#this is nearly 6000 words what have i been doing with myself

[likeumeanit9497]

yale pt. 2 | c.s |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

read part one here!

summary: to commit or not to commit; what will chris and y/n decide? and how will they prove to one another that their mutual decision was the right one?

warnings: smut, oral (m/f receiving), hand stuff (m/f), p in v, unprotected sex (BAD), more fluff than i usually write, 18+

notes: again i'm sorry ab the wait but part two is finally finished! it's a bit longer than my past one shots (almost 6000 words eek) because there's a lottttt of fluff before the smut. i hope ya'll enjoy!!!

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Two out of my three final exams were finished, and I was about ready to throw in the towel on my last one of the week. It was Thursday, and tomorrow was my Biology II final, which had been the one that had been stressing me out the most. As soon as I had got back to my small one-bedroom apartment that day, I had buried my nose in my textbooks in an attempt at cramming some last-minute miracle study session into my day.

That was around 3:00, and as I walked into my kitchen to make myself my fourth cup of coffee for the day, the clock on my stove read 9:26. I wanted to cry from exhaustion. Yale finals were no joke, and I had to do well on all of my exams in order to keep my scholarship for next year. On top of the stress caused by all of that, I was having an even more difficult time because my brain had been consumed by something else. Every moment of every day — whether I was trying to get some rest at night or trying to focus on answering the questions correctly on an exam — I was thinking about the last time I had seen Chris.

It had been less than a week, but my mind had replayed every moment of our time together so many times that it had begun feeling like a dream. That, in addition to the lack of proper rest I had been getting, had made me genuinely begin to question whether or not I had imagined everything that he had said before I ran out on him.

I hadn’t heard anything from Chris since then, which really wasn’t that uncommon. We typically only texted when I was back in Boston and we could meet up, and he knew that I would be busy with my finals this week and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. But regardless of how usual the lack of communication was, I couldn’t help but feel like there was a mutual tension between us even from miles away; and the shortage of interactions between us just felt like confirmation of that.

Since the last time we spoke, I had felt nearly every emotion possible regarding the situation. Guilty, happy, sad, angry, hurt, disappointed, excited, and confused. Very, very confused. There had been so many times where, as I was studying, or showering, or walking to class, I became completely consumed by the urge to text him; sometimes with the intention of telling him that I feel the same way about him as he does about me, other times my intentions were to cuss him out for making the one thing that was easy in my life so complicated. But every time I opened my phone and began typing out a message to him, I got ahold of myself and would hurriedly delete the paragraph.

Frustrated and lost in my own mind once again, I leaned onto the kitchen counter and rested my forehead against my crossed arms. The last thing that I wanted to do was go back to my desk and continue studying, but I knew that I needed to spend at least a few more hours on it if I wanted to secure at least a 90%. But my eyes were beginning to grow heavy, and the cool sensation that came from leaning on my counter was helping me calm down. Maybe I could stay here and collect my thoughts for just a few more minutes…

Four loud knocks at my front door caused my eyes to shoot open. I felt disoriented as I took a moment to take in my surroundings, glancing quickly at the clock I realized that I must have somehow dozed off in my position at the counter. Three more knocks rumbled through my small apartment, these ones more urgent than the last. As my brain finally woke up completely, I was hit with a mini wave of rage. Brad was in the same Biology II class as I was. He must be trying to study for the exam super last minute, and when he realized that he hadn’t even started taking study notes, he decided to show up unannounced at my place to get his hands on mine. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.

I stormed toward my front door, beside myself in fury and stress. As I unlocked the door and began turning the handle, I opened my mouth to begin my crazed rant.

“Brad I swear to God I’m not-” My mouth clamped shut and I froze once the door was completely open and the identity of the person on the other side was shown.

“Hi.” Was all he said, his voice tentative and wavering slightly. His bright blue eyes were filled with uncertainty, his slouched shoulders were covered in a light dusting of snow, and held by his hands in the space between us was a bouquet of sunflowers.

“Chris.” His name fell breathlessly from my lips, and I immediately walked toward him and embraced him in a relieving hug. I felt both of our bodies relax as soon as they connected, and we stood in my doorway for what could have been hours; both of us taking a moment to relish in the comfort that came from us finally seeing one another. “What are you doing here?” I finally asked, pulling back from him and taking a good look at his beautiful face. He shifted on his feet before responding, “I just needed to see you.”

His body language showed that he was feeling incredibly vulnerable. I wanted to do everything I could to reassure him, but not yet; it was too soon. So instead, I guided him into my apartment and closed the door behind us.

“So,” I began as he stood awkwardly in my kitchen, “Have you just decided to start carrying those around as some sort of fashion statement or what?” I gestured towards the flowers still gripped firmly in his hand. He blinked quickly before looking down at them as if he had forgotten they were there, and nervously giggled. “No. Uh, I brought these for you?” His voice rose at the end of his sentence, making it sound like a question and I let out a small laugh before gently removing them from his grasp. “I was joking, thank you for these. Sunflowers are my favourite.” I replied before turning my back to him to search through my kitchen cabinets for a vase. “I know they are.” He said in a quiet voice, and I turned back to look at him quickly.

“How’d you know that?” I kept my tone light, partially because I felt like it might make him more comfortable and partially to keep my nerves at bay. “Your lock screen on your phone. It’s of you and your friends in a sunflower field. I asked you about the picture that first time we met when you went to put my number in your phone and you told me that they were your all-time favourite flower, even though you thought they were a bit cliche.” He explained all of this to me while looking down at his feet, and I felt a ripple of shock travel down my spine. How did he remember that seemingly mundane part of our very first interaction, eight months ago?

I cleared my throat as I felt my emotions begin to get the best of me, and finally found a vase hidden deep in one of my cabinets. “Well I do love them,” I finally responded once I regained control over myself, “And look at how beautiful they are! The brighten up my entire kitchen.” I showed him the bouquet, now tucked into their vase, and felt my heart flutter at their vibrancy. “Thank you so much, Chris. I mean it.” I walked over to where he was standing beside my kitchen island, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I playfully brushed my nose against his a few times, before planting a light kiss on his lips. “You have a very good memory.” I added, before moving my lips to his jaw, down to his neck; leaving wet thank-you kisses along the way. His breath hitched once I reached his collarbone, where I spent extra time suckling his delicate skin.

I brought a hand down to his jeans, where I palmed at his semi-hard member. His hands stayed still at his sides, but I could feel his increasing pulse against my lips as I moved them painfully slow back up to his. When my lips made it back to his, I pressed my body against him in an attempt at deepening our movements. His hands finally moved to grab onto my waist, giving me a moment of satisfaction, before he used his new grip to pull me away slightly. “Y/n, wait,” He started, his gaze fixed on me, “I’ve really been needing to talk about last weekend.” My stomach sunk as I began to feel the too-familiar pit of anxiety that had been haunting me for days grow once more. Not wanting him to pick up on how terrified I was to have this conversation, I planted a faux smile on my face and gave him a quick nod. “Me too. Let’s sit.” I replied before walking over to my couch.

“So…” I began once we were both seated on the couch facing each other. Even though I had spent days mulling over every detail of what I might possibly say to Chris once this inevitable conversation happened, I really had no idea how to go about this. And by the unusual silence and bouncing leg coming from Chris’s side of the couch, it was pretty evident that he didn’t know how to either.

“I thought we had agreed that this conversation wouldn’t happen until after I had written all of my finals.” I finally got the courage to speak first, before immediately noticing that my tone came across pretty passive aggressive. “I just mean — sorry, Chris. I’ve just been really stressed out.” I attempted to correct my first sentence once I noticed that his face was riddled with anxiety. Placing a soft hand on his forearm, I continued, “I just mean I’ve been really needing to talk to you, too.” A nervous smile flashed across his face at my words, and I watched as he took a deep breath. “You have?” His tone sounded unsure, and I nodded firmly. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else.” I added, slightly embarrassed by my own admission. “Neither have I.” He added, turning his body slightly so he can face me better.

“I know I told you that I would wait until after you were finished your exams, and I really tried. But I’ve been going crazy these past few days and I really couldn’t wait anymore. I’m sorry.” He confessed, and I scooted closer to his place on the couch. “Don’t be. Trust me, I’ve felt so crazy these past few days too. I’ve gone through every possible emotion whenever I thought about the whole situation, it’s like I can’t get control over my mind. It’s been hell.” I reassured him with the truth.

“Well, how are you feeling about the whole thing?” He asked tentatively, as if he was afraid of my answer. I allowed myself to contemplate for a few moments before answering, so that I could say the right thing. “Well, at first I was scared. It was just so out of the blue Chris, and my brain couldn’t process it all.” I watched him watch me as I spoke, “Then, I felt really angry. I was so mad that after all of this time you decided to drop that bomb of a confession right before I had to start my most stressful week of the year. That, along with the simple fact that I am in a relationship, no matter how toxic, and you went and made things even more complicated.” His gaze dropped to the dead space between us, clearly having a difficult time hearing how upset I had been.

“But,” His eyes met mine again as I continued, “I almost felt relieved? Like, it kind of felt like this was how it was always supposed to end up, if that makes sense. It was like some part of me knew that the universe was planning something like this to happen in a way, and that all of our sneaking around was just the build up.” I felt my heart in my throat as I spoke of feelings that I hadn’t even known I was feeling before; shocked by my own confession. By the expression on his face, I could tell that he was just as confused.

“Wait, what?” Said Chris, his eyes widening slightly. I stared back at him in silence, terrified that I might have said too much and gotten this whole thing wrong. Oh God, what if he came here to back out of what he had said last week? What if his jealousy had just overpowered him in the moment, and he was here to backtrack. Even more, what if he was here to end things between us completely? I began to feel myself panic at all of the thoughts flying through my head at rapid speed, before he finally spoke.

“Are you — are you saying that you might want this too?” Chris asked, his voice one of hesitant optimism. Immediately, I felt my initial wave of dread vanish and a new, almost excited anxiety take its place. I bent forward, resting my arms on my knees, and groaned into my hands at the feeling. “I…do.” I finally said, my voice muffled by the concealment of my face behind my fingers.

The room stayed silent for what felt like forever, my last words sat heavy in the air between us. I was so anxious I couldn’t bear to look anywhere, so I scrunched my eyes tightly shut and made every attempt at calming my nerves.

“Come here.”

Chris’s voice was so soft and calm — a refreshing contrast to the racing thoughts in my own mind — that it caused my eyes to snap open and fall on him. He still looked a bit nervous, but the genuine smile that shone across his face allowed me to release the deep breath that I wasn’t even aware I was holding. I scooted even closer to him, and he immediately wrapped his arms around me. With my head tucked into his neck, I breathed him in; allowing my nervous system a moment to relax.

“We’re really doing this then?” I finally asked as he rubbed gentle circles on my back. He let out a soft chuckle. “Looks like it.” I pulled away from his embrace and brushed his hair out of his beautiful face. “I’m gonna have to end things with Brad tomorrow after our Biology final.” I sighed, dreading the inevitable conversation that was I was sure would be made more difficult by Brad and his disrespect. However, Chris’s pleased expression brought me some joy, because at the end of the day he was who I really wanted.

Feeling like I was on cloud nine, I wrapped my arms around Chris’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Right as my lips barely grazed his, however, he mumbled something and pulled back. “No,” he began, shaking his head firmly. “We gotta do this right. Things are different now and we’re not just sneaking around, so it feels wrong to just kiss you behind everyone’s back like we had to before. Take your exam, have a conversation with Brad, and then we can start from the beginning.”

My jaw physically dropped, shocked at the maturity of Chris’s words. I wish he wasn’t but I knew that he was right. Now that we were headed in the direction of something more serious, it would be so much more meaningful to wait until all of the wrinkles of our situation had been ironed out. I gave him a smile and nodded softly, letting him know that he was right.

“So, how did you get here?” I asked, stretching my arms behind my head to work the kinks out of my sore back. “Matt dropped me off. I had to offer to do the laundry for a full month for it though.” I laughed at his response, but was also touched by the idea as I knew that Chris despised laundry more than anything. “Jesus, no kidding, that’s a long drive just to turn right back around and go back to Boston.”

“Well, no. He should still be downstairs. I told him to wait outside for a while just in case things didn’t go so well up here.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly at this fact, but I understood what he meant. “Well, if you want you can tell him to head back and you can spend the night here. I was already planning on heading back home tomorrow night so I can just take you with me.” I offered, glancing quickly at him through my eyelashes as I did to gauge his reaction. Immediately, a smile flashed across his face and he shot up from the couch as if he had been hoping I would say that. “I’m down. Let me just run to his car and grab by duffel bag.” I laughed at his reaction, and the fact that he had clearly intended on staying the night if he played his cards right.

Before walking to the door, he leaned over my figure and planted a quick kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll be right back. Maybe once I grab my stuff I can quiz you for your exam or some shit. Don’t want you to not be prepared tomorrow just because I’m here.” My heard fluttered from the sensation of his lips on my skin in combination with his thoughtful words, and I had to fight the urge to pull his face to mine. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

Once I finally made it back to my apartment, I slammed the front door shut and slid against it down to the floor. I ran my hands through my snow-covered hair as I tried to catch my breath and wrap my head around what I had just done.

I finally broke up with Brad.

As suspected, he didn’t take it well. To be honest, it had been a bad choice of mine to do it as we were walking towards the exit of the exam building, but I hadn’t expected him to break down into tears and get down on his knees in front of countless other students and professors, begging me to reconsider. I could still hear the echos of his wails as I literally ran away through the double exit doors of the building, and I continued to run as fast as I could until I reached the lobby of my apartment complex.

And now here I was, feeling everything all at once and trying to make sense of all that has happened over the past twenty four hours. As I mulled through everything, the sound of my shower turning on caught my attention. In all of my stress from writing my exam to breaking up with Brad, I had nearly forgotten what all of it was for.

Chris.

I stood up and slowly walked towards the bathroom. Putting my ear against the door, I smiled as I listened to him quietly sing along to a Ken Carson song playing from his phone as he showered. Checking the door knob, I realized that he had left it unlocked and I decided to enter the humid washroom. The room had already begun to fill up with steam, but I could still see Chris’s back through the glass shower door. He was facing away from me, and the music was loud so he clearly had no clue that I was there.

Quickly and quietly, I began to take off my clothes from the day; keeping my eyes on him the entire time to make sure he still hadn’t noticed my presence. Once fully unclothed, I took my hair out of my messy bun and began walking towards the shower. Standing at the glass now, I brought my knuckles against the cool surface and gently knocked.

At my knocking, Chris’s body jolted and he quickly turned his body to face me. When he saw that it was just me standing there, his body visibly relaxed and a smile crossed his lips. “Hey.” He said as his eyes travelled across my naked body. “Hey.” I returned as I opened the shower door and began climbing in. I stood in front of his naked figure, the stream of water from the shower head beginning to mist my hair.

“Did you talk to him?” Asked Chris, his eyes searching my face; clearly trying to gauge my expression. I tilted my head to the side and smirked slightly. “I did.” He continued to just stare, his bare chest rising and falling rapidly. “I ended it.” I added, causing a smile to immediately cross his face. “So we’re really doing this, huh?” Chris asked as he brought his hands to my hips, pulling my body towards him directly under the shower head. Now getting completely rained on, I squeezed my eyes shut and chuckled. “What, you getting cold feet already kid?” I asked jokingly, opening my eyes to look at him and standing on my tip toes so that I could bring my face closer to his.

“No, obviously not, it’s just,” He paused when I brushed my wet lips against his softly, before whispering, “It’s just a bit scary.” I brought my hands to the back of his head, where I mindlessly twirled my fingers through his curls. “What’s scary?” My hushed tone now matched his as I spoke. “I’ve just never been in a relationship before, and I don’t want to screw anything up. I’m really really out of my realm here Y/n.” He confessed, his tone somber and his eyes fearful.

I grabbed my bottom lip with my teeth, completely understanding what he was saying but not wanting to unintentionally confirm his fears by agreeing. So instead, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him against me. After a moment of relishing in the feeling of his skin pressed firmly against mine, feeling our hearts beat as one, I spoke.

“Let me show you that you don’t need to be scared of anything.” I gazed up at him as he looked down at me, and after a short while he nodded his head. Rubbing his back delicately, I spoke. “Things aren’t going to be much different, you know,” I began placing soft kisses along his collarbone, “Sure we won’t be sneaking around,” More kisses along his shoulder, “And there will be a certain level of accountability and loyalty that wasn’t there before,” My mouth moved to his jaw, “But those are all good things because,” Finally, my lips were hovering in front of his, so close to touching that I could feel his anxious breath against them.

“They mean that I’m all yours.”

At that, Chris crashed his lips against mine. Our mouths moved in sync as his tongue swirled against mine. I gasped as Chris suddenly pressed my back against the cool tiled wall where he continued to dominate my mouth. I felt his quickly growing member press against my hip, and reached forward to begin stroking it slowly. A soft moan fell from his mouth, and I began to move my hand up and down quicker along his hard shaft. He bucked his hips slightly at the sensation, and moved his lips to leave deep kisses along my neck, down to my nipples. He gave my left nipple one long drag with his tongue before engulfing the entire thing in his mouth. He sucked hard and bit tenderly on the tip of my nipple the way he knew I liked, and I couldn’t help but release a small whine at the building need in between my legs.

“Let me make you feel good.” Chris mumbled against my tit, grabbing my ass firmly with both hands. “Me first.” I replied, a smirk on my face with his cock still tight in my grasp. Slowly, I dropped to my knees on the shower floor and was face to face with his swollen cock. Gazing at me as water dripped down his entire body, Chris watched as I placed my lips around his red tip; swirling my tongue to lap up the salty pre cum that had begun to drip from his slit. I watched his erotic expressions as his body shuddered from the sensation, and slowly began bobbing my head up and down the length of his cock. I began pumping my hand along his last few inches that I couldn’t fit in my mouth, and had to stifle my own anticipatory moan from how turned on I had made myself just by knowing that it was my mouth that was allowing him to feel this pleasure.

Not being able to take the painfully aroused state I was in, I brought my free hand between my own legs; gently massaging my own clit to relieve just a bit of the tension. The immediate satisfaction caused me to moan on Chris’s cock, which in turn caused him to press his hand against the shower wall to support his weakened frame. As he watched me pleasure both of us, his jaw slacked and his eyes glazed over with pure lust. I continued to vigorously bob my head, though I was beginning to get distracted by my own heightened arousal as my fingers maintained their pressure on my swollen clit. As tears welled in my eyes I swallowed the entire length of his shaft and began deep throating him, watching his face as his eyes squeezed shut and his free hand moved to grab my hair.

“Fuck baby, I might cum.” His words came out gravelly through his bright pink lips, and I hummed in response as I continued to swirl my tongue around the base of his dick. Suddenly, Chris released a throaty moan before pulling his hips back and detaching my lips from his member with a pop. Instinctually, I tilted my head up and opened my mouth; sticking my tongue out with a slight smirk. I watched as Chris pumped his cock with his own hand a few times before his warm fluid coated my expectant face. I quickly swallowed the few drops that had landed in my mouth, and smiled softly up at Chris as he watched. He brought his thumb to my lower lip and swiped delicately; collecting a drop of his cum that had landed there before placing it on my tongue. Tauntingly, I closed my lips around his thumb and sucked it gently as his breath hitched.

He took his thumb out of my mouth and helped me to my feet. Wrapping an arm around the small of my back, he guided me directly under the stream of water before tilting my head back so that his seed could wash off of my face. After a moment, he pulled me back out of the water and pressed me into his chest. His hands travelled across my back and down to my ass, where he began massaging softly. As he massaged, the tips of his fingers grazed my slit from the back and I began to feel the urgent need to be touched. I nibbled at his skin and subconsciously arched my back in an attempt to give his hands better access to where I needed them most.

He ran a finger through my slick folds and my heart rate quickened against his chest. “You think you can manage to go again?” I breathed as he continued to tease me. I felt his body shift slightly as he chuckled. “Yup. Just give me a minute.” The words barely left his mouth before he dropped to his knees and backed my body up against the wall in one swift motion. Before I had a moment to process anything, his mouth connected to my bundle of nerves. To grant himself easier access, he grabbed my right leg and put it over his shoulder as I moaned out at the sensation that the new angle provided. His mouth moved rhythmically as his tongue swirled around my clit in the way that he knows drives me crazy, and I already began to feel the early whispers of an orgasm in my lower stomach.

After a few moments of bliss, my body was suddenly jolted into reality when he removed his lips from me and stood up. Keeping me pinned to the wall, he attacked my mouth with his own. Deep and carelessly, our lips moved in sync with one another as Chris simultaneously hooked my leg around his hip to press his body even closer to mine. Suddenly, our kiss was cut off by my open-mouthed gasp as Chris slammed his cock deep into my core. Without giving me a moment to adjust to his size, he began driving into me with quick strokes. I struggled to continue to stand — both because of the slippery shower and the velocity of his movements — so I dug my nails into his back for grip; sure to leave deep scratches by the time we were finished.

“Fuck Chris, you’re so big.” I moaned out, feeling my core stretch out with each of his thrusts. “Oh come on baby, you can take it.” His tone was mocking, but it came out breathless as he relentlessly pummelled into me.

His face was pressed against mine, and my view of his feverish gaze and tightened jaw was interrupted periodically only by his sloppy kisses along my jaw. As his pace began to grow more careless, my vision began to grow blurry from my approaching orgasm. “Chris, please keep going I’m so close.” I begged, fearful that his second orgasm would come quicker than my first.

