that can’t be all that there is to you.”

Navid pins him with piercing gold and Xelef hardly realizes as he’s backed against a window. It’s been a long time since anyone cared to find out who he really is as much as Navid ostensibly does. 

Navid steps close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to hold his gaze and even he can’t deny that the proximity makes him feel like a live wire, like his pulse itself might jump out of his skin so it can press against the man who’s always so tantalizingly near.

Xelef considers that he might have met his match in Navid with a smirk.

Navid already has a decently apt approximation of him, despite Xelef’s penchant for misdirection and the fact that they’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Xelef’s moved quickly in the past but never quite like this. 

But then again, nothing gets him into trouble as easily as gold.

“Navid.” 

Xelef reaches a hand out, soothing a knuckle against the slightly puckered scar on Navid’s cheek. He’ll have to ask him the story behind it soon.

“If you wish for me to treat you tenderly, you need only ask.”

It comes out as a gentler murmur than he intends. Xelef doesn’t need to speak up to be heard after all, with how much closer Navid gets as he anchors a rough hand on top of his. It’s as close to an acknowledgement of Xelef’s complex and often contradictory thoughts and emotions about the man in front of him—the ones he prefers to leave unaddressed because they leave him feeling uncomfortably bare.

“Don’t tempt me, Xelef,” Navid’s voice is rough with restraint as his thick brows furrow with caution. “I’ll start believing you.”

“I lie about a lot of things, my dark-haired beauty, but never about this.”

“That’s a lie,” Navid purses his lips, eyes narrowing even as he considers his own assertion. It’s a look that Xelef has seen on him before, usually around a table with others, as Navid weighs the reality of what he knows against the possibilities of what he doesn’t to figure out how to move forward.

Just like earlier, Xelef feels the foreign compulsion for Navid to have confidence in him. It’s been a while since he cared to prove himself to anyone, and even now his better sense is reminding him that the distance he places between himself and others is there out of necessity. If he weren’t deep in the shit of it he’d find it amusingly fitting that they can both see glimpses past each other’s bravado. Of course the person that interests him most is also the one that directly challenges him to leave the familiarity of his facade.

“Perhaps.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny it, though it’s getting harder and harder to ignore his hope that Navid will just figure it out and acknowledge it for both of their sakes. Whether his evasiveness is a test of Navid’s understanding of him or his own hesitation to be understood, he can’t determine. 

Neither can Navid it seems, because he redirects them to less murky waters. “And what is this, exactly?”

Xelef doesn’t answer immediately, taking his time to admire the sharp lines of Navid’s handsome face to reinforce his memory of it for later, after they part for the night.

“Right now? I would call this a flirtation,” this part is easy to admit. Flirtation comes naturally to both of them. He’s noticed the easy compliments Navid gives to others, how he effortlessly keeps those he thinks he might have use for close. His motives seem genuine enough—Xelef himself knows what the line between manipulation and exploitation looks like—though his charisma certainly has a craftily calculating edge to it. 

“But we can make it anything you want it to be.”

Xelef leaves the rest up to Navid’s astute interpretation. An acute sense of anticipation holds him in place as Navid opens his mouth to respond and Xelef internally wills him to see—

—Magic displaces above Navid’s head, and the breath Xelef had been holding spills out as a laugh. Whatever Navid was about to say is swept up in him trying to recover from the spirits giving him away. 

Ah well. At least he’ll have something to tease Navid about later.

Xelef doesn’t question how easy it is to insist that he keep his dagger with him. What would it mean if he and Navid use the same blade the first time they have to kill? Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything at all, but it reassures him that even if he’s away he can still be there for Navid when it happens, when the world inexorably reminds him of why he’ll always have to protect himself.

Is that altruism? When he tries to correct his own buried regrets by helping someone else avoid having the same ones?

Even more questions he’s not sure he wants to find the answers to. 

But when he feels Navid’s resolve solidify inside him, sees the squaring of his shoulders as he lifts his gaze from the designs on his door and takes a steadying breath before stepping inside, Xelef knows he’ll have to accept that it might not end up being up to him anyway.

Gold just might be the death of him.

fin.

author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do a character study in X’s perspective for a while and there were so many LAYERS to their scene in chapter 6 that i took a one word prompt and wrote two thousand words about it lmao. i wanted to explore the duality between X’s persona and their actions and set a starting point for them early in the romance. 

there’s a really delicious tension right now when they’re not acknowledging their deeper interest in the crown despite the fact that they’re always eye fucking whenever they can so much as see each other. i also wanted to play with the fact that they both know that there’s more than meets the eye and ALSO that they’re being manipulated in the grander scheme of their own personal agendas. 

i also wanted to mold navid’s characterization from the perspective of someone trying to resist falling in love with him. spoiler alert X, it’s impossible. anyways! so many thoughts, head full of X. hope i did my favorite royal boy toy justice 🤎

[viridiave]

NARUMITSU <ATTEMPTING TO READ THE SUBTEXT PLATONICALLY>

*Wrote all this some time last month so I might be off- really really off- also full disclosure I too am a Narumitsu shipper- this is just me giving myself a bad time doing the impossible and having fun XD

-I am going to fail sooner or later. Looking at you, Bridge to the Turnabout.

FIRST GAME >Turnabout Samurai -Yep. We're jumping right in with 'unnecessary feelings'. I'm going to be put on a stake for this. -This is going to become the main argument with any and all homoerotic subtext present in the first game- that it was unintentional. They didn't actively start making it gay until the second game, and even before then the producer for the games had to warn the development team not to try and insert these themes for fear of getting it wrong and lose the fanbase they'd accidentally caught the eye of. I can still create arguments for why this specific, hilariously meme-able line could be read romantically of course- but as far as the game development team at the time was concerned this interaction was never meant to be read as romantic. -Unease and uncertainty are... very valid feelings for Edgeworth to feel at this very moment and as much as I'd like to joke that he was feeling uncertain about his sexuality after seeing his childhood friend as an adult, this line was really just likely meant to lead up to the conclusion of Turnabout Goodbyes and Edgeworth's character arc for this game. His perfect win streak had just been shattered in a case prior. In this case, he was meant to persecute the lead actor of his favorite show- and in some ways his helping the defense can be taken as his biases getting the better of him. His sense of justice and his entire worldview is about to be overhauled, and I can see how he would regard this budding doubt in himself as an unnecessary (heh) distraction from what he believes is his true purpose in life.

>Turnabout Goodbyes -Edgeworth wanting to keep him away from DL-6 has its own section mostly because of how stubborn he becomes when it comes to Phoenix's insistence in particular. It's clear that this stubbornness is a front, I will concede with that- but there are merits to his initial reluctance in accepting Phoenix's defense. It's evident that Phoenix himself has grown over the course of the game so far, but in both of the times that he faced off against Edgeworth in court, his victories were... a tad bit contrived. For instance in Turnabout Sisters, Phoenix really only wins because Mia was being channeled and blackmailed White as he was about to leave the stand. Turnabout Samurai is a little better- but had him rely on quite a lot of coincidences (proven later to be substantiated) that surfaced during the trial. This is nothing to say of the deeper reason Edgeworth has over dissuading Phoenix from taking his case ("You in particular I cannot ask to do this.")- where I can make an argument for his pride and/or concern over Phoenix's career as an attorney. The stakes are relatively high here as well- if Phoenix fails, Edgeworth is incarcerated, Manfred von Karma goes free, DL-6 goes cold once again with no hope of getting re-opened, and everything that Phoenix has been working towards as an attorney would have been in vain. DL-6 is a case that has ruined many lives- it'd make sense if Edgeworth himself felt as though it would be a waste of time and effort to take this case because of how convinced he was of murdering his own father prior to Gourd Lake. He'd grown up for the past 15 years with a nightmare and a death sentence over his head- I wouldn't be surprised if he simply gave up and accepted that he was going to die at the hands of his prosecuting mentor. Even if he were acquitted for the murder of Robert Hammond, his perceived involvement in DL-6 would have thrown a wrench in his freedom- any lesser attorney would have given up on that. And this is unloaded BEFORE Phoenix tells him about the true reason as to why he became an attorney. -Phoenix's insistence to defend Edgeworth in this case can easily just be read as platonic- his complete, unfettered faith in Edgeworth's innocence is heavily influenced by that class trial, for better or for worse. While I'm perfectly happy to imagine that Phoenix's attachment to his idealized version of Edgeworth grew into something deeper sometime in the fifteen years that he hasn't seen him, I do believe that Phoenix in particular really is just that much of a sentimental person. This is to say nothing of his nature as a defense attorney- and what little time he's managed to spend with Mia has taught him that unbridled trust in his client is what gets him through the day, and he's putting it to practice here. Edgeworth was what he has been working towards the moment he decided he would practice law- as Phoenix at this point in time still believes that he could do no wrong despite seeing what Edgeworth is truly like in court. -Cutting into the meat of Phoenix and Edgeworth's shared past, I made a point earlier to say that Phoenix's perception of Edgeworth as a person is idealized. Every memory that Phoenix has had of Edgeworth prior to the events of the first game were from their childhood- and they had 4-8 months (plus one year if we're generous with the retconning some of the official art gave us) MAX to develop a friendship so strong that Phoenix makes major life decisions just to meet with this man. The fact that this time spent together was ENOUGH for Phoenix in the first place is... really hard to skirt around. To quote Dan from GameGrumps "this is something that you would only do for someone you're trying to marry" and if one of them was a woman I guarantee this ship would be canon already. But then again- since this is Phoenix Wright in particular somehow I can believe that he really is just that sentimental- and that isn't always a bad thing. He'd managed to save Edgeworth twice with this conviction after all. When Phoenix sees Edgeworth, he doesn't see a demon prosecutor, he sees his childhood friend who aimed to become a shining example of justice following in his father's footsteps. They address how shaky his foundations for becoming an attorney were in the Phoenix Wright Files once actually- going through a mini-existential crisis because he'd become an attorney with the main goal of saving Edgeworth from what he'd become, and now that he's accomplished that he's just kind of... lost. Edgeworth himself manages to pull him out of this, though. -man that hurts my case a lot actually but to be fair I was banking on failing -I just didn't expect it to happen so early even with the first game -in fact ESPECIALLY with the first game -though I cannot for the life of me wonder how I can come up with a heterosexual explanation for why the buildup towards Edgeworth telling Phoenix and Maya about his nightmares reads so much like a stunted love confession. I'm serious- just read any high school shojo manga ever. You'll find that it hits a lot of the same beats.

>Rise From The Ashes -It's in this case that we observe some of the consequences that the intial upheaval of Edgeworth's worldview in Turnabout Goodbyes causes him; distrust in the enforcement of the law. Not exactly the time for him to be dabbling in another, meme-able brand of unnecessary feelings. Several things like the Prosecutor's Office's relationship with the Police Department starts to waver with the murder of Bruce Goodman, and this becomes the final nail in the coffin for Edgeworth's worldviews and values as a prosecutor. His and Phoenix's teamwork in this trial becomes prevalent- the story behind the King of Prosecutors award represents this best despite it's currently incomplete state. The backstory behind this award paints an ideal of justice in the courtroom wherein the truth comes out as a result of the efforts of contradictory forces. A broken halberd that can cut through any shield (the prosecution) and a broken, unbreakable shield (the defense). Read as representation the text becomes something of a metaphor for the ideal justice that manifests itself in the best parts of Edgeworth and Phoenix respectively- the duality of their opposing professions rather than something that is limited to their relationship. -The same argument that I've used for Phoenix's unwavering belief in Edgeworth's innocence in Turnabout Goodbyes can be used for this case as well. -Though Edgeworth still goes M.I.A for a year after this case, it does grant his disappearance a bit more context as to why exactly it is that he left- and I'll be taking a tiny liberty with this and apply the interpretation that the Miles Edgeworth Files grants us, and that he left in order to better himself and grow as a person, a prosecutor, and as a friend to Phoenix Wright. It's... difficult for me to want to read this as anything but romantically-charged because the narrative beats are NOT lost on me (the dialogue makes this especially hard. send help.)- there's a possibility that Edgeworth at this point in time realizes the value in having a better, more functional dynamic with the one defense attorney who he considers a true equal in court. This dynamic will allow for less chances to encounter missteps and errors in any verdicts handed down in court, and if Edgeworth is to pursue his ideal of justice- Phoenix Wright is undoubtedly essential to this endeavor. The aftermath of Rise From The Ashes is indicative of this newfound goal of his- the symbolism behind the old King of Prosecutors award and the two halves of the evidence list certainly helps this case. -<"It seems all you do is worry about me." -Miles Edgeworth, Rise From The Ashes> For good fucking reason Edgeworth. You were accused of murder and have implicated yourself on the stand for DL-6 just a few months ago- and if the Investigations games are anything to go by, you're more of a danger magnet than PHOENIX is. I had to say it. The first Investigations game takes place over the course of 2-3 days and the sheer amount of shit that Edgeworth had to deal with in between that interval truly makes me wonder how Phoenix Wright ended up with the title of danger magnet. And THIS time- Edgeworth's car becomes a crime scene because his corrupt superiors needed a convenient way of transporting a corpse. There's VERY good reasons to worry about the livelihood of Miles Edgeworth. -Okay I... can't believe I forgot about the chessboard. Here's the kicker- the one we see from his office isn't even the only one he owns. I... legitimately cannot give you ANY purely heterosexual, platonic explanation for why Miles Edgeworth has THREE (THREE. I CANNOT OVERSTATE THIS. HE HAS T H R E E OF THESE FUCKING THINGS. GOOD GOD. HE CAN'T BE ANY MORE EXTRA.)(there exists a similar, portable set in the Investigations games- and he has a new set by the time of Dual Destinies) sets of custom-made chessboards with personalized, highly-specific red and blue designs made purely to depict his rivalry with Phoenix Wright. I fold. I give up. I forgot about the chessboards I wAS NOT EXPECTING TO FAIL THIS E A R LY- -You know what the real kicker is with Rise From the Ashes? The main argument that I have introduced back in Turnabout Samurai does not apply here. Rise From the Ashes was made as a DS-exclusive case and did not exist in the original GameBoy version of the Trilogy. Which means if there is homoerotic tension written in for this case (and there happens to be a lot. the chessboard is proof enough.), then we can safely assume that the writers at this point were well-aware. So yeah- maybe don't feel TOO bad about the unnecessary feelings line- because ever since then the writers have been playing off of that and it SHOWS. -Is there really a point to this I'm just- everything is stacked against me tryna interpret this platonically -Like I know I make a point to say that a romantic relationship isn't the end-all of all relationships because this franchise LOVES pushing the Found Family dynamic and I'm an absolute sucker for that -good god by the time Dual Destinies rolls around I'll probably just give up and happily say they're happily married -that's literally what they act like don't even pretend

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 37 - Destined for Greatness

w/c - 7,731

               Suguru has been lying in bed for hours now as his mind wanders through his past and imagines different scenarios for the future. He sighs as he tosses and turns for the thousandth time, facing away from his door while his gaze takes to his new quarters that are viewable from this angle. This is by far the cheeriest room he has ever called his own. The walls are a warm yellow, the floors of solid hardened red clay and all of the matching furniture a light wood. His eyes take to the closed curtains with long thick white drapes, ‘This is so fucking annoying…’, he mumbles knowing there’s not even a window behind it, there’s no way for there to be when you’re underground. Sitting up now with aggravation, he reaches over to the bedside table and places the bowl of water he was using the night before, back into his lap. He wants to check in on Elska’s surroundings although he knows other Titers are tasked with the enemy’s usual surveillance. Before activating his technique though, he hesitates due to anxiety, ‘What the fuck am I going to do when we take her? What the fuck will she do?’. He hears footsteps approaching his door and knows Genghis must have already finished with most of the arrangements.

               “Little one! Time to wake up!”. Genghis calls out in an eager voice. He stops and smiles when he sees that Getou is already awake and asks, “Aren’t you excited about today?”. He looks over the worrisome Suguru who’s vexation is transparent. The golden sheets drape along his body and slide from his bare skin whenever he moves under them.

               Getou grumbles and turns his head, “I don’t think what I’m feeling is excitement…”. He keeps looking at the curtains that hide lies while wondering if he’s much different. ‘Will I have to subdue her when she lashes out? Am I going to have to hurt her when she resists?’. He’s had no qualms with doing so in the past but feels an incredible amount of pressure regarding it now. ‘Could we…like each other?’.

               Genghis chuckles and ignores Suguru’s reluctant attitude while looking around the room, “This is definitely much more suitable! Did you really put in a request for a giant tub though?” He’s poking fun at his pupil but he was also puzzled by that. Genghis thinks the brighter room will serve them both well psychologically. ‘Not too shabby for being done at the last minute.’.

               Embarrassed by the question, Getou submerges deeper into his bad mood and bed before retorting, “It’s for me. I’m tall.”. He was certainly not about to admit that it was for Elska, thinking she really must love them judging by how insane Naoya acted about it when the Zenin originally designed the first room where she was held. Suguru is aware that her reaction may be hostile overall and is dreading these coming days because of it so he hopes having one may ease her nerves. He doesn’t know that tub is Naoya’s thing.

               Genghis isn’t really satisfied with that answer but continues on, “I’ve gathered the most adept offensive fighters we have to offer.” Knowing the Titer’s abilities are incredible but lack in the area of traditional combat, selecting the most capable available would be crucial. “I believe you’ll quite enjoy my plan…”. His teeth show in this smile now, he’s more than willing to share his enthusiasm.

               Suguru finally turns to his mentor, interested. “Do tell me what you’ve concocted.”.

               Genghis lights up, “So as we were discussing, we need to restrict their actions. We will make our move in a public setting but you’ll still be able to have your fun...we will have to harm innocents but I assume that’s not what troubles you.” He grins maniacally, “Mr. Satoru Gojo’s presence will be requested before the Elders here in a few and his curiosity will assure he attends.”. Genghis sighs, “I was worried Gojo might want to kill all of them but I brought in two special people to mediate our fictitious ambitions.”. He chuckles, “The silver shaman has no idea what’s in store for him.”.

               Getou smirks at the thought of Gojo having the rug pulled from beneath him, “So we’re planning on having to deal with Toji, Zenin and Choso…aside from her today?” Genghis nods to his question but a heaviness forms in Suguru’s chest when he thinks about having to kill Choso. He’s still not on board with that completely and figures he’ll try his best to protect the hybrid in the midst of confusion. ‘Not him too.”. Getou wishes to find a way to bring the hybrid back to his side.

               Genghis claps his hands, causing his yellow robes to flutter, “You better get up and get ready! I’m about to meet with our team. I believe your first sweetheart will be amongst them.”, he chuckles for the drama but honestly loathes that woman.

               “Lidia?”, Getou stiffens immediately as that did not help his motivation. “She’s fucking crazy Master Genghis, I don’t want to be anywhere near her!”. Suguru takes his head to his hands as a few memories of her dependency and inhumane behavior flood him. ‘Psychotic bitch.’. Lidia always chased after Suguru when they were younger and at some point this wore on him as before he knew it, she was claiming them to be betrothed. She was obsessed with his destiny, his calling for the clan and would worship him in the most toxic ways due to it. Her need to be the only one in Getou’s life caused her to mutilate young women amongst Suguru’s outer circle out of spite and jealousy. Their time together did not last long as it quickly became a violent pairing, ending with him crushing her ribs under his usual technique. Suguru sighs, “She’s is not going to help me obtain another woman…”. He shudders recalling how after healing, she was back to throwing herself at him as if nothing happened. ‘Fucking…crazy…’.

               Genghis hides his sneer, knowing full and well the history of the two. “On the contrary, she requested this assignment.”. He notices Suguru’s growing frustration and wishes he could explain exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing but instead says, “I’ve seen many outcomes for this and although they may have varied, I can assure you Lidia will serve a great purpose here.”. Little does Getou know, Lidia will be the proof offered to show Elska she will be cared for while in the Titer compound.

               Suguru is skeptical to believe this and shows it through his expression as he rises from the bed and says, “Women are the bane of my existence…”. He stretches in his black briefs and cracks his neck while thinking something foreboding was eating at him. ‘I’m probably going to have to expose my other techniques now.’.

               “You’re about to receive the most powerful wife in the world…and yet, you complain.”, Genghis teases as he’d probably be nervous too if the roles were reversed. He watches Suguru don a black robe, clearly showing signs of stress so he walks up to him and puts his jokes aside, “This is going to work out, little one, one way or another.”, and pulls Getou’s head down to plant a fatherly kiss to the top of it. After sharing the rare moment, he bows and leaves Suguru to his morning routine.

               Getou watches him quietly walk out of the room with conflicting emotions. Genghis is the only man he’s ever looked up to, the only other human that ever offered genuine affection. Ever since Suguru was reunited with his mentor though, something has felt off or perhaps he’s just seems more purposeful. He’s not sure if this odd feeling is because of his own unstable emotions that threatened to derail his purpose of revenge or if there’s another reason but he can’t ignore it either way. He trusts that his mentor is still worthy of his respect and recognition though and finds his returning welcomed regardless. ‘All of those years…’, he wonders where Genghis spent his time and exactly why. ‘Did they really keep him away to simply foster my hatred for Gojo?’. He knows that doesn’t really make sense.

               Genghis is turning a hall leading to stairs to take him upward. He sees two of the recruited Titers waiting for him outside of the designated meeting area at the top, smiles and nears them. The first one he shakes hands with is Sain Khun. The 32-year-old Titer was a remarkable martial artists and hunter. His rare eyes are more grey than blue and stand in contrast to his long black hair that he wears down. Sain is one of the handful of Titers that learned to channel their metaphysical natured abilities into to combative techniques but usually stays out of the political fray of the clan. ‘A fine young man.”. Before he’s able to address the handsome Titer, the second of the pairing cuts in.

               “Master Genghis, I have more questions about this woman.”. Lidia shamelessly exudes her opinion of the situation and demands attention. She receives a sharp look from the clan’s head that only fuels her suspicions. “Are we certain she’s the best pairing for Master Getou?”.

               “Miss Lidia, you look lovely today…”, Genghis takes her hand and kisses it, ignoring her inquires. He continues to smile until she speaks up again. ‘She never ceases.’.

               “Can we trust that her intentions for Master Getou are ones we can stand by?”. Lidia shakes her long curly red hair that dances down her arms. Her green eyes narrowed still, she waits for an answer. “She’s not even human. What if she uses her powers to manipulate his biology as well?”. Her foot taps impatiently against the now softer ground, ‘I’ll fucking kill that bitch if she even looks at him wrong!’.

               Genghis has already grown tired of catering to Lidia’s neediness in the short time they’ve come to know each other but understands she’s vital. “And what of your own intentions?”, he confidently questions her as he doesn’t need an answer. He already knows and is glad to see her heart hasn’t wavered from its possessive ways.

               Sain feels forced as this greet was supposed to be simple. He cares not of Lidia’s unhealthy interest for Suguru and even with his instincts crying against Genghis, feels badly for the man. He decides to enter the conversation in hopes to shut it down. “Lusting Lidia, it’s time to get on with the meeting.”, and grabs her arm, leading her through the door where the rest of the selected wait.

               Genghis takes a moment to center himself, ‘I understand your resentment little one…’. This quick exchange between them wasn’t the worst he’s suffered from the woman but he still cannot stand to be around her. He chuckles and whispers to himself, “But if she were any less obsessed, this wouldn’t work.”, and then enters the room with the rest as they lay out their plans.

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               Elska is looking around at the busy street as they occasionally bump into passing people. “My prince, are you sure it’s around here?” She’s never been to this part of the city before and is feeling anxious by the crowd. The sun is out but a chilling breeze catches them every so often. Her mind is heavy and plagued with questions but doesn’t want to dampen Naoya’s mission for the day.

               Naoya stops near the edge of the wide sidewalk and pulls out his phone, “I’m positive!”, while checking the map to make sure he could stand by those words. ‘Where is it?’. His brow creases as he studies the screen.

               Toji huffs, “We’ve been walking forever.” He’s abnormally agitated but also hates crowds and is pinning the fault on being dragged out into one. He looks at Elska who’s eyes happen to meet his and feels his tension release ever so slightly as the wind blows her black V-cut dress along her knees. All of them are dressed up more than usual since Naoya begged for them to eat at one of his favorite restaurants. He sees Elska eyeing him in a way that foretells she finds his black pants and squeezing button up suiting and it makes him feel like he could deal with the clothed restriction for a while longer.

               “It says we’re close!”, Naoya points to the map on his phone pridefully. It’s been a few years since he was on this side of the city and a lot has changed. He’s becoming frustrated with not knowing how much time they’ll have before Gojo returns, wanting to enjoy some normalcy. ‘I just want to treat her to nice meal!’ He turns to Elska and takes her hand, “Baby, I promise it will be worth it. I’m talking…food fit for a princess.”, when she giggles, he does too, being happy to see that she isn’t wanting to turn around. He looks to Toji now, “Want me to find you a walker?”, and snickers as the giant narrows his eyes before continuing ahead.

               Elska feels Naoya’s finger lace into hers as they resume walking, with Toji on her left. She’s trying to be cheerful today, wanting to appreciate the time she’s spending with them but her mind keeps leading her into thought. The night before, Toji stopped her from feeding and although she was aware of why and understood the risks Satoru spoke about, she tried to proceed anyway. There were a weird few minutes where she could only focus on drinking from her beloved and flailed wildly as he restrained her. ‘Why did it feel like I wanted the Titer energy too?’. She thinks to hold Toji’s hand as well in this moment but stops herself as she doesn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the three of them. ‘He looked so concerned all while I couldn’t even stop…”. The ancestral voice advised her to feed. Her heart aches as she knows this was out of character and extremely selfish when they didn’t know how it could affect her. The one thing keeping her afloat in this matter is how Toji held her after she snapped out it, how he seemed to understand without saying that she didn’t mean to.

               Toji lets Naoya and Elska get a step ahead of him so he can keep his eyes on her. After their last outing, he’s remaining highly aware of their surroundings and is watching for anything suspicious. He sees Naoya in his dark grey slacks and black dress shirt, leaning down to talk to her as they maneuver through the groups of families and friends, keeping her close. ‘Is she really, ok?’. Toji recalls how she struggled against him the night before. Gojo tried to rush to the bed after seeing her reaction but Toji was also wanting to shield her from him. Her eyes changed, showing the dashes of his green while she clawed at his arms and flashed her fangs with a glare. Toji knew that wasn’t his Elska but didn’t want to make her apprehensive, so he hid her the best he could from Satoru until they reverted. He heard something from within while this was all occurring, a voice that he swears communicated for him to feed his master. ‘Is that even possible? What the fuck was that?’. He rubs his bicep after feeling a sharp pain run through his arm.

               Naoya leads them to a building that has loud club music playing inside, the base being noticeable from where they stand. He looks up and scrunches his face, “What the fuck is this?”. He checks his watch that bares 1:39 and is further confused by the daytime club scene. ‘I’ve failed.’. Toji can be heard groaning so he orients himself to face them both, “It was right here!!”. He takes in Elska’s kind smile as she’s clearly not going to make him feel bad for being wrong. Not knowing what to do to save their lunch adventure he stands there awkwardly to think but hears Elska say, “Well let’s enjoy a drink while we look up somewhere else nearby!”. He smiles at her ability to always find a silver lining and follows behind her up the ramp that leads inside.

               As they walk through the room on the first floor, Toji feels this intense wave wash over him. Music is drowning out most other sounds but the way the bass pulses through him allows him to feel alive. The stench of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol sting his senses while they find a seat at the bar. Once sitting, he can smell Elska’s perfume when she whips her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her neck to which causes him to stir in the stool. Naoya hands out drink menus from them all but Toji doesn’t even look at it, knowing his order already and wanting it immediately. He feels ready to pounce but is cautiously calming himself as he knows this is not the place, ‘I am NOT Gojo…’. When she crosses her legs he feels the sting in his arm again, bringing his mood back to a wavering position.

               “I’m thinking a red…’, Elska states loud enough to be heard while looking over the wine menu. Naoya smiles to her words as he announces his choice of Mojito. “That’s why you’re so sweet!”, she jokes vaguely in regards to his actual taste. She places a hand on Toji’s right knee before turning to him and feels him jump. Her voice now concerned, “Did I scare you!?”. She giggles until she sees the intensity in his eyes, wondering why he’s exuding so much right then. Her breath was held in her throat as she waited for his eyes to glow, knowing that would not be good for where they are. They never do though and she eventually resumes respiration as he places his own large hand over hers. ‘What was that?’. She now swivels her head around the large room, taking in all of the day drinkers on the dance floor and seated randomly about.

               The bartender takes their orders with a smile and begins to serve them up right there. He recommended a red for Elska that he swears was his personal favorite and proudly waited for the approving sip. When she stated its palatability, he then left to attend other customers while Toji stared him down menacingly. ‘That’s a brave man to be flirting right in front of us.’.

               Naoya sips his drink while eyeing Toji chug his whiskey on the rocks. “Slow down old man, we still have to go somewhere to eat!”, he laughs at the eyeroll he receives and notices Elska drinking pretty quickly as well. “Baby, what’s on your mind?”, he knows something is bothering her and wonders if they’re both just nervous after the last Titer attack. ‘Maybe I can convince her to dance it away!’, he thinks as he imagines himself twirling her under the disco ball. He just wants her to have a good day.

               After finshing her glass already, she sets it down and tells Naoya, “I’m fine, I promise! I just really have to pee!”. He chuckles and adjusts himself so she has more room to slide off the stool. She announces that she’ll be right back before searching the walls for signs indicating the direction she should take. A drunken man bumps into her shortly after leaving the bar and can feel Toji increase his presence so she turns around to show that she’s fine. The whole room was lively except for Toji’s motionless staring. ‘I better be fast before he loses his shit.’.

               “She shouldn’t be alone.” Toji followed her with his eyes as she turned a corner down a hall. He’s worried about her and has this familiar unyielding need to be in her vicinity. It’s almost as if he knows something is about to happen. “I’m going to wait for her, watch the drinks.”. He hears Naoya protest with grief but faces him and says, “Boy, why don’t you find us a place to eat since we’re out here because of you.”, and places a hand on Naoya’s shoulder as he goes to walk past to counter the aggression in his voice. “Order another round too will ya?”.

               Elska stands up in the stall and flushes but doesn’t leave. She’s feeling like Toji’s eyes were trying to tell her something minutes ago but she can’t figure it out. All she knows is that it was sexy. She opens the latched door to wash and dry her hands but takes in her reflection in the mirror and thinks, ‘Life is so much crazier now…’, but smiles to herself knowing she had fantastic support from everyone. The door pushes open abruptly behind her and she gasps in startlement before realizing that it was Toji himself. “TOJI! What if there are others in here?!”. She can tell by his focus though that it didn’t matter anyway.

               “Doll…” he mutters as he locks the door behind him. He sees that she was caught off guard when she asks what he was doing in there but he just walks closer until he’s inches away. “I need…”, he lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist and supports her weight with his right arm. “I need you.”, he whispers while dragging the tip of his nose along her collar bone, watching her skin change pigment from his glowing eyes. Her hands are roaming through his hair and he moans to the sensation of her nails against his scalp. “Right now.”. He nearly growls as he sinks her into his groin from above.

               “Toji…”, she was right about his prior intensity but can’t find it in her heart to stop him as he begins kissing the crook of her neck. The music can be heard through the walls along with idle chatter and it all serves as a reminder for where they’re at. She thinks of her pheromones and instantly pulls herself out of their beautiful trance. She whispers, “We shouldn’t do this here, my beloved.”, and frowns as he lifts his head to meet eyes. “I can’t release them here, it’ll be a disaster…”.

               He agrees that they shouldn’t have sex and nods with a grunt but that’s not truly what brought him in lady’s room to begin with. Feeling his fangs form he shows them to her and happily takes in her reaction as she smiles and moves her hair while saying, “Oh! ok…but we have to be quick!”. He squeezes her cheek with his right hand that supporting her rear and drags his teeth across the skin of her neck. “I just need to taste you.”, he wantonly groans before biting down. She gasps to his intrusion and grips his hair as he begins to suckle. His own whimpers could be heard between his gulps, loving every drop he’s being given as he deciphers her soul and feelings. Her flavor, now that he’s not as overloaded by the information, is reminiscent of the aroma born from a field of flowers. Each time he swallows more of her blood, his overall restlessness fades while her squirming increases.

               Elska cradles his head into her while melting in the master’s ecstasy flowing through her. Her eyes are closed as she bites her lip and attempts to muffle her sounds. “My beloved…”, she whimpers to him while her fingers stroke through his hair. His hypertonicity dwindles as she feels his left hand travel up her back, resting a grip on the nape of her neck. “I love you, my beloved Toji…”, and gasps in desperation as she can sense his own, wanting to assure him of his importance. Those same fingers now dance along her clavicle as he brings them over the wounds to close them while panting into her neck. He leaves his face buried there, adorning the area with his lips slowly as he she can tell he’s gathering himself. “Do you feel better?” She caresses his temple and cheek hoping that he did, feeling terrible that she didn’t recognize or even sense his disposition sooner. When he lifts his head to look at her again, she feels the need to lock her lips to his as they both exhale in a gratified union. She moves the hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead before he gently puts her back down, him looking refreshed with a bashful grin.

               He grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wets it. In the mirror he can see Elska’s loving eyes watching him and the scar on the corner of his lips bends pleasantly. While wiping away any evidence, he shyly adds, “I love you too, doll.”, the words still seeming unreal. After discarding the bloodied paper towel, he takes up her hands in his own, “I’m sorry for following you in here, I just…I really needed to do that.”. He’s still uneasy by how compelling the desire was. “I felt like I wouldn’t get another chance.”. He sees the concern on her face and doesn’t want to worry her, “It was just time for me to feed doll, everything is ok.”. Her hand sails upwards to hold his cheek and leans into it. ‘I have to keep her safe.’.

               Naoya is watching the condensation accumulate on his glass and is now feeling nervous as he checks his watch again. ‘Where are they?!’, he swings around in the stool to check the room and feels an incredible wave of relief as he finds Toji and Elska making their way back to the bar. After they sit he asks, “Did you guys go to the bathroom at the dorms or what?”, but picks up on the weird laughs he receives from them. ‘He wouldn’t have tried something sly, would he?’, and squints his eyes at Toji. ‘He looks way better though.’, and decides to let it go as he’s sure even a quickie couldn’t be that quick. “Baby…”, Naoya slides his phone over in front of them as he finishes his second Mojito, “I’ve only been here once but they have beautiful seating along the water!”. He cackles, “…and it’s only about half a mile away by foot…”.

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               Gojo is quickly walking through the whited-out halls with Choso following. He speaks without looking, “Choso, when we get in there…I have to warn you, you’re not expected.”. Gojo heard Choso stop in place so he turns around to see him. “You’re with me though so it’s fine! If they say anything to you, just ignore them. I will do the talking.”, and waves for the being to hurry.

               “I…I don’t understand why I’m here with you and not everyone else…”. Choso is familiar with the Elders but can’t ignore the fact that he used to work for them where as he’s now on the opposing side. ‘Is this a good idea?’. He was expecting Gojo to sulk and whine to being called in today and is puzzled by how thrilled he seems.

               Gojo jumps up to click his heels to the side before saying, “I don’t trust these cunts and I’m almost positive this is a trap of some sort…”. He notices Choso’s eyes widen with confusion so he continues, “If they’re trying to distract me from Elska, they fail if you’re there using your technique to watch her for me!”, his smug grin appears, “This way I’ll know the moment something happens.”. He’s sure the Elders have called him away in order to create an opportunity but has a mind to flip their plans upside down with this small act of rebellion. “I can never remember where to go! This shit all looks the same…it’s creepy.”.

               Choso sighs but tries to keep up with Gojo’s quickened pace. The bright lighting overhead is blinding and causing him discomfort as he prefers darker places. He doesn’t know what to make of Gojo’s explanation but figures he’s along for the ride at this point anyways. “Do you think they’d even admit to what they’re doing?”. Choso understands the amount of secrecy the surrounds the Elder’s goals and is sure that he’s not even fully aware of their intentions.

               “Yes. I will make sure they do.”, Satoru’s words are eerie but his expression is still delighted. “These fuckers have messed with us for long enough. They’re cowards, Choso and the things they want to do to my love are unacceptable.”.  Gojo is certain that none of the others would have condoned what he’s thinking he’ll have to do which is why he said nothing before leaving. “They need to leave her alone and how can I call myself the strongest if I can’t protect her from these witless skin bags?”. Satoru at least wanted to inform Nanami of his meeting but hasn’t been able to reach the fellow shaman yet. ‘Did they get to him too?’. Gojo is certain that something happened with Shoko but was waiting to see how things played out. ‘As long as she’s fine, I know she can handle it.’, but worries about Nanami’s reaction if he’s already discovered this too.

               ‘What is he going to do?’, Choso feels like something big is about to happen, something that cannot be taken back. The unnerving pressure in his gut hints that whatever it is, it’s not good. “Itadori and the others are still on standby but isn’t it odd that they haven’t been given any missions?”. They pass more rooms before Satoru finally stops. Choso watches the silver shaman’s expression change to lethally cold one before straightening himself with resolve, and knows he should do the same. ‘I guess I have to just trust him…’, the thought not sitting comfortably at all.

               Gojo quietly speaks, “Remember, don’t mind them, they’re not worth the stress. You do not serve them any longer.”, and places a reassuring hand on the hybrids shoulder. He’s impressed when he looks over the being, seeing that his previous nervousness has been cast away and replaced by a collected ensemble. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m right about him.’, and feels poised in the dark nature that lurks beneath Choso’s kindness. Turning back to the door, Gojo kicks it open fiercely before entering. “WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?!”.

               Three people sit along one side of a long white table, seeming prepared aside from the sudden commotion. The first is a representative of the Kamo clan, a new middle-aged face Satoru has never seen draped in dark red robes. The second is a Zenin, the bought errand man known better as “Peaches” for a less known reason. Gojo knew him rather well from his childhood and all of the clan events he was forced to attend. The third, however, catches Satoru by complete surprise and angers him. The woman sitting as a representative for his own clan is none other than his mother.

               Gojo seethes with white knuckled fists, “What the fuck are you doing here?”, as old anguish resurfaces between the two. Satoru hasn’t been home in years and purposefully. He was sure if he stayed any longer, he’d annihilate his own family.

               The Kamo rep scoffs, “Yes… well hello to you too Satoru Gojo. We could ask you the same.” He points to Choso, “Isn’t that Kamo property?”. The hybrid and Gojo fail to give him the time of day, causing tension.

               Gojo never takes his eyes off of his mother while waiting in silence as Choso dutifully ignores them. His eyes darken, “I asked you a fucking question you miserable old whore.”. He feels the urge to gather a technique but calms himself with his better judgement.

               His mother speaks, “That is no way to talk to the woman who raised you!”, she laughs in a haughty way but brings her dramatics to a close, “Why else would I be here? You can’t be left to just do whatever you please…”. She tilts her nose up and displays her notion that she is untouchable.

               Peaches shifts in his chair, “You have something that needs to be returned to the Zenin’s. Master Naoya was promised her hand.”. He’s honestly terrified of Gojo but would never allow this to show. Satoru darts stormy eyes in his direction and he feels a chill race down his spine.

               “Let’s just be frank about it. You want Elska.”. Gojo voice is calm, almost lighthearted. He brings his gaze back to his mother, feeling a little better about the situation knowing he’s going to handle more business than he expected today. “Choso, please start now.”. Gojo doesn’t have to look since he can feel Choso’s energy gathering to form the window. He watches the representatives lean to figure out what the hybrid is up to and laughs out loud. “My friend here”, He scowls at the Kamo man, “is going to observe Elska while we meet.”. He winks to Peaches, “She’s with Naoya right now for your information…Toji too.”.

               Gojo’s mother bursts into hyaena laughter, threatening to rupture the unsuspecting eardrums of the others. “You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? Such a pitiful child.”. Her long white hair waves in the air as she jerks her head to see Peaches’s perplexed expression. “Don’t believe him just because he speaks it…trust me…”, and folds her arms while thinking of how many more beatings her son should have to experience when younger.

               Peaches clears his throat and tries to save face, “Surely this is some kind of joke. Master Naoya loathes your very existence Satoru.”. He’s now chuckling to himself having felt it was a test of some sort, “Are we not on better terms than that of your games?”. He’s now sure it was a lie.

               Gojo regrets that Peaches is here today but is unable to overlook the fact that the old goat is in cahoots with this situation. ‘It can’t be helped!’. He turns to Choso now for the first time since they walked into the room and is reassured that nothing bad is happening. Now facing Peaches again, “You know… Zenin and I got off on the wrong foot.” He grins, “But now we have threesomes!”, loving the shock that plasters everyone’s face. The Kamo man choked on his own saliva to the mention. Gojo looks at his mother, “Don’t be upset just because no one wants to fuck you. It can’t be helped when your cunt leaks venom.”.

               Choso sits motionlessly as he listens to the meeting unfold, completely flabbergasted by Satoru’s way of speaking. ‘What did his mother do to him to make him hate her so much?’, he hesitates to explore the options in his mind as he can only imagine. Aside from that though, Choso has never witnessed such a display of blatant disrespect to the higher ups and is completely unnerved by the silver shamans ever changing composure. ‘What is he planning to do?’, the ominous feelings he’s experiencing from this are only growing at this point.

               Peaches is red with embarrassment, “HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT!”, and allows his anger on the matter to spill over. The representative huffs relentlessly to the accusations and feels disgraced for his ears being exposed to such vile talk. When expecting to see an angry Gojo, he’s further confused by the smile that meets him instead.

               Gojo runs his finger along the table as he casually saunters in front of each of them. “If you three decide to get rowdy…I’ll have to kill you.”. He basks in the glares and especially enjoys his mother’s fear as she knew he was not playing around. Once they become settled he says to her, “You being here makes you my enemy, mommy. How long have you been involved?”. She starts to swat his question away with a scoff but everyone leaps out of their skin when Satoru yells, “HOW FUCKING LONG?!”. He increases his presence tenfold and watches the representatives writhe in distress before him.

               She says nothing.

               The Kamo rep is sweating bullets as he’s only heard the tales of horrors committed at the hand of Gojo. ‘Genghis said nothing about this hostility.”, he thinks to himself as he comprehends that he’s bitten off more than he could chew. He’s afraid to peel his eyes away from the powerful shaman making inquiring demands but also wants to flee the room. ‘This guy is even crazier in person!’.

               Gojo takes a deep breath and exhales dramatically, “Well…this is going nowhere…”, and summons energy into his hand as he aims it at the Kamo representative. The nameless man cries out in fear and studders in his breathing. Gojo notices Choso jump to his feet but the being doesn’t say anything. Only when the defeated female voice utters, “3 years.”, does he quell his attack. He thinks about that answer for a moment before acknowledging her again. ‘That’s strange.’. Looming across from her he now asks, “I’d already had my love for some time before that, why did you join them to conspire against me at that point? Don’t make me blow this poor guy’s skull open…”, he warns of his lack of patience.

               His mother sulks in her seat having her hands tied about the questioning, “I thought she was a passing infatuation at first, like all of the others but you completely neglected your responsibilities of being an heir because of that wretch.” She’s met with unforgiving eyes and wishes she was able to smack the audacity out of him but has learned the hard way about his response to abuse. “She is not yours Satoru and you jeopardize the entire balance of the clans with your actions of keeping her.”.  Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peaches nod in support and feels reaffirmed by it.

               Gojo slips a wild laugh and slaps the table, “She is mine though. I voyaged worlds away to find her. I went to incredible lengths to bring her back…”, he sighs while resting his hands on his hips. “You do know, mom, these Titers that have you in their pocket…they were going to use her to assassinate me.”. The atmosphere of the room deteriorates at the mention of the Titer clan. Its obvious that they were left unaware to Gojo having knowledge of the group’s silent partner.

               His mother jumps from her seat and screams, “AND THEY SHOULD HAVE SUCCEEDED!”. All of the hatred she’s ever felt for her son sears the air around them, her chest feeling lighter for the honesty but heavier for the fear. “You were destined for greatness but even with your gifts, something is wrong with you! How you ever came out of me? I will never know…”. She feels she must stand her ground or else the structure they’ve served their entire lives will crumble. “You’re evil. You always have been.”.

               Choso is still watching Naoya, Toji and Elska but can’t help but be distracted by the darkness exuding Gojo. ‘What is going on here?’, he doesn’t understand how this is official business and even finds himself feeling defensive over Satoru. ‘That woman is appalling.’, he thinks as he considers Gojo’s upbringing and decides there’s more to the man than he ever considered. He looks back to the window after surmising that none of the representatives would attack. Choso becomes rattled when the window shows Toji drinking from Elska in a cramped bathroom, ‘I can’t believe the lighting permits this, it must be dim.’, He temporarily becomes fixated with Toji’s fangs anchored into her as she quietly moans. He’s not seen anyone but her feed before. ‘So, his bite feels good to her as well?’. He brushes his lap as if to tell it, “Knock it off”, but his attention is soon stolen by Peaches’s mention of Elska.

               “If you don’t return Elska Oda then this will be seen as an act of aggression Satoru, please…don’t do thi-…” Peaches can no longer speak as Gojo grips hit throat and is thrown into a fit of fright.

               “I kind of liked you…I was use to you at least…but if you ask me that one more time, I will break your fucking neck.” Gojo feels his face twitch as he squeezes the old man’s beard into his throat, “You guys are fucking with me today and I don’t appreciate it.”. Never letting go, he turns to his mother but also glances at the petrified Kamo rep, “I do not give a single flying fuck about the clans, I couldn’t care less of your archaic ways and I am never going to surrender my Elska.”. As Peaches reaches a critical point of needing air, Gojo clamps his fingers deeper, “I left my love’s side today to be here because of your guys’ little fucking Titer friends. That is what we will discuss.”.

               Gojo’s mother rushes to pull her son’s hand away but right as she’s reaching out, Satoru releases Peaches. She watches the old man heave and choke uncontrollably and shoots hateful eyes. “How dare you lay a hand on him? Do you fear nothing?”, she thinks to threaten with her husband but knows that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree so it’s likely useless.

               Satoru smirks while studying Peaches inability to regain his breath, “I crushed his trachea a bit, he’s going to need medical attention soon.”. He watches the Kamo man stand up in disbelief and warns, “My mother is right about one thing, I do not fear you or your influence.”, and smiles approvingly as the man takes his seat again hesitantly.

               “You psychotic little freak!”, his mother cries out in disgust, “We need to get him to a doctor!”. She feels herself fill with anxiety as she was not expecting him to go this far. “Let us take him!”.

               Satoru hisses quietly, “If you guys weren’t so dead set in dicking me around then this wouldn’t have happened. No one leaves until I get some answers.”. He strolls around the table, loving how terrified the Kamo representative became when he was close. He yanks up the suffocating Peaches and throws him back into his chair, “Have some fucking dignity…I thought better of you.”. When Peaches makes eye contact, he can see the dread wash over the man, knowing their dynamic has changed forever.

               The Kamo man speaks up sheepishly, “Wh…What is it that you want to know?”. He’s all for handing over the required information as he clearly cares about his life more than the others. Satoru’s expression softens as the other two representatives hang their mouths open, not expecting him to fold so easily. Gojo states, “Everything.”, which causes the rep to tense up as he doesn’t know where to begin. He hastily blurts out, “Suguru Getou inherited ancient techniques as well. The Titers are planning on taking the girl for themselves to ensure their supremacy.” He inhales sharply, “The head of their clan met his end by the hands of your company, they want to repay by being rid of you as you are their final target. You’re still too strong because of your infinity, so the girl’s fate was determined the moment you were born.”.

               “You… weak imbecile…”, Gojo’s mother retaliates to the sensitive information by pushing Peaches backwards causing him to fall to the ground and thrash violently. Without so much as a second thought, she gathers energy into her hand and expels it at the Kamo man’s mouth. The representative dons his own matching blood as his brain matter exits the back of his head, decorating the white surroundings behind him. Only a cavernous jagged hole remains where the words escaped him only seconds prior. His body slumps over the table as he leaks his remaining essence into a pool that shortly forms a dripping pattern to the white tiled floor.  

               Choso defensively stands as the black tattoo on his faces begins to wave. “Satoru…”, is all he says while watching Gojo’s mother now strain to lift the blue tinted and gasping Peaches back upright his seat. ‘His mother is just as rash…’. Choso waits for a few moments longer but is eager to gauge Gojo when their eyes finally meet. ‘Why does he look so satisfied?’, he questions himself as he’s met with that smug smile. The Zenin man’s eyes look like they may pop out of his head but Choso can still make out the man’s reaction to his own presence. He hears Gojo say, “Everything is alright Choso, don’t worry. Just watch them.”, but the being is unable to simply sit with ease at this time. ‘How is this alright?’.

               “And you wonder where I get it from?”, Gojo is irritated that the only man that was willing to talk is now dead but he’s also able to take the information to heart because of how his mother reacted. ‘So all of this really is because of me…’, he thinks of Elska with a heavy heart knowing all that she’s been through, even before he got his hands on her was his fault. ‘My love…I will make this right.’.

               Gojo’s mother now sits back down, wondering if she went too far and gave away their hand. Peaches struggles to speak next to her but she can make out that he’s trying to question the fidelity of the Kamo’s last words. She sighs, “Look Peaches, I like you but I’m siding with Genghis.”. Peaches gurgles himself into a purple hue as he still cannot breathe or talk properly. She understands that Peaches was completely ignorant to the Titer’s planned betrayal to the Zenins and calm says, “They’re not wanting to eliminate other clans, they’re just going to help guide us to this proposed peace, don’t worry so much.”.

               Peaches can only think of Master Naoya who he feels is in grave danger after hearing this information. ‘I…he has to know…Master Na…he needs to be made aware!’. He thinks to grab his phone but he wouldn’t be able to relay the information, nor is he fast enough to text it. Peaches chokes in his stress and can tell his body is slowly shutting down after being deprived oxygen and feels completely hopeless about his predicament. When his heavy eyes meet Gojo’s he freezes in apprehension while listening intently.

               Satoru sighs dramatically with growing anticipation, “Now…where were we?”.

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Tagging : @angelofthorr ❤️

[tiffdawg]

Two Halves | A Javier Peña x Reader Oneshot

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: T | Warnings: A dash of angst but only to make the fluff sweeter. Alcohol. 

Request: Part of the 500 Celebration! @jigglemiwa requested 49 (You’re the best part of me) or 42 (You keep that photo of us in your wallet?) from this list with Javier Peña. I thought these were great prompts so I used both! Thank you for the request – this was so much fun to write!

A/N: This is so soft y’all. I was blushing while I wrote it. 

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

… . …

Two Halves

It was like any other night after a long day of work. You were at the usual bar a few blocks away from the embassy apartment complex with a warming glass of tequila cradled between your hands. Javier sat next to you, his discarded jacket thrown over the back of his barstool, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and tie hanging loose around his neck. He looked as tired and disheveled as you felt.

It was a quiet evening, both in the bar where a few other patrons milled about, nursing drinks and chatting idly with whoever would listen, and between you and your partner. Or, former partner. That was what made that night unique: it was your last night together in Bogotá.

Now that the Cali Cartel had folded in on itself, the DEA’s presence in Colombia was downsizing and most attachés were transferring elsewhere. You had a lucrative offer for a position in Mexico. And yet, you were wavering as an inexplicable bout of indecision kept you from making a final call about your future. You’d thought that the last day of work would bring some sense of closure or light a fire under you that would make your decision easier. But it hadn’t. Even then, as you traced the rim of your glass, you couldn’t make up your mind. You were much too busy stealing glances at the man sitting next to you.

As for Javier Peña, his job was done, and he was going home. When he asked you to grab a drink with him that night, you’d expected he would be in a bit of a celebratory spirit. Instead, he was in one of his introspective moods, preferring to sit quietly next to you as he lost himself in his own mind. You doubted he’d ever admit it, but you knew he preferred to have someone by his side, even in moments like that. And if you were being honest with yourself, so did you – especially if it was him.

So, the two of you fell into an old, familiar silence broken only by a deep baritone crooning in Spanish that crackled softy through an old radio behind the bar. You weren’t paying close enough attention to make out the lyrics but if you had to guess, he was probably singing about love. They always were. 

Javier sighed at the last sip of tequila in his glass before downing it. As if he’d been waiting for his cue, the bartender appeared and asked if he wanted another round. Javier turned to you with a raised brow.

You finished off the last of your drink and set your empty glass next to his. You’d had a couple of drinks over as many hours. You could get away with one more. “Why not?” 

While the bartender made your drinks, you watched Javier as he leaned against the counter, head held in one hand as he traced the veins of the wood with the pad of his finger. He’d been contemplating something the entire night and had yet to work out a solution to his problem. And it weighed heavily on his mind. You couldn’t figure out what was bothering him so much. His job was over. That heavy burden he’d been carrying around for years had been lifted from his shoulders and he was free from the DEA. Even if he’d never said it out loud before, you knew that was what he wanted deep down. He should’ve been happy.

Just as you opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, a pair of drinks were placed in front you. You thanked the bartender and pulled your glass toward you. As always, Javier reached for his wallet to pay the tab. And, as always, you tried to stop him.

“Javi, you don’t–” 

“I want to,” he insisted, cutting you off before you could protest, “It’s our last night out together, cariño.”

Your cheeks warmed at his favorite name for you. It never seemed to lose its effect on you. Of course, you would’ve preferred it if he meant its true sentiment. And while you didn’t want to admit to yourself that it was the last night you would spend with him, he was finally talking, so you tried to make light of the situation. “Can you believe that? That it’s all over?”

He only shook his head, his face pinching in a slight scowl, as he counted out the correct payment and a generous tip. As he sorted through his cash, something fell from between two crisp bills. You recognized it immediately: it was a photo strip from an old camera booth. The film was faded and bent, well-worn and maybe even well loved. As if It had been hidden away in his wallet for a while, but repeatedly handled. In fact, you could’ve guessed just how long he’d been carrying it around down to the day.

“You keep those photos of us in your wallet?” you asked, your voice not quite hiding your disbelief, as you gently picked up the photo strip. It was a lost memory from one drunken night out when the two of you were trying to unwind after a particularly bad day. In each of the two frames, the two of you were grinning. First, happily at the camera – or, at least, in the general direction of the camera – and then at each other. 

“I just– I like to look at it sometimes. When, you know–” Javier stumbled, clearly caught off guard. “It’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not,” you assured. You tore your eyes from your smiling faces in the photos to look at him, silently pleading for him to continue with a careful hand on his arm.

He faltered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally spoke. “It helps when you’re not around. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you keeping me in line all the time. Sometimes I look at you and I– I know what I need to do.” He finally looked at you, his dark eyes shining with some new emotion. “You make me want to be better. Hell, you’re the best part of me.” 

“Javi,” you sighed as you blinked away the unwanted tears blurring your vision. 

“I know I shouldn’t say that–”

“No. No, you don’t understand.” The two of you regarded each other for a drawn-out breath. He watched you carefully, waiting for you to explain, as you racked your brain for the right words. Coming up short, you swallowed hard and tried a different approach. “Can I show you something?”

His brows furrowed adorably at you and you resisted the urge to laugh. Reaching for your purse, you took your own wallet and shuffled through the crumpled bills until you found what you were searching for.

You gingerly set the last two frames of the photo strip on the counter, aligning the torn edge perfectly with Javier’s photos to complete the picture. “I like to keep you close too,” you said softly. “Sometimes I– I need you.” 