He brought his hand to my throat and squeezed it delicately, his eyes on mine. “I’ll wait for you, princess. Want to cum with you.” His hand moved from my throat down to my clit, where he began rubbing it fiercely. The additional contact from him instantly sent a jolt of electricity down my spine, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before I was going to reach my climax. “C-chris, I’m — oh God I’m cumming.” I practically screamed as the wave of overwhelming pleasure hit me. As my walls pulsed erratically around his cock, Chris released a raspy moan — a clear indicator that he had also reached his own orgasm. His movements slowed tremendously as we both rode out our highs; both of our fluids and slurred profanities in harmony with one another.

Chris’s hips stopped moving completely as we both leaned our heads against the shower wall, catching our breath. His hand that had previously been on my clit was now resting on my inner thigh where it was thoughtlessly rubbing up and down my soft skin. The thick steam in the shower was making it even harder for me to catch my breath, so I turned the temperature down before stepping under the stream of water to begin cooling myself down. Chris followed suit, and squeezed some shampoo into his hand before lathering my hair with it. Humming at the relaxing feeling of his hands massaging my scalp, I leaned back against his firm chest.

“See, at least you know that part of our relationship didn’t change.” I said jokingly as I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. “No, it definitely did.” He responded, and I froze. Once again I was worried that he had changed his mind; that maybe he thought the sex might start to be boring, or that sex with emotion was too sappy. Just as those insecurities began to rear their head, Chris’s eyes softened with a big smile as he pulled me towards him. “It got even better.” I felt my body relax in his arms at those words, and I beamed up at him. “I agree.” I pressed a soft kiss to his collar bone.

“Now let’s hurry up, I want to get back to Boston before it gets dark out.” I said as I hurriedly lathered by body with shower gel. Chris moved from his place under the shower head to give me space to wash off before exiting the shower. “Stay at mine tonight? We can watch Christmas movies!” He exclaimed as he grabbed a towel to dry off. I rolled my eyes with a smile. “You’re such a cornball. But unfortunately I think I might be too because that sounds great.” He giggled at this before poking his head back into the shower to plant a kiss on my nose. “I’m really happy we’re doing this.”

“Doing what? Getting excited over watching Christmas movies?” I asked with a chuckle. “No — well, yes. But no. I meant I’m — I’m really happy you’re all mine now.” His words made me melt a little inside, and I brought an affectionate hand to his jaw and brushed my thumb against it. I took a moment to really admire his perfect features — in awe of my current reality where a man as beautiful as him could feel the way he does about me— before responding, “Me too, Chris. I’m happy I’m all yours too.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

taglist:

@chrattstromboli @sncstur

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You're Drunk

Alrighty this chapter of Dating App pretty much wrote itself! I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you all enjoy reading it. There is a several week timeskip and this is also where the timeline fuckery happens. Pease ignore everything about why Carisi is around so early cause I kinda of forgot that I wanted to rewrite some scenes from the earlier seasons before Carisi is in it, but like...I love Carisi and I have other plans so.....Timey Whimey wibbley wobbley stuff begins.

Also pretty sure this is my longest chapter think it is like 6000 words.

Let me know if there is anything in particular you would like to see in this series. Like an episode of the show with her put in it or just something random. Also let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this.

Warnings: Drinking, talk of sex, sexual implications, teasing, drunk conversations. I think that is it, if I missed something let me know.

Master List

Prompt List

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10

Tag list: @pear-1206

“That is the fourth time you have checked your phone in the past two hours,” Lily pouted as she placed drinks on the table, Shannon and Courtney trailing behind her each carrying a cocktail and a shot. The four of you had made plans to go out for drinks the next time your schedules all aligned. Shannon and Courtney desperately wanted all the details on you and Rafael. The last time you able to catch up it hadn’t been the time to discuss such details. You friends were gossips but they thankfully understood that there was a time and place for such conversations, like drinking at a bar.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket. “Rafael had a tough day in court, Liv said the team was taking him out for drinks since we already had these plans.”

“Aw, and you’re worried about him,” Shannon cooed, she was a little further gone than the rest of the group, she was smaller and had a lower tolerance. “When do we get to meet him?”  

“Soon, I promise,” you smiled. “I just-”

“Wanna keep all that deliciousness for yourself?” Courtney asked wiggling her eyebrows.

“Did she tell you two about how he got on his knees to take off her shoes?” Lily grinned. The other two both gasped, nearly shouting no as they turned to you expectantly.

“Lily!” you groaned, giggling a little. You were going to tell them. Just after a few more drinks.

“Take your shot and tell us!” Shannon bounced. “Come on.” You all picked up the mystery shot Lily had brought over, you thought it would be best to never know what was in the things she brought. A little like the cocktails Lily made when you all last got drunk together and you ended up downloading the dating app. You shook your head and knocked back the shot coughing a little when the strong burst of alcohol hit your throat.

“Alright, geeze,” you nodded, sipping your cocktail. The other three leaned in close, even Lily who you had told before, there were benefits to working with your best friend. You kept the details limited, not telling them everything but you painted the scene perfectly. You all finished your drinks and ordered another during the time it took for you to fill in your friends on not only your first time but near about everything that happened since.

“Damn girl!” Shannon sighed, pushing her long red hair over a shoulder. “You lucked out with this man. I don’t think my first time ended in spectacular orgasms.”

“I mean, mine did but that was just because I was with a woman for my first time,” Courtney grinned. “And when I finally slept with a man, I was assertive in what pleased me but still wasn’t great.”

“Yeah, it took maybe my third boyfriend before I started being able to orgasm with a man,” Lily agreed.

“Oh,” you tilted your head biting your lip. “I’m never letting him go then. I mean orgasms are great by myself but with Rafi, they’re something else.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shannon playfully shoved you. “Keep bragging.”

“As if you three can talk,” you wagged your finger at them. “I had to hear all about your sexual exploits. I’m totally bragging about how he made me orgasms several times before he fucked me.”

The four of you burst into a fit of giggles before you all cheered and took another round of shots and moved onto other topics of conversation throughout the night. It had been a few hours since the night started, more rounds of shots had happened and bowls of fries, pizzas and other table snacks had been consumed to at least attempt to soak up some of the drinks. Your phone buzzed against the table, the screen lighting up with a picture of Rafael that you had taken when he wasn’t looking. His contact’s name visible for the world to see ‘Sexy Lawyer’, you hadn’t changed it since he put his number in it.

“Ooh, it’s mister magical fingers!” Courtney oohed as you picked it up.

“Hush,” you waved for your friends to be silent. “Hey babe.”

“…Chica,” Rafael sounded a little confused before he chuckled a little. “Are you still with your friends?”

“Ask him if he has any single friends that are as good in bed as he is,” Shannon tugged on your arm.

“Shh!” Lily whispered. “You’ll make her turn on her librarian voice. It’s scary.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rafael’s amused voice called your attention again.

“Yep, are you? Ooh!” your attention taken again. “Is Liv there? And Amanda? Do they wanna come and join us girls?”

“No invite for me? I see how it is,” Rafael feigned offense.

“We’re having girl talk and a girl’s night,” you waved your hand around. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh Chica,” Rafael’s soothing voice cooed through the phone at you. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Duh, we’ve been drinking for…a few hours by now,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wait, the whole team can come!” Lily interrupted. “That way you can meet the rest of his friends, we can meet him and his friends. Win-win.”

“Ooh yes!” Shannon agreed, with Courtney nodding beside her. You could hear Rafael chuckling in the background, it was slightly muffled and you could hear other voices, one that sounded a little like Liv.

“Rafi,” you whined, pouting a little when he didn’t respond straight away. “Rafi…are you coming?” You forgot you hadn’t actually asked if he and the team wanted to join you and your friends but after Lily’s suggestion it sounded perfect and all you wanted was to cuddle with Rafael. Your friends sniggered, taking your words in a much different context to what you had meant them to be.  

“Now I’m invited, am I?” Rafael’s voice finally answered you. “I don’t know, you didn’t seem keen at first.”

“Rafi, don’t tease,” you continued to pout. “Will you please come and join us? Liv and the team as well?”

“Ask nicely, Chica,” Rafael was enjoying this far too much. He didn’t realise that when you were drunk you had very little filter.

“Oh please, please, Rafi,” you lowered your voice only slightly, your tone slipping into the tone you used when begging Rafael to let you cum. “Please come and join me. I miss you. I need you. To be here. With me, with your arms wrapped around me.”

Your three friends stared at you, mouths open and eyes wide in shock. They had never heard you speak with such a tone before or say such things before, especially in public.

“Baby,” Rafael groaned. “You can not speak to me like that when I am near my friends.”

“But you said to ask nicely,” you pointed out. “I’ll keep doing it unless you say you’re all coming.” There was some commotion on his side of the phone before you could hear him speaking in Spanish.

“Hey, it’s Liv,” Liv’s voice replaced the Spanish, her tone definitely amused.

“Liv!” you cheered perking right up at the sound of her voice. In the several weeks since you had meet her, the two of you had met up for coffee and Liv had been over for dinner a few more times when schedules aligned. During this time the two of you had bonded quickly, and you really enjoyed being around the older woman.

“We’re all heading your way, you’re still at the same bar?” Liv assured you. “And thank you for giving me so much more material for teasing Rafa with.”

“Yep, we haven’t moved except to get more drinks,” you assured her. “And you are most welcome.”

You both ended the call, well, you’re pretty sure Rafael wanted to speak to you more but Liv hung up the phone before he could get it back. You grinned at your friends.

“They’re on their way,” you nodded to the cheers of your friends.

--

“Oh my, he is even better in person,” Lily murmured causing everyone to turn towards the entrance of the bar just in time to see Rafael and five other people walk in. You perked up, almost bouncing in your seat as you waved your hand to get their attention.

“Rafi, Liv!” you called drawing their attention to your table ignoring the other patrons giving you looks. All that mattered was that Rafael made eye contact with you and sent you that impossibly soft smile of his, as his entire face softened and his whole body seemed to relax. Liv was right beside him and was able to see the complete change in him as he saw you and she laughed lightly at how excited you were to see him as well. Nearly bouncing in your seat as you grinned at him.

“She is adorable,” Amanda whispered.

“Just wait until you see them together,” Liv whispered back. “Cutest bloody couple ever.”

“Does this mean we will get to try her food now?” Finn asked.

“Of course that’s your concern,” Nick rolled his eyes.

“Man, I got my priorities right,” Finn shrugged. “The food Liv and Rafael bring into the office smells divine.”

Rafael moved right to your side, sliding his arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, almost falling but Rafael kept you on the seat by pressing himself as close to you as possible. Since you and your friends were sitting on stools you were roughly the same height as Rafael which made it easier to snuggle into him and press kisses along his neck before pulling away to make grabby hands at Liv.

“Liv, hi!” you smiled as she came around to your other side to hug you.

“Hey, there, you all been drinking water tonight yeah?” she asked looking over you and your friends.

“Of course,” Courtney was making near heart eyes at Liv and you couldn’t blame her, that woman was gorgeous.

“Guys this is Rafael, and this is Olivia,” you introduced the only two people you could. “Everyone, this is Lily, Courtney and Shannon.” You then turned pointedly to Rafael, who just narrowed his eyes at you in slight confusion. “Rafi, introductions.” You pouted lightly removing your arms from around Liv to wrap them around your man again, trying your best to look up at him from under your lashes.

“Alright, alright Chica,” he chuckled gently stroking your cheek. “This is Nick, Amanda, Carisi and Finn. This is Lily, and her friends.”

You smiled at him pressing a kiss to his cheek before turned to look at the other members of his friend group who were all sitting around the table, Liv next to you closest to Shannon, Nick and Amanda sitting in the two free seats next to Lily, Finn sitting at the other end of the table and Carisi sitting on the free seat next to Courtney. And Rafael was happy standing next to you with his arm wrapped around your waist.

“We need drinks,” Lily said. “Finn, help a girl out.” Finn just shrugged and followed the woman to the bar. You couldn’t help but smile at your bossy friend as she led Finn to the bar smiling up at him.

“Be careful with what Lily brings back,” Courtney warned. “She always buys potent cocktails.”

“But yummy!” Shannon assured.

“I’ll get us some water,” Liv laughed. “I daresay we’re all gonna need them. And maybe some more food.”

“Ooh, yes more food!” you nodded. “I’m definitely hungry again.”

“We’ve had like two pizzas and two bowls of fries and a bowl of wings,” Courtney quickly listed off on her hands. “How are you still hungry?”

“Don’t know but I am,” you pouted. “So…more food?”

“Noted, when you get drunk you get hungry,” Rafael smiled. “I’ll come with you, to help carry the glasses. I’ll be back, love.”

You narrowed your eyes briefly but at the promise of them ordering more food you released your hold on him.

“Come back quickly, please,” you begged. Rafael just chuckled kissing your cheek, checking the table number before following after Liv who immediately started talking about how adorable you were when drunk. You looked back to the table. “It’s so nice to finally meet all of you. Including Finn.”

“Same here,” Carisis smiled.

“Hmm, we had been all curious about the woman who was able to get Barba to smile,” Amanda added. “He only tends to smile when he is about to demolish the defence and that is a completely different smile.”

“Ah, yes I know which smile you are talking about,” you giggled. “I rather like it.” Though the reason for that smile was probably a little different when you saw it, the others were a little confused by the sudden red that coated your cheeks and went down to your throat.

Amanda, Nick and Carisi all shared a look at that information, filing it away like good detectives to tease the Counsellor with later. Although in the first five seconds of seeing you and Rafael interact, they had a large number of things they could tease him about. Including what seemed to be an uncontrollable desire to always be in contact with you, and the never-before-seen softness to his features.  

“So, any of you single?” Shannon asked giggly.

“Shannon,” you groaned. “Do try to be a little subtle sweetie.”

“What like you were?” she challenged raising an eyebrow. “Begging Rafael to “come”.”

“Oh, shush, that’s completely different,”

“It’s really not,”

“Is so,”

“Girls,” Lily interrupted returning with Finn who was looking incredibly confused by the current back and forth. “Really?”

The detectives were trying so hard to restrain themselves from laughing but it was a challenge that is for sure. Amanda leaned towards Finn to fill him in, causing him to bark out a laugh before trying but failing to cover it with a cough. Lily and Finn quickly handed out a round of shots and placed two jugs of some cocktail in the middle of the table and passed around glasses.

“Finn, I was just saying it is good to finally meet all of you!” you drew the attention back to the fact that you hadn’t met any of the detectives but Liv yet and tried to subtly inform Shannon and the others that you didn’t need them to make things awkward by hitting on them within five seconds. “I have heard quite a bit about you all, from Rafi.”

“He talks about us?” Nick asked, scoffing lightly. “I bet it’s mostly complaining.”

“Well, a little but mostly not,” you shrugged.

“Seriously?” Carisi needed to be sure he heard you correctly.

“Well, yeah, I doubt he holds back with his complaints at work,” you nodded, causing the others to laugh at how right you are.

“Good to see everyone is getting along,” Liv interrupted, returning with a bottle of water and some glasses, Rafael right behind her with another bottle of water and more glasses. “Definitely a good idea to get two bottles of water.”

“I think everyone may regret their choices in the morning,” Rafael quipped.

“I won’t!” you called making grabby hands at Rafael the moment he was in your sight. He smiled indulgently at you as he moved back to your side, his arm finding its way back around your waist, rolling his eyes a little as you sighed happily as you snuggled into to him.

“Oh, you probably will,” Liv said eying the shots that sat in-front of everyone. “Do I want to know what this is?”

“Nope,” Lily grinned picking hers up. “Now come on everyone, bottoms up.”

You and your friends eagerly picked them up, the detectives and Rafael however eyed it a little suspiciously, even Finn, who hadn’t quite heard what Lily had ordered. You turned your pleading eyes to Rafael, nodding towards the shot. He sighed, deeply, already regretting this decision as he picked up his shot. Grinning in triumph you turned to Liv, giving her the same look. Rafael watched in interest as his best friend tried very hard to ignore you, but he was able to watch as Liv’s eyes kept shifting to you and then away before her face scrunched up and she also reached for the shot glass. She shot Rafael a look, but he only raised an eyebrow.

“Now you know what I mean,” he told her.

“What?” you asked looking between the two.

“Well, who would have thought anyone would be able to get Liv to do anything,” Finn grinned. The rest of the detectives nodding in agreement, stunned over what they had just witnessed. The girls shared a look of confusion but their drunk minds quickly forgot about the odd moment.

“Come on,” Courtney begged, her hand lightly grabbed Carisi’s arm before looking towards Nick and Amanda.

“Alright fine,” Carisi laughed picking up the glass looking to the others pleading with his eyes to join him.

“I will make it an order,” Liv added turning on her Sergeant voice. The other three all resigned themselves to whatever was in the shot glasses as they picked them up.

“Bottoms up!” Shannon, Courtney, Lily and you all cheered, tapping the glasses on the table before throwing them back. The detectives and Rafael hesitated one second before copying them.

“Oh, god what is that?” Carisi asked face screwing up as the alcohol hit his tongue.

“I don’t think I want to know,” Nick coughed, reaching for the water that Liv had poured for everyone.

“Sook,” Lily giggled teasingly.

“Can I have some water?” you whispered to Rafael your hand playing with the tie he was wearing.

“Of course, Carino,” Rafael reached for his glass of water handing it to you with a kiss to your temple not noticing the phone in Amanda’s hand that was angled towards the couple. Liv raised an eyebrow at the blonde who merely shrugged, already sending the image to Liv and to Rafael. She figured the couple didn’t have a lot of candid photos of them. Smiling happily at Rafael, you handed him back the glass turning your attention back to the table.

“What are in the jugs?” Amanda asked a little wearily as she reached for one.

“I ordered those,” Finn assured her.

“Somehow I’m not overly assured by that,” she muttered but poured herself a glass regardless and sniffed at it. “Oh, is this just margheritas?”

“Yeah, they didn’t have a lot of options for jugs,” Finn shrugged.

“Good choice!” Shannon eagerly reached for the other jug to pour herself a glass. “Can I pour one for anyone else?”

Courtney pushed her glass towards Shannon with her fingers nodding as she did. “Obviously, I haven’t got work tomorrow.”

“Lucky,” Lily muttered but poured herself one anyway.

“Lily, do I have work tomorrow?” you asked turning to your best friend your brows furrowed as you tried to remember your schedule. Lily squinted at you, mouth opening a little as she tried to remember as well.  

“No, sweetheart you do not,” Rafael answered instead. “You have tomorrow and the following day off to recover from tonight.”

“Aw, he knows her schedule!” Amanda cooed leaning into to Nick.

“Of course I do,” Rafael said drily. “Why would I not?”

“Good point,” Amanda muttered sipping on her drink.

“Ooh! What food did you order?” you asked turning to Liv, one hand leaving the grip it had on Rafael’s suspenders to tug on the end of Liv’s blazer.

“We got more chips and some wings,” Liv informed you grabbing hold of hand and squeezing it gently, finding it difficult to stop the coo that wanted to escape. She found you adorable when she met you the first time, but apparently drunk you put that adorableness to shame.

“Yummy!” you wiggled in excitement at the prospect of food before a frown took over your face as you looked between Rafael and Liv.

“What’s wrong?” Nick caught sight of your frown first.

“Carino?” Rafael quickly turned to you, his free hand coming up to tilt your chin towards him.

“I want to cuddle with you but I don’t want to let go of Liv’s hand,” you whispered, shaking the hand that Liv still had hold of, tightening it in case Liv tried to let go of your hand.

“Darling, how drunk are you right now?” Rafael asked with a fond look, his thumb stroking your pouting lips.  

“Hm…a lot drunker than I was when I downloaded the dating app we met on,” you answered honestly. “Like way more, that shot definitely threw me over the edge.”

“I thought so,” he chuckled. “Want some more water?”

“Yes…but that means I have to let go of either you or Liv,” you pondered looking between Liv and him, lips pursed as you tried to make a decision. “Oh, I know, you can help me!” you grinned, ecstatic that you had solved the problem.

“Surely, he won’t, right?” Finn asked. He was slightly regretting joining but at the sometime not, he was getting a lot of material to tease not only Rafael but also Olivia. Plus, your friends weren’t too bad and he had been wanting to meet you.

“I don’t know, Barba seems very different with her,” Carisi answered shrugging his shoulders.

“Very different,” Finn agreed.

“I-,” Rafael was about to say no, but upon looking at you he once again found he could not say no to you. “Alright, fine.”

“No, way,” Nick muttered as Rafael did exactly that.

“I’ve known her for years,” Lily whispered to Nick. “Trust me, she is adorable and once someone gets to know her it is very hard to say no to her. If you were in his place, you would do the same thing.”

“I doubt it,” Nick turned to Lily raising an eyebrow in doubt.

“Oh, you poor deluded man,” Lily flicked his arm. “We’ll see, it even worked on Olivia, who is not dating her. One day you will have that look directed at you and you will eat your own words.”

The waiter came with the food interrupting anyone from being able to comment further on the fact that Rafael Barba, the man who didn’t relent even with victims, relented under a single look. Rafael set the glass down, pouring more into it, as he wanted to get you to drink as much water as possible otherwise tomorrow morning will be horrible for you. Though…he was a little curious how you would be with a hangover.

“Yay, food!” you cheered letting go of both Liv and Rafael.

“Thought you didn’t want to let go of us?” Liv asked waving her now free hand. Your eyes narrowed as you watched her hand, sure that you were meant to be doing something with it.