Javier’s expression shifted into some mix of shock and awe that looked rather foreign on him as he considered your statement and the completed photo strip laid out before him. In the back of your mind, you’d always wondered if the torn edge on yours matched with a second set of photos. Together, the four frames told the story of one stolen moment as it unfolded between the two of you. In an almost reverent gesture, he picked up your half and ran his thumb over the last frame. It was a blurry black and white photo of him cradling your face as he pressed his lips to yours.

“I kissed you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Apparently,” you said with a nervous laugh that was more of a sigh. “Don’t feel bad. We’d had a few too many that night. I don’t remember it either.”

“I wish I did,” he mumbled. When he faced you again, he almost looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared,” you answered with a shrug. “I didn’t know if you remembered. And if you did, you never said anything about it, so I thought you might’ve wanted to forget.”

“Cariño, I don’t think you understand,” he sighed, running a hand over his mouth as he placed your half under his again before turning his body toward yours. “I’ve been sitting here all night trying to figure out how to tell you that I love you.”

The chill that ran down your spine was followed by the sweetest warmth spreading from your chest throughout your body. And the tiniest oh escaped past your parted lips at his confession. “I think you just did.”

“I guess so,” he beamed as a look of relief washed over him. “I love you,” he said easily.

“I love you too, Javier,” you promised, finally speaking those words aloud to him you’d felt in your heart for so long.

You both moved at the same instant, leaning in to crash your lips together in a long-awaited second kiss. One neither of you would forget. As his hands cupped your face to hold you near, your lips came together and pulled apart again and again, you smiled into his kiss at the thought that the two of you must’ve looked just as you did in that photo you cherished so much.

“What?” he asked, leaning away just enough to look at you.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy,” you said wetly. You’d wanted that – wanted him – for so long. You’d all but resigned yourself to the idea that the photo of a kiss you didn’t remember was the closest you’d ever get to the real thing. But the real thing was so much better than you ever could’ve imagined. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

“I know what you mean.” When he spoke next, his tone shifted to something more serious. “Wherever you go next, I’ll follow.” Javier knew about your job offer. You’d attempted to solicit his advice about it on numerous occasions. Only then did his reluctance to help you make sense. “I just want to be with you, mi amor.”

You knew he was sincere. You heard it in his steady voice. Saw it in his determined eyes. And felt it in your heart. There would be no separating the two of you now. As you took in the tired lines of his handsome face, you knew exactly what you wanted the future to look like for the both of you. All of your doubt and indecision faded away as you finally allowed yourself to ask for what you wanted most. 

“I want out,” you admitted with an exhausted exhalation. “I don’t want to go to Mexico or anywhere else they might try to send me. I want to go home, Javi. I want to go home with you.”

Without another word, he picked up the two halves of the photo strip and tucked them both safely in his wallet. For some reason, you doubted you would get yours back. Then he stood and held out a hand to you. “Let’s get out of here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you teased, rolling your eyes even as you slipped your hand into his.

“I know what you meant,” he scoffed as he led you out of the bar and toward. “We have plans to make. Together.”

“I like the sound of that,” you said around a smile as you leaned into his side.

“Although,” Javier drawled as he stopped walking and pulled you into him with two strong hands on your hips, “We definitely need to make up for lost time.” He nuzzled his nose against yours before capturing your bottom lip between his plush ones. It was a kiss so soft and slow it made you dizzy. He was intoxicating in a whole new way. Better than the finest alcohol. And you’d happily drink him in as long as you could.

“I think we can multitask,” you quipped, in between heated kisses. He hummed his agreement but made no move to part from you. The two of you stayed like that for a long time, kissing under the golden beam of a streetlight on a quiet road in Bogotá. It would’ve made for a lovely photograph.

In the end, you never got your half of the photo back from him. But it didn’t matter. Years later, that photo strip sat framed on the nightstand next to your shared bed with a single piece of clear tape forever mending the two halves.

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin

[simpz-art-stash]

The Breakdown [LMK]

A moment between MKing and Fang where both  finally regard each other and their relationship as father / daughter  & teacher / student. Tags: LOTS OF FLUFF “Again.” A pained groan escaped Fang as she sat up on her sore butt for the upteenth time. “Can’t we take a break?...My tail hurts…” She whined. She was tired, sweaty, and not at all having any fun. “No.”  MKing replied bluntly, “Get up. You’re never going to win if you stay down.” He replied, arms crossed with that same serious look on his face.

She  pouted and with an exaggerated motion, propped herself back up with the  little wooden staff she’d been using since the start of this whole  training business. The poor thing had seen better days, it was  splintered and worn, to the point she’d had to wrap the base of it in  fabric just to keep her hands from getting blisters. Which at this point  had hardly done much to ease her swelling callouses. And that wasn’t  even counting the last few matches she’d endured under her father’s  lessons. Ever since she’d turned 50 or so, that was when they’d  started this whole routine. He’d told her his reasoning for why she was  here, to grow strong and take by his side as his successor in the  future. She of course agreed to it, being the ever giving child to the  Monkey King. She wanted nothing more than to be just like him. To grow  up big and strong and eventually go on her own journey. Right now however she was struggling just to keep her legs from collapsing as she wiped the sweat off her brow. “Again.” He  commanded, snapping her from her thoughts as her eyes glanced across  the field of the dojo into his. She took a breath to steel her nerves  and charged at him. Remembering what he’d told her, putting force into  each step, and attempting to swing into the strike at the last minute. This time, this time- Her  steps were still just as unbalanced as the last attempt, even with her  stance poised properly, it left her wide open for an attack. Something  MKing had masterfully pulled from his observation in watching her run at  him the way she was now. It was sloppy, unfocused, and it didn’t take  him any time at all to swiftly advert her center of gravity around his  and throw her back. And just as before she found her world  spinning in a blurred mess of colors as she was flung back onto the  ground. This time landing on her side where a loud SNAP was heard. As  soon as he’d heard that noise he’d switched his demeanor in an instant  and rushed over, his brow creased as the dust settled. He first saw the  staff broken in two, its splintered bits laying scattered about. But as  some movement caught his eye, he shifted his attention towards that and  saw her moving to sit up, there wasn’t any screaming or crying so that  was a good sign. “Ah geeze..” He sighed, grateful it hadn’t been anything serious, “Come on let's get you a new one-” “I  DON’T WANNA ANYMORE!” She yelled. Which caused him to jump a little at  her sudden exclamation. His attention now primarily focused on the very  distraught child before him. Upon closer inspection she looked fine,  maybe a lil bruised but nothing a good night's rest couldn’t fix. No,  what really caused him to freeze up was the look on her face. She looked at him with a look of fear.

Now, Wukong was a monkey of many things. A proud warrior,  an old general, a friend and then some. He’d taken on countless battles  and fearsome enemies, with very few able to really strike the fear into  his core. But when it came to being envisioned with a look of  fear, and by his own child no less, it left him in a state of shock he  hadn’t felt in quite some time. In that moment of shell-shock  she’d managed to regain her footing enough to stumble on passed him, her  hands wiping at her face as she ran off. “Fang!” He called out to her, “Sweetpeach, wait- I-” It hadn't taken him long to really find her, one peek with his true sight saw her high up in the old bonsai that had been growing on the ledge of the cavern his little hut resided in. But even so..she didn't look anywhere near ready to deal with him right then so he simply sent out a few of the monkies to keep an eye on her while he went off to pick up some food, think things over. And boy did he think things over, if he thought he overthought things before, his mind was practically buzzing like an angry hive by the time he'd finally made it home. He was pushing her and pushing her and at this point he might as well of pushed her away altogether with the way she left him earlier. It broke his heart..seeing his little girl so distraught. All the while he'd been keeping himself blind to the signs for this reason alone, to make her strong..and himself stronger so that when the time came and something worse happened... He shook his head, he didn't wanna think about something like that when she couldn't even leave the island without his guidance.

He still found her in the same place as before, and exchanged a few glances with some of the older monkies that had been keeping an eye on her. They all seemed pretty huffy with him. 'Well that makes two of us...' He sighed. Passing them and climbing up into the tree, his eyes glancing over at the little ball curled tight around a cute little plush he'd made for her. Minikong, defender of the princess, stared back at Wukong, judging him in all his glory. But he could care less at that point, he had enough guilt to flood the ocean several times over, no his eyes were more keen to meet the current bundle taking resident in the little spot in the tree. "Sweetpeach?..." He spoke softly, as if the slightest wake against her fragile little ball would crumble her. It crumbled something when she flinched at his voice.

He cleared his throat when no answer came, "I uh..brought you some dinner." He rose his arm a little, before he placed down a carefully folded package of sliced fruit, all wrapped together in banana leaves. When she made no real movement to go for the food he sighed, "Come'on bud..throw me a peach here.." He pouted. She made a small noise, her little tail curling around her ankle, as if trying to make herself smaller in hopes he'd just forget about her and leave. "not hungry..." A rumble of her stomach claimed otherwise, which in turn got a small laugh out of Wukong, before he had to remind himself of his manners. "You sure about that?? Could've sworn I heard a rather distinguished appetite.." He hummed a little, his eyes never wavering from her furry little tail. She only seemed to grumble something incomprehensible in return. Creasing Wukong's brow as he tried to formulate a means to break through to her, at least enough to where she wouldn't starve herself... His eyes glanced back to Minikong, looking for pity, before an idea came to mind. "What's that Minikong?? She really isn't hungry?? Well that just won't do! And even after I picked her most favorite ripe fruit too..." He opened up the little ball of leaves, revealing the sweet savory piece's he'd so neatly cut up. He wasn't the best but he made due. "Sure would be a shame to let these spoil so soon..." He gave an overly exaggerated sigh, "I suppose that just means I'll have to eat them aaaaall by myself.." His eyes gave a side glance to the slight shuffle beside him. "Every.Last.Piece." "Nooo!!" Fang whined aloud suddenly, her movements jostling the branch she'd taken up residence on. Prompting Wukong to collect the rest of the snack before it met an untimely end to the monkies below. "Hmm?" Wukong quirked a brow back at her, hovering a piece dangerously close to his mouth all the same though. "Nonono!!" She smacked at his arm with Minikong, the traitor taking up arms against their king. "Woah kiddo I was just kidding!-" “Please don’t hate me. I know I can get better! Just train me more!” He froze, the piece in his hand lowering altogether as he turned to look at her altogether and her poor puffy face. Then it clicked. "Sweetpeach..." "I wanna get better, I wanna be strong, but it's hard!! I'm sorry!!" She stared tearing up again, her hands wiping at those big blue eyes of hers as she broke down. "I'm sorry, I'll get stronger, just don't leave me daddy!!" She bawled. And that right there shook Wukong's heart to the core, prompting him to drop what little fruit he had in hand before he finally took her into his arms. Cradling her and trying to soothe her cries. "Shh shh..hey it's okay.." He sighed, commending all those mother's and father's out there for having the strength to last as long as they did with this whole parenting thing...he could only imagine how the hell DBK dealt with it when he'd still been around. When her crying finally seemed to calm down he simply stayed with her like that for a bit, letting his hands comb through her hair while she sat curled up in his lap, so small to the rest of the world was she. He wanted to keep her safe from that world, that terrible merciless expanse that sought to take just as much as it gave. He wanted her to be strong, to keep safe, but he also wanted her to be happy...and what kind of father would he be to fail his own daughter if she wasn't any of those things? "I would never leave you behind...never for the remainder of eternity would I ever think of doing that to you." He softly stated, "I'm sorry I've been so hard on you..I didn't mean to push you as much as I did I just..." He sighed, "I just wanted to make sure that you would be ready. More than I was when I had to face the world and it's many painful lessons..." A sniffle escaped Fang then, her hands gripping at his shirt, before she shifted up a little, enough to look up at him, "Is that why you've been so scary?..." She sniffled, hiccuping a little, "Because..the world is scary..?" She blinked. His face grimaced, trying to keep it together for her sake, he brought his hand up and brushed a few stray tears off her cheek with his thumb. "I guess you could say that..." "I don't wanna..." Her face twisted into a sad frown, a threatening bout of tears pooled along the edges of her eyes despite the snot already running. "I don't wanna face the world if I can't have you with me anymore..." There it was, that remorseful little sliver of guilt that had been biting away at his core for the last few months, finally breaking through his stone ridden skin and jabbing him right in the heart. She'd been doing this for him. Pushing herself for him. To be the successor he told her she'd grow to be one day. She'd been so amped up, so happy to know she had a future to look forward to under his guidance. But that had been back when she was still a child, no better aware of her knowledge of the way things worked more than he did with the humans and their ever-growing fondness for technology. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way sweetpeach...You don't have to be my successor if you don't want to.." "B-but I do!! I wanna make you proud!!.." She exclaimed, grabbing onto his shirt, "Be strong like you.." "Fang.." He called her name, prompting her to stiffen, he never used that name unless it was serious business. "I'm already proud of you...You've come so far with your training, even if you can't see it, you've already mastered plenty of martial arts! Took me years to find a good starting point and even then I had to fight just to get a teacher as good as myself." He hugged her close, "You don't need to be my successor for me to be proud of you OR to live here, you'll still be my little sweetpeach all the same..." He smiled down at her, easing her fears finally. "Whether you like it or not-" A squeal rang out of her when he lifted her up and began to smother her with kisses. "Stooop!!" She laughed, squirming like a fish out of water as he tickled her silly. "Stoppit!! That tickles!!" "I should hope so! Had me worried all day!!" He grinned, before heard a growl from her, his brow perking up. "Oh? Does the princess have her appetite back finally??" He smirked, finally putting her back down. Before his tail finally put down the bundle of leaves he'd been holding onto and allowed her to pick out the more juicy piece's she liked. "Go on then, I don't want you complain'n later that you missed dinner." He ruffled her hair a little and sat back. "Thank you daddy.." Her voice replied, a little muffled from the mouthful of food she had, but glazed with a sweetness that coated his heart with a sugary glaze that left him warm inside. "Of course bud..."

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Could you maybe do #7 from the smut list with Ahkmen plz :3

7. coming untouched and/or early

 Have y’all ever seen 40 Days and 40 Nights? If so, this is *sort of* a play on the flower scene 😉

 * * * * *

 Ahkmenrah loved to be touched; it didn’t matter if you were surrounded by a sea of (wax) people or completely alone, he would do anything to evoke your touch.

 Nor was he particular about how he was touched.

 He smiled when you were walking through the halls of the museum and you linked your pinky with his, giving it a playful tug. He sighed when you sat in his lap and lifted his crown from his head, running your fingers through his coarse curls. He moaned when he was making love to you and your fingers dug into his back, scratching hard enough to leave marks for the duration of the night.

 So, on one perfect summer evening, you led Ahk up to the roof of the museum, laughing as you refused to tell him just what you were up to despite his pestering, which was now bordering on petulant insistence. Only when you wound your way closer to the center of the roof was he surprised into ceasing his questions.

 Mouth slackened and eyes wide, Ahkmenrah’s face emanated a stunned happiness as he took in the strands of fairy lights, some twinkling and some providing steady balls of warm, white light, and the pile of motely mixed pillows and blankets, hues of blues, purples, greens and even some orange and yellow.

 The sounds of the city groaned around you, but they felt distant in this little nook, and above you, the sky was a cloudless, purple-black bruise, and for a moment, you thought of all the stars hidden away, much like Ahkmenrah and his friends.

 With a shake of your head, you turned your attention from the sky to Ahk and gesturing to your surprise, you stated, “Thought we deserved a little alone time.”

 “This is … thank you,” Ahkmenrah said with such sincerity you couldn’t help but to kiss him, your hands cupping his face as his arms wrapped around your waist.

 “Don’t thank me yet. Maybe I only brought you up here to play UNO?”

 Ahk’s mouth quirked up in a crooked grin.

 “Delightful! Let us begin posthaste,” he proclaimed as his robes swirled when he plopped onto the pillows, immediately stretching out on his side like a spoiled prince awaiting his evening’s entertainment.

 His mouth never wavered from its smartass smile, nor did his eyes lose their playful sparkle.

“Why are you always such a shit? Is it the former-king thing? Or were you born this way?”

 Scrunching up his face in mock-thought, Ahk tightened both lips between his teeth before releasing them with a pop as he answered, “I am . . . what I am. Wholly worthy of worship since my conception.”

 “Such a shit,” you said with a giggle as you pounced on him, knocking him onto his back as he laughed.

 “Are you preparing to worship me? Because I must say that this is not at all how—”

 “Shut up,” you mumbled as you sucked his bottom lip between your teeth, cutting off his retort with a heated kiss.

 You often wondered if his mouth was made just for you—if somehow, the universe knew to concoct this whole fucked up situation of arranging for you to fall in love with a 4,000-year-old regenerated mummy just so you knew what it was like to be really kissed---kissed so well that you forgave him of the time you were losing, kissed so well that his happiness now seemed woven with yours, and kissed so well that nothing, nothing could ever be bad as long as you were together.  

 With a sigh, you released his mouth and pulled away, knowing that if you didn’t close this kiss now, your experiment would be abandoned in favor of fucking the night away under the hidden-stars . . . but you wanted more than that this time.

 You swiped at the excess saliva with your forefinger and thumb as you began, “I want to do something different tonight.”

 Ahkmenrah sat back, his hands coming to rest under his head as he watched you with curiosity.

 “Oh?”

 Leaning forward to trace the line of his jaw, you continued, “I know how much you like to be touched, and I thought, what would it be like to just touch you without expectation. How long would it take for you to need me to . . . to--” you faltered as you glanced away from his gaze.

 You looked back at him and began again. “How much touching can you take before it’s too much? That’s what I want to know.”  

 Ahkmenrah regarded you with interest, his intense eyes fully open, colored like the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in this soft lighting.

 “Too … much? I am intrigued. You know I trust you, implicitly, my love.”

 “So, it sounds like fun?”

 Ahk looked at you like you were crazy. “Of course!”

 “All right. But there’s one more thing,” you said as you reached into the back pocket of your shorts.

 Ahkmenrah wetted his lips as he took in the black blindfold now dangling from your index finger.

 “Okay?” you questioned.

 He bit his lip and nodded, shifting his weight underneath you, reminding you that you needed him to stand up so you could undress him.

 He took your proffered hands and stood, watching as you began to remove his clothes. Once lovemaking began, Ahkmenrah treated it with meaning; he wasn’t one for a stolen fuck, insisting that it took time to achieve true pleasure, something he had certainly convinced you of.

 Undressing was ceremonial for him; he loved the way your unskilled fingers moved over his ancient fastenings, and he smiled at the concentration that often furrowed your brow as you removed each piece of his garb with care. It made him feel important, like he had once felt when he had mattered to a nation, not just to a museum.

 Ahkmenrah stood patiently, his skin colored a deep, liquid-amber in the fairy lights, as you looped the blindfold over his eyes. The warmth of the summer night kept him from shivering as a breeze ruffled his hair and you studied his face to make sure he couldn’t see anything.

 You guided him onto his knees and asked him to lay on his stomach first. Settling onto the soft pile of blankets and pillows, Ahk gathered his arms under his head and maneuvered one of the pillows to rest under his cheek. The muscles in his back flexed and smoothed as he moved, and a warmth settled in your abdomen as you thought about kissing across his sun-spotted shoulders, remembering the way those same muscles twitched under your tongue.

 Not yet, you chastised as you positioned yourself on your knees beside him.  

 Reaching into your bag, you produced a feather. After much thought, you had decided on a peacock plume, the vain bird perfectly representing your vain king. You ran it teasingly along your own cheek, eyes closing at its softness and the way the feather spread out, caressing your skin like a thousand soft puffs of air.

 Ahk shifted, spreading his legs farther apart as he waited, his cock probably growing more interested in your game the longer you delayed in touching him.

 After he shifted for the third time, his ass cheeks flexing impatiently, you reached out to run the feather down his spine.

 “Oh,” he sighed. “What is that?”

 With a huff, you warned, “This isn’t going to be much fun if you play twenty questions.”

 “Answer me that one question and I will not utter another word without your permission.”

 “Promise?”

 “I swear to Amun-Ra.”

 “It’s a feather—a peacock feather, to be precise. Because you’re my little peacock prince.”

 “King—ouch!” Ahkmenrah yelped as you gave him a spank. “Okay, okay! Silence. I understand.”

 You ran the feather teasingly over where you had smacked him and grinned as Ahk’s skin broke out in goosebumps.

 Dragging the tuft up his spine, you began touching him around and across his shoulders, watching those muscles come to life. You twirled the colorful feather in circles, playing a game of connect-the-dots with his freckles before moving back down his spine and caressing each cheek of his ass by flattening the plume.

 Unconsciously or not, Ahk’s legs spread a little bit farther apart, and you grinned as you dipped the feather between them, tickling his testicles so that he shivered and fought back a moan. You almost couldn’t wait to touch the front of him if this was how needy he already was. You pulled the feather from between his legs, then ran it up and over each rounded cheek of his bottom, before dipping between his legs again.

 Ahkmenrah’s hips began to move as he pushed his cock against the blankets he was laying on, chasing a stronger touch to compliment your achingly soft one.

 You moved beside his ear to whisper, “Now, now—that’s not part of the game.”

 He groaned in response, pouting so prettily that you almost kissed him. Almost.

 Sitting back, you moved the feather down his leg that was closest to you. You ran over the arch of his foot and he twitched as he fought against a giggle.

 You repeated the pattern on his other leg and once again tickled his arches until he laughed, a funny little choked cry as he promised he didn’t mean to make any noise.

 “Maybe it’s time to roll over then?” you suggested.

 Ahk rolled over so quickly that you had to stifle a laugh at his eagerness. It was clear why as your eyes ran over the state of his arousal—his cock was flushed red, and looked to be achingly hard, and a smear of sticky precum had left a trail across his belly.  

 Ahkmenrah’s arms laid flat out at his sides, resting on the blankets and his head turned in your direction, as if he were imagining looking at you.

 He was so beautiful in this moment, aroused and submissive, barely able to wait for the next teasing, light touch, that it took your breath away.

 Picking up where you left off, you started at his feet, running the feather between each of his toes before lightly grazing the tops of his feet. You teased his legs, swirling the feather at his kneecaps, and climbing higher and higher with the plume until you could see Ahk’s fingers grasping at the blanket, anticipating a touch of his cock.

 Instead, you ran the feather over the juncture of his thigh, ticking one hip bone then the other as he let out the ragged breath he had been holding.

 Your grin was smug, and even though he couldn’t see you, you were sure he felt your amusement considering the way his brow creased as he looked in your direction.

 Taking your time, you traced the lithe muscles of his abdomen and touched around his belly button before moving over his chest, teasing both of his dark nipples into peaks.

 His arms broke into gooseflesh as you ran the feather over the inside of his bicep and the crook of his elbow before down and between each of his fingers, mirroring your earlier pattern as you touched his toes. Moving closer to reach his other arm, Ahk’s cock twitched.

 As you brought the feather up his arm, your trajectory continued upward to what you considered to be Ahk’s best feature, a feature you believed was gifted to him by the gods because there was no other explanation for the perfect symmetry of his Egyptian face.

 You slowly trailed the feather up his neck and under his jaw, watching the way the soft edges caught just a tiny bit in the rough skin where Ahkmenrah would never actually grow a beard.

 Along and up his jaw, you petted his cheeks with the flat of the tuft and he smiled, a twitching of his lips that invited you to run the feather over them, dipping slightly in between as he sighed. Continuing downward, you traced over his neck, his chest, and his abdomen, and when you ran the feather casually over the tip of his cock, he whimpered.

 Watching the twists of his face and listening to his pathetic mewling, you tortured him, up and down his hard dick as the feather began to clump together on one of its edges as it gathered a drop of precum.

 Ahkmenrah’s voice broke your concentration when he hoarsely begged, “Y/N. Please. Anything—anything! Your mouth. Your hand. Your body, oh the gods, please give me something more than that fucking instrument of agony.”

 The veins in his arms stood out as he clutched at the blankets, trying not to ruin the game but desperate to come. He had been so good, quiet and receptive, and watching him undulate under the ministration of your instrument of agony had you so aroused that you were also eager to end the game and chase your own pleasure.

 You put the feather aside and grasped the base of Ahk’s cock and gave him a light stroke, your hand twisting just a fraction as you moved over his tip and Ahkmenrah startled you both as he came with a strangled cry, cum shooting over his abdomen to his chest and splashing at the base of his neck in thick, white dollops.

 You blinked in shock and continued to pump him through his orgasm until he pushed your hand away as he lay panting, flushed and trembling, from the force of his climax.

 Your face still expressing your shock, you reached up to remove the blindfold only to be greeted by a similar expression on Ahk’s face, and for the first time you could recall, he looked away from you, mortified.

 “Never, have I ever . . . Min, forgive me,” Ahkmenrah babbled as he swallowed and stared up at the sky, his cheeks clearly colored with a blush that had nothing to do with his orgasm.

 “That was amazing,” you breathed, drawing his attention back to you. “Do you think it would work on me?”

 Ahkmenrah’s embarrassment quickly gave way to a wide grin that built to a laugh, and as you continued to look at him in a state of shocked satisfaction, he sat up and pushed you onto your back before you could blink.

 “We are absolutely going to find out, my love,” Ahk promised as his cooling cum seeped into your shirt while he pressed into you, kissing you as his fingers groped for the blindfold.

[rune-writes]

I'll Come Visit

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@zerith-week » Day 2: Promise

Word Count: 2344

Rating: G

Summary: All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises: promises of a date, to see the sky, and to come visit after he returns from Nibelheim.

Chapter 2 of Of Wishes and Promises: Zerith Week 2021

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

All Zack ever gave Aerith were promises. The first was the promise of a date, the first time he met her when he dropped out of the sky and onto her flowerbed. The second was to show her the sky, because it wasn’t as scary as she thought, and he wanted her to see it. Then he bought her a ribbon and said they should make fun, little promises for when they next met.

“For example, when we meet, you always have to dress in pink.”

Aerith giggled and said that was silly, and it was, but it’d be fun. So she nodded and said okay and wondered what kind of pink dress she had that she could wear.

Then just before he left for Nibelheim, they went to the Sector 6 playground to sell flowers. Operation: Midgar Full of Flowers, Wallet Full of Money seemed to have a good start. The blooms were a big hit. One woman wished she could see them grow all around the slums.

“Yeah, that’s me and Aerith’s dream,” Zack said. “Not just the slums, either. We want to fill the whole of Midgar with flowers!”

Only a dream then, one he hoped would come true once he returned to Midgar, when he could finally take her to the city above and sell flowers under the sky together.

***

Zack sighed at the heavens above as he lay on his back. Thin wisps of cotton-soft clouds drifted past; though, did anyone really know whether clouds were cotton-soft? An age-old imagery that originated from how it looked from the ground, made by people who had too much time on their hands with too little thoughts in their minds.

Zack had too much time on his hands now. With Sephiroth having locked himself in the mansion’s library and still no lead on their investigation, there had been nothing to do but check on the reactor every day. Everything stayed the same. The monsters still slept in their pods, no more reactor malfunctioning, no more signs of Genesis—or any other intruders for that matter.

Cloud would grab any chance he could get to accompany Zack. Probably to escape the town and its people. Probably to be near their ebony-haired guide. He couldn’t blame the guy, and he had no intention to interfere, but sometimes, Zack would look at his stubborn younger friend and wish Cloud would let loose and show them who he really was. Not a SOLDIER, but still a proud member of Shinra’s infantrymen. They’d understand.

When the time came to return to town, he let the two kids go on ahead, saying he wanted to explore more of the mountain. Tifa offered to come with him, but Zack refused. It was still light out. If he’d gotten lost, his SOLDIER pride would be at stake.

Zack had expected a chuckle at the very least, but his guide only stared at him and said, “Okay.” Then she looked at the grunt and nodded her head down the mountain path. “Shall we, then?”

Grunt Cloud jerked, and for a fraction of a second, his wild, panicked eyes met Zack’s through his helmet visor. Zack waited until Tifa had turned and walked away before he slapped Cloud on the back and whispered, “You got this.”