“Don’t confuse my poor Chica,” Rafael scolded. “Her poor brain probably can’t handle too much at once.”

“I must have missed the part where my boyfriend suddenly became a comedian,” you muttered crossing your arms. “Stay at your day job.”

“Now see, I was waiting for this,” Finn grinned folding his arms.

The rest of the table who were watching this like it was their dinner entertainment, tried not to nod in agreement with Finn. They dished out the food onto the plates that were placed on the table along with the food. Those who were nearly done with their margherita’s pouring themselves another glass. The detectives hadn’t had too much to drink before they joined you and your friends, so they still were no were near the level you four where at so they were able to hold in their amusement. Your friends however, were getting even further along where unable to hide theirs, the giggling muffled a little by their hands.

“For my girlfriend to insult me?”

“For Rafi to be mean?”

The two of you asked at the same time turning your eyes onto Finn who seemed a little shocked by the response.

“Creepy,” Shannon whispered.

“Extremely,” Carisi agreed. “They’ve only been going out what like two or three months? And they’re already in sync like that?”

“Actually, it’s closer to four months,” you shot at them before going back to the food that Rafael had put on a plate in-front of you. “Being precise with timelines is important, as a detective you should know that.”

“Oh, I see it now,” Amanda said around a mouthful of chicken wings.

“We all see it,” Nick agreed. Pouring another glass of the margherita, noticing that the two jugs were getting empty fast. He glanced at his watch, a little surprised by the amount of time that had passed.

“What do they see?” you leaned towards Liv confused.

“Why you and Rafi get along so well,” Liv whispered back.

“Oh, you mean apart from the fact that the man is gorgeous, charming, sarcastic and incredibly intelligent?” you tilted your head to side. “Oh, and good in bed.” There was a round of near choking around the table as they heard your comment, being drunk you thought you were whispering but you in fact were not.

“Alright, you are definitely cut off,” Rafael pushed the glass of the cocktail away from you. “Eat some more food.”

“Don’t be pushy,” you whined. “And give me my margherita back.”

“Eat some more food and drink some more water and then I will,” he commanded pushing your plate towards you before picking up his own margherita. You leaned towards him wrapping your arms around his neck so your mouth was right next to his ear.

“Or, give me back my margherita and when we go home, I’ll get on my knees and suck your cock the minute we get through the door,” you whispered seductively. “And then, I’ll strip naked for you, put on your vest and ride you.” You moved away a little to allow him to turn his head to look at you.

You felt Rafael’s hand on your waist tighten and you had the pleasure of seeing the red creep up his neck as his eyes started to burn. He swallowed, the knuckles on his other hand turned white as he gripped his drink. He was very grateful that you still had enough thought to whisper that in his ear rather than saying it loud enough for the rest of the table to hear.

“Chica,” he warned eyes taking in your cheeky grin. “That’s out of line.”

“Hm, we’re not in a court of law my dear,” you giggled. “So, counsellor, do you accept the terms?”

“No,” Rafael stated, smirking as your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Really?” you were shocked. “But…I want my margherita.”

“Then drink some water and eat,” Rafael raised his eyebrow at the water he pushed towards you. “And you will.”

“Fine,” you huffed pulling your arms from his neck. “Then I won’t suck your dick.”

“…please tell me I wasn’t the only one who heard that?” Finn muttered.

“We all heard it,” Liv muttered eyes wide and looking away.

“You are naughty!” Shannon giggled leaning as far as she could to swat at your arm. “Is that what you whispered to him?”

You nodded holding the glass of water eyeing it suspiciously, cheeks puffed out as you sulked. Olivia lifted her drink out of the way of Shannon’s flailing limb, trying very hard to restrain herself as she watched the marid of expressions that passed over Rafael’s face. Shock, horror and that last one was a little unclear, but oddly enough she could still make out the fondness that he has for you in his eyes as he watched you giggle at your friend but still sulk over not getting your margherita.

“This has got to be one of the most entertaining nights I’ve had in the longest of times,” Amanda giggled. “And Barba the look on your face was priceless.”

“I hate all of you,” he answered, drowning the last of his margherita before grabbing your glass and drinking that as well.

“Hey!” you squeaked. “That’s mine.”

“You hadn’t finished your water or your food,” he groused.

“You’re not getting sex,” you glared at him.

“We’ll see,” he smirked at you, slowly licking his lips, your lips parted as you felt warmth slowly build, you had to squeeze you legs together as your eyes glazed over.

“Is he?” Nick asked, not even wanting to finish that sentence.

“That is the sign for me to go,” Finn decided standing up, a look of near horror on his face. His eyes squinted as he looked between Rafael and you. “It was good to meet all of you. Maybe next time a little less alcohol.”

“Agreed,” everyone agreed.

“I think I’ll also call it a night,” Amanda smiled. “I should go and walk Frannie before it gets too much later. Are you girls fine to get home?”

“Aw, that is so sweet!” Lily leaned into Amanda smiling up at her. “I’ll be fine, I’ve gotten home when I have been way more drunk.”

“If you’re sure?” Amanda asked.

“Mhm, though I can’t say the same thing for Courtney or Shannon,” Lily nodded towards the two other girls who were leaning against each other and giggling.

“True,” Amanda agreed, eyeing them both.

“I’ll help with them,” Lily patted her arm. “Shannon lives on the way to mine so I can take her in an uber with me. Courtney however, lives in the opposite direction.”

“I can take her,” Amanda offered.

“Ooh I get to ride with the pretty detective?” Courtney asked bouncing in her seat. “It’s my lucky day.”

“I wanna ride with the pretty detective,” Shannon muttered.

“You ride with me,” Lily pointed at her. “And you better say you’re lucky with that.”

“Duh,” Shannon rolled her eyes. “But I get to ride with a pretty librarian all the time.”

“I am both offended and fine with that,” Lily shrugged as she quickly drowned the rest of her margherita. “Is anyone else heading my way? Can take two more in my uber.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Finn nodded.

“Carisi, you coming with?” Amanda asked, a particular look in her eye as she looked at the Italian.

“Sure, that okay with you Courtney?” Carisi asked, not wanting to tag along if she wasn’t okay with it.

“Two pretty detectives?” Courtney asked. “Getting better and better.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Nick muttered. “I’ll be fine on my own. Liv, you good getting home?”

“I’ll be fine, I live in the opposite direction of all of you,” Liv smiled. Everyone turned to Rafael and you, both currently still arguing over him drinking your drink. “I think they’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to share a ride with them,” Nick grinned. “It might get a little awkward.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Carisi teased. “You two ready to go home?”

“Not with him,” you muttered, turning your pleading eyes to Liv.

“Oh, no,” Liv laughed reaching out to squeeze your cheek. “You are going with Rafi. Maybe you can tease him to feel bad about drinking your alcohol.”

“Ooh, could idea!” you nodded, trying to climb off your seat. “Come on bub.”

“I’ll never forgive this betrayal, Liv,” Rafael promised as he kept hold of your waist keeping you from stumbling. “She’s really good at teasing. It should be a crime.”

“Oops,” Liv grinned. “Come on.”

The group made it’s way out of the bar, Liv, Lily and Amanda helping Shannon and Courtney. They were surprising stable, only a little unsteady after sitting down for so long and drinking as much as they had. Nick, Carisi and Finn were all at the back keeping an eye on everyone else, they didn’t even realise that they had done it until Liv glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow as the group waited for their Ubers together.

“What?” Nick asked crossing his arms. “You know me, you can’t even pretend to be surprised by this.”

“Alright, that’s actually fair,” Liv rolled her eyes.

“Rafi, the world is spinning,” you whined, looking up at Rafael, your hands were once again holding onto his suspenders.  

“Aw, my poor Chica,” Rafael cooed lightly brushing the hair out of your eyes before pulling out his phone to order an Uber, his other hand still held you tightly against his side. “Let’s get you home, my apartment or yours?”

“Yours, please,” you grinned up at him, all annoyance over him stealing your drink gone. “I sleep better at yours now.” You nuzzled your face back into his neck, sighing happily as his scent surrounded you.

Rafael felt his heart melt at that, the two of you rarely slept away from the other these days. The first time you had been in his bed when he got back from a late night in the office it had been surreal, he had to stop for a moment and appreciate that fact that you wanted to be there when he got back. It had happened after he got an emergency call, the two of you had been having dinner at his and you were prepared to head back to your apartment when he left but he offered for you to stay at his without even really thinking about it, all he knew was that he wanted to come back to his apartment with you still there.

“Looks like our ride is here,” Amanda motioned towards the car that just pulled up pulling everyone out of their conversations. Carisi moved forward ready to help with Courtney. “Tonight, has been…entertaining and enlightening.”

“All of this has been off the record,” Rafael warned looking pointedly at all the detectives.

“Sure, counsellor,” Carisi agreed, a boyish grin on his face. “Next time we need a warrant and you don’t want to do it I’ll just call y/n up and she can get you to do it.”

“Nope, that is an abuse of my power,” you claimed not lifting your head from Rafael’s neck. “Only use it when absolutely necessary.”

“Noted,” Finn said.

“Alright, Shannon, Finn our ride is also here,” Lily waved towards another car that pulled up. “It was lovely to meet all of you, should do this again sometime.”

“That would be nice,” Liv agreed.

“Thirded!” you called. “I loved meeting the rest of Rafi’s friends!”

“And we definitely enjoyed meeting you,” Nick assured you, chuckling a little.

A round of goodbyes followed as everyone managed to get into their Ubers with minimal issues. Assuring everyone that they would message when each member got home safe and sound. The more sober members of the group thoroughly entertained by the drunker members attempt to converse with the drivers before getting sleepy.

--

“Alright, Carino, here we are,” Rafael huffed as he gently set you down on his bed, hands hovering just in case you started to sway a bit too much but when you stayed upright, he moved around his room, gathering some clothes for you to sleep in. A little selfishly he grabbed one of his shirts for you, along with a pair of your panties that you kept here. “Alright, let’s get you changed, that make up off and some more water into you.”

“Rafi,” you looked at him biting your lip as your hands struggled to undo the buttons on your top. “Let’s have sex.”

“I thought you said no sex for me because I was mean,” Rafael laughed, grabbing the make up removal wipes you kept on the dresser. He warmed at the thought that there were daily items you used all around his apartment.

“Oh yeah,” you mumbled before shrugging. “Really that’s punishing me as well and I don’t deserve that. I deserve your talented fingers, tongue and cock.”

“Lord help me,” he muttered rubbing his forehead as his cock twitched in interest. He had tried so hard to keep it down at the bar after you whispered to him but here in the privacy of his own apartment it was becoming a hassle. “Baby, you are really drunk, so that is a no on the sex.”

“Maybe but I wanna,” you promised him. “I fully, whole heartedly consent to you railing me. Besides you’re already getting me undressed.”

“To get you into something to sleep in because you are drunk,” Rafael explained patiently. This was the first time he had ever seen you drunk and it was both amusing and difficult as he tried to get you changed. “Come on arms up, there we go.”

Thankfully, in your drunken state you eagerly followed his directions as he changed you and gently wiped off the make up you were wearing. Being sure to get every last spec of it. He wasn’t about to try and get you through your entire skin care routine but he figured you could do that in the morning or he could help you if you were hungover. Who was he kidding? You were going to be so hungover.

“Sex?” you asked one last time as he got you to drink some more water, leaving a bottle on the bedside table before he quickly got changed and slid into bed beside you, tugging you close.

“You’re drunk,”

“…yeah…” yawning you wiggled into a more comfortable position of sleeping mostly on Rafael’s chest. “Night bub…” soft snores followed after that as you drifted off into a drunken sleep.

“Tomorrow morning is going to be something,” Rafael muttered pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you as he listened to you breathing, letting that lull him to sleep.

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

I'm a man of three fears: integrity, faith, and crocodile tears.

Alonzo’s a burden - he always has been. That’s why he needs to leave before he burdens the cats he cares about most. 

TW: For heavy handed mentions of implied abuse, assault and kitten-napping. Nothing happens, but the Mouser’s Palace is a very *very* bad place and Macavity and his henchcats are bad people. 

If somecat had told Alonzo this time a few years back that he would have had a part in staging and executing an elaborate getaway from the infamous Mouser's Palace that involved snatching two of Macavity's prized members and a couple bloodline kittens, he would have likely told them to get their ears checked to make sure there was still a brain between them. Then he would have told them, very bluntly he might add, to keep their traps shut before they got them both killed.

How times changed. Even now, it still sounded ridiculous. 

Escaping from Macavity's clutches once you were sworn in, once you had spent so much time there no other life seemed possible, once you had lost so much of yourself you weren't quite sure if you were still you anymore, was a pipe dream. A psychological torment of yearning just beyond grasp. Or maybe just a death wish. It was something you thought of while you were clawing at the persistent ringing in your ears and struggling to see straight, wondering if anyone around you was a plant, or wished for late at night as you remembered things said in passing that permanently stained your frontal lobe with echoes and images so horrible that you couldn't even close your eyes to sleep. 

And yet, here they were. The fabled Junkyard Demeter had spoken so often about. They had actually made it to the other side, all relatively in one piece. Alonzo had to admit that he'd shied away from the strength of those initial wisps of faith lit in the basements of the Mouser's Palace, fearing the inevitable burn. But those little slivers of hope, collected like so many particles of dust, really had gotten them somewhere. They'd actually managed to get away.

But it still felt off.

To be in a place where Macavity somehow, presumably, wasn't always watching, wasn't always listening...it was a strange feeling. Almost unsettlingly unreal - like it could disappear at any moment. Like it was some kind of twisted, too-good-to-be-true dream. 

But it hadn't been an easy dream, that was for sure.

Alonzo gingerly pressed a paw pad to the newest scar candidate on the side of his face, blinking back the sudden sting it brought to his eyes. It smarted, but it had stopped dripping into his mouth and would heal on its own. His nose had probably been broken, too, something he reminded himself painfully of when he'd scrunched it, but he'd dealt with a million of those before. Thesper always had had good aim when he pulled his head far enough out of his ass to do his job, the bastard. Of course he'd choose that night to pick an actual fight. Just their luck really. Must have been slim pickings.

They...the other Junkyard cats - that one silver tom, what was his name again? Mun-something - had tried to coax him into getting patched up, but Alonzo had never liked being looked over too closely for something that wasn't, in his words, "being devastatingly good looking" (and don't think he didn't hear Bombalurina snort behind him). It left him feeling...vulnerable, and you could never quite get that pesky vulnerability out of the fur once it sank its claws in. It stained very easily. Besides, as nice as these cats seemed, he didn't know them. And, frankly, he didn't trust them either. Alonzo liked to think he knew better than that, after all this time. Fool me once and all that garbage. It's not like they'd given him any solid reason to (though not attacking them on sight might have been half of one). He hadn't been thrilled watching the rest of them being whisked away out of sight one by one for the same treatment (which also left him with a few questions), but he wasn't in charge here. Alonzo knew how pecking order worked, and he reminded himself of it further, biting his tongue as he watched after Demeter's retreating form, Jemima trailing after her. That made him antsy. But if they ended up in trouble, well, he soothed himself with the fact that they'd just been in the ring once already - they could always go another round.

Alonzo had been led off himself by that same silver tabby cat, and, after staunchly refusing any medical assistance and ducking out of a remarkably strong nursecat's grip, sat across from their own little council of cats (How cute, he'd thought) and sorted everything out. Well, kind of. Keeping a wary eye on the cats in his blind spot, and carefully picking dirt from his coat, Alonzo answered the majority of the questions tossed his way with a clipped: "Yes" or "No". He hoped he came across as nonchalant and aloof and not as paranoid and nervous as he really felt. They didn't need any details and, anyway, he wasn't the one who needed to provide them. Why they had even bothered talking to him, a complete stranger, in the first place was a mystery. If Alonzo were them, he would have already sent him upstream. Demeter and Bombalurina would be able to answer their questions much better - they actually knew these cats and they, quite obviously, knew the queens in turn.

That left an odd, sour feeling at the back of his throat. But Alonzo had no desire to unpack that - not now or ever. They'd finally dismissed him, leaving him to wander anxiously, and instead, he focused his energy on examining his new surroundings and fruitlessly avoiding the inevitable.

Frankly, this place seemed almost too good to be true. It was so...quiet. Alonzo couldn't remember a time when he hadn't heard the dull edge of whispering leaking from every corner, the odd high pitched whine that never seemed to leave the air, or the clinking of glass and claws ringing against window panes. Especially at night. That's when the Mouser's Palace had always sung the loudest. For better and worse. But here, amidst the trash piles and broken human paraphernalia, aside from the occasional passing car and dripping pipe, it was near silent. And not in a suspicious way, either. Just...a genuinely calm one. Which really offset its rather unconventional setting, he had to say.

Wasn't it ironic that their little dreamland was a literal pile of garbage? Life was funny. But, hell, he'd take it. Not like he hadn't lived in worse places. Pretty things near always seemed to hide more nefarious secrets under their surfaces, at least in his experience. He'd take a junk pile over crawling scratch carpet and high arching ceilings and peeling gold leaf paper and massive colorful windows any day.

What was important to him was that, at long last in however many years it had been, Demeter and Bombalurina were back home. They weren't under the heavy weight of Macavity's claws anymore. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie had been cried over by cats who must have been their parents. The kittens were finally safe, like they'd always deserved.

If they were lucky, they'd stay safe. There were never any guarantees in life. But Alonzo tentatively hoped that, perhaps this time, there could be at least one of them. If only for these particular cats.

All in all, it could have been much worse than a few scrapes and bruises and broken parts. They'd made it somehow. He'd done his job. Maybe not the best job, but they were alive. Demeter and Jemima were alive. They didn't need him anymore. Their little charade was coming to an end.

All he had left now was to say goodbye, and, considering what they'd just been through, it was turning out to be more difficult than he'd thought. Hence the wandering. At this point (though he hesitated to admit it for fear of putting the suggestion into the universe) he'd rather have been raked across the face again.

Of course, he could just take the coward's route and leave without a word, slipping into the night on his own. It wasn't too late. Alonzo always had known that route by heart, having traveled it many times before. But this time, damn his conscience, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Finding his friends was an easy enough feat, even in vastly unfamiliar territory. In the sea of overwhelming new smells, he'd picked up on theirs almost instantly and followed diligently after. He'd likely never forget that particular mix of smells for the rest of his nine lives. It had become something that, if Alonzo were the sentimental type, would register somewhere as close to home as he'd ever been.

But Alonzo was not the sentimental type.

When he'd entered the nursing den, stomach turning with the sharp overlay of medicinal herbs (and nerves, but he'd blame the herbs if asked), Alonzo felt as though he were suddenly too big for his surroundings. He wasn't a small cat by any means, and he knew that, but there was something about this place that was unusually fragile and dainty. Like if he shifted too far in any direction the walls would come down, or if he stood up straight the roof would cave in. Strange.

Demeter's familiar golden form caught his eye immediately, stretched languidly over the padded cot on the floor, Jemima sitting between her forepaws. Alonzo's heart swelled and sunk simultaneously. They were, miraculously, still awake and whispering between themselves; the familiar nighttime back and forth that they shared, just the two of them. In their own little world. Alonzo had wondered, on occasion, what they talked about so intently, but never got around to asking. He thought it better to leave it between them, content enough to just...watch. Hesitantly just on the outside; at an arm's length.

Bombalurina was curled far enough away to allow the queens their privacy and give herself and Electra their own, but close enough that she could keep an eye on them. He wouldn't have expected any less. Even so, she seemed to have slipped her watch for just a moment, and was sleeping very much like the dead (as though she hadn't slept - hadn't truly slept - in years), Electra fast asleep beside her. Good. At least someone was getting some sleep around here.

Releasing the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, he ducked farther in.

Demeter noticed him first, looking up at him knowingly through the fan of her lashes. She looked...almost relieved to see him. Maybe even surprised as she nudged Jemima to look as well. "Look who it is."

Jemima turned around quickly, eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

"Alonzo!"

And just like that, it felt like any courage he had gathered up immediately flew off, never to be heard from again. Alonzo practically felt himself deflate. Damn it.

"Hey," he greeted, keeping his voice low to set the example. "You still awake? I figured you'd be out cold by now."

"I was waiting for you, 'cause I have a fantastic tuition," Jemima said matter-of-factly, trying to match the new volume, but just barely succeeding.

Alonzo smiled tightly at the seemingly nonsensical statement. Of course she was. Careful the things you say and all - hadn't he been the one to teach her that?

--

Nearly every queen of kitten-bearing age in the Mouser's Palace was sent to the basement eventually. Sooner or later. Some stayed on after, finding a sort of comfort in that old shipping warehouse, some did not, and some abandoned their kittens as soon as they could, leaving them mewling and hungry until another cat took pity on them. Or they disappeared. Or the other thing happened. The far less optimistic one.

Demeter, like the rest, had eventually ended up down there as well, and hadn't been permitted to leave, even as the colour had returned to her face and Jemima had started walking. Quite the downgrade from her rooms upstairs, or so Alonzo had heard; he, like most of the other henchcats, hadn't been allowed anywhere near Macavity's quarters. But such were The Mystery Cat's plans of operation, right down to the last well oiled gear. Eventually, they were all disposable, no matter how high up the ladder. It was just a matter of time.