“I got this.” A self-reassuring nod; Cloud gripped his rifle tighter before following Tifa down the mountain. They walked with a little distance between them, but never too far apart. Zack watched, a little grin playing across his lips.

He’d set off in another direction then: a greener, more life-abundant direction; a contrast to the barren, jagged mountain he’d left behind. He’d found the clearing shortly after, with trees on one side and a sheer drop on the other. It overlooked the Nibel plains and the small town below with the clear blue sky stretching far into the horizon.

Fragments of a cloud broke away into little dots, collecting in places that, somehow, reminded him of the yellow blossoms he’d find growing under the shades of a dilapidated church. Thoughts of the blossoms led to thoughts of the flower girl, and Zack couldn’t help but draw another long breath.

It’d been a week since he arrived in Nibelheim, longer still since he last saw Aerith. The closest interaction he'd gotten was the phone call mere days after reaching the mountain village. His PHS had rung when he’d been about to go to the mansion, and it had taken him by surprise when her voice came out of the receiver. But he’d been too busy then, so he’d told her that he’d call later.

“No, no, you don’t have to.” There had been a slight drop to her tone.

He'd pressed his lips together. “Okay, then I’ll come visit.”

“I’ll be here.”

Zack hadn't missed the momentary pause or the wistful sigh, hadn't forgotten her downcast eyes when he told her he would leave Midgar for a job. There had been nothing else he could say but: “I’ll see you, I promise.” He could almost see her smile as he hung up, hoping it had been enough until he returned to her side.

The drifting clouds offered a brief respite from the sun's harsh glare. Summer had long since gone and autumn was well on its way, but Zack still felt hot. Hot and restless and sweaty and wishing he was back under the cover of the church, where a ray of pleasant sunlight slanted in through the broken rooftop right onto her flowerbed. He’d doze on her lap, and Aerith would weave a flower crown to put around his head, and when he opened his eyes, he would see the brightest smile he had ever seen.

Zack reached for his PHS in his pocket. He had half a mind to go to his mails before he realized Aerith didn’t have a PHS. She’d borrowed Tseng’s when she called him before. Zack didn't want to call Tseng. The last time he did, the Turk had chuckled and said that he was at work, that he had one of his men watching her and that she was safe. He would, however, send her Zack’s regards the next time he saw her. Zack's mouth twitched at the memory.

What if he called her house? Elmyra probably wouldn't mind. The last time he met her, she had acted like he was already part of the family. It made him smile and miss her homemade stew, miss the warmth of the kitchen and the vibrant colors in her garden, miss that motherly touch.

But as good as the idea sounded, it was still daylight and Aerith was probably not home. He stared at the open mail draft on his PHS screen, then typed in Kunsel's name.

‘What are you doing?’

The reply came shortly after: ‘If you resorted to mail me in the middle of a mission, I can only imagine how bored you must be feeling right now. So let me tell you some good news, friend. I visited that church your Aerith frequented and I gotta say, she is such a lively fella. You have no idea all the little details she’d asked me of you.’

Zack jumped, glaring into his PHS screen as those last few words hammered their way into his head. He dialed Kunsel’s number. Kunsel immediately picked up.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

On the other side of the line, Kunsel cackled—a shoulder-shaking, back-bending, stomach-hurting cackle. “Gods, I can’t believe you fell for that one.”

Zack blinked, too mortified to catch up with the joke.

“I’m on a mission, if you remember—or maybe you don’t. Different from the one when you left for Nibelheim. With our Firsts out on a mission on the other side of the Planet, it seems the top brass has decided to have the rest of us—meaning us, Second-Class—take the lead on the remaining jobs. So I’ve been away, again. Far away from your lovely girl. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Another blink. Right.

“How’s the job anyway?”

A short pause, and maybe it was the easy-going tone of his voice that made Zack's tongue loosen up and tell Kunsel about the current state of his investigation, the current state of Sephiroth, the current state of his restlessness. Then at the end of it, Kunsel chuckled.

“Even in the middle of a mission, you still got time to worry about your girl.” Zack heard a scoff, soft and amused. “She’s fine. Aren’t the Turks watching her?”

“They are…” But even knowing that, there was a disquiet in his heart that he couldn’t quite figure where it was coming from.

“Well, if it’s any help at all, I promised to check up on her, didn’t I? Once I get back from my assignment, I’ll see how she is. Does that ease you?”

It did, even if only a little.

“So just focus on your assignment right now and make sure you get your ass back in Midgar. Quick.” Then he added, “You know I have a whole folder of you sneezing out snot, right?”

“Kuns—!”

The line was cut. The last thing Zack heard was his friend's laughter. It still echoed even when Zack had put his PHS down and stared at the screen, when he laid back on the sunny grass and covered his eyes with an arm. Maybe it was a bad idea to have Kunsel check on Aerith. Who knew what the guy would show her? All the embarrassing details of Zack's life! But Kunsel was the only person Zack could trust in SOLDIER right now…

Zack let out another quiet exhale. He lifted his arm. The clouds drifting past looked uncannily like the girl with the brightest smile.

***

He called a little after dusk. Zack was alone in his room; Sephiroth was still not back; Cloud and the other grunt stood watch somewhere. A few moments passed with only the dial tone filling his ears. And then:

“Hello?”

The smile came unbidden. Like a dam about to burst, his lips wavered at the intensity of the emotions overcoming him—overwhelming him.

“Aerith?”

“Zack?” Her surprise was almost palpable. He could imagine her wide-eyed stare as she stood beneath the warm lights of her home. “This is a surprise. You're not busy?”

“Aw, don’t you miss me?”

She giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound in the entire world. “Silly.”

They talked about everything and anything: what she was doing, how her days had been. "Same old, same old," she said. Tending to her flowers, running errands around the slum, then just as she’d headed for the church, the Leaf House kids had crowded around her and asked where Zack was.

Zack chuckled. “And what’d you tell them?”

“That Zack is on a very important job right now, but he’ll be back very soon and give everyone presents.” Her laugh made him smile, and he imagined her sitting next to the pots and vases, swaying her feet and twirling her hair. He closed his eyes, committing it to memory.

“Hey, Aerith.”

“Yeah?”

When he made that promise to visit, Zack had thought they would finish their mission soon and he'd be back by Aerith's side before she knew it. But it had been a week since then, and he was still stuck in a small mountain town with nothing to do but look for missing persons who refused to be found and wait on a stubborn comrade who refused to leave.

“Think I’d have to take a rain check on that promise. I don’t think I can come back soon.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Okay.” Then, because maybe she’d noticed the hesitancy in his voice: “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing wrong.” He was quick to answer, quick to ease her worry, even as his mind went to the mansion sitting on the town's outskirts, where Sephiroth was still perusing the many thick volumes stored in the basement. The last time Zack had checked on him, he'd been unaware of Zack’s presence. It’d been like talking to a statue, if statues could walk and talk. Ceaseless mutterings; unending strides; then at times, Sephiroth would stop and look up, and Zack would sigh and thought, finally! Because the meal the townspeople had prepared still lay untouched on the table, and all of Zack’s attempts to tell him to rest had flown over his head. But like a man possessed, Sephiroth had only walked past without truly seeing him, then discarded the book in favor of another.

“Zack?”

Zack blinked, then said again, “Nothing’s wrong.” It was less convincing. “Anyway,” he went on, brightening his voice. “Did you really tell the kids I’d bring them presents?”

“Of course,” she said, her voice too chirpy, as though she’d noticed his unease and opted to play along with his act. “Well, you have to give them something , after all their efforts to learn your combat moves. They’re really taking this Protection Squad business seriously, you know.” She giggled, and he chuckled too.

The kids had been hounding him every time he took the trip beneath the plate. What was supposed to be a quality time with Aerith always ended up as sword-fighting lessons with a bunch of children. Not that he minded them. The more time Zack spent with them, the more endearing they all seemed to him.

“Then I’d better get them something really good.” He wondered if the store next door sold souvenirs. He could ask Cloud for advice. Or Tifa. “But don’t tell them yet. It’ll be a surprise.”

He could feel her smile as she said, “Sure thing.” In the distance, he heard Elmyra’s call. Aerith had to hang up. “Do you think we can talk again tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll call you. Or you can call me too, if you want.”

“Really? Then maybe I’ll do that.”

Zack’s lips parted into the slightest grin. “I’ll be here.” Another promise. Her goodbye was the last thing he heard before Aerith ended the call.

~ END ~

[eskalations]

'Im pregnant'

No one could have imagined the amount of pandemonium that those two words would cause in the office of Brigadier General Mustang.

(Day 1 "Letter" - Royai Week 2020)

A/N: Happy Royai Week! The first prompt was "letter" and let me tell you, I HATE the dreaded letter prompt. So, I decided to have a bit of fun with it. Enjoy some Team Mustang + Royai shenanigans! Let me know what you think if you have the time! (FFN link)

~

I'm pregnant

The words were written plain as day on the parchment in front of them. Certainly, this is not what they had expected to find in the un-postmarked envelope that had been lying between the boss's office door and Havoc's desk – but alas, here it was. The letter said it all, the Chief was going to be a dad.

Their shocked silence soon diffused into absolute pandemonium.

"Holy shi –"

"No way!" Fuery had his face sandwiched between his hands, panic evident in the shaky tone of his voice. "No way! No way!"

"This sure is gonna put a damper on things!" Breda commented, finding his seat once more. He propped his feet on the desk before leaning back with hands behind his head, a pensive look on his face as he stared up at the ceiling. "I never thought I'd see the day. The boss has sewn his oats and now he's gonna reap the consequences!"

Havoc still stood in disbelief at the middle of the office. "Holy Shi – "

"Is that all you can say?!" Breda cut him off.

"I'm processing!" This finally broke him from his daze, his shaking hands pulling the paper closer to his face, his eyes examining every letter. Breda scoffed at his actions.

"Well the words aren't going to change!"

"I know that! I'm just – I don't know, double checking!"

"Guys," Fuery tried desperately to calm them, wishing now more than ever that Falman hadn't chosen to stay in the North. It would have been nice to have another level head amongst the men in the office. "We really should leave it alone. This is none of our business."

The young communications specialist looked nervously over at the door where the Brigadier General and Captain had taken their leave just an hour before. Their meeting was slated to be over any minute and Fuery preferred not to face the wrath of a newly christened father on this bright Monday morning.

That being said, the young soldier couldn't find it himself to be unhappy with the news they had just received in regards to their superior officer. Ever since 'The Promised Day' two years prior, Brigadier General Mustang had grown stupendously as both a military officer and a man. Fuery imagined he would make an excellent father.

This just left one question – who was the mother?

It seemed like both Breda and Havoc had the same thought as they both stared at each other with wide eyes.

"Man!"

"Oh MAN!"

"Who do you – ?!"

"It could be anyone!"

"I bet its Leslie." The auburn-haired man remarked, pushing back even further in his chair, the legs squeaking in protest. "She's the brunette from Archives that's been finding some reason to come up here at least twice a week."

"She can't be more than twenty! Do you really think the Chief would – ?"

"Well I don't know! It may not even be her!"

"Well, maybe it's Sarah," Breda suggested, now not as sold on the whole Leslie idea as he was before. "She's that petite girl he took to dinner last week. They did look pretty cozy."

Havoc stroked his chin in thought. "Hmmm now that you mention it, they did look close."

"Well you do know what they say about a lady's hormones during pregnancy…"

"Ohohoho," The blonde slapped the other man on the shoulder, a mischievous smirk evident on his features. "That sly dog! Mustang's going to be handing out promotion after promotion these next few months if what I've heard is true!"

Fuery, who had remained silent as they bantered back and forth, suddenly jumped from his chair. Both of the first lieutenants stared at him in shock as he gripped the edge of his desk with sweat building over his brow. There was a moment of heavy silence before the Warrant Officer let his thoughts be known.

"What if it's Hawkeye?"

The only sound that could be heard coming from the room was a soft thud as Breda fell backwards out of his chair. Then – all hell broke loose.

"IT IS! I JUST KNOW IT IS! She's been acting weird all week!" Havoc said, dropping the letter to the ground and gripping his face in an anxious fashion. "What are we going to do?!"

Breda, who was rubbing his head while sat on all fours, answered from beneath the desk. "We're going to be transferred out of East City again and end up somewhere like Briggs."

"I won't survive!" Havoc fell dramatically into his desk chair, throwing his head back in mock agony. "I can't leave my dear Rebecca at a time like this. Her best friend is going to be dishonorably discharged and I have to help pick up the pieces!"

"Guys – " Fuery attempted to interject – but was cut off by Breda, who had finally gotten a grip on the edge of his desk and was lifting himself up off the floor.

"Forget about your precious Catalina!" Breda spit out at his comrade, rubbing his backside for good measure. "We've got other problems! The boss is never going to make Fuhrer if he's kicked out of the military!"

"All that work in Ishval – for nothing!"

"Well, I wouldn't really say it was for nothing. It – "

"The country is doomed without it's fearless leader!"

"Okay, now you're just being dramat – "

"I need a cigarette!"

"I knew it!" Breda stomped over to his friend's desk, swiping the container from between his sweaty palms. There was a look of warning in his dark eyes. "Don't use the General's problems as a reason to pick up smoking again. It's not like YOU'RE the one having the baby, so I think you can manage!"

"Manage what?"

Several things happened at once at the sound of their Commanding Officer's voice breaking through the chaos. Fuery, who out of sheer panic, had sat back down once his revelation was brought forth – sprung up like a spring and lifted his shaking hand to his forehead in a poor salute. Breda, on the other hand, dropped the cigarettes like they were on fire and backed several feet away from his friend's desk, giving his boss a salute only marginally better than Fuery's.

Havoc took longer to respond. He stared at the door of the office where the man stood for several seconds, stunned silent. Then, he allowed his eyes to drift down to the letter that had been dropped in the middle of the room.

Oh shi –

"Havoc?" General Mustang asked curiously, stepping fully into the office. There was a set of meeting briefs tucked under his arm, signaling that his work for the morning had concluded. "What's going on?"

The man couldn't even begin to think of an answer for his dark-haired superior. All he knew was that his eyes kept darting to that damn paper that lay still in the dead center of the room. Oh, why did he have to be so obvious?

Noticing his subordinate's strange behavior, as well as the nervous energy that seemed to be sitting heavy over the office, the General made to step forward and address the men once more when something caught his eye.

It was a letter.

On the floor, there was a piece of parchment sticking out of a crudely ripped envelope. From the nervous glances First Lieutenant Havoc was making towards it, the General assumed that had to be the reason for the strange behavior that seemed to be plaguing his subordinates. Before he could reach down and pick it up though, Breda's hand snatched it out from under him.

"Wha – ?"

"Sorry, Chief," Breda apologized, hiding the letter behind his back. "I don't think you're ready to see what's on it."

The way his tone wavered with a hint of fear had the General's blood running cold. There was very little that could discompose Heymans Breda. This must be serious.

"What's going on?" The man placed the meeting briefs on his Captain's desk before turning back to his men. With arms crossed, he stared them down with a deadly set of black eyes. "As your Commanding Officer, I demand you tell me."

There was a silent moment where the three soldiers exchanged glances, urging the other to talk first. After a series of wide-eyed communications, both Fuery and Breda raised their brows at Havoc who was still seated at his desk. The man gulped, a sweat breaking out under his military blues. Oh, why did it have to be him.

"Well," Havoc cleared his throat, willing the words forward. "You see, we found this letter – and well, uhhhh – it has some interesting intel on it."

It was Mustang's turn to raise his brows – though his expression was a touch more doubtful than the others. "Oh really? It's just intel?"

"Well I wouldn't say it's JUST intel," Havoc scratched his blonde mane, searching for the right words. "It's relatively important intel."

"If it's so important," Mustang reasoned, taking a step towards his very nervous comrade. "Then I think I should be told, post-haste."

"See you say that, but I don't thi – "

"Havoc! Just come out with it!"

"You're going to be a father, sir!"

Breda and Havoc turned in disbelief towards the shaky Warrant Office who still stood with his hand to his head. Though his words came out as little more than a squeak, they still had been heard by all – including the Brigadier General.

Roy Mustang stood in shock, starring at the young man who stood quivering in his boots at his desk. Surely, he had heard him wrong?

"Come again, Fuery?" He asked for clarification, the tone of his voice giving no indication as to what he was feeling. "I don't think I heard you right."

"The letter, sir." Fuery dropped his hand from his head, pointing towards Breda. "It's in the letter."

Still shocked at the fact that the meek officer had been the one to speak up, Breda wordlessly held out the piece of paper for his Commanding Officer to read. He barely reacted as the letter was swiped quite harshly from his fingers.

They all watched anxiously as the man read over the note – his face becoming paler and paler the longer he stared at it. After a few minutes of examination, his dark eyes came up to meet his comrades' in utter confusion.

"Where did – Just where did you get this?"

"It was on the floor between your door and my desk, sir," Havoc finally spoke up. The blonde stood and walked over to the General, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I guess congratulations are in order."

"Now, wait a sec – "

"And you don't have anything to worry about," Havoc continued, squeezing the man's shoulder in what was supposed to be a show of support. "We will support you and Hawkeye no matter what happens from here on out!"

"Yeah! The Fraternization Laws be damned, we're here for you!"

"Even if I have to freeze my ass off at Briggs," Havoc gave his shoulder one last squeeze for good measure. "It'll be worth it to see the two of you together and happy."

"That's not what you were saying earlier…"

"Can it, Breda!"

Mustang remained silent at the attempts of congratulations, feeling as though his lungs had been robbed of air. He didn't even notice a timid Fuery walk up and stick out his hand for a shake.

"I hope you and the Captain will be very happy, sir." The Warrant Officer said softly, the genuine respect he felt for the two superior officers evident in the tone of his words. "I can't think of two people who deserve this kind of happiness more. You'll make excellent parents."

It took a moment, but finally Mustang was able to break his silence.

"Now wait just a damn minute!"

All the men froze once more as the General took a step back to regard them with a sharp look. If he had been wearing his ignition gloves in that moment, he would have cut quite an intimidating figure. Even as it was, the dark look on his features had the men swallowing hard and standing straight underneath his steadfast gaze.

"I don't know where you got the idea that Hawkeye and I had suddenly decided to procreate." He gestured wildly to the air, incredulity written all over his features. "But I can assure you that this letter was not meant for me!"

"Sir, you don't have to hide it." Havoc reasoned gently, his hands coming forward in a show of acceptance. "We know that this will change a lot of things – but maybe it's not as bad as it seems –"

"I don't know – being dishonorably discharged DOES sound pretty bad…"

"Breda" Havoc seethed, the name slipping from between his teeth in a hiss. "Not the time."

"Both of you – stop," The sharp quality of Mustang's voice had them both pausing, readjusting their posture once more. "I'm not hiding anything. This letter cannot belong to me."

"Boss, we under – "

"Breda," The General warned, cutting the man off. He held a hand up, leaving no room for argument. "Don't finish that sentence. The more we speak of this, the more likely it is that rumors will come from it. I don't want the Captain returning from her lunch break to find that her fellow officers have been slandering her name."

"But she's been acting weird, Chief," Havoc remarked, trying to get Mustang to accept that this was a genuine possibility. "We know that the two of you have always been close. We've known for a long time that something more was there."

"Havoc!" The General bellowed. His reaction was so violent that Havoc found himself taking a few steps back in fear. "What part of 'stop' do you not understand?!"

The men were silent as Mustang read the note again. His dark eyes took in the words once more before he looked up at his men in disbelief.

"You are a poor set of soldiers if you haven't realized by now that this is not the Captain's handwriting."

Those words had the men crowding around their commanding officer. Mustang tried his best not to look indignant as they bumped shoulders with him in an attempt to get a better look at the paper he still held in his hands.

"Hm I guess it's not." Fuery conceded, having seen the Captain's handwriting on many documents during his time as being a part of the unit.

"That little loopy right there kind of looks familiar," Havoc countered, squinting his eyes. "I don't think it's completely out of the realm of possibility."

"That is definitely not the Captain's handwriting, Jean," Breda shook his head, disappointed in himself for not noticing it sooner. "Talk about jumping to conclusions."

"But if this wasn't meant for the boss then who – ?"

"What's going on?"

As if they had been electrocuted, each of the men jumped away from the other. While three of them automatically fell into nervous salutes, their commanding officer stood with a smirk in the middle of them.

"Ah, Captain," The General drawled in his usual fashion, gesturing towards their subordinates. "Maybe you can reestablish some sense of order back into this group."

Riza Hawkeye furrowed her brow at the comment, looking at all their faces with rising suspicion. The blonde wasn't alone though – while Hayate sat obediently at her heels, a second figure popped out from behind her. Rebecca Catalina considered the room with more than just a little curiosity.

"Jean?" The brunette asked, stepping around her friend. Blatantly ignoring the tension in the room, she made her way to the man in question. "Why do you look so pale?"

Havoc let out a short laugh at his girlfriend's question. "Well, Becky – it's been a long morning!"

Distracted as he was by the girl's presence, he didn't notice the smirk on Hawkeye's face as she drew nearer, placing a set of folders down on her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she shared a look with General Mustang before sitting down in her chair and grabbing a pen.

At Havoc's words, Rebecca's eyes lit up. "So you got my letter?"

Havoc shook his head, feeling as though he had misheard. "Uh, no? What letter?"

Rebecca's eyes cut to the paper that now resided in Mustang's hand, looking between it and her boyfriend. There was confusion in the crease that appeared between her brows. "The one that your General is holding…I had Riza leave it on your desk this morning. You read it, right?"

If Jean Havoc didn't know any better, he would have thought that his legs were paralyzed once more. Behind his glasses, Fuery's eyes widened with shock while Breda looked an awful lot like a goldfish.

"Huh?" The word was the only one Havoc felt capable of saying. Not noticing his clammy skin and the slight tinge of green on his features, Rebecca gave him a bright smile.

"I got the idea from an article in The Amestrian Woman Magazine!" She brought her fisted hands to her chest in an excited fashion. "I thought it would be fun to tell you in a non-traditional fashion since we'll be bringing a baby into this world in a pretty non-traditional fashion ourselves!"

Jean felt like his world was spinning. Mustang clapped a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. The grin on the man's face was proof enough that he had been privy to the secret from the beginning. The bastard.

"I guess congratulations are in order! You're going to be a father, Havoc!"

~

Later that day, Roy Mustang could be found lounging on the single couch of his living room. Despite having had his townhome for two years now, the amount of furniture in his house was still minimal due to the large amount of time spent away in Ishval. Regardless, it still felt more home-y than any residence of his had felt in years.

Roy looked up as Riza rounded the corner, coming directly from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea in her hands. The blonde hair that she had cut short upon their return to Ishval was just now beginning to reach below her shoulders again and the General could find himself smiling fondly at the sight. With a modest sweater and long skirt, she looked the absolute picture of domestic bliss.

He took the mug gratefully as she perched on the couch beside him, drawing her legs up beside her. Without any hesitation, the man wrapped a familiar arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. The woman obliged him, snuggling comfortably into his side.

They sat in silence for a few moments – simply enjoying the fire before them and soaking up the other's presence. However, Mustang's chuckle soon broke whatever mood appeared to be in the air.

"What?" Riza asked as she glanced up at him, noting the hint of mirth that danced behind his eyes. The smile had not yet left his features. "Feel like sharing?"

"I was just thinking about Havoc," The man answered honestly, squeezing her shoulders gently. "Of all the ways, I thought he was going to react – fainting was not one of them."

"His legs have been weak ever since his injury, so I'm not surprised."

"Sure…that's what it was," Mustang's mouth grew into an even larger grin. "To think, the bastard was trying so hard to get me to confess to some kind of illicit affair. When he handed me the note and then accused me of impregnating you, I almost felt my heart drop into my stomach. That whole surprise couldn't have gone any worse."

"It's not my fault that the envelope slipped off his desk." Riza took a sip of her tea, the steam dispersing as she breathed a tired sigh through her nose. "I told Rebecca it wasn't a good idea, but that's how she wanted to do it."

"I couldn't help but think," The General spoke, a smirk curling on his features. He waited for her to set her cup down before moving in for the kill. "How would you tell me if we were in the same kind of situation."

"Sir – "

"I know, Riza." He looked at her with eyes that still held all the mirth from before, but that were now tinged with sadness. It made the sniper's heart ache. "I know that it can't be like that for us, at least not now anyways – but, if it could be, what would you do?"

The woman thought about it for a moment, staring down at the mug on the table in front of her. The question brought forth a lot of emotions that she didn't feel like sorting through on a night like this, but the earnest look in her General's eyes made it impossible not to answer his question.

"I would probably tell you before I even found out for sure," She answered honestly, turning her amber gaze back to his own. "I don't think I could keep something like that to myself. I couldn't even keep Rebecca's pregnancy a secret from you. I would be so anxious; I'd probably make you go to the doctor with me."

Roy gave her a gentle smile, satisfied with the answer.

"I don't think I could ever willingly bring a child into this world though knowing what I have done," Riza continued quietly, effectively wiping the grin off his face. She regarded him with a dark look. "After taking the lives of children, how could I ever think I deserve to have one?"

The General didn't know what to say to that. Up until now, it wasn't even a question that he had taken the time to ponder. Until the romantic nature of their companionship had come forward, he had been content to remain a bachelor for the rest of his existence. But things had changed and now he didn't really know what to think.

Their relationship had blossomed steadily since 'The Promised Day.' Though there had always been a romantic undertone in the way they interacted with the other, it was much too strong to ignore after they almost lost each other. The Fraternization Laws were still in order, and though, Mustang had it on good authority that Grumman was going to try and abolish them, it didn't change the fact that – what they had right now – was still illegal.

They had been so careful. They only met once a week in one or the other's home and even then, they covered their tracks dutifully. They still had way too much to accomplish to allow an illicit relationship to rip it from their grasp.

Though they both understood the parameters of their relationship, it was not as easy as they had thought it would be to watch their friends openly declare their love for each other and start a family. Despite knowing that she didn't deserve it, Riza couldn't stamp down the ache that resided in her heart at the thought of a small child – half her, half Roy.

By the pained look on his face, she could tell her General felt much the same way.

"Once I'm Fuhrer," Roy cleared his throat, his voice wrought with conviction. At this point, it was a given that he would reach the top. Grumman had told them in no uncertain terms that Mustang was his first choice as a predecessor. Instead of speaking the words with hope, he spoke them now with confidence. "You'll be able to stand by my side, rather than behind me. When that day comes, we will leave it up to fate whether we deserve the simple pleasures of life or not."

The words were much the same as the ones he had said after Grumman's pardoning of them. Though they had been adamant that they wished to be tried for war crimes, both Grumman and the Ishvalan elders had agreed that their rebuilding efforts were enough to clear their names from the death sentence that surely would have hung over their heads otherwise. The only thing that was being asked of them was that they continue to dedicate themselves to Ishval for the rest of their days – a penance that they could very easily accept.

'We've lost too many in the ranks from the fall of Bradley,' Grumman had said, recognizing their looks of disbelief at such a light sentence. 'You two would do more good out leading the efforts to rebuild, than rotting away in some cell below ground. That is one thing the elders and I are in agreeance of.'

Although on paper they had both been forgiven of their sins, it was going to take a little longer for them to fully forgive themselves.

Riza hummed in agreeance – though he could still sense the doubt in her posture.

They sat in silence – satisfied to simply enjoy the presence of the other. These moments were still rare, so they always tried to enjoy them as much as they could.

"It would be nice." Riza said quietly, her eyes never leaving the fire before them.

Roy smiled.

"Yeah, it would be."

[justmickeyfornow]

Super{Delivery}Girl

Lena heard the knock on her door and didn’t need to look up from her work to know it was her secretary, Jess. She highlighted a line of the contract that she needed to speak to the legal department about and noticed Jess placing a covered plate of food on her desk.

Just as she was about to argue that she wasn’t hungry, Jess put a finger up, shutting her up completely.

“One day, this conversation is gonna get old.” Jess said sternly, as she began opening up containers and setting the utensils, “I bring you food, you say you're not hungry, I threaten to quit if you don't eat, you end up eating it. Let's just skip to the end, Ms Luthor.”

Lena sighed. The smell of the seasoned veggie stir-fry from her favorite Chinese restaurant making her regret claiming she wasn’t hungry, “I don't know how I'll be able to survive without you the next two weeks.”

“I told you I could set up a food delivery service for you.” Jess claimed, going to the other side of the office and grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass.

“No, no. I don't like being interrupted. Other than by you, that is. Can you imagine a delivery boy walking in on one of my meetings to give me my food? Besides, I don’t like eating from the same place every day, you know that." Lena said.

"So, hire a temporary assistant until I get back." Jess chuckled.

Lena narrowed her eyes, "Oh, I can never cheat on you, Jess. How dare you suggest I would even think of it?"

Jess rolled her eyes, as she poured a glass of red wine for her boss, "I'm serious, Ms. Luthor. She won't be responsible for anything but ordering your food. I’ll make sure of it.”

Lena leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her wine, "I'm very peculiar about who I have to deal with on a daily basis. Remember? It took me forever to choose you as my assistant.”

Jess feigned innocence, “I remember you choosing me in the blink of an eye,” she shrugged, “but tomayto tomahto.”

Lena found herself laughing at that, "I'm gonna miss your snarky comments."

Jess bagan clearing some of the documents that Lena had set aside and marked as complete, "If you want an assistant with my snarky comments I have one trained and ready for you."

Lena rolled her eyes, “I’ll pass, thank you very much. Besides, think of it as a challenge.”

“A challenge of what? How long can you last without food?” Jess deadpanned with a raised eyebrow.

Lena shook her head at her antics, “No. Of whether or not I’m a snobby rich CEO that doesn’t know how to function without an assistant.”

“Oh, you can function! Trust me! You just have a goldfish memory regarding your food!"

Lena rolled her eyes and drank from her wine. Jess tapped the pile of papers to straighten them out, before carrying them with her, "I'm gonna take these and place them on Richard's desk. Do you need anything before I head out?"

Lena smiled warmly, "Just that you have the absolute most wonderful time on your much needed vacation."

Jess already began walking as she chuckled, "That's impossible. I'll be too worried whether or not you've dropped dead from malnutrition." she turned to Lena just as she reached the door and flinched to make her next point, "Not really in the mood to job hunt if you die on me."

Lena breathed out a chuckle in response, "Go, before I extend your vacation to 3 weeks. You're more of a workaholic than I am." Lena exclaimed.

Jess simply smiled and leaned against the door frame, "Goodbye, Ms. Luthor."

Lena returned the affectionate smile with one of her own, "See you in two weeks."

"Take care of yourself." Jess shouted from the hallway, "Literally!"

"What's the worst that can happen?" Lena replied just as loud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena stayed at the office much later than she had planned. When she looked at the clock it was almost 10 pm and Jess had walked out through her doors almost 6 hours ago. She sighed at her inability to have normal working hours these days. Taking over the company has been a grand decision. One she was forced to make rather than given the option. But now that she had, she was determined to make the most of it. To create a force for good. Which was why she was changing the company name to L-Corp. A fresh start that strode away from the death and destruction that her brother had caused to the family company.

She let out a tired breath, looking at the papers in front of her. It looked to be a long night. She was only halfway through with the reports she was supposed to present tomorrow at the board meeting. She needed a break but she was determined to finish. She looked at the clock and decided to give herself another hour of work before heading home.

A few minutes later, as she was deep in thought about her presentation for the board, she heard a tap on her balcony windows. When she turned around, she found nothing.

Must be the wind.

She went back to work, but another tap interrupted her. This one sounding more like a knock. She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and marked the spot where she left off before getting up from her chair and going to the balcony doors.

As she opened the door, she didn't find the superhero she expected to find. She had only met the hero of this city once or twice and didn't expect another visit. But no caped blonde woman stood at her balcony. Instead, there sat a brown paper bag with a huge yellow label that read "Big Belly Burger".

"What the...?" she whispered as she picked up the bag. The whiff of hot greasy food filled her nose as she opened the paper bag. Her stomach automatically rumbled at the tempting smell, her stubbornness slowly wavering.

There was only one person she knew who was able to reach her balcony and the hero was nowhere in sight. Supergirl seemed to have dropped the meal off and flew away.

It was odd. But a gesture Lena didn't think too much of. Maybe it was because she had cooperated with the government agencies to disclose information about her brother. Or maybe it was simply a late welcome-to-the-city gift. An odd gift at that, but maybe that's all that it was.

Whatever it was, Lena made a mental note to thank the hero if she ever ran into her.

A phone number would've probably been helpful right now.

She took the bag inside her office and sat down on the sofa, grabbing her tablet to finish off reading while she ate. Right at that moment, her phone began to ring.

The number of that reporter that Lena had recently befriended appeared and Lena smiled as she answered, putting it on speaker.

"Ms. Danvers?" she asked, flinching at the use of her last name even though Kara had more than once told her not to call her that. They were still pretty new to their friendship. It was unexpected, if Lena was being honest. She didn't think she would make a friend in this city that easily. But it was no easy task to say no to Kara Danvers and her golden retriever smile.

"Lena! Hi! I hope that it's ok I called so late? You're not busy or sleeping or anything right?" Kara asked in her excited nature.

"No, no. Of course not. It’s fine. Was there something you needed?" she found herself saying, always eager to please the blonde.

"Me? No no. I just thought maybe we could chat. I just ordered in and needed some company while eating."

"Oh, that's odd." Lena couldn't help but say.

"What's odd?"

Lena attention darted from the bag of food on her table, "Hmm? No, nothing. I just thought that it was odd since I was just about to eat as well. But I thought about doing some reading while eating.

"Yikes, that doesn't sound so fun. But I'll leave you to your reading then."

“No, no. Kara, please. I need an excuse to stop working for a bit. A break might help me refocus.”

“And I'm that excuse? “

“It seems you are these days.” A very very distracting excuse, Lena couldn’t help but think.

“OK, then! But should you even be working this late?”

“Truthfully, no. But my assistant isn’t here to push me out the door.” Lena admitted, chuckling at the end. She cringed after uttering the sentence, finding it a bit self-pitying.

“Well, I’m just glad you found time to eat a little.” Kara mentioned.

Lena thought of mentioning the mysterious bag of food on her balcony but decided against it, “You sound like Jess.”

“Well, she is a very wise woman. Anyway! Let me tell you about the crazy day I had today!”

Lena chuckled as she opened the bag and pulled out the French fries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena arrived to work in a hurry, speaking on her phone and dumping a pile of paperwork on her desk that she had just retrieved from on top of jess' desk. It seemed as though not everyone was aware that her assistant was on vacation and that said paperwork should be put on her own desk rather than her assistant's.

"Yes, yes. I understand, Mr. Michaelson. But I truly cannot postpone my Hong Kong trip to September. It has to be next month." she unceremoniously dropped everything on her desk and watched as her purse slowly leaned at the edge before it toppled down onto the floor, spilling half its contents. Lena closed her eyes and resisted the urge to let out a loud sigh. "The deadline for the project is nearing and I need to finish up the schematics of... Yes, I understand. Mhmm. Of course. I'll have my assistant talk to you tomorrow then, ok? Ok. Goodbye."

She sank down on her chair and finally let out that sigh, only to suddenly remember that her assistant can't call him tomorrow because she was on vacation.

She cringed before she opened up her calendar on her computer to schedule a phone call with him tomorrow morning. She placed two alarms to remind her.

After looking through some emails, that were quite unpleasing if she was being honest with her herself, she pressed the intercom on her office phone to call Jess into her office.

When the usual ' Yes, Ms. Luthor?' never came, Lena groaned remembering again that Jess was on vacation. She looked at her Nespresso machine in her office and remembered it needed some sort of repairs that she could probably fix herself if she had the time.

"Ugh, what I wouldn't kill for a double shot right now!" she groaned out into the empty room.

Just then, a tap came on her balcony doors and Lena snapped her head towards the sound to find no one. When she walked towards the doors and slid them open, she found a cup of coffee with a sticky note on it.

Please don't kill anyone for coffee.

Lena gave a confused smile, looking around the sky to see if she could spot the hero but found only scattered birds. It was odd. Very very odd, in fact. She needed to speak with the hero about this. Thank her or ask her or... She wasn't sure.

She was grateful for the coffee anyway, taking a sip to find it exactly how she liked it. Very odd, indeed, for Supergirl to randomly know her exact coffee order. But she didn't have too much time to dwell on it. She took it inside to start her day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noon came with another disaster.

"What do you mean that the arugula cashew salad has been discontinued." Lena asked over the phone, "My assistant orders it for lunch almost everyday!" she exclaimed, admittedly a bit louder than she should have. "I am perfectly calm thank you very much, but I would be much calmer if maybe I would have my lunch delivered! I don't want your apologies, I want - you know what? Nevermind. Thank you for nothing!"  She hung up in the guy's face and puffed out in frustration.

"What do I have to do to get a simple arugula cashew salad with pear and stilton cheese? Honestly it's not that hard! I can hire my own personal chef to simply..."

Just then a familiar knock came from behind her and Lena this time turned faster and caught a glimpse of a red cape flying off. She rushed to her balcony to find the exact salad she was trying to order, with a sticky note stuck to it. She picked it up and read it.

Your salad was actually discontinued. So, Jess found a new place that was across town that made it and would order it from there. Delivery was extra because it was further, but according to her, the salad tastes better than the first restaurant. Please don't take it out on Gary, he only answers the phone and works part time there to pay for college.

Lena was baffled. This was getting out of hand. How on Earth would Supergirl know any of that? Did she and Jess speak often? Did Kara tell her? Did Supergirl just happen to eavesdrop on her every conversation?

Lena was furiated. Grateful for her rumbling stomach and her hunger-induced foul mood, but also infuriated. She didn't need a nanny. She could handle a simple task as ordering food.

Maybe she really should have taken Jess on her offer of a temporary assistant. But she was still new to the city. It's barely been a year since she has moved to National City. She didn't take too kindly to people. Nor did she like dealing with those questioning stares and curious looks. The pity is the worse. She still had so much to prove that she was nothing like her brother. And she thought coming to National City and away from Superman's territory was the way to do it.

Never did she ever think that she would be in a situation with Supergirl such as the likes of this.

She sighed but took the salad anyway. She had a meeting in half an hour and she needed all the energy to get through it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening saw Lena picking up a plastic container of sushi and sashimi from her favorite Japanese place. A cup of Matcha green tea sat beside it.

She still didn't like it but took it anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, she walked into her office and found the same croissants that Jess would get her every Friday. Fridays she almost always forgot to have breakfast. It was mainly due to the fact that Thursdays she had her international calls scheduled in the late hours of the night. Dealing with the other side of the world meant she had to call during their working hours. Which happened to coincide with 3 am for her. And Jess knew this. Which is why every Friday, Jess would get her breakfast to have on her desk while she read her emails.

Croissants and a banana kale smoothie is what she usually preferred. Which was what sat on her balcony table right in front of her. There was no sticky note this time.

"What on Earth is she on about?" she asked no one but herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The noon was the same. A tap on her balcony door and a package of food delivered by National City's very own superhero.

Lena held the fruit salad bowl in frustration, "Do you deliver food to everyone in the city?" she shouted to the empty sky, feeling a bit stupid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day’s evening when she found a plate of Fettuccine on her balcony, she was ready for a confrontation with the Girl of Steel. She had already picked up both her lunch and her afternoon coffee from the balcony like it had suddenly become a drive-thru window in her very own office.

She was very much confused at this point.

Was Supergirl that different from Superman?  

She stabbed the pasta with her fork as thought hard about the most complicated question of her life.

Why was Supergirl delivering food to her?

Maybe this is some sort of benefit of National City that I wasn’t aware of. Some sort of agreement between Supergirl and the people of National City that she would deliver everyone’s food and they would... What? Give her free food in return?

Lena suddenly gasped.

Was I supposed to leave money on the table for her for delivering my food?!

She suddenly felt ashamed. Her cheeks burned with the realization that she was not paying for a service she was clearly using as she sat there eating the Fettuccine that Supergirl herself had delivered.

It was all so confusing and Lena was determined to get to the bottom of it. Which is why, the next day she arrived extra early to her office and began setting up.

She dragged her wooden coffee table all the way across her office and into the balcony. Then came the comfy armchair that she liked so much. She half expected it wouldn't fit through the balcony door, but it somehow did. A sane enough CEO of a multi-billion dollar company would have asked someone from the many employees she had to do the job for her.

But she was in a stubborn mood.

She then took out her laptop, placing it outside on the coffee table. Her printed copies of the annual financial reports. Her coffee cup and everything else she needed to do her work.

She was going to work from her balcony and catch Supergirl in the act.

She needed to understand the reasoning behind it all. Needed to see how much money she owed Supergirl. It just didn’t make sense that Supergirl was delivering everyone’s food without taking any sort of compensation!

And so she began working.

"Hello, Mr. Michaelson.” she spoke through her bluetooth earphones, using her hands to edit a paragraph in her speech while talking to the man. “Yes, it's me. No, my assistant is on vacation unfortunately. Where? Oh, umm well she went to Vancouver actually. Yes, yes, I agree, beautiful place. Now, as for our agreed upon dates for the project sc- Oh. Sure I could ask my assistant for you if Vancouver has nice Japanese restaurants."

She held her hand to the bottom of her phone and sighed audibly looking up to the sky and wishing Jess would just magically appear.

After almost an hour speaking to the old businessman, and not all of it spent talking about work, Lena almost whined when she saw her coffee cup empty.

"I'm gonna need a whole gallon of coffee to deal with more like him." she spoke out loud to herself.

Taking off her heels, she folded her legs neatly beneath her and balanced her laptop on the chair's armrest. She began typing out a detailed email to the finance department asking for a budget increase on the project.

It was less than ten minutes later that she noticed movement in the sky. When she looked up, she didn't find anyone. Frowning, she went back to work.

The next thing that happened would never have even crossed her mind. Dangling from her balcony ceiling was a thick string, securely tied to a cup of coffee, and coming down slowly as though someone was gradually letting more of the string go until the coffee cup would eventually reach Lena's brick railing.

Lena gawked at the coming down cup with wide eyes.

There was a coffee cup dangling from the roof of her balcony! Swaying from the wind and slowly coming down like a hookline of a fisherman.

After getting over her shock, Lena immediately got up, letting her laptop fall in her seat, "Hey!" she shouted, very unlady like of her. She planted both hands on her railing and cranked her neck to look up. The string went all the way up to the roof of the building and disappeared there.

"Excuse me? I would like to speak to you." she shouted towards the rooftop. "Thank you for the coffee but it's really not necessary for you to bring me food and drink everyday. I am more than capable of feeding myself." Lena blatantly spoke to the rooftop, looking more and more like a crazy person. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear Jess snicker at her words.

Capable of feeding myself, sure.

"Supergirl? Or whoever you are, I simply want to thank you personally if that's all right." Lena tried again, but still no answer.

And just like that she saw a flash of a red cape in the sky before it disappeared.

Why won't she talk to me?!

And then the answer came to her.

She probably doesn't have time. If she delivers food to everyone in the city, not mentioning the fact that she saves people left and right... Then. When does she have time for anything?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a fire. Lena was having a meeting with a client at a restaurant when the smell of smoke began to filter into the air. Suddenly, one of the chefs barged into the restaurant, coming from the kitchen and collapsed onto the floor. The smoke began to seep quickly into the restaurant and in under a few minutes it started to get harder and harder to breathe.

Unfortunately, for everyone inside, the restaurant was quite a large and crowded one with only one exit, aside from the kitchen exit that was probably blazing in a fire. Chaos erupted and everyone began stumbling towards the door to escape.

And just as suddenly as it had happened, Supergirl flew in and saved the day. She blew out the fire and began evacuating people quickly. Lena had been hunched over a table, coughing from the smoke and eyes watering. She felt herself be lifted off the floor suddenly and found herself in the arms of the blonde hero. Supergirl flew her to an ambulance that was administering oxygen to those who needed it.

"I'll be right back," she said to Lena before flying off to make sure no one else was inside the building.

Lena was checked up by a medic and was cleared. She felt a little dizzy but she didn't inhale too much smoke. She was however buzzing with energy.

Supergirl flew back down and nodded towards the fire chief shaking his hand and assuring him no one was inside. She smiled at the job well done and was about to go check up on the Luthor woman when...

"You!" Lena shouted angrily, pointing an accusing finger at her.

Supergirl turned to find the woman's narrowed eyes and immediately took a step back, terrified. Oh, yes. She was very much terrified.

Lena came up to her, her heels seemingly still making her look shorter than the well-built hero. But she was not intimidated at all, in fact she was angry. She was out looking for answers and she expected to find them.

She jabbed a finger in the hero's chest, "Why do you insist on feeding me?!" she accused, "What do you have to gain from it all, hmm?!" her eyes were predatory, filled to the brim with frustration.

"M-Ms. Luthor, I don't know what you're talking about." Supergirl stuttered.

"The coffees, and croissants, and sushi, and salads. All of it! Why are you bringing me food everyday? I'm not crazy, I've seen your cape flying about! I'm more than capable of feeding myself, you don't need to bring me food, Supergirl!

"M-Ms. Luthor, I believe there's been some sort of misunderstanding."

"I would just like to know why ?! I didn’t sign up for this service!"

"Ms. Luthor, can we please please talk about this when there aren't so many cameras a-and and..."

Lena jabbed her finger harder into Supergirl's chest, "You tell me right now!!" she barked.

"M-Ms. Luthor..."

"Why-" she punctuated her word with a harder jab.

"I really think-" Supergirl took a step back.

"Do you insist-" another jab to the chest and a step forward.

"It's just maybe this isn't-"

"On bringing me-"

"If we could just-

"Food!" Lena jabbed her finger harder to punctuate her question.

Supergirl seemed to make up her mind on something, nodding once to herself with a tight lipped smile, “Yup, you’re not gonna like this. I’m really sorry in advance.” she said

“Sorr-”

Supergirl bent down, fireman carried Lena on her shoulder and flew off into the sky.

Lena screamed immediately, her scream echoing in the city, “What are you doing?!”

Supergirl didn’t answer which immediately led Lena to believe that she was being kidnapped.

She started banging her fist on the Super’s back, kicking with her feet, “Why would you buy me food for days only to kidnap me in the end??!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Supergirl made an accidental swoosh in the sky trying to balance the struggling woman in her arms, “What?! I’m not kidnapping you! Stop moving so much!"

"Stop kidnapping me then!!" Lena shouted.

"I'm not kidnapping you!!"

“Put me down this instant!"

Supergirl’s sight was blocked by a smooth thigh, and she was momentarily distracted with how it felt that when she refocused again she found a brick wall in front of them. She immediately turned full circle and redirected their course before slamming into the wall with a struggling woman.

Lena tried to thrust her knee into Supergirl’s nose, her plan was to maybe somehow break the unbreakable nose made of steel. It wasn’t her best idea, “Put me down!”

“I’m trying!” Supergirl shouted back, “Rao, woman, just calm down and let me take you where I’m taking you!

“So you are kidnapping me ?!!”

“What?! Why would I kidnap you?!”

“Then where are we going?!”

Supergirl flew down a little, holding on to the squirming woman as tight as she can. She dived beneath the ceiling of the balcony and safely landed with her two feet on the ground. “Here!” she voiced out loudly, “Your balcony!” she said as she set the woman down.

Lena Luthor wobbled on her feet and realized she was one foot short. When she looked down, one heel seemed to be missing. She looked back up, staring daggers into the hero.

Supergirl put her hands up in surrender, “Hey! In my defense it wouldn’t have fallen if you had just simply calmed down!”

Lena crossed her arms and discarded the other shoe before facing Supergirl, “Do you mind telling me what all of this is?”

“All of what is?” Supergirl deadpanned.

Lena rolled her eyes, “Oh for the love of...” she sighed. When she looked back to the other woman, she found her distracted, looking over the balcony. Lena was about to ask when she got her answer.

“Oh! Found it.” The hero exclaimed before jumping over the balcony railing and diving down to the street. Lena had a miniature heart attack, barely remembering that the woman wasn’t falling to her death.

Seconds later, the hero flew back onto her balcony with her missing heel, smiling widely, “Cinderella.” she curtsied and handed the show to Lena.

“Very funny.” Lena said sarcastically before taking back her precious louboutins. She placed it beside the other and faced Supergirl, “Explain, please.”

Supergirl gave an innocent smile, “Explain what?”

And Lena more or less lost it, “Explain to me why it is that you’re delivering my food? I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for the past week so I could explain to you that I am perfectly capable of ordering my own food, thank you very much! I don’t know if this is a National City deal that you have going on, but I don’t want you delivering my food. Not to mention paying for it! Which reminds me, I owe you...”

"Jess and I are friends." Supergirl blurted out, cringing as though she wasn't supposed to disclose that particular piece of information.

Lena tilted her head in confusion, "Friends?"

Supergirl sighed, "Yeah. I saved her once from a bus flipping over while she was getting you coffee this one time." she mentioned casually, like a bus flipping over was the most normal thing in the world.

Lena's eyes widened, she choked on a gasp in her throat, "Bus... F-Flipping over?"

Supergirl however didn't notice her shock nor seemed to be listening. Her eyes were on her fingers, counting the number of times she had saved Jess, "And then there was that time when I saved her from getting caught in the crossfire of a shooting." Supergirl listed, as Lena watched in utter horror, "And the time those CADMUS guys came to take you, and she wouldn't let them through the door. So, they were about to attack her but she had already called me-" Supergirl paused, putting up her finger to add information, "I gave her my number after the third time I saved her. Anyway, so she-

"Num...ber?" Lena's mouth moved to form the word as she watched with wide eyes, still frozen in place.

"Called me and I came and took care of the two guys before anything happened. Which was a good thing because Jess told me you were in a very important meeting that day and you weren't to be disturbed. Not even by CADMUS goons coming to kidnap you apparently!" Supergirl giggled at that, only to continue her rant as though nothing happened.

"You'd be surprised how much that woman is a chaos magnet. Accident prone too! I once saved her from tripping and dropping two coffees, a stack of papers, a laptop under her arm, a box of pastries balanced over the stack of papers, and herself because she was talking to you and her heel got stuck in the pavement. It was almost a disaster, but I was near her and I managed to catch it all." suddenly Supergirl's face lit up momentarily as though she remembered something before it was replaced by a dopey grin at the memory, "She gave me a donut as a thank you I was really hungry that day."

Supergirl scrunched her nose in thought, "What else? Oh yeah! There was this time I saved her from-"

"OK, I get it!" Lena suddenly interrupted her, if she heard one more story about Jess' life being risked because she was out getting her coffee... "I get it. I need to give Jess a raise. Or buy her a house. Maybe even give her my office while I'm at it. God knows she deserves it!" Lena mumbled the last part. She had no idea what Jess went through to simply get her coffee. What kind of world do they live in?

Lena sighed, refocused herself, "What does any of this have to do with you delivering my food to me?" she asked.

Supergirl furrowed her eyebrows like she didn't remember, before gasping and lighting up with wide eyes, "Oh! Yeah, sorry." she chuckled, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, "I think I lost track of the story a bit there."

That's the understatement of the year, Lena couldn't help but think

“So, umm, after I saved Jess a bunch of times we eventually became friends. She also figured out I was Kara, so I pretty much-”

“You’re WHAT?!” Lena all but gawked.

Supergirl froze, hand in mid-gesture. Her face seemed very very confused, eyebrows scrunched together and mouth forming an O. She tilted her head to the side, “Kara?”

“You’re Kara?!!” Lena demanded, admittedly much louder than she expected to utter the words.  "The-The..." the reporter, the friend I made, the possible crush. "Kara Danvers?"

“Well, yeah. I thought it was kinda obvious...”

Lena opened her mouth and closed it several times with no words making it out. With wide shocked eyes, she observed the blonde closely. Blonde tresses framing her face, blue piercing eyes. She imagined a ponytail, a pair of glasses.

“Oh God.” she half whispered.

She was crushing on Supergirl the whole time.

For some baffling reason that Lena couldn’t seem to fathom, Supergirl looked more confused than she was.

“I thought you already knew.” she noted.

“How could I have possibly known?! I’ve met you twice !”

Supergirl flattened her lips and swayed her head on each side, “Actually, it was three times.” she corrected.

“That is not the point!”

Supergirl backed away, putting her hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay. Sorry.” she shrugged then, “I kinda just thought you knew but weren’t saying anything. I mean Jess figured it out almost instantly and you’re supposed to be super smart-”

When Lena gave her a threatening glare, Supergirl realized her mistake.

“I-I mean you are super smart.” she backed up immediately, “You know, you were answering my calls and you laughed at my flew here on a bus joke.”

“You were being serious?!!!” Lena shouted unladylike. She was doing a lot of unladylike things today that involved this situation she found herself in.

There really wasn’t any possible way for Lena’s jaw to drop even more.

“Well, obviously not at first. But when you didn’t ask about it and then we met again and I mentioned flying again, you were totally okay with it.”

“People say stuff!! I didn’t think you were serious! I just thought you had weird expressions!”

“Huh.” Supergirl looked up and thought about it, “I never really-”

“Look.” Lena stopped her before she went on another rant. She was getting a headache from all that was happening on this God forsaken balcony, “Can we please go back to the food delivery situation?” Lena pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Oh!” Supergirl perked up again, chuckling, “I guess a sorta lost track of the story a bit there.”

“You seem to have a habit of that.” Lena muttered.

“I heard that.” Supergirl grinned.

“I know.” Lena deadpanned.

Supergirl ignored her, “Where was I?” Supergirl thought out loud.

“Literally still at the beginning.” Lena deadpanned again. When she saw that Supergirl was still thinking about it, she sighed and reminded her, “You and Jess are friends after you had saved her numerous times. What - for the love of all that is good - has that got to do with you suddenly being my delivery person?”

“Jess asked me to.” Supergirl miraculously gave the answer in less than a thousand words.

“She did what?”

“She said that she was going on vacation and that she didn’t trust you to properly take care of yourself. So, I volunteered to help.”

Once again, Lena found her jaw dropping and eyes widening.

“She even wrote me an instruction list.” Supergirl casually mentioned, not at all noticing the blood-curling shock on the young Luthor’s face.

“She...She wrote you...” Lena tried to mutter.

Supergirl began fumbling around in her suit, “I swear I had it somewhere here.” She patted her cape, “Darn, must’ve left it in my other cape.”

It must be a dream. There’s no possible explanation at how more and more absurd this situation was becoming.

Supergirl shrugged before turning back to her, “Anyway, she wrote me a list of instructions. Which restaurants to pick up from on which days, what to get from each restaurant, allergies. Days on which you might miss breakfast at home, days when you’ll be working extra late for a late second dinner. Important meetings I shouldn’t interrupt, stressful meetings that need a double shot afterwards. She wrote the type of tea you like to drink when you’re working on contracts, and the Kale smoothie that you drink when it’s hot out.” Supergirl made a disgusted face at that, “She even specified food items you don’t like in your food, like pickles in sandwiches and green olives in your salads. And other food items to add that aren’t in the ingredients, like cashews on your salad and-”

“Fuck me, I don’t pay that woman nearly half of what she deserves.” Lena blurted out, sighing out loud.

Supergirl suddenly stopped listing things - another habit of hers - and looked at Lena with a shocked face, before looking down and playing with her fingers with wide eyes and a blushing face.

Lena had a feeling that it had everything to do with the fuck me aspect of her blutness. It wasn’t her fault! All of this was too much! Was she really that snobby rich CEO who didn’t know anything about her assistant's duties. She knew Jess’ job wasn’t easy, sometimes Lena found her job harder than her own, but she never knew it was damn near impossible!