Alonzo never went into Demeter's crate (with its one missing board) even when invited. At least never at first - something about it didn't sit right with him. Demeter got so little of anything to herself those days, and besides, Alonzo didn't want to imagine what would happen to either of them if he was ever caught in there. It wouldn't look good at all. Demeter may have been demoted down below with the rest of them, but she still belonged to Macavity. He had never been shy to emphasize that point, over and over again, with purple blossoms hidden beneath Demeter's collar and rings worn into her upper arm.

But even though he didn't enter the crate, Alonzo sat outside of it when he was able, even stumbling down late at night, bleary eyed, after a conference had gone too long, or a particularly long and grating watch rotation came to an end. That had been the case that particular evening, when one of Macavity's little...rendezvous had gone completely south. He'd been lucky to escape that one with his tail in tact.

Exhausted as he was, it was worth it to give him some semblance of peace of mind, even for a little while. When he wasn't able to make it back for the evening, his skin would prickle and itch with anxiety until the sun came up the next morning. Being away from them felt wrong. It all felt very wrong.

Bombalurina was there, she'd look out for Demeter when he couldn't make it. Hell, she'd probably do a better job. And Demeter wasn't helpless. But it just didn't feel like enough.

It never felt like enough.

There were some cats around these parts that sniffed around the basement crates like they were looking for treasure. And really, the entire basement was filled with it - whatever your fancy happened to be. Crates that weren't littered with other cats were stuffed full of trinkets of all kinds. Getting away with it was easy, too; not like any of the henchcats took serious inventory. And the ones who did often...forgot the odd bauble here and there for report. Macavity wouldn't miss what he didn't know he had.

As for the rest, well - most of the henchcats upstairs ignored whatever noises came from the makeshift mills downstairs, queens and kittens alike. None of their concern. No one who valued their neck would say anything. Looking the other way reaped more reward.

Alonzo didn't like thinking about that. Not in the slightest. Because there was, quite literally, nothing he could do. So he sat. And he watched. And he buried all of his fear deep inside of himself. 

But he also sat outside, particularly on nights like that one with the moon full and high, because a certain little friend of his was becoming quite the lone midnight wanderer, much to the concern of her mother. So, without any second thoughts, Alonzo pulled double duty.

Speak of the devil.

"Pump the brakes, little lady," he grumbled, stretching out his tail to halt Jemima in her tracks. He caught her arm before she tripped. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"

Jemima had blinked hard and whipped her head around to look at him, as though snapping out of a trance. She always seemed uncertain when he asked her that question. Almost as though she wasn't sure herself. Alonzo never liked that look on her face. It looked eerily similar to an image burned into the back of his brain that the tomcat wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"I had a funny dream," she muttered at last, crawling back over his tail to sit next to him. Alonzo hummed non-committedly, glancing down the corridor. No one was around. He shifted closer to her, just in case. Never knew with this place.

He wondered to ask her what was so funny about her dream, but Jemima rarely blamed her dreams for keeping her awake unless they were unpleasant. He'd figured that out the hard way, and learned it better not to pry unless she needed to talk about it (or he felt like filling the rest of his night with his own round of nonsensical nightmares). Not that he really had the tools to talk her through it like Demeter or Bombalurina did anyway. Try as he might, that just wasn't in his skillset. Instead, he rubbed her ears and hummed again, in what he hoped came across as a sympathetic gesture. Or at least a comforting one. They were still so soft and fragile at this age - like downy little birds fresh from the nest. It was a wonder how they survived.

It was a wonder any of them did.

"Why are you still awake?" she asked after a moment, allowing him to brush the fur away from her eyes over and over, even when it was already flat.

"I was waiting for you," he'd said quickly. That was close enough to the truth that he hadn't felt bad that it technically was a lie. He didn't like lying to her. Alonzo was concerned that "keeping watch" would frighten her, and lead to difficult questions like "Keeping watch for what?"

And Alonzo never could come up with a good enough answer for that one.

Jemima didn't need to know the type of characters lurking around these basements at night. Sure she lived at the Palace, spent most of her daylight hours wandering around the dusty beams of light that squeezed through down there; she saw the diluted glimpses of how bad it was, but she was still just a kitten. Alonzo figured there'd be plenty of time to learn about that later down the line. There was already enough on her plate as it was for such a small thing. It wasn't lying; it was omission. Demeter had taught him that one.

Completely different thing.

"How did you know I was coming?" Jemima had inquired, pressing her face into his ribcage (and couldn't he just feel every bone bumping concerningly against her skull - when had that happened?) and rolling her sleepy eyes upward.

He tapped his temple and winked (though how successful he ever was with that particular gesture was debatable - Bombalurina had told him once it looked more like a spasm). Still, keeping the situation light seemed to usually do the trick, and Jemima wasn't much of a critic. "I have fantastic intuition."

Or, rather, she nearly always wandered out of the crate on nights it was raining, or the moon was full. She wandered when she was happy or sad or had too much on her mind. She seemed to float from time to time, eyes dull and far away. He was almost certain she slept walk and didn't even realize it. He knew her routine like the back of his paw.

All in all, the chances were high. But intuition sounded better.

"I like that word," Jemima mumbled, testing it in her mouth. "It's like bubbles."

"Sure it is, kiddo."

"Can I stay here until morning?" she'd asked, already settling right in. "I want to say goodbye to the moon and I can see it better here."

A bad idea. "Goodbye, huh? You think you can stay awake? The night's a long time."

"Yup," she said quietly, clearly already falling back asleep. "The morning is more brighter."

Out of the mouths of unusually on the nose and cryptic kittens.

"Yeah," Alonzo agreed, tucking her closer to his side in barely fought for defeat, glancing down the dark stretch of breezy corridor again, swearing he saw a flash of light. The night would be very long. "It is."

--

"A tuition, huh?" Alonzo echoed, dimly coming back to the present. "Well, as always, you've got great 'tuition'."

"Uh huh!" she agreed, looking up at her mom who tried to smile for her.

The tomcat sighed, and crouched down, motioning the kitten towards him.

"C'mere. I got something to tell you."

Demeter glanced up at him again, lips pursed to the side and eyes dull. There was the full look he was fearing - the look of withdrawn acceptance that graced her features far too frequently. She knew what he was doing and had already started steeling herself away. He tried to avoid her glance, but it already was digging its claws into his conscience. Still, she nodded at Jemima, who obliviously and immediately fumbled towards him.

When she stopped in front of him, she motioned for him to come closer in turn. He tilted his good ear towards her, and she grabbed it with her little paw. Only for Jemima, he thought, wincing. Only for Jemima he'd let his ear, whole or otherwise, be pulled or touched or chewed on. Another cat would find themselves scratched before they made it halfway.

"I kept my eyes shut the whole time," Jemima whispered conspiratorialy, glancing over her shoulder at Demeter, who was still watching them closely. She looked sad and disappointed and empty, and Alonzo felt a stab of guilt at keeping her awake like this. But before he could wallow anymore in his own self imposed misery, Jemima let go of his ear and leaned over to catch his eye again. "Did I do good?"

She was referring to their previous escape plan. Or at least her part in it anyway. When it came time to make a run for it, he'd told the kittens to keep their eyes closed. "Keep 'em closed," he'd instructed. "And don't you open 'em until we say it's okay, got it?"

This instruction had been partially to give them something they could focus on so they were more likely to be quiet, and partially because he hadn't been sure what they would see if they didn't. No use scarring them any further than they already were. Electra had nodded and tucked her face into her mother's coat, but Jemima had just stared at him wide eyed, overwhelmed and sensitive to the whirlwind of emotion around her. She had been, quite literally, paralyzed with their fear.  Demeter had held her tighter, gently murmuring that they'd be okay, to listen to him, but Jemima had started squirming and shaking her head, insisting that they would all leave when her eyes were closed. It escalated quickly. Alonzo, already choked up on adrenaline, fearing someone would hear her meltdown, had turned back to face her, clamping down on the way his paws shook so he could grab hers.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me."

She stopped squirming and looked up.

"We're not gonna leave you alone," he'd insisted, squeezing her little paw, perhaps a little harsher than intended, but everything felt like too much in that moment. "I'm not ever gonna leave you alone, alright? It's.. it's all gonna be fine, I promise. But you gotta trust me, and keep your eyes shut okay? You trust me?"

Jemima had nodded, sniffling, and with a last long look, had turned and buried her nose against Demeter's chest.

With the meltdown avoided, they'd set off for the last time from that awful old building. Alonzo didn't think too hard about what he'd said, or how it might come back to bite him. He had to focus on sticking to Bombalurina's plan and remembering where everyone was supposed to be. He had to keep track of where Jerrie would meet them, and which direction they were headed, and keeping tabs on whoever would be lurking nearby, and keeping cool headed. There wasn't any room left to regret.

So they'd set off, and Alonzo had put it out of his mind.

And Jemima kept her eyes shut the entire way, silent as a church mouse as they slipped into the night.

"You did so good, hon," Alonzo affirmed, tweaking her whiskers. "So good. What'd I tell you - didn't I promise it'd be okay?"

Jemima nodded eagerly. "Yeah! And I wasn't even scared a little bit."

"Not even a little bit?" The tom made a show of widening his eyes at the white lie. "Man, you're getting to be so tough. Don't even need me anymore, huh?"

"Nope! I'm brave!"

That she was. But she'd have to be braver still. Testing the waters that way rarely worked on kittens.

"Listen, Jem, I -"

"Your face is dirty," the kitten interjected.

Alonzo almost laughed, though how much of it was bordering on dwindling adrenaline tinged hysteria at this point, he wasn't certain.

"I-it is, huh? That's no good."

"Yeah it's yucky." Jemima reached to touch his cheek, but he carefully caught her paw before she smeared any blood around, or accidentally shoved any debris in the wounds. He probably looked awful; no use making it worse. She wrinkled her nose.

"Miss Jenny can fix it for you. She fixed Mama and Bomba."

"I'm sure she can," he agreed, wondering if "Miss Jenny" was the ironclad grip from earlier. "But I think I'm okay."

"She gave me a biscuit after she checked me!" Jemima continued, bouncing on her toes. "And Electra! She'll give you one too, I think. Then you can have a bath because you smell."

That time, Alonzo did laugh, but it sounded more like a forced exhale than any sign of good humour. As unique as Jemima was, kittens were always kittens; abrupt and painfully honest. "Sheesh, you're breaking my heart here. I'm gonna miss you, little lady."

Jemima withdrew slightly, looking suddenly sharp and alert. "Where are you going?"

"I'm...I don't know yet," he admitted. "But it's time for me to go."

"Well, when are you coming back?"

"I…won't be."

Jemima looked at him uncertainly. "...Me and Mama are going with you?" She sounded slightly disappointed by the idea, having already grown to like her new surroundings. Though he supposed anything was an improvement over shipping crates in a musty old basement. "Do we have to go right now?"

"No, Jem," he corrected carefully. "You're going to stay right here."

"So...you're gonna leave us?"

There it was. And there was that Demeter look on her face

"I'm not...it's not like that. I'm not leaving you, I'm just..." Alonzo huffed. Leaving you, just like you said you wouldn't, his brain supplied.

He tried again. "You'll have lots of new friends here, lots of cats to take care of you, and you won't need me. I gotta go somewhere else where cats need me." Liar, his conscious hissed at him again. No one needs you.

Jemima thought on this.

"I…ah," he tried desperately to simplify the complicated feelings swirling in his chest. How could she possibly understand when he barely understood himself? That he needed to leave because he didn't belong here. He didn't belong anywhere. Belonging somewhere, being tied down, meant things tied to your tail. It meant you missed people when they weren't with you.  And if something ever happened to you...or to them...

All he was was a liability at the best of times. They didn't need him taking up space; he didn't deserve their hospitality.

"I don't want to be another mouth to feed, you know? They have their hands full with enough cats."

"You can have my dinner," the queenkit insisted. "I just need a little bit." She pressed the pads of her paws together to show him, and Alonzo wished again he could just be hit across the face - it would hurt less. Hells alive, this wasn't fair - this wasn't supposed to be this hard. Why was he always so bad at this? How did he always manage to make everything worse?

"You're a good girl, Jemima," he forced past the lump in his throat. "Promise you'll keep being that way, okay?"

"I promise," she parroted back immediately, like an instinct, but it sounded empty and lacking any conviction. "But I don't want you to go."

"I know, but-"

Jemima blinked at him, eyes suddenly clear and bright, sparkling unnervingly. The pale blue darkened considerably. If Alonzo weren't so used to her sudden changes in disposition, he would have cringed away. Jemima had a way about her that made everything seem so...big but so small at the exact same time. She looked at you as though she were seeing clear to the other side of the world. Her voice was clearer, older, when she muttered: "You don't want to go either. You're just afraid."

Alonzo had no answer for that, stunned into silence. He didn't even want to acknowledge how deep she'd dug for that one. He felt as though she'd ripped the fur from his body in one clean swoop.

The unnerving ice in Jemima's eyes quickly melted into tears. Like a switch, she was back to being a regular little kitten. "You have to stay with me. You promised."

"Jemima," Demeter called gently, sensing the escalation. Even now she was coming to his rescue - what a coward he was. She looked so...exhausted. In every way. He needed to leave. He only ever caused her problems she didn't deserve. "It's time to sleep now. Alonzo needs to go."

"You promised you weren't going to leave me ever," Jemima insisted, turning her wobbling lip back towards Demeter. "That's what you said. I heard you. You're a liar."

"Jemima," Demeter said again, firmer this time. "Enough."

Jemima sniffled loudly and balled up her fists, trying to self regulate, but Alonzo was still staring at the space just above her ears.

Electra had woken at the commotion, and was staring silently at them from the shadows, eyes winking in the moonlight. If Bombalurina had woken up to listen as well, she didn't show it. Hell, he wished she were awake, too. The four of them looking at him with thinly veiled scrutiny. Might as well make a whole circus around himself.

He was quiet for a long time, listening to Jemima struggle to keep from crying. The sound hurt him more than he could describe.

"You're right, I did say that. I am a liar," Alonzo admitted, voice quiet and pathetic sounding to his own ears. Shame burned hot on his face, even as reminded himself that he was a grown tom; he wasn't a kitten being scolded for lying. Why did he feel so small then? Like he was making such a big mistake? "But sometimes...sometimes grownups have to do things that are better for everyone. Your ma will explain it to you."

"But it won't be better!"

"Yes it will," he retorted, wondering how this all had slipped so quickly away from him. He felt childish; may as well bicker like one.

"How do you know?"

How do you know what's good for anyone? You don't even know what's good for yourself.

"I just...do," he insisted again, but it sounded weak. Tired. Give up. You don't want to go. You can’t even do that right. "I don't belong here."

"You do!" Jemima insisted, rubbing angrily at her face. "You belong with Mama, and Bomba, and Electra, and Jerrie, and Teazer, and me."

Alonzo glanced up around the room. Electra was poised, silently nodding. Bombalurina, having pushed off her feigned sleep to eavesdrop, as suspected, looked...troubled. Demeter looked expectant, as though she had caught a breath to hold and wasn't sure whether to release it or not.

And Jemima, his dear little Jemima, was looking up at him as though he'd hit her, and, more than any other time in his pathetic life, he hated himself for that.

"And...and that means you belong here," she concluded. “You’ll stay with me a-and you'll be my dad. I don’t have a good one of those.”

Alonzo's expression twisted in on itself violently. "Oh, honey," he managed to choke out, voice rough. The frayed edges of panic gripped at his chest as any resolve he had left slipped further from him.  "I'm...I'm not your dad."

“But you could be, if you want.” Jemima turned back towards Demeter, as though the issue were simple, like asking permission for a sleepover. “Mama won’t mind. Right?”

Demeter blinked, but a twitching, hesitant smile was threatening to pull at the corners of her muzzle.

Well...shit.

"You're s'pposed to be here," Jemima whimpered as a final resort. "I just know it."

Alonzo sighed, long and loud. His mind was reeling a mile a minute. "How do you know it?"

"I just do. I don't know why," she muttered, throwing his words back at him in retaliation, kicking at the floor. "Please don't go away. Stay until the sun comes."

Just until the sun comes.

For Cat's sake, what was he doing?

--

Jemima curled into his side the moment he'd defeatedly lay down, as though she feared he would try to leave when she fell asleep, her little purr rattling his ribs. He could still feel the delicate outlines of her bones, just slightly too close for comfort. But maybe that wouldn't be a problem so much anymore. Time would tell.

Bombalurina and Electra had turned away and gone back to sleep as the show concluded. Demeter was still looking at him out of the corner of her eye, though the gaze was warm and it felt...different. The golden tomcat stared up though the gaps in the roof, through to the stars and the moon, wondering how exactly he'd wound up in this position. Wondering if he'd ever had the strength to leave, or if he'd always been selfishly hoping he'd stay.

For a moment, he heard Cesare's words echo pointedly in his ears. That slimy bastard was always poking his nose where it didn't belong, and if he never saw him again it would be too soon.  But even miles away he still managed to slither under Alonzo's skin.

"You've gone soft, patches."

And maybe he had. Maybe he'd turned to full on pulpy mush in the face of one stubborn queenkit and her equally stubborn mother and their ragtag group of Junkyard cats. It sounded sickeningly saccharine just turning it over in his mind. If you had told him a year ago...But, at the moment, with Jemima's tiny pin prick claws catching his fur and Demeter's tail gently moving to brush his, feeling for a moment - just a fleeting painful moment - that maybe he did belong, he was struggling to recall why that was such a bad thing. Maybe he could get used to this.

Ah, hell, he'd figure it out in the morning. The morning is more brighter, after all.

[primofate]

Smile for Me (Part 4) Zhongli x fem!reader

Summary: Zhongli never smiled at you the way that he smiled at his memories of Guizhong. Thinking that the only way Zhongli would ever be happy is for Guizhong to come back again, you secretly set off on a journey to bring her back to life. But it comes with a price: Your life.

Warnings: pining, angst, one-sided (at first), hurt, angst again, drama, some Guizhong x Zhongli, hints of Xiao x reader, MAY NOT FOLLOW THE ACTUAL LORE, not proofread.

Notes: Sorry this took so long! I was actually a little stuck as to what should happen, and also real life stuff took a turn for the busy. But, here it is! Finally! THANK YOU so much for your patience and for tuning in~

Read: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)  (Part 5)  (Part 6)

"...Guizhong...”

Zhongli watches as she elegantly picks her head up, eyes brightening at the sight of him. “Oh! You’re back,” she’d always been a gentle one. Kind and patient. She was about to stand and greet him with a hug, but Zhongli’s face is painted in confusion.

“...Guizhong, where is the painting?”

She stops and leans back on her seat. An ethereal smile on her face. “Painting? There wasn’t one when I arrived home, dear,” her voice is as smooth as silk and soft as clouds. 

Zhongli would never, never doubt her.

Except for this time.

It was only him and her who had access to the house and he swore over his 6000 years of life that he had left the painting on the table. 

There was no way Guizhong didn’t see it.

“Guizhong,” Zhongli’s voice start to teeter over the edge of impatience.

How could he not when he was starting to panic over not remembering your face?

And now the painting, the only evidence of your existence, was suddenly missing. 

“I would not accuse you of anything,” Zhongli shifts and watches her carefully. “But you must understand that the painting is valuable. I would like it back, Guizhong,”

“The painting is valuable? Why not just have another one painted then? One of us?” She doesn’t even bat an eye or think about her reply. He’s rather taken aback, because his Guizhong would not do such a thing. In a matter of seconds, he feels as if something is amiss. 

"So you acknowledge that there was a painting here, on this very table?" Zhongli asks again. His gaze turns hard. This time Guizhong smiles. This Guizhong is looking at him rather menacingly. The soft smile and tender gaze is gone. Zhongli glares back at her, unsure of how to react. It seemed as if there was a staring contest going on. 

“...Had we always been this way?” Zhongli’s voice lowers. In his memories he flits about moments with his long lost lover. How she had been kind to everyone she met, and how she didn’t question things. “I do not think...this is what we were,” He could not remember a time where Guizhong had opposed him, or had done something to anger him or upset him. Maybe unintentionally, but not like this. 

This Guizhong was hiding something.

Zhongli realizes it as she scoffs, a look of mockery crossing her face. She stands, still elegant as ever, but her sneering face had spite written all over it. “Rex Lapis,” Zhongli tensed. “What would you say if I had burned the painting?” Her voice had gone up an octave, this was the voice of someone else.

“What would you say if you were never to remember who she was?” The lady screeches, insanity spilling in her voice, like a wailing banshee. Zhongli nearly loses his grip at his own temper, he controls the shiver of slight anger that runs up his spine. “...You’ve deceived me,” his voice is even lower than normal, eyes trained on the lady.

The lady cackles and turns around, head slightly tilted back, her face out of view. When she moves back around to face Zhongli, the Geo Archon feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

You’re standing in front of him.

His mouth slacks open, yet unable to say a thing. His eyes run up and down your face. Tracing your jaw, your nose, your eyes, your hair. Trying to memorize every curve and every dip, in fear of forgetting it again.

“THIS is the girl you’re looking for, correct?” The lady with your face starts off with a low giggle, the noise turning up until she’s laughing aloud. “Would you like her back, Rex Lapis?”

His eyes snap up immediately at the offer. 

“Say her name Rex Lapis, and I’ll return her to you,” A taunt. 

Nothing but words to provoke him because she knew that he couldn’t remember. 

This time he doesn’t control the way that his spear appears on his back, his eyes gleam a dangerous gold and a snarl is ready on his lips. 