Lena pinched the bridge of her nose again, and sat down on the armchair that she had pulled out on the balcony the other day. She was honestly afraid to ask - if this whole conversation was anything to go by, she’d probably get some bizarre answer that’ll probably spin her head - but she needed to know one more thing.

She looked up at the hero, who was still very much blushing at the fuck me statement. She rolled her eyes and asked her question.

“I still don’t fully grasp why you refused to speak to me while delivering the food to my balcony. In fact, you avoided speaking to me so much to the point that you dangled my coffee cup by a string.”

Supergirl pointed with a finger, “Not my finest moment, I admit.”

“So, why? Would it have been so awful for you to-”

"I just thought you wouldn't like me." Supergirl answered sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

And there it was. The bizarreness unleashed.

“I beg your pardon?” Lena cocked an eyebrow.

“I thought you wouldn’t really like me, you know, as Supergirl.” Supergirl replied again, kicking some non-existent pebble. “I can be a little awkward in front of beautiful, smart, brunette women. My sister always makes fun of me for it. Says it's my kryptonite. So, yeah. I figured to just drop off the food and just go. But then you had to pull that trick and work from the balcony so I had to improvise."

"You thought... You thought I wouldn’t like you?"

"Yup."

"Me?"

"Uhu."

"Not like you? Supergirl?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Commence jaw drop once more.

“But you also thought that I knew that you were Kara Danvers?” Lena asked, the fact she even said that was still mind blowing. She was talking to Kara Danvers who was also Supergirl.

Supergirl shrugged, “Yeah, what about it?”

Lena furrowed her eyebrows together, “So why wouldn’t I like you as Supergirl if I like you as Kara, if you thought that I thought that you were the same person?” the question gave her a headache just saying it.

Supergirl’s eyes widened, “You like me as Kara?” she gasped out.

“Was that what you got out of that question?” Lena asked. She needed to redirect the topic away - very very much away - from the fact that she like Kara Danvers.

Who happens to be Supergirl.

Supergirl was still sporting a dopey grin at it, but then lit up when she remembered something else, “Also, Jess said that you don’t like people in general.”

“Jess said that I don’t like people.”

“No, she said something else. But I’d really rather not say that out loud to you.”

Lena crossed her arms, standing up and facing the Girl of Steel with steel eyes of her own, “What did Jess say?”

Supergirl pouted, “Do I really have t...”

Lena pushed her on with a raised eyebrow.

“But...But...”

Eyebrow seemed to go higher.

Supergirl sighed, “She said you were prickly.”

“ Prickly ?” Lena honestly expected something worse. Like bitch. Or monster workaholic.

“Yeah. You know, like a cactus. And that only people who really got to know you would find water inside. Or something like that. I can’t really remember. But she called you prickly.”

Suddenly, something began to beep from Supergirl suit. The hero hunched over and reached inside her red boot, taking her phone out.

Lena figure it must be some sort of emergency in the city. A fire, maybe. A bank being robbed. Someone needed saving. A car...

"Ooh, it's time for your 2 O'clock lunch!" Supergirl exclaimed.

Not that!

She expected sirens! Fire Trucks! People in danger! Not her 2 O’clock lunch!

“Oh God, I can’t believe Supergirl has a reminder on her phone for my lunch.” she whispered, falling back on the armchair, giving up on trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last half hour.

Supergirl was busy on her phone, typing something and mumbling to herself, “Today is tuesday, so that means it’s the...” she pursed her lips, typing more, before, “Okay, I just ordered your baby spinach salad.” She looked up at Lena, “Apple, pecan and honey dressing, right?”

“R-Right...” Lena stuttered. Supergirl was literally taking her lunch order.

This is a dream. There is no possible way that...

Supergirl nodded, “Okay, I’m just gonna go grab it. It’ll take me no more than a minute.” she said, shrugging.

“Uhh O-okay.” Lena said, still frozen at the idea of Supergirl going to get her her lunch.

Supergirl reached behind her, pulled out a bag that was ultimately tied to the inside of her cape it seemed, “Do you mind if I just leave my Potstickers, here?”

Seven. Lena counted seven times now that Supergirl had said something that had caused her jaw to drop.

“Did you just put off a fire, save countless people, and have this whole conversation with me with a bag of dumplings tied to the inside of your cape?”

Supergirl chuckled, “You’d be surprised how often I do that.” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

She flew away right before Lena managed to gather herself and utter a, “Take your time.”

A minute later, Lena felt her clothes ruffle from a bust of wind as Supergirl landed on her balcony once more. “One spinach salad with apple, pecan and honey dressing.” she smiled brightly, putting the bag on the table. She picked up her own bag of potstickers, “And I believe these lovely potstickers are mine.” she grinned, barely hiding her excitement.

Lena finally caught up with her everlasting shock in time to stutter out, "Would... Would you like to have lunch with me?" she blurted out.

Supergirl sported on a huge grin at the question, "Would I ever?!" she exclaimed, already sitting cross-legged on the coffee table like she had done so a thousand times.

Lena said nothing about the existence of chairs. She actually liked how at ease the hero was as she dug inside her takeout bag and pulled out a container of potstickers.

Lena shook out of her daydream, not wanting Supergirl to catch her staring and took out her own lunch. She looked up just as she opened her plate to find Supergirl had already stuffed three potstickers in her chipmunk cheeks. She giggled, causing the blonde to look up in surprise with wide eyes as though she had been caught once more without her table manners. She gulped down the unchewed contents and gave Lena a guilty smile with a cringe of her eyes.

Lena chuckled, “You’re very different from your cousin.”

“Yeah, I’m the weird one in the family.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read it on AO3 HERE

[drabbledragon]

Dependence

So I’ve recently been getting into the LinkedUniverse AU by @jojo56830  (a fantastic author btw) and I wanted to try my hand at writing again. It’s been years since I’ve last written for fun but this AU has honestly been a blessing and I would love to contribute to the fandom.

Summary: Hyrule knows that Wild doesn’t exactly trust them just yet, but maybe a simple enemy can change that.

Warnings: minor violence, nothing too major.

With a steadying breath, Wild released the arrow from his bow and pierced the fish to the rocks below. The Hyrule Bass struggled for a few useless seconds before it fell limp in the river’s tide like a ragdoll. Satisfied with his work, Wild unclipped his Sheikah Slate, tapped the screen a few times, and pointed towards the general area of the fish. He observed in indifference as an ice block emerged from the middle of the river, carrying the freshly - caught fish with it. In one swift motion, Wild hopped from his current ice block to the next, picking up the fish and his arrow, and returning to shore.

“That magic sure comes in handy, huh? Way more useful than my way.” Hyrule grinned as he motioned to his fishing rod. Wild answered with nothing but a curt nod before adding his catch to the pile and returning to the banks of the river. Without sparing a second, Wild was back on his makeshift ice platform, readying his bow and arrow for the next catch. Hyrule’s grin started to falter.

Wild really was a loner.

The two of them had been fishing for the past three hours and so far, Hyrule would say they caught around 20 fish; and by ‘they’, he means that he caught two fish while Wild caught the rest. He watched time and time again as Wild returned to the shore with some kind of fish in hand only to retreat back to his spot without so much as a word. If Hyrule was lucky, they might make eye contact for a brief second or two before Wild would look away. He couldn’t blame him though; waking up alone and confused only to be thrown into battle without warning does make you a little self - reliant.

Hyrule sighed and refocused his attention to his fishing rod, watching as little droplets dribbled down the line. He really couldn’t imagine being in a situation like Wild’s. Before Hyrule and the others had convinced him to join their group, Wild was alone for the most part. He spent most of his time hunting and gathering, according to Twilight, and with Bokoblins at every turn, it seemed like Wild never got a chance to relax or get a decent amount of sleep. Even when Wild had decided to accompany them, he was still constantly stressed and wary of the others, always giving anyone a harsh glare whenever they got too close. However, most of the other Links knew that there was no venom behind his actions; he was simply just scared of letting his guard down and facing the consequences that came with it.

So the rest of group made an effort to spend as much time with Wild as possible. Even if Wild chose to do something as mundane as picking herbs or scaling a cliffside, there would always be another hero to accompany him and make small talk. Time would usually comment about the geography of this Hyrule and ask questions regarding the various places they travelled, Wind would always talk about the ocean for hours on end and the countless adventures he had, and even Legend would make small remarks on the different people he saw. Although Wild’s responses varied from acknowledging grunts to small tidbits of information, everyone could see how he was opening up little by little, relaxing at their presence and losing that hostile air around him. Hyrule couldn’t help but feel proud at their progress, even if it was moving at a snail’s pace.

An abrupt jerk on the fishing line snapped Hyrule out of his thoughts and he immediately put all his attention to the task at hand. With sharp pulls here and there, Hyrule observed as the line tightened and slackened at his command, determined to keep the fish on the hook. He smirked as he saw Wild center his attention onto him, apprehensively watching.

With one final tug, Hyrule yanked his line and pulled his catch out of the water, staring as it wreathed helplessly in the air. By the looks of it, Hyrule had managed to catch the largest fish out of the both of them and beamed triumphantly at the thought. But his smile immediately dropped once he realized what he actually caught: an Octorok. His breath caught in his throat as years worth of memories flooded his mind. Large bodies of water surrounding him, Octoroks and River Zoras attacking him left and right, the countless bruises and scars that would litter his body after every ambush. He didn’t even get to fully hear Wild’s gasp of surprise before a large boulder hit him square in the face and sent him tumbling backwards. For a few seconds, the world tilted around Hyrule precariously and he struggled to get air back into his lungs. He could hazily hear Wild let out a mumbled curse before turning his bow towards the Octorok in retaliation, a fierce snarl on his face. However, that move proved to be Wild’s demise as another Octorok from not too far away launched its own attack.

The scene played out before Hyrule as if it was in slow motion. The boulder sent from the newest Octorok didn’t even catch Wild’s attention and soon hit him directly on the back of the head. His bow fell from his limp grasp and the ice block underneath him shattered into a million tiny particles, leaving Wild to fall unconsciously into the river without a trace.

The severity of the situation suddenly dawned on Hyrule. With whatever strength he could muster, he unsteadily pulled himself to his feet, just barely missing another Octorok attack. He cringed as he felt something wet trail down his forehead but he paid it no mind. Without a second thought, he was stumbling down the banks of the river, trying to track down his friend before it was too late.

There was no other sound to him other than the rushing of blood in his own ears. He knew he was screaming something - maybe Wild’s name or for help or something - but his own panicked mind only allowed him to focus on one thing at a time. Wild’s in danger, he kept repeating to himself, Wild’s in danger and I don’t know where he is! Even the threat of Octoroks or other enemies didn’t seem to bother him anymore since he staggered along the banks of the river without hesitation. The only thing he could focus on was to find Wild as soon as he could. He absolutely refused to return to the others without him.

His steps began to waver as the river widened the further he went. There was more water and, consequently, more obstacles, more threats, more enemies. For all he knew, another Octorok could be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to attack him. He could cover more ground and keep himself safe with a raft - his muddled mind helpfully supplied - if he had enough time, he could construct a raft and find Wild in minutes! Except he didn’t have minutes or even seconds. Every second Wild spent underwater was another second closer to losing his life. He couldn’t let that happen. He was the Hero of Hyrule for crying out loud!

Stumbling to a stop, Hyrule caught a glimpse of a yellow ponytail and the ends of a black cloak floating atop the water. Even though the sight was drifting a few meters away, Hyrule could already see the shadow of a body underneath the murky depth of the river blindly travelling with the current. There was absolutely no doubt that that was Wild. Without a second thought, Hyrule jumped into the water, letting the cold sharpen his mind.

Now by no means was he an amazing swimmer like Wind but sailing a raft for all those years definitely made him decent. His head broke through the surface of the water and he gasped at the air as it filled his lungs. His panic started to spike once more as he felt the rapids of the river already carrying him away but he couldn’t lose focus now that Wild’s still form was in his line of vision. With some struggle, he threw his left arm ahead of him and pulled back, almost going into hysterics as it brought him closer to Wild by just a few centimeters. Then he repeated with his right arm, then his left again, then his right.

Within a minute, Hyrule was able to firmly grasp the front of Wild’s tunic and cover the rest of the distance. He thanked Hylia for whatever strength she had granted him to get him this far and begged her to get him the rest of the way. Strengthening his grasp in one hand and flinging his other forward, Hyrule kicked furiously to the shore, letting the current do some of the work. Once he felt the grains of sand touch his hand, he flung Wild to the shore and heard his body hit the ground with a muted thud. He took a few seconds for himself as he let his head rest against the shore, taking in harsh breaths in order to get his bearings. The ground below him never felt softer.

But before he had half a mind to relax, he was already staggering towards Wild.

“Wild!” He called out, falling to his hands and knees next to the unconscious form. After that whole ordeal, Wild never once struggled in Hyrule’s grasp or made any kind of sound of distress and honestly, it scared him. He was so use to a skittish Wild that observed everything with a calculating gaze and would shuffle to the side if he felt uncomfortable at any given time but now, he was as lively as a sack of flour. Hyrule couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that he might have just rescued a corpse rather than a living Hylian. He stared unmovingly at the still figure, counting the agonizing seconds that Wild went without taking a breath.

Eight seconds...nine seconds...ten seconds...and then a sputtering cough.

Hyrule startled at the sound, but then instantly sagged in relief. He watched the other roll to his side and curl in on himself, expelling water from his lungs while simultaneously trying to bring air back in. Wild made an awful hacking sound at each passing second but it sounded like music to Hyrule’s ears. He leaned back on his arms, listening to the harsh sound while trying to catch his own breath. They’re here, they’re alive, they’re safe.

“...’Rule?”

Even though the voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, Hyrule snapped his attention to the boy in front of him. He couldn’t help but give a soft smile in response.

“Hi Wild, glad to see you’re okay.”

A few seconds of harsh coughs occupied the air before Wild spoke again.

“...M’sorry.”

Hyrule perked up at the apology, a look of confusion on his face. “What for?”

“The Octorok...shoulda seen it…”

“Well you technically did. It was just another one that caught you off guard.” Hyrule corrected. He watched quietly as Wild slowly sat up, pulling his hood over his head and turning away.

“...I should have protected you…”

Hyrule was taken aback. ‘Protected you’? The phrase didn’t make complete sense to him but he didn’t want Wild to blame himself.

“Hey, it’s really -”

“I should have protected you and the food and Mipha and Revali and Zelda and -” Wild cut himself off with a choked sob.

The other was at a loss for words. ‘Mipha and Revali’? Obviously he knows who Zelda is but who are the others? Did he maybe misname some of the other Links? Or are they people he’s never met before? For all the group can tell, Wild didn’t have any close friends to speak of. He spent his time alone, doing everything himself unless one of the other Links tagged along. Hyrule himself has personally never seen Wild with anyone else so that must mean his friends could live very far away or they might be…

Hyrule swallowed thickly. Could this be the reason why Wild was so afraid to get close to them? Had the other Links mistaken his hostility for fear?

“Listen,” Hyrule began softly. “ This isn’t your fault. Both of us never saw those Octoroks coming so it’s not like we could plan ahead; you did the best you could in the situation you were in and what matters is that we both made it out alive. I mean, we practically made it out unscathed.” A small huff of laughter as Hyrule could feel a bruise start to form on his head. “ It looks like you’re surviving alright out here, way better than when I started out. I mean, I was getting chased down by Stalfos and Wizzrobes every second. And I’m sure all the others had some kind of experience around those lines so we’re use to the danger by now. We don’t mind risking our lives for each other, even if it means we get hurt along the way, and now that you’re part of our group, you can count on us to have your back.” He shifted his gaze to the small hooded form next to him. “ I know you’ve been alone for most of your life but trust me, it’s much easier to rely on others when the going gets tough. Yeah, it’s going to take some getting use to but we just want you to know that you have others to count on. When things go south, you can depend on us to help you out, no matter what the problem is. You’re not alone anymore, Wild.”

Another stretch of silence and with each passing second, Hyrule’s resolve started to dissipate. Maybe he said too much? Sky was usually better at comforting people -

“Thank you, Hyrule.”

The Hero of Hyrule glanced up to see Wild peeking out from under his hood. His eyes were red and puffy and there were tear tracks along his cheeks but none of that seemed to matter as the small smile stood out the most. Hyrule couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Of course.” Hyrule stood up and began to stretch. “ We should probably return to Time and the others. They’re probably really hungry by now.”

Wild frowned at the statement, remembering the pile of fish they most likely lost at this point but before he could say anything, Hyrule was quick to respond with “ I think I could go for something with herbs today. Is it too late to change tonight’s menu?”

Wild gave a small shake of his head before leading the way, already thinking of the ingredients he would need.

[delectablyalicee]

Nick Jonas’s New Assistant (Part 9) (Warning: Mentions of Smut)

Part 1  Part 8

You get a call one day, someone asking you to fill a personal assistant job. They give you little information as to who for, but when you found out, things get a little more interesting.

This is the first day back to things being "normal" after I made my deal with Nick. Once he disappeared up the stairs I went back to my apartment. I had thought all night about what he meant by "the game begins." Nick isn't one to back down from a challenge, and now that I agreed to this deal I know he isn't going down easy. I guess it's just going to be a fight over who wants it more. Problem is, I am already close to cracking, close to confessing how much I love him, and now it's going to be even harder to keep that in, but I'm certainly going to try.

I grin when I walk out the door of my apartment and see George, I give him a tight hug before we make our way into the car. We spend the drive to Nicks house talking about how the date with his wife went. I was glad because it kept my mind off of how terrified I am to show up today. This whole thing is going to take a lot of willpower that I am not sure I have, but I guess we will see.

Once we get to Nick's I thank George and slowly slide out of the car. Taking a deep breath and smoothing out my clothes and hair before finally walking up to the door. I open it slowly, and thankfully the house is like it usually is, empty. No parade of flower petals leading me up the stairs or a band singing love songs in the living room, just Nick's normal house. I breathe a sigh of relief, stepping all the way inside. Today at 9:30am Nick has an interview, then a lunch at noon with his tour manager, and at 3:30 a photoshoot to help promote the tour. Then, after that at 6:30 we have dinner with Paul to discuss the meeting with the tour manager. So, in short, we have a packed day and there will be no escaping early. As I've said so many times before, I love my job, but I know today isn't going to be easy.

I look at my watch, its 8:30am. I set my bag down on the counter and start the coffee like usual before making my way up to Nick's room. It's honestly impressive that he never gets himself up, but it's all part of the job I guess. I knock on the door before cracking it a bit, I can see into the room enough that I see him still lying in bed, I let out a small sigh of relief when I see he's alone (an honestly rare sight). I know it would be better for me right now if he wasn't alone, if there was a girl naked in his bed like usual, but despite the fact that I wish it didn't, it would still hurt me if there was.

"Nick, its 8:30, we have somewhere to be at 9:30" I speak confidently, like I usually would. I'm not going to let anything that has happened waver me or hinder the way I do my job.

He groans, rolling over and letting his tired eyes flicker open. He speaks in a groggy voice, "okay okay, I'm coming."

That's all. That's all he says. I don't know what I was expecting, but I didn't really think "the game begins" would be this, although I am so grateful for it. "Okay, hurry up." I say before happily making my way down the stairs. This might be easier than I thought.

I'm already sipping my coffee, going over a few things for the day when Nick heads down the stairs. I look at the clock. 8:50am. Perfect. I hand him his coffee mug without taking my eyes off of my phone. A small thanks drifts through the air, but I still don't look.

"What is going on at 9:30?" His voice finally pulls my eyes off my phone screen and onto him. Does he really not know? Unlike him.

"Interview. The interviewers name is Kathy, the questions should mostly be regarding your newest album and the tour we're working on."

He just nods, sips at his coffee and pulls his phone from his pocket. At this point, I don't know if I should be relieved or terrified, but I am going to go with the benefit of the doubt and try my best to stay relieved.

The car ride was normal, like it always is. Nick and I just talking like best friends. Nothing more, nothing less. When we pull up to the studio where the interview is at, we have to drive carefully through tons of screaming teenage girls, guards on either side trying their best to hold them back. This is something I still haven't gotten used to. It's so normal for us, but still so strange. I think this is also another reason I don't want my relationship with Nick to change. Can I handle how much pure hatred is going to be thrown my way just for loving him? I decide not to think about it too much and focus on prepping Nick for some questions that may come up during his interview.

We do the typical swift run inside past fans and are greeted with smiles from the crew waiting inside. I am watching Nick get ready. He is just acting so normal. Way too normal. It's throwing me off. It's kind of like I don't know what to do with myself. I expected something so grand, and I got normal, but isn't that what I wanted? Wait, is this what he wanted? To get me all in my head? Ugh. I don't know and I fucking hate this.

I'm startled by a hand being placed on my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you, just wanted to ask if we can go ahead and start." It's the production manager.

"Oh yeah, of course. Sorry I was a little zoned out there" I laugh softly.

Nick looks at me, gives me a small wink and steps on stage. Again, being way too fucking normal.

The interview wraps, and we make our way back out of the studio. Nick had me arrange for more security to join the ones that were already here because he wanted to take some time to meet with fans and take photos, but without enough security its dangerous. Once we step outside the screams erupt. It's almost deafening. I really should start carrying earplugs around with me.

As I'm standing back, watching him take pictures and sign things I notice large flashing lights, paparazzi. Another thing that's hard to get used to. At things like this they are usually pretty tame, but sometimes the following you everywhere and screaming at you gets to be too much. It's a big chunk of the reason when Nick and I hang out with stay at his place. Paparazzi is everywhere even without you knowing it. One time, we were craving ice cream at like 1:30 in the morning so we ran to the gas station maybe 5 minutes away from his house and the next morning there were at least 25 pictures of us literally just getting ice cream. The backlash of it didn't help much either. This was early in me being his assistant so not many people knew of me, meaning that dating rumors were swirling, and I was getting hate thrown my way left and right. We had to make a public statement that I was his assistant just to get it to stop. It was kind of a mess. I couldn't even imagine what I would have to deal with if we were actually dating.

After a while of meeting with fans we make our way into the car. We are, thankfully, perfectly on time. "So, how are you feeling about tour coming up?" I ask him.

He shrugs a bit. "I love tour, it's fun to travel and meet new people everywhere you go, but it's also the most stressful thing on the planet." He laughs, "I'm sure Paul will do some sessions to prepare you for it, but I know you can handle it."

I've never been on tour with anyone. The only other people I have worked for have been boring business men, so the most fun we had was company parties. This life is so new to me and tour life is even newer, but I'm also kind of excited. I know it will be crazy, but how bad could it be traveling with my best friend? Also, the guys in his band are so fucking cool. But I hope he is right, I hope I can handle it.

When we get to lunch we are greeted with big hugs from his tour manager, we have met with him quite a few times over the past few months, since tour is getting closer and closer, so we have definitely gotten to know each other a bit. He is a super nice guy, and super funny, always cracking jokes. The lunch stays mostly business since we are on a time crunch, with the photoshoot being soon. Usually, if we have time the 3 of us sit and talk for hours, but this time its quick and to the point and we are off to the next thing.

I am sitting across the room from nick as the crew is getting him ready for the photoshoot. I am trying to get some talking points together for our dinner with Paul, but I can't concentrate. Nick is sitting in the chair with his shirt off and I can't take my eyes off of him. I just keep thinking about the other night, our bodies pressed together, his length filling me up and pounding into me, me practically begging him to never stop. I shake my head. No Y/N stop it. I can't think about that...man is it going to be hard to not think about that... He eventually stands up and he catches me staring at him, he gives me a little wink before speaking loud enough that I can hear him from across the room.

"Take a picture, it will last longer." I know he's doing this to fuck with me. I lift my hand, shaking my head and flipping him off. He laughs before being whisked away by the crew.

I'm watching the photoshoot now and he looks so fucking good, my mind drifts off a bit once again. It's like I can hear his groans in my ear again, him telling me so sternly to cum for him, my legs are practically shaking just at the thought. Fuck. This is not good. I pull myself out of my head and try my best to get back to work.

"I saw you staring at me during the photoshoot." The words catch me off guard, but I try to not let him notice that. We are in the car on the way to dinner. I don't say anything back and pretend to stay focused on my work, but he speaks again. "You know, you really can take all the pictures of me you want, just to remember me by, of course." He speaks teasingly, and I roll my eyes, finally shooting a retort at him.

"I think I'm okay on that, I sadly have to stare at your face too much already."

He laughs, "Oo okay, that one hurt, I can't lie, but..." He leans in closer to me and then lowers his voice so only the two of us can hear "I don't know if that's what you were thinking when you were begging me to fuck you harder the other night." My breath hitches. That, I definitely wasn't expecting. The throbbing between my thighs is back but I try my best to ignore it. I need to think of something to say back and I need to think of it quick, but it's hard when all I want to do is jump on top of him and have him fuck me until I can't take it anymore, but instead I playfully push him away from me and snap back with an annoyed, yet joking tone, "ah, ya see, I was just being nice that night. I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

He leans back even further, clutching his heart dramatically "Wow, that one stung." He drops his hand. "Good thing I know it's a lie. I just hope all that staring at me means you're thinking about it, because I certainty spend a lot of my time thinking about" His words come out so nonchalantly. The throbbing between my thighs is growing more intense and the thought of him just simply thinking about fucking me is driving me insane.

'Not a lie." Is all I can manage to say.

Dinner went smoothly and quickly, so we get back to Nick's at a decent time. The second we are both out of the car I am swooped up off of my feet. I small terrified noise leaves my mouth before I realize it's Nick. Once I do I can't help my laugh and try to squirm away from him.

"I'm sorry but what the fuck are you doing?" I say in between attempts to make him set me free.

He's just laughing. Honestly, I'm not trying too hard to get away, his arms wrapped tightly around me being something I am not mad about in the slightest.

"Will you quit." He says, walking us up to the house. "I was just making sure you didn't try and run away to your apartment already."

I would've too. I would've got right into the front seat and had George take me home. But I lie "Well, number one, I wasn't going to run away, and number two, please put me the fuck down."

He puts me down but only once we are inside. I give him a clearly joking yet still angry look as I try and straighten myself out. "You know, we are adults, you could have asked me nicely to stay."

"Yeah, but where is the fun in that?" He speaks with a wink, heading into the living room.

We watch movies all night and the feeling of normalcy is something I needed. We just had fun and cracked jokes the whole time while stuffing our faces with snacks. I didn't realize until now that I truly really, really needed this. I wasn't just scared of what Nick was going to be like today, but I was scared if we could even act kind of normal around each other, but tonight means we can and that is giving me so much hope that everything is going to be okay.

I have to call it quits around 1 am, I have to be back here early and while I would normally stay here, with this little deal we have going on I am not risking it. Nick walks me to the door, but as I am about to walk out of it he stops me. I turn to him, thinking I forgot something, but once our eyes meet his hands are gently placing themselves on my cheeks. He isn't saying anything, he's just looking at me and I am looking right back. My heart is practically melting. I wish I could just tell him how I feel, but I don't. I just keep looking. We are like this for a few seconds before I see his eyes sadden. I want to grab him, to do anything and everything to take his sadness away, but I don't move.

"Nick..." I speak softly.

He doesn't say anything. His hands drop from my cheeks and he steps back, but I don't move. It's like my body won't let me turn away from him, won't let our eyes pull from each other. It takes ever ounce of myself to finally turn away from him. It's like I can feel pieces of my heart falling to the ground.

Now it's clear. This is going to be the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

[thedistantstorm]

Dawning Delights 03: Secret Santa

Summary: Hawthorne invites her newfound family in the Tower to experience a City-Style Dawning with the family that took her in years ago. The holiday is not without it’s charm, or aggravation, and certainly has plenty of surprises in store. A season-inspired, trope-tastic story about a family forged by something greater than blood, finding reasons to enjoy the season - and cherish each other. Main Post

Pairings: Hawthorne/Zavala, Sloane/Amanda, Devrim/Marc

Updated every Tuesday/Friday & both holiday eve and days for Christmas and New Years.