But he watches the smile that blooms on your fake face, the hope that presents in your eyes and the way your head turns up to his. “Rex Lapis is a beautiful soul. He cares for everyone, except himself. He doesn’t wish for anything, except for Liyue to flourish. That’s why...” your eyes turn down towards the ground, and slowly closes, “That’s why... I’d do anything, to make him smile again. He deserves it, and so much more so...” your voice trembles at the right places and Zhongli falters, “I’ll gladly offer myself up for his happiness, even if it means...our time together is erased,” there’s a lone tear that slips down your cheek, Zhongli steps back in horror.

He realizes that he’s being shown your last words. 

A cross of hurt and regret appears on his features. The hole in his heart starts to fray at the ends, opening up more and he could feel the hollowness in him widening. 

“So you see, Rex Lapis, she’s happy where she is, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s thought long and hard about reuniting you with Guizhong,” the fake you starts to talk in a normal voice, but there was still a malificent grin on your face. 

Guizhong was long dead. Zhongli remembers it now. He remembers how he fondly held on to his memories of her but he had also long accepted that memories are just figments of the past, never to return again. He had missed her, yes, but he had moved forward confidently for the sake of his land. He had let himself grieve, but he didn’t let himself be paralyzed by the loss. 

And along the way, what pleasure it was to have you.

You who had always stood by his side and believed in him. 

You who got angry when anyone so much as doubted the strength of Rex Lapis. 

You who had taken care of him and watched over him when he was too focused on taking care of others. 

“...She isn’t happy,” he’s surprised by his own conclusion, but his eyes are downturned towards the ground. Sadness emanating from his form. “She has the tendency to...keep things to herself and it turns out that I... have not paid enough attention to her,” he’s frustrated that he doesn’t remember your name, like a misty cloud in his mind making his memories of you blurry and distorted. 

The fake you turns silent, and watches as Rex Lapis ruminates by himself.

“She may have a smile on her face but sometimes she...is merely attempting to hide her pain,” his hand reaches over for his polearm and he slowly maneuvers it to his side. “So I do not believe that she’s happy, wherever she is, at this moment,” he points the polearm at the fake you with a different resolve, his eyes gleaming gold once again,

“And that is precisely why, I will take her back where she belongs,”

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[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 11)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~6000 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Read on AO3!   Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! Part two of the finale! More to go after this though as you can tell, stay with me <3 Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ________

Tobirama was nothing if not dutiful. The time for your last dose had come faster than he wanted to. And he’d be there to administer it. He made sure to look more presentable before he entered your rooming using the hiraishin seal. What for, he didn’t know anymore. It didn’t matter, did it? Failure was certain, anyway. Perhaps it was for decency. Or maybe he needed the moment to recover. He was too numb. Spent from the breakdown. The short minute he spent at your shared home - that already screamed mute guilt at him - to wash off his smeared facial paint and reapply it before teleporting to your room.

You were in your bed, perfectly still. At peace. Of course. You couldn’t take any withdrawal anymore, at all - your body was too exhausted. To think this was how you’d pass - a shadow of your former self, at the limit of what you could take, physically, in every sense. You had fought a gruesome, cruel battle, gave it your everything, and now? Now, it was all for nothing. The sorrow flared again in a most painful way.

You won’t even hear his words.

He wouldn't even get to say goodbye.

Dazedly he strode closer to your bed, silently wondering where Hashirama was. He’d surely be here in a moment, he barely left your side. Your condition wouldn’t allow it - although with the seals covering your pale skin, you were stable, at least stable enough to allow him to tend to other duties, briefly. So long as the withdrawal didn’t kick in. He seized the moment while it presented itself like this.

He wouldn’t get another.

His eyes prickled again as he shuffled closer to your side. Briefly, he sat down on the side of your bed like he always had done when nobody else was around - but soon, the ache in his chest pulled him down onto his knees on the floor, by your side. The tightness inside was yet expanding and stealing his breath viciously as he wheezed past his clenched teeth for more air. Looking at you - your content face, the way your chest moved evenly albeit too fast - weak maybe but alive - it was tearing him apart. He didn’t know how to even exist with the grief that was seizing him faster than a fire ate up dry parchment.

His shaking hands reached for your cold, slender one, enclosing it in his, slowly bringing it to his face as he nearly buckled over it. Already, his chakra expanded to cover your network gently, coating it, wrapping around it in an utmost tender way. Tears welled just as the sorrow overflowed inside of him, like a barrel that was full and kept being poured in. The moment was sheer agony and yet he didn’t want it to end - to let go - because that would be the end.

Very tenderly he increased the connection to examine you, briefly - you still wouldn’t respond, but that was normal. You hadn’t woken in a couple of days during what was your lucid interval because you simply were too strained - Tobirama wondered if you could at all, really. The exhaustion was too great. Still, his examination found you were no better nor worse than the last time he performed it - your body was heavily impacted by each time the withdrawal had wreaked havoc inside, particularly your lung and heart were affected. At the same time the seals steadily streamed their support into you to keep your blood pressure up, your airways free, your attacked organs functioning. Not to mention the many wounds from the torture that had not been healing as you had been fighting for dear life. There wasn’t a part of you that wasn’t affected in some way, damaged, dysfunctional - critical, but not so that it couldn’t be helped.

It was, just like they had judged, a narrow edge they had been teetering.

And now it would tilt. The delicate balance they had managed to uphold, all they had done-

“I’m so sorry,” Tobirama finally spoke, his voice but a broken, haunted whisper. The baritone wrecked by guilt and sorrow alike, entirely unlike him and yet with an utter tenderness, reserved for you and your ears only. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Tears still flowed. “I’ve given it my all, my love. I couldn’t do it. I had it - I thought I had it - but in the last moment, it eluded me,” he continued, slowly cracking more by his sobs. “My failure will cost you everything,” he was practically wheezing now. “And I will never forgive myself for it. The void inside of me won’t ever be filled.” He paused for a moment to take a few shaking breaths, stroking over your forearm as he still cradled your hand to his face, rocking back and forth on his knees now. 

“Please, forgive me, for I’ll never be able to.”

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard the door being opened. He needn’t tune into his sensory skills to know it was Hashirama, only his brother carried the gargantuan aura about himself.

His steps froze the moment he realised Tobirama’s pose. “What are you doing?”

Tobirama didn’t move nor open his eyes. He didn’t want to break the connection with you. He’d savour every single second that he had left with you. With a numb voice, he explained the result of his last experiment to his brother, his final findings, their implications.

During it, Hashirama got on his knees by Tobirama’s side, an arm flung around him in comfort. ________

The clinking of metal armor echoed through the corridors of the interrogation and information headquarters. Two fully equipped shinobi made their way down the hall. One of them carried an odachi in front of his chest with both hands - sheathed. For now. They were given respectful nods and salutes where they passed members of the unit, but nobody questioned their purpose nor their destination. After a left turn they were greeted by a burly man with stern, pale eyes and two more members of the unit, all dressed in a black uniforms. Only curt greetings were exchanged before they descended the winding staircase down into the cell block. 

Their appearance gathered attention immediately. A rumble clattered through the bleak prison, growing with each cell block they passed. They needn’t go far. It was the middle cell block where they intended to go.

The prisoner’s gaze swept up as the group of five halted in front of his cell. Recognition flashed in his gaze, followed by laughter that carried an eerie sense of finality. “It happened, finally?”

Nobody answered. The burly man unlocked the door to enter with his two subordinates. The prisoner flashed a toothy grin, aimed precisely at one of the armed shinobi, namely the one carrying the odachi. “I’ve won,” he sneered, “I’ve fucking won, I’ve told you!” - his voice was a hoarse shout in the end, strained by the pain of a broken jaw. The three interrogators made quick work of the chains that held him tightly wrapped in the middle of the cell to ready him for transportation, arms still secured and legs only allowed a minimum of movement to walk.

The two armored shinobi watched them entirely impassively, showing not even a shred of emotion. 

The prisoner’s manic laughter echoed off the prison’s wall forlornly, hauntingly. An utterly broken sound of defiance only a certain kind person would have.

A shrill scream broke through the dismal setting. “You fucking idiot! I hope you rot in hell!” - the woman of the far end. Nobody paid attention to her.

The group made their way down the corridor that was only illuminated by a few candles along the way, passing the stairway they had taken down. The prisoner kept chattering. His voice carried a slight tremble now, “How did she die? Tell me, come on. I’ve never actually seen it, but I learned it’s fucking gruesome in the end,” his eyes were alight with sick pleasure.

The shinobi dressed in blue battle armor adorned with a white fur collar gripped the odachi so hard his knuckles turned white. His back was turned towards the prisoner, he couldn’t see the way his face scrunched under his happuri.

Nobody answered him.

He kept jabbering along incessantly. At some point the tone had taken on a perfectly fine frantic edge. Blubbering, almost, to himself. Eventually, they reached a door the burly man unlocked. The room beyond was dark but lit up as soon as they entered. No windows were inside, just like in the prison block, but no seals adorned these walls. This room was entirely bleak save for dark, crimson stains on the stone floor in the middle of the room.

The subordinates dragged the prisoner into that very center. With an ungraceful kick to the back of his knees, he was brought to kneel. The two shinobi stood in front of him and the man in the red armor crossed his arms. His expression was sorrowful, moved. But the taut line of his jaw and the coldness of his gaze betrayed no lightness about this situation.

“Zenji of the Stone Village,” he began somberly as the three interrogation unit members lined up behind their prisoner who now was wheezing on a low tune, his stare fixated on the harbinger of his fate. “The actions of your unit have endangered our borders, the civilians who live there and ultimately,” he paused meaningfully to take a deep breath - the stone cold tone cracked a little, pained lines wrinkled his smooth face. “Cost the life of one of our own.”

Immediately, Zenji’s mien lit up. He grinned widely, but he did not give the red-armored man another glance. Instead, his gaze was trained on the figure in blue, whose scarlet eyes were murderous as he stared him down, face framed by his happuri and finely applied facial paint. He looked spotless. Zenji cackled again.

“I do not wish for there to be more bloodshed,” the shinobi continued, entirely unperturbed by the behavior of the prisoner. “However our village can and will not condone these actions with idleness nor continue to nurture an enemy we cannot possibly ever release. Your kage,” Zenji’s head snapped back to the red-armored man momentarily. “Made clear he is not interested in an exchange of prisoners.”

The room became completely silent.

“I bear no revenge nor joy, but as the Hokage of Konoha, I’m here to tell you that you have been sentenced to death.”

The blue armored man stepped closer now, odachi still tightly clasped, but the man in the red armor raised his hand slightly, prompting him to stop and give him an irritated stare.

Zenji’s ragged breaths came wheezing so loudly they echoed off the walls as his wide eyes stared at the man, motionless besides the fight for oxygen.

Hashirama regarded the prisoner with the same cold gaze he had been wearing all the time. “Do you wish to speak one last time?”

That was his clue. Zenji threw his head back to release a long groan, each breath transforming more and more into a chuckle. A disconcerting lull settled over the room as it died down with a sense of finality and his eyes locked with Tobirama’s. “Oh, I fucking do,” he began, grinning widely. “To him. It’s my last wish.”

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his teeth, giving no verbal answer. Hashirama did instead. “Very well.”

Zenji cocked his head. “Tell me, how did you fail? What part of the leash didn’t you copy? I want to know.”

Tobirama’s eyes closed slowly and his jaw worked visibly. “Anjia…,” he began slowly, his deep voice so low it was barely more than a strained growl.

“Answer him, Tobirama. A dying man’s wish should not be denied.” Hashirama’s tone left no room for discussion.

Tobirama’s eyes opened again to give Zenji a glance of sheer hatred, his nostrils flared, scarlet glare ablaze. He did not even attempt to hide the fury in his voice as he spoke. If he spat the words out any more in fact, they’d be lost in the rage. “I created a leash of my own and tethered Kimi to it. However…,” he worked hard to find the next words, Zenji’s grin widened already, likely in anticipation for the best part of the story, “... it would appear my sealing technique differs from yours, if just slightly.”

The prisoner burst into laughter, Tobirama flinched. The sheathed odachi trembled slightly from the force he held it with. “I fucking knew it! Ah,” he replied when he had gained a grip on himself again. “The seal. The master’s finishing touch. Unique, really.” Zenji wriggled his eyebrow in a manner that prompted Tobirama to bare his teeth slightly. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to copy mine. Ha!”

Hashirama cleared his throat. 

But Zenji was not yet finished. “I’m not a liar though, y’know? I keep my promises,” the grin now was sickening. Gloating. Zenji cherished this moment as though he was an actor on a grand stage. Living it to its fullest. “And I promised to tell you everything once Y/n croaked, so here we are.”

Tobirama exhaled a wheezing breath as he stepped closer abruptly, Hashirama’s hand shooting up instantly to lay on his shoulder guard. “Brother, please,” he whispered, turning towards him slightly. Then the cold stare was back on Zenji. “You need not besmirch your Village’s secrets now.”

“Ah, ah,” Zenji sneered, “Why the fuck should I care? I’m as good as dead anyway, and I want to teach Konoha’s best scientist how he could have saved his oh so beloved.” His voice dripped with caustic smugness and Hashirama had to grip Tobirama’s forearm lest his brother shot forward and delivered the sentence just for these words alone.

Tobirama’s expression was one of sheer murder. His teeth were bared and the scarlet gaze alone was ready to kill a man - just like the rest of himself, particularly the large weapon he carried; the same weapon he had used many times before.

Zenji continued to live his show. “Now I needn’t explain the weaving process since you kinda copied it - well fucking done, man - but my seal - ah, let’s see. My seal is relatively simple!” Hashirama’s grip on his brother tightened as he near vibrated with lethal energy still, spurring Zenji to even greater extravagance. “Of course, it was passed down to me by the one who taught me, but I made some modifications,” he drawled lazily, an adventurous glint to his gaze. 

What followed was a detailed explanation about the intricacy and yet simplicity of his own sealing process Tobirama couldn’t stomach anymore - he turned away lest he drove the odachi through the prisoner’s neck on the spot, perhaps. It was impossible to tell in the dim light - the shadow looming over his face hid his expression well and with the happuri, his profile was somewhat obscured. Only the taut stance, the clenched grasp on his weapon were telltale signs of the high-strung situation - a tight coil, ready to lash out any second. 

Zenji didn’t hold back on information about how exactly he performed the seal that made the disruption stick within the leash - everyone else listened quietly. Hashirama’s mien had turned stony throughout it and the three members of the interrogation unit simply watched the man with practiced nonchalance. 

“And that,” Zenjia finished his grand, final play, “is what could’ve saved Y/n. Too fucking bad.” The grin he wore was nothing short of sick. “Maybe I can tell her too, when I’m dead, hm?”, he tilted his head.

Suffocating silence befell the room.

Hashirama cleared his throat. It was time for the execution of judgement, literally. He turned his head towards Tobirama, whose back was turned towards the prisoner at this point. “Very well,” he concluded with a loaded kind of finality.

A few moments of heavy silence later, Tobirama turned around.

His head was tilted downwards slightly, shadows cast over his face.

Then he looked up.

Smirking broadly.

He lowered the odachi that he had clasped so tightly throughout all of the conversation - more like, Zenji’s soliloquy, and stepped yet again closer to the prisoner.

The smirk became smug, and smugness became condescending as skin around his mouth wrinkled in an utterly arrogant way. There was a satisfied, bright glint in his scarlet gaze. “You are without a doubt the dumbest shinobi I’ve ever encountered,” finally, he bared his teeth in a wide grin. “And for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” His baritone voice dripped with sarcasm.

Zenji’s expression fell apart. His jaw hung open slightly and his gaze was wide as he tried to process the change of demeanour in who he deemed by now his arch nemesis. “What the fuck?”, he spat out finally when Tobirama didn’t speak again.

He simply clicked his tongue sympathetically and arched both eyebrows. “Y/n is not dead. In fact, thanks to you, she will live.” Both relief and caustic smugness were tangible in the way he worded this, no doubt basking in the moment of figuratively crushing Zenji under his heel. Who still didn’t find the words to answer yet, but Tobirama was more than happy to supply him with more fodder. “Certainly, time was running quite short - almost, imagine, almost - you could’ve won.”

Zenji’s jaw trembled beside the pain that must cause him alongside the rest of him. The man still hadn’t found his words again.

Tobirama wasn’t done with the verbal execution, however. “I truly did not know how to copy your seal after creating my own.” A slow nod, his baritone voice now came rolling smoothly, “And then it occurred to me - why not use your petty thirst for revenge for Y/n? All it’d take was make you believe she died. And here we are,” a smile  spread over his lips again. “You delivered perfectly.” Then, he had the audacity to give Zenji a single pat on the head as though he was praising a dog.

The prisoner recoiled from the touch as though it was scalding hot. “Fuck you!” he screamed from the top of his lungs, nearly tipping over from his kneeling position, had it not been for Ikuro’s hand shooting out to secure him by the shoulder. “Rot in fucking hell, Senju!” he howled, but it was no more than a little bandaid for the hurt pride.

Tobirama already turned around to Hashirama, any trace of smugness or gloating gone from his expression. “I’ll get to work. Thank you, anija,” he dipped his head slightly. Zenji was still shouting profanities at him, but it was no more than a background noise.

Hashirama smiled broadly, much more like himself. “Of course.”

Tobirama turned back to Ikuro and his subordinates. Now, he actually took a slight bow. “And thank you, too. There still is little more to be done, but I’m very grateful for your support.” 

Ikuro had already wrestled an unruly Zenji off of the floor, but the burly man wore a wide grin. “I - no, we will be expecting you. Right, Zenji? Come on, let’s get you back to your compatriots. They’ll be glad to see you again,” he finished with a dangerous chuckle.

The sounds already drowned out as Tobirama initiated the hiraishin seal teleport to the laboratory.

You only had a few hours left.

_______

You were suspended in sweet nothingness.

You had been for a while really, perturbed only by occasional nightmares. They were dim and far away, visions of what had been. Maybe. You weren’t sure anymore. 

It hadn’t been like this before. Before, your world had been on fire. You had been on fire. Being burned from the inside out and yet too powerless to scream out your agony at the world. Something - someone - had chained you up in the nothingness with no company except your torment that you suffered through, over and over again. Until it faded, and the nightmares came. You laughed about those now. Then, all was calm. For a while.

Your reason for going through all this was becoming but an abstract concept.

Until you weren’t even sure anymore what might be happening. Dimly, you remembered your strength leaving you - waking up was getting harder, eventually it was tantamount to the one armed climbing exercises you used to steel yourself with. You actually had been able to pull off something like that?

Tobirama had been by your side every waking second. His face; you’d never forget the expression. Never before had you seen him haunted by distress of this kind while his chakra warmly embraced you, while he comforted you - telling you he was working hard. You had wanted to comfort him in turn, then. He needed it more than you - he hadn’t looked fine. Drawn, worn out.

Unwell. Sick, almost.

Things must be looking very bad, you knew then. It reminded you why you went through all this. But you all were losing the fight, it seemed?

No matter how much you fought, how badly you wanted to - during the phases in which you weren’t suffering from being burned alive nor haunted by nightmares, you couldn’t wake anymore. You wanted to. So badly. But your eyes wouldn’t open and ultimately, the darkness was your lonely repose in which you anxiously waited for the next time the fire began to light up again.

But that had been fading. The fire’s burn was becoming shorter. And your consciousness was slipping more. Sometimes, you thought you felt Tobirama’s presence, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

Eventually it was just you and forlorn nothingness with the occasional nightmare. 

Had you died?

It changed. The fire returned once more - and this time, this time it felt as though you were burning away. Not like before - when it burned you out until someone snuffed out the flames - now, it consumed your very being. It became so great at some point, pain was all you were - nothing besides the scorch of the fire that ate you alive.

You realised then, this must be it - every moment more of you faded and the pain kept on roaring through every single cell of your body. But you - you were becoming duller and duller. You didn’t want to. Not yet - this wasn’t how you were going to go down, was it? Yet the promise of eternal rest after this, all of this pain - it was alluring. After all you’ve been through, was there really a point in returning?

Tobirama would choke you personally if he ever caught on to these thoughts.

But he’s not here, is he? 

You were all alone.

Ready to go. You had fought, you had tried, you had walked the road to hell many times over but eventually even your stamina would forego you.

Except they didn’t let you go. Something - no, someone was holding you back. Any time you were dipping into the part of darkness you just knew there was no returning from, there was a pull. It was forceful, unpleasant - a jolt that might have spurred your heart to keep on beating, your lungs to draw air and each organ of your body to keep on functioning. 

You wanted to reject it.

I don’t want to, anymore. I can’t. I just can’t. It hurts too much. Please.

They didn’t let you.

You wanted to cry.

You were suspended in nothingness by titan chains that forcefully kept you right on your very own pyre while pain was becoming you.

_______

He didn’t want to take any chances. But he didn’t have time, either. Tobirama had no choice but to follow the information Zenji had given as dutifully as possible and hope this was it - that the bottle of leash he had crafted was identical to what Zenji would have produced. Really, it was an all out move. His back was against the proverbial wall while yours lowered more and more into a coffin.

You were going into withdrawal again, and he knew what that meant.

Never before had he woven the leash this fast - frankly working with a larger quantity of base substance seemed to make the whole process easier, and yet at the same time more demanding. Not that he felt any of it, he was focusing entirely on getting this done as fast as possible. Once he was satisfied with the result - enough to give it to you that was, which was about the highest standard he could think of - he teleported straight into your room.

Where his brother was bent over your sweating, and shaking body as his palms glowed lightly.

The rattle of your breath - Tobirama knew it well. He had heard it many times before.

A dying person’s breath.

“I’ve got it,” Tobirama whispered as his heart spasmed alongside your flat rasps for air. Blood rushed in his ears and ice-cold through his veins. He struggled to keep the floor under his feet as he staggered closer swiftly. He wouldn’t lose you now. Not after all this, not with the solution to your demise in his hands.

Hashirama didn’t even answer him; his expression was wrinkled by deep concentration and a fine sheen of sweat had formed on his forehead.

Numbly, Tobirama plucked the vial with Zenji’s - his - leash from his pocket and effortlessly opened your mouth. Your skin was icy to the touch and so pale, were it not for your faint chakra signature, he’d have thought you dead already.

The image branded itself into his mind, scarring him forever.

He poured the leash in and tilted your head back so it’d run down your pharynx, giving your scalp a trembling stroke with his hand.

With prickling eyes, he moved to bend over you, place his palms on you as well to assist his brother in healing - no, in keeping you alive. As soon as he established the connection needed for examining and healing, the reality of your condition rolled over him like a boulder. Your body’s reaction to the withdrawal was as violent as ever, just like the substance that was causing it. A proverbial bushfire that had spread throughout all of you. Hashirama wasn’t just stabilizing you alongside the seals - he was taking aggressive action to keep you alive. There wasn’t a part of you he wasn’t actively pouring his own chakra in to keep on working. Were it not for him, you’d be long gone already - in his brother’s chakra’s embrace you’d stay alive, barely, so long as he forced your body to keep on going, and going. Tobirama was positive you were well beyond what you could take any more in terms of another person’s chakra. 

The alternative was you dying. 

It was another problem they’d deal with later. Swiftly, he began to assist his brother to split up the efforts evenly and try to keep you alive to the best of his abilities.

The next moments felt like an eternity.

Work. Work already. It was all Tobirama could think of while his chakra bolstered your failing heart to keep it on pumping, wound through your lungs into the tiniest alveoles to clear them of fluid and repair tissue damage so that you might breathe.

Just work.

Agonizingly slowly, the drug was taking effect. Already, your chakra began to clog, freeze - the muting component hit your network exactly like the leash would.

Tobirama thought time and his heart both froze in the next few moments that surely decided your fate.

The withdrawal’s flame died down and fizzled out as though water had been poured over it.

Time was starting again.

He started to breathe once more. Before he realised it, he sank to his knees at the side of your bed. He couldn’t focus any more, he barely felt the wheezes that escaped him as a few heavy sobs wrecked his torso.

He had done it. Finally.

The oppressing feeling of time running out - the rock that had been crushing him was lifted.

But the elevation did not last long.

Reality - the parts that weren’t circling around the fact you were at least not going to die due to a lack of the leash - very quickly yanked him back to the situation at hand. Already, he dragged himself up again to aid Hashirama once more, who had not once broken focus. They had stopped the destructive withdrawal, true enough; but the damages it had wrought were not gone of course. Swiftly he gathered himself to concentrate back on aiding his brother in keeping you alive, really, a task no less dire than before. Rather, it was time to tip the scales into the opposite direction now.

He couldn’t say how long the two of them sat in silence, simply forcing you to keep going by continuously pouring their chakra into you.

He wouldn’t lose you - not now, not after everything you both had gone through.

He wouldn’t let you go.

Bit by bit, your body started to function more and more on its own - requiring less of the forceful aid both brothers were providing. That wasn’t to say you were becoming stable at all - tentatively, Hashirama would nudge Tobirama to withdraw some, only to watch you relapse quickly.

As it was, your condition remained critical.

Some time later, his brother allowed himself a momentary almost-break. Hashirama hummed deeply. “She’s well into chakra overload now,” he announced somberly, gazing at your face. “However we can’t stop yet.”

Tobirama’s attention was still mostly turned inwards and towards you as he did the brunt of the work so his brother could catch a breath. There wasn’t a part of you his chakra wasn’t aiding in some way; all he managed was a brief grunt of agreement.

Effectively, chakra overload wasn’t much different than a late allergic reaction of the body to the procedures a medic nin had performed. The extend of what a patient could take and experienced varied from how well-versed the healer was - and Tobirama knew his brother’s skills to be capable of healing fatal wounds without sending the person into overload - but your system barely had been able to catch a break from the agonizingly long time of capture, torture and what effectively just served to keep you alive for more torture. And then of course, all that had followed back home, in Konoha.

But what they had been doing to you for who knew how long?

That was as good as keeping defying death itself.

Hashirama sighed deeply. “I suppose we have no other choice anyway. The next few hours will be decisive.”

An ice-cold shiver ran down Tobirama’s spine, disrupting his strained focus momentarily. 

Of course. They couldn’t keep on going like this forever - and neither would you endlessly, readily respond to what they did.

Either you’d start pulling your own weight again, or…

Tobirama swallowed heavily.

Silently, Hashirama’s efforts picked up again alongside his own to stabilise you.

_________

Tobirama had thought weaving the leash was about one of the most straining things he had done. But like so often these last few days, he had been wrong - cradling your very life with his proverbial hands was wrecking him a lot more for numerous reasons - the least of which was the exhaustion setting in.

Because if one thing was keeping him going, it was his determination - he wouldn’t, he couldn’t lose you, not now, not after all this.

Slowly, they had begun to lessen the intensity of the aid they provided and watched whether you relapsed into a more severe state or not. If you did, they settled back to the previous level - and waited again. A tedious procedure, but there was no other way.

Eventually, the time you managed without any aid from him or Hashirama had increased substantially - naturally, the seals on your body still were working strongly, though.

Both were now standing next to your bed, an eerie silence had filled the room, save for your flat, strained breaths.

Hashirama spoke first. “I don’t want to say this is over, yet,” he announced somberly. His mien was drawn, tired. His brother had his limits - keeping someone alive for hours pushed even him. Something told Tobirama he still could have kept on going, though. “Though we will watch now. Her overload is very severe. If she makes the next hours well enough…” He trailed off, giving Tobirama what best could be described as a sad glance.

Tobirama didn’t know what he felt anymore. In these last hours he felt just about any kind of extreme emotion - utter heartbreak, loss, sorrow, murderous fury, followed by exhilaration, followed by despair, topped off with numbing focus.

Truth be told, he could sleep while standing at this point. And yet at the same time, he was restless. He knew - he knew, just a bit longer. Just a bit. 

He swallowed heavily. “Alright.” His gaze was locked on your gaunt features still. “We should keep her sedated,” not that he believed for a second you’d be anywhere near waking anytime soon. “There will be no more withdrawal challenges. We’ll keep her chakra locked and use the seals to stabilise her until the overload fades.” Perhaps he was just convincing himself this would work, too.

Hashirama hummed in agreement. “Frankly her weak state may be advantageous. She’s too weak to have much of a too severe reaction now, I believe.”

Tobirama’s gaze flickered momentarily to his brother, then back to you. He hadn’t considered that angle. Then, he sighed deeply. “The irony,” he muttered finally.

A low chuckle was the answer, which irritated Tobirama slightly. However his brother’s gaze bore an honest kind of appreciation he always had a hard time spitting sarcasm at. “Either way, I’m hopeful she’ll make it. You’ve done it. The plan was… daring, but.” He shrugged.

He could only give a curt snort in reply. “I regret not having used my enemy’s pettiness and thirst for revenge for Y/n’s advantage sooner.” The solution had been so obvious when it revealed itself to him in what had been the darkest hour of all this fight. When he had crumbled by your bedside with his brother by his side. He frowned then. “Although it made the show most… credible.”

Hashirama’s mouth formed a thin line again as he nodded. His brother might not have fallen apart like Tobirama did, but his reaction had been just as intense. And just like Tobirama, he had been ready to protect you with any means available. Using his position for a mock execution was nothing difficult. “Now to find a cure.”

Tobirama sighed again and crossed his arms. Luckily, time wouldn’t be pressing him this time. Although he had not spent a single second on the matter, either. “I first will create the leash in such a way Y/n doesn’t need to suffer the psychotropic effects of the base substance anymore.” His baritone voice was firm. With the weight off of his chest, the protectiveness was filling him again. You were not going to suffer any more than you had. And he knew precisely how to make that happen. “It’ll just be medication she has to take regularly.”

Again, his brother hummed affirmatively. “Very well. Even so…,” he frowned then, growing quite stern. “You are going to sleep now. For about a day or three.”

Anger flashed through Tobirama faster than he had truly comprehended the words. “Anija, I will not-”

“Yes. You will.” Hashirama crossed his arms. “You’ve been awake for, what? Forty-eight hours? More? Don’t make me throw you out.”

Tobirama’s voice had risen in volume before he realised it might disturb you, but the ire stewing inside made it near impossible to keep it down. “I most certainly will not before I made the drug more bearable for-”

Something flashed in Hashirama’s eyes. One didn’t need Tobirama’s sensor skills to feel the surge in chakra that his brother emitted - but for him, it was like staring into the sun. Sometimes, it was too much. Like right now.

He yielded with no more than a curt “Alright,” before teleporting to your shared home.

Now, it didn’t feel so forlorn anymore.

[nomazee]

Komorebi (6)

komorebi, final.

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

(the final part!! i don’t wanna ramble too much for right now so all of my final thoughts will be at the end! 

love yall :) )

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽ 

Just like that, Tsukishima is back to square one. 

The world goes silent for a few days. He hates to admit that he’s losing sleep over you, but at this point he’s too far gone to care what anyone thinks about him. Except for you--and while he knows that assuming things is bad, he can only conclude by the way you looked so scared of him before, that you do not think he’s a good person. 

(The gifts you gave him nearly contradict that assumption. But he ignores those for the most part. The scarf you gave him a while ago rests on a chair in his room and more often than not he finds himself staring at it during the deep hours of the night. He hasn’t worn it yet.)

Yamaguchi keeps giving him glances during class--not that that’s any different from before, but it irks him more now that he’s actually seen you. The blonde wonders if his friend knew about you, knew that you were going to drop something off in that moment and just never thought to warn him. Maybe you two were plotting that together, like an odd sort of revenge tactic. 

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a lot of things. What he does know is that he’s tired, and he misses you, and he wants to be warm again. 

The morning is cold when we wakes up. He wasn’t really sleeping--it was one of those nights of a daze of exhaustion where he kept blinking himself awake. At five-thirty AM, he sighs, staring at the blank, matte wall of his ceiling. Tsukishima wills himself to crawl out of his bed and get ready for school. It’s still dark outside, the flames of daylight creeping up on the horizon while he steps around his room. 

He’s ready to leave by six. His mother is awake, sitting in the kitchen sipping hot tea and scrolling through her cellphone. She catches a glimpse of her son walking through the front door--Tsukishima feels her pensive gaze on him but refuses to say anything, just like always. 

The air is cold. Despite the long-sleeved uniform he’s wearing, Tsukishima feels ill-prepared to face the day, in more than one way. Nevertheless, he lets go of his reluctance at the door and trudges onward in the frigid air, nose flushed with red and cheeks going numb in a matter of seconds. 

(The scarf is in his bag now rather than his desk chair, hidden beneath his books and folders and pencils. He wants to wear it, knows he should, but his guilty conscious tells him to leave it unworn for now.) 

The walk passes by quickly, far too quickly for his comfort. Before Tsukishima knows it, he’s faced with the front doors of the very school he dreads to enter. 

His fingers tingle with numbness as he pulls at the metal handles of the door. The school is quiet, empty for the most part. The faint shuffle of teachers in their classrooms echoes throughout the halls as his feet lead him to Class 1-4. 

There’s a faint pitter-patter of footsteps from inside the classroom. Tsukishima passes it off as one of his teachers, again, but the sight he’s met with when he walks through the doorway gives him a disturbing sense of deja vu. 

You’re there, at his desk--the same bracelet from a few days ago resting on top of a box that  you seem to have just placed on his desk. You blink up at him owlishly. He can only return the gesture, dumbstruck as he is. 

It’s too reminiscent of the events from a few days ago. Once again, his eyes are prickling with stinging pain and his throat dries up. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do.

What does he know, he wonders. He knows he hates crying. It’s unfortunate that that’s the only thing he seems capable of doing. 

It’s all overwhelming for him. The cold of the outside lingering on his skin, the sheets of sunlight pouring through the window as the sun rises, your eyes, your sheer presence in front of him. It piles on his shoulder and soon he feels liquid heat pouring down his cheeks. 

Tsukishima Kei is crying. In front of you, in a classroom, watching you grip the box in your hands and stare at him, unmoving. 

His throat hurts. He tries to choke down any audible sobs, but loud, ugly sniffles echo throughout the room. He wants to fall through the floor, squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can’t bear to know that you find him pathetic, even more so than he already seemed in the last few weeks. 

Distantly, he recognizes the sound of footsteps coming closer to him but tunes them out in hopes that he’s just imagining them. A hand finds its way to his shoulder--it’s warm, and he flinches. He knows it’s yours, knows by the heat of it and the comfort he feels from a simple touch. It’s the first time he’s felt your touch, but he feels so light now--so warm and comfortable and cloudy. 

“Kei.” It’s your voice. It swims through the air and into his ears, sobs only increasing in severity at the sound of his first name on your lips. Your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, both sets of fingers gently brushing away the pouring stream. 

Fond. Tsukishima Kei is very fond of the feeling of your skin on his. He hopes he can become well-acquainted with it, if he tries hard enough. 

“Kei, it’s okay.” You’re so soft, voice low and lacking any hostility he expected you to have. Your thumbs pat at his under eyes, soaking up the wetness that pools. 

“Can you look at me?” He’s stubborn, hand coming up to grip your wrist and lips clamped tightly shut to reduce the shiver of his entire body as he weeps. A gentle shake of his head makes you sigh--he knows the way he’s acting is so uncharacteristic but he can’t help it. Not with the feel of your hands on his face, your voice, the sound of his first name spoken by you still ringing in his ears. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here.” 

You are here. It seems impossible to him, but you’re here. With him. With your hands giving him warmth and comfort and fondness. Everything he ever wanted. 

His eyes blink open. Tsukishima Kei looks at you--really looks. Your lips are upturned, gentle as is the rest of you. The sun is halfway above the horizon now, the light from it filtering through the leaves of the trees that are planted outside the window. The golden rays hit your eyes perfectly, changing the hue the slightest bit and making him stop his tears momentarily--just to admire you. 

You blink at him. You smile. Tsukishima Kei is in love, just a little bit.

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

(so... this has been a wild ride. 

first off i wanna say thank you for all the support i’ve received throughout this whole thing! it really means so much to me. i love you all so much. 

im very proud of myself for finishing this. this is by no means the greatest product i could’ve created--it was a little bit messy, and the word count of the entire series (ab 6000 i think) is lower than some long oneshots i’ve seen.

there’s a lot of things i could’ve done better--no doubt about that. but i am very proud of myself for making this. for finishing a WHOLE multipart series,,,,yes it was short but......its here! i did it! i’m finished! very happy with this. 

this series was mainly set in tsukishima’s own head--and i know it was probably at least a little disappointing that it was NOT action-based---and the fact that it was tsukki-centric was definitely a downer to some people because you didnt really get to feel what.... YOU would feel in that situation. we didnt get to see that here. 

and its okay if that’s what you disliked most!!! in truth i think that was one of my biggest weaknesses writing this series. but i liked it this way, i think. i like trying to analyze characters within my writing and i think that, at the very least, this was a good challenge for me to try to take on with characterization and the like.

anyways....that’s it i think! thank you so much for supporting me, really. i’m very thankful for everyone whose liked or reblogged any of the parts to komorebi. you are all incredible i love you. <3) 

(pssst!!! i’ll be talking about my 200 follower event soon. if you wanna participate, be on the lookout for that!!)

[meghanayar]

A memo from the mountains

Facebook reminded me yesterday that it’s been seven years since my family and I embarked on a two-week sojourn to the Swiss Alps.

This trip was memorable for a hundred different reasons, most of which make me laugh hysterically even today.

For instance, we were 16 people who carried 44 kilos of food with us. Yes, a full 44 kilos of food - it was weighed and checked at the airport. I will never forget the bewilderment on the face of the Emirates Airlines employee who spotted a 5-litre pressure cooker amongst our belongings.

Why so much food, you ask? Is that even a question? We are Gujjus, and we cannot imagine being deprived of our staple diet for a full fourteen days. Besides, Switzerland is the most expensive country in the most expensive continent on the planet, and when we travelled there in 2014, the Euro stood at a staggering 87 INR. Which Gujjus worth their salt would eat out in such a scenario?

So, the day before we were to leave, my mother summoned our ever-faithful cook and asked him to whip up as many theplas, bhakhris and pooris as his arms would allow. The other three mothers in the group did the same thing. Then, my brother escorted the whole haul to his friend’s shop (a neighbourhood gruh udyog), where all the theplas, bhakhris and pooris were vacuum-packed - basically, dressed to survive 13 hours in cargo.

During the two weeks that we spent in that tiny Swiss village named Val d’Illiez, we cooked every desi meal possible - from pav-bhaji to poha to chhole-puri to besan cheelas. Heck, we even repurposed leftover bhakhris, using them as pizza base on the last day!

However, food was the only department that sailed smoothly on this trip. Everything else that could go wrong, most certainly did.

Like the time we stopped to have lunch at a metro station (yes, food again) and nearly missed the train. I say “nearly” because three of us managed to get inside, while the other thirteen - including our parents - were left hanging on the platform when the doors closed. Luckily for them, the driver was a sweet soul who reopened the door, and waited patiently while all the aunties and uncles boarded. Had he been the nasty kind, we’d have ended up paying a penalty equivalent to the amount of money we saved by lugging 44 kilos of food!

Then, there was my mother - who refused to let us carry our passports even though it was mandatory (in order to use the travel pass), because she feared that we would misplace them. Every day, my father would remind her about the passports, and every day she would refuse. “Koi TC-VC maangshe nahi!” was her standard answer.

Well, on the second-last day, the TC did ask for our passports. And when we told her we didn’t have them, the TC threatened to fine us 70 Euros each. I did some quick mental callisthenics. We stood to pay 6000 rupees per head!

I swung into action - politely begging her to let us go. “My mother doesn’t listen to us, otherwise we’d be carrying the passports” I told her in my finest French. She pardoned us eventually, but not without shooting me the angriest look I’ve ever received.

The funniest part of this trip was our return flight - when an Indigo staffer simply refused to let us board with a pressure cooker. “But Emirates allowed us!” yelled the angry mothers at the counter lady. “EMIRATES DID! How can you refuse then?!”

“Because I can,” said the lady very calmly, “You will not check that cooker in. I won’t allow it.”

We eventually left for Ahmedabad without our beloved 5-litre Prestige pressure cooker - our faithful companion that had saved us thousands in restaurant bills.

While this trip was replete with moments of comedic gold, it was also, for me, a coming-of-age affair. I was newly-single then, looking to resurrect my career, and slightly embarrassed to be the oldest “kid” in the group at 26. When we trekked up hills, boated across lakes and explored villages, I often broke away from the group, to ponder on some essential questions that would help me rebuild my life.

“What would I want to spend the rest of my life doing?” was one of those questions.

Eventually, during one of those quiet long walks, I received the answer. It happened spontaneously, like a brahmagyaan moment. The thought clicked in my mind, and I knew the universe had answered my question.

It was actually quite simple. Having lost a couple of precious years to an ill-fated marriage, I wanted to own the rest of my life. I wanted to be the boss of my time, so that I could spend it working with words in every manner possible - reading, writing, teaching and learning languages.

Words aside, I wanted the liberty to live without ultimatums from the clock. I wanted to be able to tread new terrain as and when I pleased, without being held back by the biological/maternal impulse to prioritize another human's needs over mine.

I hadn’t heard the word “child-free” until that point. “Anti-natalism” was yet to become mainstream. Nobody I knew had taken this route. But I knew that this was the path for me. And that if I ever sought out a partner for myself again, it would have to be someone who’d agree with me on this.

Seven years later, my gratitude for that moment of enlightenment has only grown stronger. Where I once had only one reason to make this choice, I now have a hundred more, especially after the pandemic. I love children and cherish the time I get to spend with my friends’ kids, but I know definitively that I will never have any of my own. Because I don’t want to.

I am a happily child-free woman. I understand that this is not for everyone, but it is just right for me. It lets me be. It is the wind beneath my wings - heck, it IS my wings.

As I sit here amidst the Himalayas now, reading stories and crafting some, I am grateful for that holiday in the Alps, seven years ago, that made me this person. This post today is a little tribute to the trip that changed my life.

If there is a God, She lives in the mountains. I can feel her voice in my bones. She always knows what I need. She has all the solutions.

[confused-as-all-hell]

hi! congrats on 400+!!! you deserve it bestie

uh okay 🎧 and also

☀️ - ur like so cool i'm intimidated? your words are laced with silver and yet you're also just so normal? and funny? and you followed me? you're too cool to follow me ngl

and (i promise this is the last one)

🌸 - sad memory for a happy one (SORRY I WROTE SO MUCH)

it is past midnight. i cannot sleep.

i am no stranger to restless nights, but this is different. this time, i am alone.

completely, utterly alone.

and i think i was in love, once, but i could not have been, because i am not like that.

(my denial does not mean that her face has stopped haunting my dreams.)

i turn over and i turn over and i turn over, again and again and again, 6000 miles away from almost everyone who loves me, sheets damp from tears, and i think it again and again and again, as though maybe i can make it true by sheer force of will.

i know who i am. i am okay, and i know who i am.

i am too young to be telling myself these things. too young to doubt so deeply, too young for this overwhelming sorrow that rests in my bones.

i am too young to be this old.