-/

The bowl sits in the center of the table inconspicuously. The table itself is so large and round that it's impossible for any one of them to reach for it politely. Not that they would. In fact, what lay inside that bowl is far more heinous than any discussion or argument they'll have today on any of the items on the formal agenda.

But it is tradition. An old tradition. The Speaker's tradition. And this is a time of year in which they honor those traditions, even if the man himself is not around to coerce them into it. Besides, with Zavala fully leaning into the season, the Consensus has no choice but to follow along.

Rezoning the Arbor District is not met with nearly as much enthusiasm as whatever texted conversation between Arach Jalal and Lakshmi-2 is. Ikora watches them, almost amused but actually able to focus on what the Executor is saying.

She sees Zavala's pointed gaze and blinks demurely in an unspoken response. They'll never accomplish anything in this state.

"Executor, would you mind explaining that bit about the shipyard once more?" The Warlock Vanguard calls out, mellow and even, commanding the attention of all parties without trying. "I think some of our colleagues were... distracted."

"Shipyard?" Arach Jalaal turns to Hideo interested. "Where?"

"Did I say 'shipyard?'" Hideo clicks his tongue, pretending to sound innocent. "New Monarchy will be adding an addendum to-"

"Pettiness is unbecoming, Executor," Ikora chides, so Zavala doesn't have to. A gift, in its own way. She waves her hand. "Do go on."

Hideo does, resuming his lengthy explanation of his faction's plans. They're eventually drawn and quartered by the other two reps while the Vanguard and Clan Stewardess watch. It will likely be another two sessions before any tentative agreement is reached.

While this is happening, Hawthorne, to Ikora's left, slides her an envelope. Zavala clears his throat and narrows his gaze at Suraya, but she shrugs him off. He knows what she's just given the Warlock.

 Zavala takes his role as leader of the Consensus seriously; He does not appreciate outside distractions. Suraya just knows there's no sense in trying to interject while the children - she means Faction Reps - are squabbling amongst themselves. Been there, done that.

Ikora quietly peels open the envelope and scans the contents of the card inside. She tilts her head in surprise before closing it entirely and fixing Hawthorne with a gaze that doesn't seem quite sure how to react.

If Hawthorne knows this, she doesn't act like it. In fact, there's a sheepish pink tint to her cheeks. It's Zavala, to Ikora's right, who leans in and whispers that despite the stationary the event is entirely casual, but they'd like her to attend if she felt so inclined.

Ikora swings her gaze to Zavala. He does not look away.  She checks to ensure the conversation is still happening across the table, then looks back to Hawthorne, nodding graciously. "Thank you for thinking of me," She hums softly. “I’ll be there.” There is a lingering melancholy to her these days, but it's softened by her resolve to move forward instead of lingering on things they cannot change.

"Don't thank me yet," Suraya grumbles mildly. For two women who have little in common, they have similar feelings of discomfort when it comes to potentially emotional situations. "I can't promise my father - Marc,” She clarifies quietly, “Won't fawn over you. He's been trying to figure out what color that golden eyeshadow you wear is for ages."��

"Really?" It's clear Ikora can't remember the last time she'd done her makeup. Not that she needs it, her complexion has always been stunning. Still, it's food for thought.

The Clan Stewardess nods, a hint of a smile lighting her face. "I've already told him not to call you fierce a million times, but honestly, I don't think he’ll be able to help himself."

"I think I can handle some well-meaning flattery," Ikora supposes, her lips threatening to curl upward.

Her tablet makes a barely noticeable buzz against the tabletop with a message from Zavala.

She's not kidding. He was disappointed when I told him that my 'eyeliner' was just natural coloring.

The tiniest snicker escapes Ikora's usually impenetrable facade. She covers it with a cough, pressing a hand to her lips, and Suraya and Zavala meet each other's gazes around her. A lilting eyebrow responds to a soft pull of lips to the left.

"Are we missing something over there?" Arach Jalaal interrupts, suspicious. "I do hope you're not holding back on our account."

"Not at all," Zavala transitions easily, cool and somehow so guardedly open. "We were simply discussing another matter as you have yet to motion the council with a proposal you can mutually agree on."

"Right, because that's always been your way," Lakshmi imposes, voice crisp and sarcastic.

"There are other items on the agenda," Ikora reminds them, gesturing to the bowl in the middle. She doesn't look particularly enthused about it, though Jalaal and Lakshmi return to their previously animated states. If she were able, Lakshmi's mouth plates would be parted in a wide, cheshire grin.

"Remind me again," Hideo drawls, annoyed, "Why we are exchanging gifts? A dead holiday belonging to a made up religion inspires… what, exactly?"

Zavala ignores their sentiments, keeping to business as usual. It's his 'babysitting' tone. "This is a tradition, and I will expect all of you to keep things polite in your gift giving." He pauses. "And work appropriate." All eyes seem to find Arach Jalaal.

"I seem to recall that we are all adults here, and this event isn't exactly on the record."

"Yes, and while I'm sure the Executor loved your well illustrated guide to the ways of Kamasutra-" The group snickers and sputters but Zavala does not so much as waver around the subject matter, "I do not believe it is appropriate for a work function."

"It's harmless fun. I'm sure the Executor got good use out of it. His-"

"Enough," Zavala booms, not interested in presiding over the ensuing squabble. "Our gathering will be held in two weeks' time and I would expect you all to conduct yourselves appropriately."

"Next you'll be imposing a drink limit," Lakshmi drones to the group, who finds it amusing.

Zavala remains stoic, but his answer is indulgent enough. "As tempting as that sounds, I would imagine alcohol is the only item this group can agree on."

-/

“It’s hardly fair, you know,” Ikora chides, lips twisting into the subtlest of smirks.

Beside her, Zavala walks sedately. He turns his head to the right to regard her and she lifts one singular eyebrow. To that, both of his furrow. “What do you mean?”

“You obviously got Hawthorne,” She tells him, careful not to be too loud and alert  anyone who might be listening.

He looks away and back, as if to confirm her level of seriousness. She is. He shakes his head incredulously. “I didn’t,” He tells his partner in arms. “Why would you think that?”

“You looked smug when you picked.”

“How do you know I didn’t get you?”

Ikora almost smiles at him. “My friend, you have a terrible poker face.” She stops when he does. They'll both be returning to their posts for the afternoon. "If you picked me, you wouldn't be able to hold this conversation. You'd change the subject." 

Sighing, Zavala intends to see through her motives. "You don't know what to get for yours."

"I do," She assures him. "I just know you have about two hours before Suraya knows who you picked, as well." She crosses her arms. "I thought you could do without the extra scrutiny, considering..." She ends with a well-timed glance, a questioning eyebrow on the rise.

He fishes the folded scrap of paper out of a concealed pocket and hands it to her. In exchange, she extends to him a slip of paper that's flattened but creased. "Ikora," He chides, looking at it.

She grins. "I didn't go first. This is hardly my fault."

"You're supposed to draw again."

"No one ever does."

Zavala huffs. "What are you getting Hawthorne?"

Ikora tilts her head. "The gift of not being embarrassed when she receives a gift from you in front of our colleagues who will tease her mercilessly about you two being together."

"Ikora-"

"Relax. I have some ideas." She pats his forearm as she goes, leaning in to whisper, "Make sure you get me something nice."

-/

"I can't do this," Suraya groans into Amanda's workbench. "It'll be so obvious."

"It's already obvious," The Shipwright replies, waving a wrench. "Just get him something impersonal. He won't be upset or nothin', he knows how it is, and I'm sure he doesn't want some big gesture or anything like that, 'specially not in front of the peanut gallery." She leans over the engine of a sparrow, twisting off pieces like she's making art. "Go with liquor. Bottle ‘a wine is always classy."

“Yeah,” Hawthorne scoffs. "But we swore off exchanging gifts. We just want to spend time together."

"So? It’s not like you’re doing it because you want to, Suraya.”

"So," She rolls her eyes and Amanda sticks her tongue out in response, "I don't want things to get blown out of proportion. They already suspect-”

“Is that really so bad?”

“No!” She blurts, surprised at her own loud staccato outburst. “Us being public hurts him more than it hurts me. I don’t really care.”

Amanda’s eyebrows go up in a question that she doesn’t have to voice, reminiscent of the man in question. 

“You’re going to tell me that if he cared, he wouldn’t be in the relationship.”

“No. I’m not.” She wipes her hands on her coveralls and pushes herself up and onto the workbench Suraya is sulking on. “Zavala has always been careful. Taking me on wasn’t exactly his brightest idea, as thankful as I am for it, an’ seein’ you probably wasn’t, either at first.” Suraya turns her head to watch her. “You make him feel younger. A li’l more reckless. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. He’s still the same Zavala, just… a little happier sharin’ his life with you. ‘Bout time the rest of the world learn there’s more to him than crochet hooks, poetry, fancy title ‘n responsibilities.” 

Despite her dirty hands, Suraya squeezes one of Amanda’s. She wipes a streak of grease onto her bare arm with a smirk after, and Amanda laughs.

“Sorry to eavesdrop-”

Amanda hops down from the bench with a loud clomp. “Ugh,” She grunts. “Yer not. Whatcha want, Jalaal?”

“I’m here to propose a trade.”

“A trade? I don’ want any of yer scrap unless you’ve somehow managed to find usable spinmetal.”

Dead Orbit’s leader pushes back a shiny black lock of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “Not with you. I overheard your predicament.”

Both women roll their eyes. “What predicament?” Amanda asks, about ready to bully him back to his tent-like station on the other side of the hangar. 

“I’ll trade with you,” He offers Hawthorne, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Why?” Suraya asks, skeptical. “You’re constantly goading us about things.”

“I was there at the beginning,” Arach Jalaal says, wistful. It's true he'd been there, at the Farm, during the war. He'd seen their first interactions, if only from afar. “You have undeniable chemistry. No one needs to see you exchange gifts to know that.”

“Who did you get?”

He grins. It’s all teeth.

“Oh, hell naw,” Amanda says, seeing the trap for what it is. “Suraya, don’t you dare.”

The Clan Stewardess’ eyes narrow. Skeptically, she asks, “If I do this, are you going to gift him an inappropriate gift?”

“It's tempting, but I'll do my best to refrain.” The Arach admits, smile never faltering. “Though, can you blame me?”

“You don’t tell him this transaction took place.” Suraya swings to regard Amanda. “Both of you.”

“Yer gonna give Hideo a gift instead, then? You know that’s who he’s got.”

“Lakshmi got Hideo, I heard her whining about it after the meeting,” Suraya whispers to her.

Jalaal carries on. “I really just want to give the Commander a copy of the-”

“No.” Both women interrupt him immediately. It was no secret what he’d given the Executor the previous year, even outside of the Consensus hall.

He flicks more hair from his face. “What? Does he already own it?”

Amanda clamps both hands over her ears and makes a noise that’s not quite a screech. “Out. Get out. Both’a ya.”

Deadpan, Suraya responds to the Arach’s commentary, “I don’t think that nice girl at the bookshop down in the Bazaar sells erotic texts.”

“Wow, that escalated quickly.” He doesn’t react to Amanda pushing him out of her space, simply lets her guide him away. “I saw a new poetry compilation for winter. It’s been sold out for a few weeks and I overheard him speaking to the kiosk attendant. I thought I would-”

“Wow,” Amanda interjects, stopping in the middle of the hangar. “That’s surprisingly tame.”

“You’ll recall that I’m a fan of both of you. This City-” He turns around and gestures, “Droll. A deathtrap. This planet-”

“Ah, there’s that good old, trademark Dead Orbit nihilism,” Suraya says, with fake cheeriness.

“-Doomed.” He thrusts his secret santa tag at her. “Doesn’t mean I’m rooting for you any less.”

“Huh,” Amanda remarks, surprised, “That’s awful nice of you.”

Jalaal ignores her. His icy eyes regard Hawthorne. “So?”

She pulls out her drawing for the gift exchange and passes it to him. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Have fun shopping for the Executor.”

Suraya’s face falls, and she hastily uncrumples the paper in her hand. “No, you had-”

Arach Jalaal laughs. “You’re not the only person I traded with.”

The Shipwright thumps her hard on the back. “Told ya, girl.”

Back to Main Fic Post

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Fate/Zero 1 - 25 (FINAL)

Most of these notes stayed intact during Fate/Stay Winter posts, but I’m releasing them in an unedited version here (aside from the dotpoints and read more, of course).

Fate/Zero 1

For some reason, I have it recorded that I’ve watched F/Z ep. 1, but I don’t remember it!  I only remember Saber fighting someone…that’s why I have notes for this ep too.

Ewwwwwww…what’s that in the Macedonian box…?

Oh! Heaven’s Feel is the name of one of the movies that came out this year or last.

LOL, the grandparents of Waver literally refer to him as “Waver”. I thought it was a title. Is it really his name???

I’m very good at making connections between seemingly disconnected things using only the things I know. I predict Kariya’s in for a verrrrrrrry bad time and will probably die in this Grail War, if not go bananas. I already know Rin, Ilya (the Einzbern child) and Sakura are already part of the Fate/ canon, so they’re probably going to fight in a Grail War as well.

Ahhhhhhh! B*stard Archer (that is, Gilgamesh)! He’s hereeeeeeeee!

What’s that counter on the ep title card…? Is it the time until the Grail War…?

Fate/Zero 2

I’ve seen enough spoilers being bandied about that I already know Rider is Alexander the Great.

Like, seriously, why do we call the dude “Waver Velvet”? What’s his real name?

Kiritsugu acts as Ilya’s dad, but…I’m pretty sure he isn’t her dad. Kiritsugu’s surname is Emiya, right? He’s Shirou’s dad, as far as I know. Then again, I only know what I know from being around Fate/ fans for so long.

LOL, there are far too many dragons in this name – Ryuunosuke Uryuu.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh! Is this Giant B*stard Archer???? Is this Giant B*stard Archer??? (i.e. Gilgamesh) Oooooooooh! No wonder people like Gilgamesh, even though they call him a giant loveable b*stard.

Fate/Zero 3

Thy don’t call Rider that for nothin’, eh?

I wonder how Saber managed to get a passport…? She’d need one, eh?

Oh…CGI car…it’s burning my eyesssssssss! (although I do believe Troyca didn’t do any better with El-Melloi’s Case Files)

“Hotel in Fuyuki” – They couldn’t be any more explicit with this stuff, could they…?

“…Highness.” – I can see why Saber is so popular with the Fate/ fans now.

Huh? I seem to remember the battle that comes next! Damn *bleep* <- (censored name of anime club manager responsible for the anime marathon that caused me to go from the beginning of F/Z in the first place)! I definitely remember Saber fighting Lancer.

Fate/Zero 4

(sorry, seen this one! That’s where the confusion was! So no notes here!)

Fate/Zero 5

Berserker looks like Goblin Slayer covered in smoke…LOL.

…Well, they don’t call that guy Berserker for nothin’ either.

Rider would make a great Santa Claus, LOL.

Fate/Zero 6

Isn’t there a Joan of Arc in the Netflix Fate/ (Apocrypha)?

Dang, that Kayneth is an evil b*stard, alright!

Kirei is basically Wolverine…?

No wonder you never hear about Caster when people talk about Fate/…he’s neither hot nor a waifu…so nobody gives a s*** about him.

Fate/Zero 7

Is that a Gantz?

Wait, y’mean Rider is motivated…by pants? *spits* Hahahaha…

You can see Ufotable’s much-praised CGI at work here, too.

I can definitely see why Ufotable was chosen for Katsugeki and why they chose Izuminokami for their protag.

Had to google Jeanne to remember what she looks like in this universe, but yeah…she does look like Saber.

For some reason, I had a fleeting thought that Lancer would be the one to be on the mountain alongside Saber…I was right.

So basically, the entire Fate/ series is this: who would win? A mage or an assassin? (Or something like this.)

Fate/Zero 8

I still think Kirei is basically Wolverine.

Kiritsugu = “to cut and tie”.Update: It’s “to tie” and “to inherit”, apparently.

F/Z 9

I wonder…just what is Lancer’s motivation for the Grail? Surely, Servants have their own motives…

I literally covered my eyes when Sola-Ui bent Kayneth’s finger back…it was almost as bad as seeing Nozomi get tortured (Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka)…*gulp*

“Not well” is an understatement, Sola-Ui.

I had to google how old Waver was in this Grail War…he’s 19, apparently, so right in my strike zone right here, so to speak~.

Beleaguered Waver is what you cool kids would call the 2020 Mood…and yes, I’m watching this on the 1st of January, 2020 (but you’re reading this after I put it up later in the month), so I’m keeping the comment.

“What kind of moron would go busting in?” – *facepalm* It seems Rider would.

What the heck is Rider riding his chariot over on the floor, anyway? What’s up with these sewer creatures ? They’ve got tentacles…!

F/Z 10

Rin reminds me of Asuka (NGE)…*gulp* That can only mean bad things for her.

Zenjo? I’ll make a note of that name.

That one glowing sign says “Fuyuki Station”.

Rin no Bouken = Rin’s Adventure. I don’t see why the subbers included “Big” in there, tbh.

F/Z 11

Uh-oh. Why do I get the feeling Saber’s going to get very, very drunk…?

Gee whiz, the great b*stard is a narcissist…

Well, sometimes I forget I had “Archer = Gilgamesh” spoilt for me ages ago…probably because he’s all over Babylonia, not to mention he seems to be one of the more popular characters precisely because he is the great b*stard.

“I wish for my homeland’s salvation.” – An interesting thing to say, considering Brexit.

What the f*** is a Gordius…oh, okay. So that’s Rider’s chariot.

How many Assassins are there??? I thought there was just the one, but there were 4 last time.

This discussion is interesting…no wonder Saber got mistaken for Joan of Arc back in the day.

Welp, Assassins gotta assassinate…*shrugs*

Eyyyyyy…there’s this one guy who looks basically like an older Waver Velvet! That explains a few things, I think.

F/Z 12

“Ramasonic” (sic).

I still think Gil-I mean, Archer’s snakeskin pants are hilarious.

I feel like last episode was a lot better in regards to how good Fate/ could be. This episode is just Ufotable animating talking Gilgamesh and Kirei heads.

Why do I get a bad feeling something bad’s going to happen to Maiya…again?

Kirei trying to look bada*s while leaning against a wall…it looks sort of funny, to be honest with you…because he bends his neck at a funny angle.

F/Z 13

This is the end of the 1st cour, apparently…according to AniList, at least.

“…5 billion people.” – I think the number is 7 billion now, but okay.

Never leave your Servant unsupervised, amirite?

I saw one of the bookstore’s shelves has science fiction on it…hmm, in a show with magic, that seems ironic…or was that non-fiction? Also somewhat ironic.

Oh, this “Don’t you want to do anything fun?” from Rider to Waver is an interesting parallel to Kirei’s episode (the previous one).

Dragon guy’s off his rocker…seriously.

Paraphrasing here, but “…if you want to use the Grail to make yourself taller…” – then stick to milk and other calcium products, Waver…LOL. I mean, other anime characters do.

Even Saber Naruto runs! There are no aliens here…but that car does have gull-wing doors (<-had to google what the doors were called), so…is it a DeLorean or something? Then someone could time travel instead.

I thought one of the previous commands from the overseers was to defeat Caster…?

Fate/Zero has become a kaiju movie, LOL.

Scared Waver is also a 2020 Mood…LOL.

F/Z 14

What’s this “Giant of Light” business…?

Geesh…If Ufotable did a Godzilla movie, I would watch that…(now that this monster makes me think of that possibility.)

This is a small quibble, but is it “Diabolo” or “Diablo”?

Somehow it didn’t even hit me until the fight was halfway over…but does Gilgamesh control a flying airship as part of his Noble Phantasm?!

Pretty scenery or not, talking people standing still are just that…not very entertaining, for sure. It’s basically the only flaw of this series, aside from the fact it hasn’t plumbed the depths of its themes yet.

Ufotable’s clouds look kind of like Gainax’s in Houkago no Pleiades, huh?

Tokiomi seems to blame Kariya for the whole sister vs. sister thing. Hmm, it really just shows how demented the guy is.

F/Z 15

Berserker is only ever in CGI, huh? No wonder Ufotable was given the job.

“That’s…from King Arthur’s legend…” – Can I please interrupt with the Excalibur song? (I’m annoying like that and want to ruin your level of immersion, that’s why.)

Hey, who knew? We get to see Joan in this anime, too. Thank you, Ufotable and Type Moon for saving me a Netflix subscription.

F/Z 16

“Things have been rather hectic this evening.” – Well, you don’t say…

*Saber and Lancer start their fight * - I detect signs there may have been people shipping Saber and Lancer at this point in time, what with their mutual ideas of honour and such.

Kayneth is kind childish, LOL – he’s like a kid peeping at his parents while they complain to each other about a hard day’s work or something.

Uh, this curse from Lancer here is definitely gonna be relevant later, right…?

I was muttering, “Oh goodness” (<- I’m self-censoring here, but you get the point) a few times over when Kiritsugu and Maiya finally got around to killing Kayneth, Lancer and Kayneth’s fiancee. By the way, were those two ever married…? Also, this makes me wonder…what would happen if you got a completely useless Servant? Like “King of Fools” or something. It would sound like the Familiar of Zero, sure, but it would be an interesting exercise in making a compelling narrative.

F/Z 17

Dangit, B*stard Archer. Disappearing just after you provoked Kirei…

Oh! I found the Avalon scene confusing at first, but now that they explain it, it makes a lot more sense.

“As I live and breathe, Kirei!” – Sounds mighty ironic for a meant-to-be-dead historical figure to say that.

F/Z 18

We jump to someone else’s story…or do we?

For some reason, I think this beach place is based on Okinawa. (It seems like the best match.)

“This isn’t a game.” – Seems highly ironic, given his current situation.

I know Kiritsugu is probably looking into Shirley’s eyes, but all they show is the boobs downwards, so I imagine it to be fanservice.

That shaking was just to disguise the bad animation, wasn’t it…?

…and suddenly, zombies!

Well, that’s great, Kiritsugu. You ended up burning down a village by association. Good job…

“Vampires.” – Well, that wasn’t the word I was expecting…

For some reason, I think this new arrival is a woman, but now that I get a proper look at their face, they kinda look like the Great B*stard (Gilgamesh). Update: It looks like they have cleavage, but then they also kinda resemble Samatoki (Hyp Mic)…so, uh…I dunno. Update 2: Okay, she’s a woman…Natalia, to be precise.

The houses on fire look a lot like the ones in Katsugeki, come to think of it.

F/Z 19

Wait, what’s a Mystic Code again…?

Oh, I didn’t think this show would do it, but there’s a good few seconds of recap. I know, because I had to skip it.

Oh, the reason Kiritsugu doesn’t seem to ally with the Association or the Church is because Natalia wasn’t part of either. Right…I’m so dumb.

Am I just reading into Kiritsugu’s pose here too much, or does he look like Christ the Redeemer a bit…?

There’s something oddly pretty about Vorzak. Then again…it’s too bad he’s designated to be dead.

I could tell Kiritsugu was CGI for a second…but he was in fog. Dangit, Ufotable. You know how to disguise your CGI well.

…Okay, those bees were very CGI. Scrap what I just said.

Bees on a plane. What a way to die.

I’ve noticed Kiritsugu’s eyes don’t have any pupils in them. They’re always kind of dead, but not in th same way En’s (<- from Boueibu) are.

What happened to Kiritsugu’s mother…?

The extended flashback seems to be the best way to my heart, assuming you can pull it off properly.

What’s with that “sometime, somewhere”?

F/Z 20

There hasn’t been a proper OP since 3 episodes ago.

Was Maiya ever interested in Kiritsugu as a woman? This vague pseudo-harem sorta annoys me, which is why I need answers.

The crows in this show aren’t very fluffy. Not that I have a problem with that…it’s just a bit random (and I’m saying that as I operate without much sleep and will have a huge period of getting up early in my near future, so you’re probably going to see even more randomness coming from my brain).

Modanyaki. Never thought I’d be googling a Japanese concept for this anime.

This sleeping bag Waver reminds me of Aizawa, but this is at least 4 years too early for that.

That cloud in the top left is shaped funny…like a knight, maybe? (There’s a triangular bit that looks lik a helmet.)

I believe the bird is a bush warbler (uguisu), based on the colour.

So this is where you learn what the f*** a Gordius Wheel is…right.(sounds a bit pissed)

Seeing Kariya squirm…it makes me thank my lucky stars I had the sound off. My imagination makes the scene worse, though.

So fakers beget fakers and killers beget killers, huh? Not surprising.

“I’ve always told him he was doing the right thing.” – Because you didn’t know any better, huh, Iri?

F/Z 21

“Knight on Two Wheels” – What would that knight be riding, a bike…? (somewhat sarcastic)

…A motorbike. Close enough. (not sarcastic anymore)

The motorbike’s plate says “Fuyuki - Te” – instead of a licence plate combo, Japan has a single hiragana.

Well, at least now I know why you never hear of Kariya outside Fate/Zero much…those worms don’t give him long to live.

Isn’t Tokiomi dead though…?

Holy s***, Kariya, you just got framed! *yells in the tone of voice as if Kariya got owned…which he did, in a sense*

*brow furrowed* What’s up with the framing of Aoi’s killing that makes this seem like attempted rape…?

Kirei looks all dead inside. (LOL) I know it’s the animators’ fault that they didn’t bother with him in that scene, but…he has the eyes of a dead fish there, y’know? I can’t help but laugh.

F/Z 22

Never in my life have I seen a grandpa want to talk on the roof.

The grandpa reminds me of Rider…that’s probably where part of their relationship comes from.

You can see the lack of sleep is getting to Kiritsugu right now…his face looks a little sunken…

…Fate/ is apparently pretty infamous for treating its women badly from a feminist persepctive and I think I get why now…(referring to the death of Aoi and now Kirei’s treatment of Iri)

I think the scariest part of F/Z is watching th emotionless guy learn how to feel…kinda like Equilibrium, y’know?

Hmm? I wonder how this show will choose to end, since it’s signalling its end from 3 episodes out?

I predicted Rider would say something along the lines of “…befitting of the Rider class” and lo and behold! He did!

So Rider can summon a single horse as well as the entire chariot? *Saitama face* Okay then.

Number of Times Waver Appears: 1, Number of Times Waver Cries: 1, Number of Times Waver Blushes: 2

Come to think of it, even though I had that weird “Ohhhhhh! Great B*stard Archer!” reaction at first, Gilgamesh has shown up in most of the worst scenes of this show so far (basically, most of the “talking heads” scenes where he talks shop with Kirei). Then again, my change in feelings probably because I’ve had to keep a special eye out for Waver and knew Saber was the poster girl for the entire series.

The counter appears to be “time until the Holy Grail War”…well, that or its final conflict.

F/Z 23

I like how Waver’s joining in with Rider’s yelling.

I have the sound off, so now I’m just mentally narrating Sakura with this creepy child voice and it’s spooking me out…the Urobutcher could really go toe-to-toe with Stephen King if it weren’t my imagination…(LOL…?)

I feel sorry for that car’s owner…the car wasn’t meant to be wrecked…

I fully expect Berserker to be Lancelot or some other guy in King Arthur’s canon, judging by Saber’s reactio-hey, who’s Arondight…? Update: Oh, f***. It really is Lancelot. Turns out Arondight is the name of Lancelot’s sword. How did I know? There’s that upcoming Camelot adaption, isn’t there? Connect the dots.

Oh, f*** me – I feel conflicted. On the one hand, Lancelot’s hella handsome (and his dark hair is exactly my kinda thing), on the other hand…doesn’t he look like he came out of Castlevania or Vampire Hunter D or something??? F***in’ vampires!

Oh, f*** again, I stand corrected. Lancelot was handsome, before he became a Caster-looking…thing.

*bursts into spontaneous laughter* The new Lancelot looks kinda like Tsukasa from Dr Stone, LOL.

Number of Times Waver Cries: 2

Wait, isn’t Bucephalus Greek??? Update: No, he wasn’t. He was Alexander the Great’s horse. That explains why he’s Rider.

I was wondering how Waver managed to live long enough to be El-Melloi II when he was stuck in a battle to the death. Welp, that’s how he did it, folks! *points at screen*

Number of Times Waver Cries: 3…but…anti-climax, much, f***in’ Gilgamesh???

Uh, what’s up with Psalm 23:4? (I had to google that snippet of the Bible to find out its citation.)

LOL, Kirei and Kiritsugu have very similar faces. Didn’t realise that until now.

F/Z 24

It’s weird seeing Kirei full of fighting spirit…He’s still frickin’ Wolverine, though.

Is this taking cues from the Matrix? I bought it from the charity store the other day because I haven’t seen it yet, but I know Bullet Time from TV Tropes.

Now Kirei is channeling Bruce Lee, LOL.

Ouch…the bullet to the hand reminds me of the nail gun scene in The Island (which still freaks me out to this day). (…and now I’ve gone and done it – every time I think of that movie, I get the song The Island – part 1, at least - in my head as well.)

I can almost see Sakaido (from ID: Invaded) in some of these scenes instead of Kiritsugu…trust Ei Aoki and associates to do that.

I went to dump a screenshot in Paint and one of my Fate/ backgrounds from one of the previous posts was set to my background! (I have my backgrounds set to rotate every 12 hours and I have over 600 pictures for that purpose.) *sighs happily and incredulously* Well, whaddaya know…sometimes the stars do align.

I almost expected Shirley to appear, but it turns out it was Iri instead.

Kiritsugu still has his Command Seals so he’s still connected to the Grail War somehow…hmm…

C’mon, I predicted Gilgamesh would compliment Saber when she was down and bleeding.

F/Z 25 (FINAL)

Who’s Lord Justeaze?

Sakura has the same eyes as Kiritsugu. Dead, lifeless eyes.

Did Kariya just throw himself to the worms???

The Great Naked B*stard Gilgamesh.

A priest is a zombie, huh? How ironic.

Isn’t Gilgamesh annoyed by his lack of clothes…? Update: Never mind. He gets a cloth soon enough.

Wait, if Saber destroyed the Grail, who won…?

Huh? The timer ran out.

Aw, even Waver’s growing up.

One of the books says 零戦 (reisen) which apparently means “Zero Fighter [Plane]”. One of the sets of books says “William Shakespeare”, who I know is a Servant somewhere in the Fateverse.

The Bible verse is Job 19:25.

Lancelot’s head doesn’t disappear when the rest of him fades away…It’s pretty poignant.

Jubstacheit is the head of the Einzberns. Update: Think I had to google that.

“Becoming a hero has an expiration date.” – As much as I know that in my creative heart to not be true, my adult heart says yes, it’s true.

Welp, that’s the end of one series. Time for another.

[missmarquin]

Magnetic, Ch. 4

In the future, romantic attraction is literal: each person is fitted with an electromagnetic bracelet which will pull you to your soulmate. It's hard, wondering who's out there for you. It's harder yet, when you have to come to understand yourself first.

CONTENT WARNING: Smut.

Read here on Ao3, where it’s formatted better!

Polarization

‘Polarization density also describes how a material responds to an applied electric field as well as the way the material changes the electric field, and can be used to calculate the forces that result from those interactions.’

….

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, Otabek thought.

He’d finally made a choice. He’d finally grown a pair and hopped a plane to Moscow last minute. He’d finally tell Yuri that he loved him, and that he was stupid, and that he’d waited too fucking long to do this.

And then you know, he’d sweep him off his feet, finally kiss him and-- Well, Yuri was supposed to respond positively, because that was the dream, right? It wasn’t like you could deny the destiny bracelets, or whatever.

Otabek realized just how stupid he was, the moment that Yuri slapped on his bracelet, feeling the pull that tugged between them. The look of surprise and utter betrayal that flashed across his face.

Currently, Yuri was stomping around the kitchen, muttering angrily under his breath. Setting about a kettle of water for tea. Otabek watched from his seat at the kitchen table, one leg folded across the other, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

Yuri bothered, because Otabek was the one that liked tea. Maybe that meant something. That thought wavered the moment Yuri slammed the pot onto the burner, turning to him suddenly.

“You lied,” he hissed. “How could you--” he started, but then paused, closing his eyes and rubbing at them. Then he let out a frustrated grunt.

“Yura--”

“Are you telling me that yours has been active since mine was turned on?”

Otabek swallowed thickly. “I-- uh… yes.” And Yuri just blinked at him, waiting for him to explain further. Otabek sighed. “I wasn’t expecting it,” he said quietly. “So when it did, I just kind of freaked--”

“Is the idea of being with me so terrible?” Yuri suddenly asked. His voice was about as small as Otabek suddenly felt. Couldn’t Yuri see-- didn’t Yuri know--

Well, probably not, Otabek reasoned. Yuri was incredibly bright, but tended to overlook things quite easily. “Yura,” Otabek said, standing up from the chair, going to him. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Well I--” Yuri started, the answer clearly rehearsed, but then he paused. “Wait, what--”

But Otabek was already pressing a hand against his cheek, his fingers tightened and pulling Yuri down to him. Yuri let out a cry of protest, his hands grabbing at Otabek’s arms to try and stop. Yuri might have had him in height, but Otabek was stockier. He pulled Yuri’s face to his, pressing their lips together.

And just as he expected, Yuri pulled away, pushing at him. Otabek refused to let go of his face though, his fingers still cradling his jaw firmly. “Yura,” he said, “It’s okay--”

“This has got to be a fucking joke,” Yuri said. Otabek could see the tears welling up in his eyes and oh no, Yuri was the world’s ugliest cryer, he didn’t want to see--  “I mean you couldn’t possibly-- you’re making fun of--”

“It’s okay,” Otabek interjected. Yuri snapped his mouth shut, his fingers still gripping his shirt tightly. Otabek rubbed his thumb along his jawline gently, trying to reassure him. “Yura, it’s okay,” he repeated.

“But… but Amita,” Yuri whispered, like uttering her name would somehow change things between them. Like her name somehow meant something, in that moment.

“I think that we both know she isn’t you,” Otabek replied.

“What the fuck does that mean? Beka, you were going to marry her.”

“You know better than anyone how my family is,” Otabek said quietly. “You know, Yura, how I didn’t want to leave. And when they arranged our marriage, how I couldn’t say no. And how--”

“Are you implying that you’ve liked me for what-- years?” Yuri shook his head, disbelieving.

Otabek only sighed softly, pulling his hands away from his face. “What was I to do? My parents have done everything for me,” he said sadly.

Yuri was about to say something when the kettle went off, the shrill whistle cutting through the air. Yuri wiggled out from Otabek’s grasp to pull it from the stove. Otabek watched as he poured the water into a cup, then as he placed the kettle down and wiggled around the tea bag. And then Yuri just stood there, staring at the counter, thinking.

Otabek didn’t like it when Yuri thought. Yuri was dangerous, when he thought. “You know, it’s not fucking fair,” Yuri finally said, letting out a bitter laugh. “I’ve loved you since I was like fourteen, but I’ve always thrown it to the side, because I’ve thought that you would never--” He stopped abruptly, his hands gripping the countertop so tightly that his fingertips turned white.

“But now you’re telling me that that wasn’t the case,” he finished with.

“For what it’s worth,” Otabek said, “I didn’t know until I left.” At that, Yuri turned around, giving him this look and Otabek couldn’t hide the wince that crossed his face. “You were a teenager, when I left,” he huffed. “We were teenagers. I was seventeen, and it was weird okay? I didn’t want to put a label on anything, but then I went back home to Almaty and everything just kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Yuri couldn’t hide the snark in his tone.

“It just lost its color. It was like my world was suddenly gray and the only thing that would have fixed it, was if you were there.” Well, that had sounded better in his head, but Otabek was too far into his monologue to stop. “Because I… well, you know. Love you, and all that.” It wasn’t the most articulate love confession, but it was very Otabek at least.

“Oh.” Yuri sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him. That was a good sign. Yuri slipped his fingers into the handle of the mug and brought it to Otabek, before plopping into a chair at the table. Otabek followed suit.

“But Amita…” Yuri started again, before trailing off.

“She knew.” Otabek’s voice was so quiet, that he wasn’t sure that Yuri had even heard him at first. He cleared his throat and then continued with, “I mean, she uh-- I wasn’t able to really hide it from her, I guess. We had an understanding.”

“You faked it pretty fucking well,” Yuri said.

“It wasn’t… fake,” Otabek’s tone was careful. “We loved each other, but we weren’t in love with each other. If that makes sense. I was still trying to sort things out though, so I was just happy that we worked.”

“But then…” Yuri motioned to his bracelet. Otabek twisted it nervously. The tug was softened to a dull hum, probably because they had found each other. “And then hers…”

“She was the one that broke it off.” Yuri knew that, but his face was unreadable. “But not because of the reason you would think.”

“She did it because of how you felt, didn’t she?” Yuri asked quietly.

Otabek thumbed at his mug for a long moment, before taking a sip. “It’s pretty pathetic when your fiancee tells you to go after someone else. Especially when it’s a man.”

“Otabek, I--” But Yuri paused, biting his lip. He looked so young like that. So young and unsure, and like he was about to burst at the seams. “I’m not actually angry at you.”

“I know you aren't’. If anything, I’m angry at myself.” Otabek sighed as he said it. “I shouldn’t have hid this from you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Yuri agreed, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“But try to see it from my view.” Yuri looked at him, listening. “I had spent years bottling this shit up, and then yours is activated and-- I mean, suddenly everything I wanted was right there, you know? I had just come to terms with being myself.”

“Yeah, sorry that I fucked that up for you,” Yuri said sarcastically, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Yeah, yeah, you went and found yourself. And then everything went to hell.”

“Yura, it hasn’t gone to hell--”

“Why are you even here?” Yuri finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It was an honest question, his tone carefully calculated.

And Otabek knew that this one answer would be it. His mouth was as dry as the steppes that he’d ridden his motorcycle through. His next words would either make them or break them, and the latter was just not a feasible option.

“Because a life without you, isn’t a life at all,” Otabek said after a long moment of reflection.

Yuri blinked, and then blinked again. And his face turned red, his cheeks splotched and ruddy as his next words sputtered. “Jesus fucking christ Beka, you can’t just say shit like that.”

“What is it that you want me to say?” Otabek asked, trying his best to keep a pleading look off of his face.

“Say it again.” Yuri’s voice was quiet, wavering just slightly, like he was afraid that Otabek would somehow change his mind. That he’d realize that this was a mistake or something, like he was afraid. “Say it again, and say it properly.”

Otabek suddenly realized what exactly it was the Yuri wanted. He wanted reassurance. He wanted Otabek to show him that this wasn’t some joke, that he wasn’t playing him. Otabek  pulled himself from the chair and dropped to his knees before Yuri.

“I love you, Yuri,” he said. His hands found Yuri’s knees, squeezing gently, playing with the fabric of his pants. “I’m pretty late to the game, but I’ve always loved you.”

Yuri regarded him for a long moment, and then he said, “Get off the fucking floor, you fool.” Then he stood, holding his hand out and helped Otabek up. Yuri didn’t let go though, holding his hand tightly, rubbing his thumb across the back of Otabek’s hand.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve imagined this scenario a thousand different ways over the years. I never would have thought it’d end with you on your knees for me.”

Otabek could think of other things that he’d rather do while on his knees in front of Yuri, but he forced a crooked smile across his face. Reaching up, he ran his thumb across his cheek, rubbing away the moisture there. Yuri wasn’t crying, but a few tears had slipped free.

“You’ve always responded positively to worship,” Otabek teased.

“Oh? Is that what you were doing? Worshipping me?”

“There are far better ways, I’d rather worship you with, especially if I’m on my knees.” The words slipped from Otabek’s mouth before he could stop them, and Yuri turned bright red, the intent not lost on him.

“You’re an absolute moron.”

“Yes,” Otabek agreed.

“But you’re my moron.”

“Always,” was Otabek’s reply.

“And you’re sure that Amita is okay with this?”

“Amita lives in the United States, married to another man. She has no standing.” Otabek was teasing, of course, but it didn’t stop him from reaching out and brushing some of Yuri’s hair behind his ear. Anything to offer some modicum of comfort, really.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Yuri finally said, stopping Otabek in his tracks. “I’m tired, you’re tired, it’s been a long day. I’m fucking exhausted and this is a lot to take in.”

Otabek dropped his hand sheepishly. Yeah, rest, that was a good idea. There was plenty of time to talk about this. “I’ll take the couch--”

“Absolutely not,” Yuri said. He’d already pulled away and grabbed the mug. He frowned at Otabek, as he poured the tea down the sink. “Bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Otabek swallowed thickly. “Right,” he managed weakly.

“It’ll be like old times.”

Otabake closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “Yura, it’ll be nothing like old times,” he finally said. And he looked back to Yuri, he found the man smirking back at him with amusement. He’d been teasing him!

“Yeah, you’re right. It’ll be like new times,” Yuri said, walking over to Otabek who hummed lightly in response. Yuri grabbed at his hand, yanking him toward the room. He could practically feel the blood roaring in his veins.

But it was a good roar, and it felt like Yuri was leading them to their future.

…

Yuri couldn’t sleep.

This occurrence wasn’t so uncommon, really. A lot of the time he couldn’t sleep-- be it the sore muscles, his aching back, or late-night thoughts of what his life was and could be. But this time, the source of his insomnia was sleeping next to him, snoring gently.

It shouldn’t be awkward. Yuri and Otabek had shared a bed tons of times before. Of course, it’d been a few years, but shit shouldn’t change, right? Except that it had, and Yuri couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, he sat on the edge of the mattress, wringing his fingers slightly.

It was weird, how you could want something and expect to never have it, but the moment that you could, shit get weird. Yuri had waited his entire life, to be able to tell Otabek how he’d felt, and that was good. He was glad.

Now came the added complication of Otabek loving him back.

Which, shouldn’t even be a complication, right?

Yuri jumped slightly when he felt a warm hand press against his shoulder. The mattress sunk under Otabek’s weight as he shifted. “Yura?” he murmured sleepily, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. Still half asleep then, Yuri surmised. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“You never think,” Otabek said. He shifted again, moving to swing his legs over the side and sit next to Yuri properly. “You always do. What’s bothering you?”

“I love you,” Yuri answered, and he saw Otabek’s frown in the moonlight that filtered in through the window.

“Yeah, I know,” Otabek replied. His hand swept down Yuri’s shoulder and then arm in a comforting gesture.

“Do you though? I don’t mean in a ‘yeah I’ve kind of liked you for awhile’ way. I mean in a ‘my heart literally stops at the sight of you’ way.” Yuri couldn’t help the way that his voice cracked slightly. “It’s one thing for you to say that you love me too, but is it on the same level?”

“Are you serious?” Otabek breathed. Yuri frowned; Otabek’s tone was caught between amusement and breathlessness. The older man couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up from his throat and for a moment, Yuri’s heart clenched that same fear from earlier. The fear that this was some massive and utter joke, that Otabek was just stringing him along until he got tired of it, because there was no way that he’d feel the same about him and--

Otabek’s weight shifted again until he was kneeling in front of Yuri. His hands slid up to gently grab his face and Yuri couldn’t help but lean in. He was taller, this position slightly awkward, but--

“How could you possibly think that, Yura?” Otabek asked, his thumb ghosting across Yuri’s cheek lightly. “How could you even entertain that my feelings aren’t the same? For years, you’re all I’ve ever thought about. Fuck, the woman I was going to marry left me because of my feelings for you.”

Yuri swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Beka, I--”

“I realized it too late,” Otabek said, leaning upwards, pulling at Yuri slightly. “But I’m here now, Yura. I’m here now, and I’m not going away. I love you--”

“Would you just kiss me already?” Yuri snapped in a harsh whisper.

Otabek immediately complied, rising up to press their mouths together. This wasn’t like the soft peck earlier in the kitchen, innocent and chaste, the one that Yuri had pulled away from. This was full of longing, Otabek gripping his jawline firmly as his other hand slid around his waist, pulling Yuri closer to the edge of the bed.

Yuri didn’t pull away from him this time. He pulled him closer, like he was trying to lose himself in Otabek. His lips were soft and chapped, but they felt better than anyone else. And he’d kissed a lot of people in his life. Otabek’s hand moved from his jaw to the back of his head, grasping gently as he changed their angle, running his tongue along the seam of Yuri’s mouth.

Yuri gasped, his lips falling open. Otabek licked into him, and Yuri moaned, and it seemed like all of his blood rushed south. He’d dreamed of this, imagined this in so many different scenarios, but the reality was so much better than he could have ever wished. Yuri responded in kind, his hands reaching up for Otabek’s face, caressing the skin there. Then they flitted over his hair, gripping lightly as he kissed back.

Otabek yanked at his hips, pulling him nearly off the edge of the bed to press their hips together and Yuri panicked momentarily because--

Otabek paused, pulling back. “Yura,” he breathed, the moment hanging between them.

Yuri swallowed, wanting to crawl into the bed and die. It was stupid, how hard he was, so quickly. It was hot, too hot, the room was suddenly sweltering and his pants tented and too tight because he didn’t wear proper underwear to bed. Otabek was there, his eyes dropping to his lap and then back up.

“Yura,” he repeated, looking like a starving man in a desert, his eyes half-lidded with lust and--

Jesus fucking christ. Otabek had palmed him through his pants, the thin material in the way, but no enough to make the touch anything but phenomenal. “Is this okay?” Otabek asked, and Yuri practically whined, moving to grip his hand to keep it there.

“Okay?” Yuri snapped. “You’re asking me if this is okay-- you’re such a moron.” He canted his hips upward. “Obviously.” He moved to pull Otabek’s face back up to his, but the other man pulled away, leaning back on his heels.

He a hand down Yuri’s side until it paused at the waistband of his pajama pants, thumbing the fabric there. The other was still cupped around his hardness, not squeezing but there, just holding him. And if Otabek didn’t fucking do something, Yuri was going to literally combust.

“Beka,” he started, but almost immediately lost his words when Otabek gave him a rough squeeze and let go.

“Yura, what do you want?” It was a sincere question. Not one uttered in sultry tone, during the heat of the moment. It was an honest question, with Otabek peering back at him like he was afraid that Yuri would say no. As if.

“Beka, please,” he pleaded, lifting his hips slightly. Otabek hesitated before helping him slip the pants off. The cool air was like a balm on his hardened length, but then he saw the look on Otabek’s face. Like he was drowning in the sight of him, his lips parted slightly as his hands gripped Yuri’s thighs tightly.

“I don’t get on my knees for just anyone,” Otabek said quietly, and Yuri felt his voice hitch and his heart skip a beat. “I would never do this for anyone but you, Yura.”

Yuri practically yelped at the feeling of Otabek licking up his length, before wrapping his hand around the base. His grip seemed unsure, hesitant, as he tried several different applications of pressure. And then it clicked, what Otabek had meant.

Of course he’d never do this to anyone else, he never had. Yuri would be the first and only, and suddenly his heart swelled slightly at the idea. He reached down, wrapping his hand around Otabek’s, as he said, “Like this, Beka.” Not to tight, but firm, showing him how to pull the foreskin down.

Otabek’s head dipped again, and Yuri felt wet heat engulf the tip of his cock. He hissed at the sensation, his other hand slipping down to sink into the soft curls on Otabek’s head. He usually slicked his hair back, but Yuri liked it like this-- wild and unruly, coiling around his forehead.

Otabek’s tongue swirled around his head and Yuri groaned, barely stopping his hips from bucking upwards. The other man hummed, slipping for of his length inside his mouth, sucking gently and--

Fuck, Yuri was already close, he was already so close and it wasn’t fair. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted this to never end. His fingers pulled at Otabek’s hair tightly, as the other man pulled back, only to dip down again, twisting his hand around the base slightly.

Otabek wasn’t even undressed, and Yuri was reduced to a mess next to him. From the heat of his mouth, to the heat of his gaze he just-- And then Otabek looked up at him, his lips stretched around his cock, his eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide underneath his long eyelashes. Yuri gasped at the sight, at the pull of his hand, at the way his tongue slid along the underside of his length.

Yuri remembered the first blow job he’d ever given, and it wasn’t like this. It had been awkward and terrible, and his experienced partner hadn’t been patient with him. Otabek was different though. Otabek didn’t even seem to be trying, running on instinct. Perhaps this is what made the difference, this overwhelming feeling of love. Yuri bucked his hips slightly, unable to stop and Otabek groaned around him, and it wasn’t fucking fair how good this was.

“Beka,” he hissed. “I’m so close--” he tried to warn, his grip on Otabek’s hair tightening. The other man doubled down on his efforts, sucking harder, pressing faster. Swallowing him as deep as he could without choking before pulling off. He kissed the tip, sliding his hand up and down, before swallowing him again.

Yuri felt the telltale tightening in his gut, and he crashed over the edge almost immediately, his hips jerking slightly towards Otabek. Otabek moaned around him, swallowing without a thought, and Yuri couldn’t think of anything hotter, he decided.

He hissed at the last lick that Otabek gave him, before pulling off, his lips tracing around his lips as he--

“Fuck,” Yuri groaned, falling back to the mattress in a melted heap. He could feel it, spent all the way down to his bones. The bed sagged under Otabek as he climbed back in, leaning against the headboard, and pulling Yuri’s head into his lap.

Yuri shifted from his grasp though,  straddling his hips with ease. Otabek’s hands found his hips quickly, squeezing, thumbing the soft skin there. His face so full of love, that Yuri wanted to paint a picture of it forever. Otabek only proved that he could still wreck him; that he could wreck him over and over again.

Yuri’s hand reached up, slipping just under his shirt, ghosting over the hard muscles he found there. “You’re over dressed,” he said, pulling the fabric up. Otabek helped him ease off the shirt.

“You’re still in your shirt,” he countered, but Yuri hushed him. His hand slipped across his skin, his fingers running along his collarbone and across his chest. Over a nipple, teasing it slightly, and Otabek shifted his hips under him, his hands tightening their hold.

Yuri hummed at that, a small smile crossing his features.  “Did you ever sleep with Amita?” It was a question with an answer that didn’t really mean anything, but curiosity poked at him.

And judging by the look on Otabek’s face, the other man didn’t like the thought of it, or him asking. “Yura, that’s not--”

“I’m only curious,” Yuri interrupted. “I mean, she’d be fucking stupid to ignore this,” he said, settling his hips closer, slotting them together to where he could feel the hardness underneath him. More impressive than he would have thought, and honestly his mouth watered with want.

“Yes,” Otabek groaned, and Yuri paused. “What I mean-- er-- Amita.” Yuri liked the fact that such a simple movement could render him literally speechless. “It wasn’t like this, though,” Otabek continued with. “I couldn’t be--”

“Damn right,” Yuri said, leaning closer to him, his face only a hair's breadth away.  “She wasn’t me, right?”

“Yura,” Otabek sighed, and he closed the small gap between them, kissing him again. One of his hands slid down Otabek’s abs, dragging his nails across the spattering of hair underneath his bellybutton. And then southward, hesitating at the edge of his pants.

Otabek let out a frustrated grunt, and Yuri practically swallowed it, his tongue snaking out across his lips. And then he pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. “Are you okay with this?” he breathed, his hand cupping Otabek’s length through the fabric of his pants.

“Fuck,” Otabek replied.

“Not yet,” Yuri laughed. But Otabek was already lifting his hips, his hands scrambling to pull down his pants before Yuri could protest. And it wasn’t that Yuri didn’t want to, oh he so did. But he wanted to take his time, he wanted to pick Otabek apart and put him back together. And really, they had all the time in the world.

He shifted his hips back slightly, looking down between them, where Otabek stood at attention. Yuri had seen his fair share of dicks, but this one was perfection. Thick and cut, dark like his tanned skin and already weeping at the tip. Otabek took Yuri’s staring as hesitation, already ready to put a halt to this and--

Yuri wrapped his hand around him tightly, using his thumb to spread the slickness that had already gathered there. Otabek threw his head back so fast that he cracked it against the headboard. Yuri paused to look at him, but the other man didn’t seem to even care, his gaze trained on his hand and what it was doing.

Yuri let go for a moment, licking at his hand, before gripping him again. This time the slide of his hand was slicker, easier, and he twisted his palm over the head of Otabek’s cock lightly. The legs under him tensed slightly, and he could hear Otabek’s ragged breathing. Like he was barely holding on.

“Yura, that isn’t-- I’m-- It’s not fair,” he whined, and Yuri smirked.

“It’s not a contest,” he cooed, “There’s no prize for lasting long.” His hand tugged once, twice more, and then the other went to cup his balls. Otabek bucked his hips into his hand, and with one more twist of Yuri’s hand, he jerked slightly, coming all over his fingers.

Yuri couldn’t help but feel smug about that, he supposed, because the entire thing had lasted maybe two minutes. And it didn’t matter, because it was good, it had been so good.

Otabek shifted, pulling Yuri towards him for another kiss, this one sweet and quick. Yuri grabbed at his shirt, wiping at Otabek-- much to his protest-- before settling into his side. Resting his head against his chest, not caring that the both of them sweaty and tired and in need of a shower.

Otabek’s hand found his scalp, pressing against it gently. Yuri hummed lightly, sinking into the feeling of his fingers carding through the silky strands of his hair. This wasn’t new, they’d done this in years past-- but Yuri had never realized just how much he had missed it. Missed this closeness. Craved it.

“I wonder what Grandpa will say,” Yuri muttered, a silly thought.

“Yura, can we not talk about him right now?” Otabek’s chest rumbled with his words, underneath Yuri’s cheek.

“He’d be relieved,” Yuri continued, not caring for the other man’s request. “He always thought you were a good one.” When Otabek didn’t respond, Yuri pulled away slightly, glancing up at him. “It was hard for you, huh? With your parents and everything.”

Otabek’s hand paused in his hair. “You have no idea,” he said quietly. “I was so determined to make them happy.”

“I know they’re devout and all--”

“Yura--”

“But, if God was so against something like this, then why do we exist?” The question tumbled out of his mouth with hushed urgency. “Isn’t he the one who made us for each other?” Yuri wasn’t religious, and Otabek barely was, but tradition was as thick as blood was, where he came from. “I mean, you aren’t planning on just leaving--”

“I already promised you, I’m not going anywhere,” Otabek said, hushing him.

“But you’ll have to go home,” Yuri said, as it suddenly sunk in. Otabek might have shown up on his doorstep, but he wasn’t from there.

“I would think it’s obvious,” Otabek huffed. “My home is wherever you are, Yura.”

It was such a cheesy line, that Yuri couldn’t help but chuckle. “What a fucking sap.”

“Yes, but I’m your sap.” The words mirrored his from earlier, where he proclaimed that he was Yuri’s moron. Which led to the memory of Otabek before him, proclaiming that he’d be the only one he’d ever get on his knees for. Yuri’s legs were still jelly at that particular display.

“You sure know how to make someone happy,” Yuri sighed, content.

“And are you?”

“Obviously.” Otabek let out a breath of relief as Yuri pulled away from him, making an excuse about setting his phone alarm for the morning.

Yuri [2:13AM]: Your advice was fucking prophetic, Katsudon.

Yuri [2:13AM]: Otabek showed up on my doorstep tonight.

Katsudon [2:14AM]: Otabek?

Katsudon [2:14AM]: Wait, why would Otabek…? Katsudon [2:15AM]: WAIT.

Yuri smiled, imagining Yuuri’s face, as he realized exactly what he meant.

Katsudon [2:16AM]: Is this… are you good?

Yuri had been typing a reply, when Otabek muttered something tiredly. “I know it’s about four years to late, but I love you, Yura.”

Yuri’s toes curled at the words.

Yuri [2:18AM]: Yeah, everything is fucking perfect.