(haha thanks for letting me describe my melodramatic inner monologue from that time i was coming to terms with my queerness. sorry i ramble so much lol)

you remind me of legends. you remind me of tales nearly forgotten, but not quite. i remember. you remind of the goddess entombed in earth and memory, her head pillowed upon mountains, her legs sprawled over the sea. benevolent lovely earthshaking. you could break the world between your hands.

as for your memory, let me trade you this:

the ocean.

a bright ice cream parlour, salted caramel dripping from your cone.

the sun is dying

dying.

you can see her light, all soft rose and blooming marigolds and streaked honeysuckle, cast over the skies.

you do not mourn her.

you do not mourn yourself.

you, too, are dying.

but you're up to your knees in the sea, and sweet ice cream clings to your lips, and there are butterflies soaring over the eternal waters, their wings slim and bright.

you've never felt more alive.

this, you think, is life.

not the tangled sheets and messy hair and swollen eyes of feeling unloved and unwanted, but the salt of the sea and the taste of caramel.

there is a pretty girl somewhere, who waits for your kiss.

and there is the sea.

and there is eternity, and your life, a grain of sand on this forever sand beach.

and there is this. there is life.

this is what immortality must feel like.

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 7.5

Bev and Richie were sitting alone. It was long past midnight now, the moon high and mighty in the great big sky, and the two were the only ones still left in the clearing of Back Cove Park; Stanley had been the first to go, dragging a rapidly tiring (yet still reluctant to leave) Eddie and Bill behind him. Mike had excused himself next, and Ben had gone with him- the two of them had taken the flashlight, leaving Beverly and her friend in near-total darkness, though they really didn't mind. That was just over an hour ago now, and since the departure of the others neither Bev nor Richie had spoken a word. There was an odd tension in the air, waves of some negative feeling rolling off of Richie so subtly that she hardly noticed them. For a good 30 minutes or so she'd been debating asking him what was wrong, why he was so off, but she had been wondering whether that was really a good idea. There were a few different paths she could take here, and each had their own obvious pros and cons; the first option was to let Richie sit in his silence, to let him have his privacy because she knows how much that privacy meant to him. The next option was to, well, wrap up the evening and leave. Beverly was tired and she was certain that he was too, so maybe it was a good idea to get the both of them home safely to sleep on the struggles. The last option, most likely to best one, was to ask Richie about what was bothering him.

Just be forward Bevvie, she told herself, wringing her hands together and picking out the best words she could. Sucking in a silent breath through her teeth, Beverly let her eyes fall momentarily shut, psyching herself up and trying to scrape together enough confidence to speak. Richie and her were seated nearly back-to-back, nothing but one of the stones/stools between them. Richie had pulled his knees up to his chest, his head leaned back to rest on the rock, eyes upturned towards the sky. From her place cross-legged just behind him, she let her own head fall backwards, bumping gently against his own.

"So," She started, her voice gentle and soft and already warning Richie of her upcoming question, "Are you okay telling me what's wrong?" She rolled her head to the side, regarding him out of the very corner of her eye, and could see the way his shoulders tensed, the way he pulled his knees just a little closer, lifting his head upright. It was as if he were curling into himself, tucking himself away into a metaphorical shell as if he were a turtle.

"Nothing's wrong," Richie said, shrugging, "I'm all god, Bev. Don't worry." Uttering a sigh, Beverly sat up and shifted halfway around the rock so that her shoulder pressed against Richie's in as comforting a way as possible.

"I... I know you don't like it when I press but..." Beverly mirrored Richie's position. going silent for a moment as phrases of comfort and coaxing danced around in her mind. She was good at talking to people, good at becoming an impromptu therapist with nearly anyone who's ever come to her- anyone except for Richie. Something about seeing Richie, esteemed Trashmouth and Man of 1000 Jokes and 6000 Riddles, sad or scared or just bummed out threw her rational brain askew, tossing her to flounder into some ocean of unease and unfamiliarity. "I'm here for you, you know. You can tell me anything. We've been through hell together, Rich, and you'll always be stuck with me." A silence stretched between them, the tension pulled taut and threatening to snap any moment now. Those waves of negativity grew stronger, nearly moving in a pulsing tandem with the distant sound of the ocean; why, Beverly was unsure. It could be both because she was upsetting him even further, or because he was letting his walls down one brick at a time. For a moment, Beverly thought Richie was going to stay silent, to decline her invitation to vent- and then, he let his head fall sideways, resting gently upon her shoulder. He scooted a little closer, arm pressed against arm, and shrugged again, dejected and unsure.

"I..." for once in his life Richie Tozier was whispering. "I'm so gay, Bev. Like, so, so gay." Beverly couldn't help but bark out a quick laugh, resting her own head on top of Richie's and rolling her eyes though he wouldn't be able to see it.

"I know that much, Tozier. I also know that's not all that's bothering you, so what's up? What's the problem?"

"The problem is that stupid, jackass, lovely little guy named Eddie. Jesus, Bev, I didn't think I'd ever like another guy again after-" Richie paused for a moment, letting the silence spell out the name he wouldn't allow himself to say, "But here I fucking am and I just- It's scary, you know? It's goddamn terrifying." Beverly nodded her head, a frown scrawling itself over her face.

"What's the scary part?"

"Remembering. I'm... I'm afraid that I'll fall in love and just get fucked up all over again. It's stupid but I can't shake the feeling that-"

"It's not stupid, Richie!" Bev's tone took on something almost scolding, and she reached for one of Richie's hands to counter the harshness, "Jesus, it's not stupid at all. Nathan," Richie stiffened, "was a dick, he hurt you. It's entirely natural to be afraid of that happening again. I promise, I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't," Beverly wrapped her arm around Richie's shoulders, pulling him closer and planting a kiss into his hair, "Eddie's an angel, Rich, you know that he'd never hurt you, right? And if he did," Bev smiled, "I'd break his stupid, jackass, lovely little neck." Richie chuckled, still weak, and shook his head. For another few beats the two fell back into a lapse of silence. Beverly's thumb, which was rested on the top of Richie's shoulder, began to skate back and forth slowly, comfortingly, rhythmic circles that helped to soothe his mind just a little bit. Sadly, with that soothing came weakening.

"No, you don't have to... you don't have to say that. I dunno," He sighed, and lifted his free hand to peel of his glasses. With the heel of his hand he scrubbed at his eyes, and Bev was dumbfounded to discover that his eyes must have been watering. Seeing Richie cry when he wasn't playing a character was a rare occurrence. She hugged him tighter, laying her legs down and pulling Richie right against her chest, cradling him as if he were a baby. "I don't think I'll ever really make any moves on Eddie. I can't risk it." Beverly opened her mouth to speak again, to repeat that Eddie was a good guy, that he wouldn't do the same things as Richie's ex, but he spoke first, "I know, I know what you're gonna say, but that's not what I mean. What I mean is that I can't risk him hating me for it or something, because then Stan and Bill will probably hate me, too- and... And that means they'll hate all of us." Richie's voice had begun to waver. Never ever has Bev felt so utterly horrible, so guilty even though this isn't her fault. "I don't want them to hate me, and I couldn't stand watching them hate you and Ben and Mike because of me,"

"Richie..." Bev tucked Richie's face against her shoulder, placing one hand on the back of his head to run her fingers through his hair, "If they hated you because you were gay then I wouldn't want anything to do with them, okay? I don't want to know them if you can't be yourself around them." As she spoke, Richie's let out a hitching breath, his battle against his own tears clearly coming closer and closer to an end. She pulled him tighter against him, other arm wrapping securely around his shoulders, and felt him hug her right back with a certain desperation, a certain starvation, clinging to her shirt as if he'd never hugged anyone in his life. It was as if she was going to slip away. He shuddered, fighting back a wail rising in his throat, trying not to sob like a child. Even though Richie was so much bigger than Bev he felt like her arms were hiding him from the world. A wave of sudden vulnerability choked his throat.

"I'm just-" Richie's voice broke and that was it for him. He melted into Beverly, the tears finally flowing free, his glasses discarded somewhere nearby and his face pressed into her shoulder, her hair, smelling her lavender shampoo. He began to tremble lightly, gasping for breath between his tears, hating how quickly he'd broken and loving that Beverly was here to cling to because she was probably the person he trusted most on this fucked up planet. "I just- I'm so scared, Bev, I'm so fucking scared and-" He was interrupted by a racking sob, and his tears strengthened tenfold, "Everything- it's all so f-fucking hard and I- I can't- Why the hell am I like this? Why the fuck can't I just- why can't I just be normal?"

"Richard Wentworth Tozier, you are not allowed to speak like that!" Beverly held him tighter, afraid that she might literally be crushing him but feeling the way he hugged her back, "Being normal fucking sucks, dude! What, you want to be some stupid pencil-pushing white boy? Get a desk job, some lame-ass wife? You can have three kids and hate your life until old age finally takes you away?" Richie nodded into her shoulder and she shook her head furiously, grabbing fistfuls of his gross arcade-carpet button up and turning her head so that her face was pressed into the crown of his head, her voice muffled, "Fuck that, Richie. You're awesome. You are literally the single greatest person that I have ever known in my entire life. You're gonna be the best comedian on the planet, and you're going to find and marry the guy of your dreams. I'm not letting you make yourself miserable just because society wants you to be, okay?" Again, with hesitance, Richie nodded. That wasn't good enough for Bev. "You got it?"

"Y-Yes, yes I-"

"Good," The firmness in her voice leaked away, replaced by that Beverly Marsh tenderness that was always hidden deep down below her spitfire, "Because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you stopped making jokes and got all old and gross." Richie was still crying, his shoulders jumping with each attempted-to-stifle sob that he just couldn't hold in. Feeling rather than seeing the misery in Richie's soul, Bev knew she had to do something to bring back his flame of humor, of idiocy, of downright stupidity. He was a fool, and she loved him for it, so she would make a fool of herself if she had to. Beverly screwed up her face, trying to get her voice to change just like Richie's always do- it didn't come as easy to her, not in the slightest, and she mostly sounded like Beverly Marsh but also sounded just a teeny tiny bit like Richie Void Of Soul. "Oh, sorry Bevvie, I can't come and make you laugh because I have a work potluck," Her voice dragged out, taking on a false-tired, lifeless drawl, and it managed to get a shaky little snicker out of Richie that was wet and sad and overtaken by another shaking sob, "Oh, by the way, do you have a recipe for some coleslaw? Usually Karen in accounting brings coleslaw but she died of boredom right at her desk," Again, Richie let out a shaky little giggle, his voice hitching for breath, little hiccups slipping past his lips as he did. The character Beverly was going for was Richie If He Followed Social Norms. It seems the joke landed at least enough to brighten the usually unshakeable mood of Richie Tozier.

"You can drop that recipe off any time after five o'clock tonight," His voice was strained, tiny and Richie pitched it up an octave and tried his best to mimic the depressing lifelessness Bev had adopted, "Any earlier than that and I might be at my sweet angel Joseph's ballgame." Beverly was laughing now too, rocking gently back and forth with Richie still held tightly in her arms.

"What are you, a soccer mom?"

"O-Only if you take Joseph and the team out for pizza after, because I'm just so proud of them. Who cares if they lost!" Richie wiped his damp eyes on Bev's shirt and leaned away, his shoulders, which were hunched, leaning back just gently as he straightened up again. He was grinning in a way that almost looked frightening, tear-stricken and all tooth and self-loathing and relief to have cried out all the sadness.

"Everyone is a winner in my book! Saddle up gang, to the Pizza Hut we go!" Beverly pumped a fist into the air, wiping at her own damp eyes and wearing a grin not dissimilar to Richie's own. Reduced to sad, scared, giggling children in one another's arms, Richie began to feel just a little better. If he tried really hard and had his friends at his side then maybe he really would fine his soulmate or his dream guy or whatever other silly name existed for 'the one'. Maybe he would fulfill his dreams and become a real standup guy, or maybe he'd pursue ventriloquism or he'd become a Rockstar or a radio host or something like that. With a few more minutes together, Richie nearly squashing Bev under his weight, he began to feel good enough to function again. Richie leaned in one more time, wrapping his arms tightly around Beverly's shoulders and crushing the soul out of her in a bear hug. After a moment of near-suffocation he pulled away, his smile more natural than it had been moments later. The two began to untangle themselves from one another like some finicky Christmas lights, and then Richie sat heavily at her side still sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Thanks, Bev." Richie clasped his hands, letting them rest in his lap. Beverly's smile shrunk into something serene and loving, and the two let minutes tick by in silence as Richie picked up his last stray pieces and clicked them back into place. Once Bev was certain he was A-Okay once more she let her head shift to look at him, watching him replace his glasses and piping up with a cheeky question and a cheekier grin. Humor and teasing always was the best way to get Rich's spirits up again.

"So Eddie, huh? I didn't take him as your type." Richie let out an incredulous sound, staring at her in disbelief. The way his eyebrows had shot up said 'What the hell are you talking about? Have you seen him?'.

"He's such a- such a little bastard, it's adorable. How can you not be into that?" At this, Beverly nodded her head, letting out a sound that meant 'you have a point' and accenting it with a half-shrug that clearly didn't suffice for Richie believing that she was convinced, "And he's smart and annoying and- well, he's cute, too. So cute with his freckles and his eyes and his hair- not to mention he's way shorter than me- and... uh..." Richie cut himself off, seeing the way that Bev was looking at him. Suddenly, his face went red, flushing with heat, and he lifted one hand to scratch at the back of his neck. He smiled sheepishly. "I... I like him, I think."

"Yeah, Rich," Beverly grinned, her heart swelling with endearment, "I think you probably do."

[thoradvice]

hello <3. before i start this post, i just want to say how truly grateful i am for every kind word and message you guys have sent me, especially recently. i may not reply to all of them, but i do really appreciate them. 

i made this blog nearly two years ago in an attempt to make a difference in some corner of the internet and to create a positive space for my recovery. i never expected to get over 6000 followers and have my lil words of comfort be reposted to so many different sites. i’m truly glad that i have helped people. but this blog is no longer a positive space, at least not at the moment.

i’ve been receiving a lot of awful asks recently, and it’s really taking a toll on my mental health + recovery. i need to do what’s best for myself right now, and i think that’s leaving this blog for a little while. i’m not going to delete it, and i’ll still reblog some posts occasionally, but i’m not going to be answering any asks / messages, and i won’t be checking my notifications for this blog.

i don’t think i’ll abandon this blog forever, because it really does make me feel good most of the time and i do love helping people. but i think i just need some time away from it for a little while. 

see you soon <3

[primofate]

Hi! Congrats on 2000 followers! 🎉💖

Could I request Cinnamon Sugar Waffles with Zhongli please?

Thank you and congratulations again!

Thank you so much dear! :D I believe two of you asked for this, so far. So here it is.

If you guys missed it. Here’s the menu to my 2k followers event:

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/660337440627785728/2k-follower-event-pancake-waffle-cafe

Cinnamon Sugar Waffle (“I change my mind, I like you, okay?”)

Note: Zhongli would never outright say something like that so... I tried my best. IT’S REALLY MILD ANGST I FEEL LIKE IT’S MORE FLUFF HAHA I’M SORRY

Zhongli 

“That poor girl,” Hutao said, in a not so remorseful voice. In fact, it sounded as if she was having fun in explaining your situation. Zhongli looks up from his tea to the Director. 

“You are referring to...?” Zhongli trails off, not quite sure what his current boss meant. Hutao merely ignored him and hummed to herself, looking busy with papers. Zhongli stares at her. Patience was not an issue with Zhongli, even with Hutao. 

But the Director continues to hum to herself, glancing at the clock and merely excalimed, “7:00 on the dot!” her head swerves towards the door of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. As if a fortune teller, there’s a knock. “Come in!” Hutao sings, and in you come with a package in your hand. “Hutao, Zhongli, good evening!”

Zhongli smiles out of courtesy. Ah. She was talking about you. Perhaps about the fact that you visited every day just to drop off fresh tea leaves. For him. “Y/N,” Zhongli curtly greeted and braced himself for another round of you explaining what type of tea leaves you’ve brought today. 

The first few times was rather amusing. Informative, even. For someone like him who had seen nearly everything and with the experience of 6000 years, he still managed to learn something from you, albeit just a little. Most of the tea leaves you bought, he was aware of its history, its uses and its benefits. Weeks later when you still continued to visit, on the dot, Zhongli started to wonder if this had become some type of hobby for you. I didn’t bother him at all, but he was curious as to why you did it. Hutao suddenly excused herself, saying that she needed another piece of document from another room.

“How are you today, Zhongli?” You asked and took out a small sachet full of dried leaves. “Quite a mundane day,” he answered, and pushed away some documents to make way for you. “Today is a special blend! I mixed it myself,” he watched how your eyes sparkled as you told him about your special blend of tea. A mix of dried berries and ground Camellia leaves. Invigorating you say, for days where one is a little more tired than usual. 

It then suddenly occurs to him that you are doing this for him. Zhongli is far from dull-witted. Hutao was not present at the moment, and you only ever explained the tea leaves to HIM and not the Director. Nevertheless, he continues to watch you explain the other benefits of it, and its taste, then after putting back the small pouch into the paper bag, handing it over to him.

Zhongli accepts it but clears his throat slightly. “Y/N,” you tilt your head in question at his sudden, somewhat serious tone. “Yes?” He’s silent for a moment, ruminating on what to say. “Pardon me for inquiring and I do not mean to imply any hostility, but...” he fixes his gaze on you, “perhaps you’re allocating too much time on this?”

You frown a little. He says that he didn’t mean any harm, but it sounded as if, in his own careful, sophisticated and nice words, that you were wasting time on it. Or were you just imagining it? You decide that Zhongli isn’t that petty, and smile in return “It’s only really one hour out of my day...” and without hesitation you add, “and it’s for you, so I don’t mind at all.” 

Zhongli only hums in understanding. He senses that this is more than just a daily visit for him to be healthy and drink tea. “I see,” then there’s a small tension in the air. An awkwardness that hangs between the two of you until he breaks it. “I still have some tea from last time, you see, and the day before that...” your cheeks start to heat up in embarrassment, because you know what he’s implying before he even finishes. He was just too nice to say it outright: you were coming by too much and too frequently. 

“Ah, yea, I...see,” then you push the paper bag further towards him before bowing, “I’m sorry to bother you then, I’ll see myself out,” still you smile and still he smiles, just to be polite. He...hadn’t really planned for you to feel small or terrible about it. Perhaps him trying to be indirect and dropping hints was more hurtful than the truth. 

Since you had gotten the hint, for the next few days you had neither dropped by nor seen the man. It wasn’t strange to Zhongli. He went by his tasks and day as usual. But something strange happened by the seventh day. There was a distinct feeling of “something is missing” as if his every day routine had not been completed and it left him a little antsy. 

It was similar to having an itch that one couldn’t scratch. 

He was unsettled. He merely thought that it was something that would pass but by the 11th day, the itch just got worse.

He’d made a mistake. It was not just the fact that the routine was broken, but more about the unease and uncertainty. Were you doing well? What kinds of things had you been doing the past few days? Was it his words that had forced you to stay away or were you perhaps actually occupied with your own business? Either way...maybe it was his turn to visit.

“...Hutao, would you happen to know where Y/N resides?”

Hutao giggles happily, Zhongli raises his eyes at the sudden sound. “Finally giving in, huh?” He doesn’t reply, but he still receives directions to your house, which he visits, at 7:00 sharp. 

You’re beyond surprised to see him standing outside your door and for a minute you wonder if he was lost. “...Y/N, have you been well?” He doesn’t ask to be invited in. What right did he have? The only thing you do is open the door a little wider and smile at him, as if nothing had happened. “...Quite...a mundane few days,” a grin appears on his features, knowing that you had thrown him the same reply as he did that day. 

“I must say it’s been the same for myself,” you chuckle, thinking that he had nothing more to add. “perhaps a little more mundane than usual, I admit, without your presence around,” you freeze at the words. Eyes trained upon him and unsure of what he meant. You tear your gaze off of him in slight embarrassment, turning to the ground. “Mmhmm,” yet again there’s a bit of silence hanging around like a curtain concealing and separating the two of you from the rest of the world. 

Like the two of you were in your own world.

He speaks up first, voice smooth and low. “...would you be opposed to the idea of me visiting you instead?” because he thinks you’ve done your fair share of work. You’ve done your fair share of showing interest. And try as you might to stop your lips from curling upward, you fail at it, showing a slightly lopsided smile. “No, I would love that,”

“7:00 on the dot?

“7:00 on the dot.”

[inu-jiru]

The Tiger And The Zebra

Chapter Two - Passing The Time

If there was anything positive I could say about the Gem Rebellion, it was that it forced Gemkind to vastly improve its ships and weaponry. I had less than pleasant memories of the days of Era 1, and the decades-long journey it took to reach Earth during the war. Now, thanks to warp speed technology, we’d arrive in less than a lunar cycle. For that amount of time, I’d need to find a way to occupy myself. If only past me had had the foresight to store a few books in her gem...

The first few Homeworld rotations were uneventful. When I wasn’t sifting through the ship’s archives for an interesting report to read, I patrolled the halls of the warship, hoping to White Diamond that those disgustingly bright yellows and greens wouldn’t blind me. One three areas of the ship were of interest: the bridge, the prisoner’s dock, and the training bay. 

I visited the prisoner’s dock the least. The Lazuli had been moved there since the interrogation. Once we returned to Homeworld, her final punishment would be decided by her own court. Personally, I thought it was a waste of time. A traitor like her only had one use: to be harvested. Still, she was the ship's prisoner for the time being, and prisoners needed to be checked in on. The prison bay contained three long hallways lined with prison cells. When in use, the a would have a forcefield that would destabilize the physical form of a Gem. Normally, this made it so that a prisoner could be left alone, but there was always that one desperate Gem who'd attempt to escape, usually dissipating their forms in the process. The Lapis Lazuli, fortunately, showed no signs of such foolishness. At least she had that going for her.

"Mmph," I'd often grunt in disgust, eying the terraformer as I passed her cell. She would only press herself deeper into the corner, burying her head in her arms and knees. She resembled one of those small, crawling Earth creatures: small, pathetic, and begging to be crushed under my foot. 

The bridge was next, though my visits were very brief. The Peridot piloted from there and never seemed to stray from that area. How dull. The Peridot herself was very professional, always saluting to me and treating me with the utmost respect. Without Jasper around, she wasn’t nearly as snippy as I thought she’d be. She was growing on me.

“Tell me.” I decided to strike up a conversation during my most recent visit. I stood beside the technician, gazing out into the starry void that was space. “I’m quite curious. How exactly did you cross paths with the traitors?”

“Well, as I said before, I was assigned to monitor the incubation of the Cluster,” she explained. “A geo-weapon, one that would destroy the Earth from the inside out.” I felt my brow raise in interest. I’d overheard the Cluster’s name from Peridots in White Diamond’s court, though I’d never looked into it. How fascinating, and how clever of the Diamonds to turn something as messy as the Rebellion around in their favor. Oh, if only I hadn’t needed to bring Rose Quartz to Homeworld; I would’ve loved to imagine the look on her face when her precious Earth suddenly crumbled away beneath her feet. Oh, well.

“As for the Crystal--I mean, traitors...” I smirked at my own reflection in the glass. She remembered my anger at the Lazuli when she used that juvenile name. How cute. “I was just starting to remotely reactivate the Prime Kindergarten's control room, when they showed up: three gems and a...a Steven.”

...A what?

“Pardon?” I asked.

“That’s what it called itself.” 

“How odd…” I paused for a moment. “No Rose Quartz?”

“Just her lackeys, I’m afraid,” the Peridot admitted. “They destroyed the power supply and disrupted my connection. I made the request for an escort immediately after.”

“Well, Rose Quartz and the fools who follow her will be dealt with in due time, Peridot,” I said. I stood up straight, hands behind my back as a surge of confidence flowed through my physical form. “Her Clarity has complete and total confidence in us. I’ll personally see to it that they’re all shattered, even if I have to testify and each and every one of their trials.”

“I appreciate that, ma’am,” said Peridot. Despite her monotonous voice, I could hear some genuine gratitude. I flashed her a quick smile before making my leave, calling back over my shoulder:

“As you were.”

Finally, there was the training bay, where I spent a good chunk of time, for obvious reasons. Jasper was very much like Peridot in that I never caught her in any other part of the ship. No, Jasper preferred to spend every waking moment training. Even when I was nowhere near the training bay, I could swear I could hear her roars echoing in the distance. I was intrigued, yet also wary. Gems might not have needed sleep, but enough physical exertion was enough to dissipate any Gem’s form. Either Jasper wasn’t aware of this, or she simply didn’t care.

Each visit, I would quietly take my place near the wall, observing Jasper’s progress with an expressionless mask. Her favorite piece of equipment seemed to be the punching bag, and she was relentless with it. First, she’d assault it with a flurry of punches and kicks, barely giving it a chance to swing back to her before she attacked again. Then, equipped with her helmet, she’d tuck herself into that signature spinning attack (a “Spin-Dash, as I’ve heard some call it) and deliver blow after blow. It was nothing short of genius engineering that the punching bag hadn’t been torn to pieces. Once Jasper was satisfied, she’d stand up right, hands on her hips, head held high, her chest heaving, her toned muscles drenched with sweat…

Oh, dear. One of these rotations, she was going to catch me staring. 

“Have you heard much about the Cluster?” I dared to break the silence. This was shortly after my talk with Peridot. Jasper paused in mid-swing, the punching bag getting a brief reprieve from its beating. She looked towards me, clearly caught off-guard. She recovered quickly.

“The pipsqueak mentioned it,” Jasper replied, a growl in her voice as she referred to Peridot. “I didn’t ask for details, mostly because I don’t really care. Rose is my top priority.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “I just thought it might be of interest to you, considering...well, you know.” Jasper frowned. She then struck the punching bag with her fist, a noticeably half-hearted strike.

“Well, that isn’t a bad memory at all,” she grumbled. Sarcasm dripped from her words. 

“...” I should’ve realized how sensitive of a topic that must’ve been. I mentally cursed my own foolishness. I, of all the Gems on this ship, should’ve known better. “My apologies. I just assumed that it wouldn’t be nearly as painful to talk about after 6000 years.”

“As if that,” Jasper gave another punch, a slightly stronger one. “...makes it better.” I let out an annoyed huff.

“My judgement was faulty,” I admitted. “I get that. That’s why I’m apologizing. It’s not that hard to understand, is it?”

“Of course it’s not.” This time, it was a kick. “I’m a Quartz, not a Ruby.”

“Alright, alright,” I began, sighing. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry, really. I promise I meant no offense.”

“Hmph,” Jasper snorted. She lowered her fists, bringing the punching bag to a halt with her hand. I could see her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. “I guess I accept your apology.” I didn’t realize it until that moment, but I’d been holding my breath. 

“Well, if you guess,” I said, attempting to mimic Jasper’s tone. I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “You know, another Agate might call you insubordinate for that kind of talk.”

“Oh?” Jasper now turned to me, a brow raised and a hand on her hip. “And not you, eh?”

“Not at the moment, no. Though I would advise you not to try my patience.” The Quartz only stared at me for a moment, before shrugging.

“Alright, sure.”

“Is something bothering you?�� I asked curiously. I walked a bit closer as Jasper looked at me, confused. “You seem...upset by something.”

“Wha…? I--” Her eyes darted off to the side. “N-No. No, ma’am. Why would I be upset?”

“That’s why I’m asking,” I explained. I stopped in front of her. It was by now that I realized that she was a bit taller than I was, and I had to look up at her if I wanted to look her in the face. “Going to Earth after all of that happened...I admit, I’m not too thrilled about returning myself. It’s not just you, you know.”

“I’m fine,” Jasper said hotly. She looked down at me and I could see a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. “Why are you acting so...concerned? Agates don’t do that.”

“Well, I do,” I shot back. “I look out for my Quartzes. And until we return from this mission, you are my Quartz, Jasper.” I saw her stiffen. Her blush deepened, and her eyes widened as if she’d just emerged from her Kindergarten. Stars...How could someone gemetically designed to be a brute be so cute? “Am I a bit lenient for an Agate? Perhaps. It depends on the Gem, really. I just believe that a Quartz is at her best when she is physically, mentally and emotionally sound. Now…”

I brought out my arms from my sleeves, pushing them up and out of the way. Jasper’s eyes followed the movements of my hands. I grinned.

“As skilled as you are, Jasper,” I started. “Watching one Quartz smack a punching bag around is painfully dull. Perhaps you’d do better with a sparring partner?”

“You?” The soldier met my eyes again. 

“No, the Lazuli,” I scoffed. “Of course, me. Are you interested?”

Jasper didn’t respond at first, instead, resting a hand on her chin in thought. It didn’t take her long to come to a decision, and soon, she smirked.

“You know what? Sure, why not. Heheh, this should be fun.”

“Oho,” I cooed. I felt excitement rush through me. Battling the Ultimate Quartz? When would I ever get another chance to do this? I held out my hand, summoning my crook, slowly as not to startle my new training partner. “I hope you don’t expect victory to come easily. I’d like to be something of a challenge for you.”

“Good.” I heard a purr edge into Jasper’s already rumbly voice, as if it wasn’t already sending delightful vibrations into my gem. She summoned her crash helmet, grinning in anticipation. “I wouldn’t accept anything less.”

I was prepared to make some sort of witty reply, or, at the very least, put some distance between myself and Jasper. I hadn’t taken into account Jasper’s enthusiasm, however. She’d barely finished her sentence when she suddenly charged at me, aiming a punch at what was probably going to be my face if I didn’t move. With only milliseconds to react, I dove to the side, feeling her fist brushing against my hair. She wasted no time, swinging again. I dove back, narrowly avoiding a blow to my stomach. An unexpected twinge of fear pulsated through me as I now found myself dodging an onslaught of punches, all while Jasper laughed.

“What’s the matter?” she demanded. Her smile indicated that she was enjoying this a bit too much. “I thought you were gonna give me a challenge!”

With a shout, I launched myself backwards, landing far out of Jasper’s range. It did nothing to deter her, and Jasper rushed to close the distance between us. Now that I was expecting her, though, I was ready for a counterattack. With a tight grip of my crook, I dashed towards her, swinging the hooked end and catching her by the neck.

“Uh…?” she muttered, but it was all she had time to say before I tugged my crook and dragged her along. I grunted; her body might’ve been made of light, but it felt like pulling solid rock. She dug her heels into the ground, which definitely didn’t help. With effort, I spun her in a circle and flung her back in the direction she came from. Before she could land flat on her face, she pulled herself into a Spin-Dash and spun around, aiming at me again. She was relentless, and I didn’t have time to marvel. 

I took a deep breath, feeling energy coursing through me. It traveled to my crook and charged it to the point where white bolts of energy spiraled around its length. With both hands, I brought up my crook and slammed its base on the ground. The electricity now traveled towards the Spin-Dash, meeting it and giving Jasper a mighty zap.

“Grah!” I heard her cry out. I gritted my teeth, feeling some guilt. I hadn’t wanted to hurt but, but it seemed like she wanted a genuine fight. Jasper broke from her Spin-Dash and was on her feet again. Smoke rose from her body and I noticed her stagger. 

“Oh, stars…!” I shouted in alarm. Without thinking, I started towards her.

“Heheheh...” the Quartz suddenly chuckled. froze, staring at Jasper with wide eyes. She looked back at me, panting hard, yet still smiling smugly. “I was starting to think you were rusty or something. Guess not.” My face grew hot. No Quartz had ever given me this much trouble. 

“I wasn’t ready,” I said irritably. My infatuation with the warrior Gem was forgotten. She made a fool out of me. At least no one else had been here to see it. “I thought we’d have a countdown or start on “Go” or...something other than that.”

“There’s no countdowns in a real fight,” said Jasper with a chuckle. “Your enemy’s not gonna wait for you to be ready. You know that, right?”

“This isn’t a real fight,” I sighed. “At least, I hadn’t planned on it being a real fight. And I’m not your enemy. We could’ve hurt each other.”

“Like I said. Holding back isn’t my style. Besides, you’re gonna need to do a lot more than that to hurt me. But if you can’t handle it, I can just go back to using—“

“I can handle anything you throw at me,” I interrupted. I angrily pointed my crook at her. “And you need to be careful with how you talk to me. I’m still your superior, both in rank and in court. Am I understood?”

“...” Jasper’s smile fell. A long and uncomfortable silence lingered between us. In that time, I began feeling guilty. It was the one instance where I didn’t feel pleasure from asserting my authority. I wasn’t sure if she’d been enjoying my company as much as I was enjoying hers, but we had been getting along. My anger subsided quickly, and with a sigh, I allowed my crook to vanish in a flash of light.

“I…” I heard Jasper say. She was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Hands at her sides, crash helmet disappearing, and eyes shut, she stood at attention before me. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

Her voice sounded strained. I couldn’t imagine apologizing was something she did very often. Still, I appreciated it.

“You’re forgiven,” I replied, giving her a polite smile. “At ease, soldier. She opened her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, but her body still seemed rigid and stiff. It was finally sinking in that this Jasper was the most battle-driven Quartz I’d ever met. 

“You know…” I started. “You’ve been training non-stop for a while now. Perhaps you should take a break? You could sit in the Extraction Chamber for a bit.”

“A “break”...?” Jasper echoed, looking confused. I blinked. Did she really not know what a break was? How had she not shattered herself from overexertion?

Without another word, I walked to Jasper, took a hold of her shoulder, and began walking with her to the ship’s Extraction Room.

“Do I really have to do this…?” she pouted. “I’m fine; I don’t need a “break”.”

“Well I think you do,” I responded playfully. “Let’s say...an hour?”

“But—“

“Two hours, if you start.”

“Mmph…”

“Very good,” I chuckled, patting her shoulder gently. I’d sit with her, just to make sure she didn’t try sneaking off. Besides, I wanted to see how much she glowed after her impurities were steamed away. Maybe I could convince her to change out of her usual attire. Something more...revealing. I felt hot under my robe just thinking about it. Oh...this was going to be interesting.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

It’s been a while. I know. I’m sorry. I hope you are okay, that you are healthy and that your loved ones are okay too.

I was feeling better, genuinely. Even with a global pandemic and despite the fact that I have not hugged my girlfriend in a year, I feel better. Happier, somehow. I think it’s because I told my parents about A. They took it pretty well considering the fact that I kept it from them for more than two years and that my dad is quite homophobic - turns out he is not when it’s about his own flesh and blood. I don’t know if I told you that I told them. But here you go.

Did I tell you that I started dance classes again? Well due to Covid they stopped again, like in march. I miss it. They usually keep me sane. Now, since yesterday, I feel like I am going crazy. I finished my last exam but I still have to work on my thesis. Mind you, I even applied for an Erasmus Mundus, Glasgow, Aarhus and Barcelona, maybe even Vancouver are the cities I would live in for six months each more or less. It sounds really interesting but it’s so expensive. In some weeks they tell me if I’m admitted to the scholarship. If I don’t get that scholarship, paying might get tricky. I am looking for apartments right now and I found one I really like. It’s around 50cm2, has a kitchen/living room, a bathroom, a room and a tiny room. It looks amazing but it’s expensive. Then again, it’s cheaper than anything else I saw. It’s 400 000€, when all the others started at 600 000€. Housing situation in Luxembourg is hell. It’s so expensive. The apartments I went to take a look at aren’t even in a central region. They are all on the countryside and so so so expensive. Did you know that for an apartment that size in the capital you nearly pay a million? In other countries you get an entire house for that prize, but hey… that’s life I guess. Well, when I saw this particular apartment, I fell in love. And if everything goes right, I will buy it and borrow money at the bank, hello depts for 15 years, but hey I’m only 22. I saw the apartment and I imagined A living there with me. We have talked about names for children and Samira or Alia are the ones we stuck with. What do you think of those? I know they aren’t typical names and if I’m not wrong they have arabic and/or hindu origines, but we fell in love with them. We’d like to adopt a girl, but there are many procedures until that can happen. She will probably move in with me as soon as we both finish our studies. We want to marry. Who would have thought that? It makes me genuinely happy and the distance has made us stick together even more.

I also finished my internship with the extra third graders. It was exhausting but I miss the kiddos. They turned out to be great as soon as I found out how to handle each of them and their extra behaviour. Some of them told me they wanted me to be their teacher till the end of the year. I nearly cried when I heard that, but hey, I held back the tears.

Not-Rose and I are sometimes talking, I am on friendly terms with Sally again, and I just completely dropped the 9. Lena is distant (yea, we share that name, I’m not talking about my secret alter ego) and never wants to do anything. I told Laura and Daniel about A too. They took it well. And Lisa is like always. They are my friends I guess. But I don’t think we will stay in touch after uni. We just don’t have many things in common and some of their thoughts and ideas are… quite challenging for me. I don’t want to say they are utterly stupid, but they kind of are dunderheads. I love them though, I just don’t feel like we have a lot in common. I hope the Glasgow will accept me… because that Masters degree would give me a chance to work in a higher field, maybe even research, so that I can bring about the change I strive for. Sometimes I do feel weird for telling you all of this. I’m sorry for oversharing (if it’s bothering anybody).

Oh, also, I cleaned my emails (went from 6000 to 120, huge, huh?) and I stumbled upon some form my Spanish teacher (2014-2017) The way I wrote made me cringe, but her messages were kind. I think she is one of the people who made me change for the better. A is too. And me changing my way of thinking and being more open. It think it has helped me improve a lot. I reached out to a therapist for my dermatillomania and have an appointment in march. It’s public therapy and they have long waiting periods, but at least I reached out. Right?

I wrote the TOEFL again and the DELE C1, I hope to get my results soon. The DELE is taking 3 months already, and TOEFL should arrive in about 5 days. I think I did good. I hope well enough to be admitted at a university in Madrid if they don’t take me for the Erasmus Mundus programme.

You know what? Writing to you always makes me feel serene. I’m calm right now. Freya Ridings’ Lost Without You is my company and I am okay. Yesterday I wasn’t. A’s mom might have cancer… and it might be spreading. She was destroyed and I wanted to help but I don’t even know when the next flight are going to Spain from here… I mean, there are flights, but what if no plane flies back and I am stuck there with uni starting again here… I cried. Because of her and her mother and because some days ago she asked me to read to her out of my “Essays” (aka the crap I have been writing on my phone since 2015, which mostly is utterly depressing and consists of the things I don’t really tell people. That, and some letters to you, that is. And she asked me to read the bad parts about her to her… so I did. And oh I hated myself for those words. She is okay with them, says they make her learn what to do and how to improve, but I felt like a huge a**hole because those things were not fair towards her. I was so deep into my own misery that I didn’t realize how bad I was treating my girlfriend, even though it was only on the screen and my head. That’s too much. After reading some to her, she had to leave, and I read through the entire 268 pages again and deleted every single bad thing I ever wrote about her. That didn’t make the bad feeling go away though.

I’m sorry for having written so much. It’s just been a while. I truly hope you and everybody reading through my thoughts is okay (and hey, thanks for having read until here, I know it was a lot this time).

Be safe,

Love always,

Lena.

P.S. Listen to Daughter (“Tomorrow”, “Youth”, or whatever really. The band is great and has been my company for a loooong while now)

(22.01.2021, 11:09h)

[lady-divine-writes]

31 Days of Ineffables - “To Love, Nourish, and Protect” (Rated PG13)

Summary: A disastrous batch of chocolate chip cookies and a heartbroken apology lead Aziraphale to wonder why Crowley has suddenly decided to go all house-husband on him. (1462 words)

Notes: Written for @drawlight's '31 Days of Ineffables' prompt 'cookies'.

Read on AO3.

“Merry Christmas. I’m sorry.”

Crowley throws a plate of cookies down in front of Aziraphale, then stomps a step back. The plate bounces off the wood, depositing crumbs onto the tablecloth. Aziraphale looks at it, blinking in surprise.

“Well, that’s … uh …” Aziraphale examines his demon’s sour face, but with no answers to be found there, he turns his attention to the cookies, observing them without touching them. They seem to be plain, old, regular, chocolate chip cookies: a little thin, a might bit dark and crisp around the edges, but otherwise serviceable as cookies go. He can’t imagine what Crowley could be apologizing for. “And why exactly are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry because I’m a failure.”

Aziraphale jerks upright, sits straighter, boundlessly confused by this whole ordeal. “Are you a failure because you’ve done something, dear, and then made cookies to apologize?”

“I’m a failure because I can’t do anything!” Crowley spits. “Even something simple, something humans do every day, like baking a frickin’ batch of chocolate chip cookies! Those are failure cookies, Aziraphale!” Crowley wraps his arms around his chest, hugging himself to the point of contortion. Failure cookies? That should be a clue. Aziraphale knows. However, he’s still having a difficult time understanding.

“Could I … would it be all right if I try one?” he asks. “See for myself. I’m sure they’re quite good.” Aziraphale leans low, takes a sniff, and op!

Okay.

There might be a problem.

From the outset, they smell like delicious, albeit slightly overdone, cookies. But after the aroma travels through his sinuses to the back of his throat, he can definitely sense something there. Not something bad. Just something not … right.

Sharp.

Pungent.

Off-putting.

Evil.

Not demonic evil, per se. Crowley didn’t curse the cookies. He just … may have gone a little off recipe.

“It’s your funeral.” Crowley rolls his eyes towards the window, and Aziraphale suspects guiltily that something about his expression, something he didn’t do on purpose, gave his assessment away. He immediately smiles, a bit too brightly, and Crowley adds a tut to his side-eye glare. The angel reaches for a cookie. He picks one up carefully and breaks it in half. It comes apart in two pieces with a satisfying snap. Aziraphale’s smile becomes more genuine. That’s a good sign. He looks at the fractured portion. Nice division of air bubbles, even ratio of chips to cookie.

All good things.

Excitedly, he puts the cookie half to his mouth and bites into it.

And that’s where the good things end.

The second the cookie hits his tongue, his mouth floods with saliva, his body attempting to wash away the tang of savory which overwhelms the sweet, so much so that if no one told him he was eating a cookie, he’d think he was biting into an exceptionally thin slice of burnt olive loaf, with chocolate chips in place of pimentos.

Aziraphale feels Crowley watching him so he schools his face and shuts his eyes, trying to decide on the best course of action to avoid any more hurt feelings. He breathes in through his nose to eliminate the flavor, but it doesn’t help. In fact, the circulation of air seems to accentuate it.

So he decides on a different route of analyzing this cookie - by stretching his angelic powers and trying to divine why? Why the cookies? Why has Crowley suddenly, after centuries of eating at restaurants and never once entering a kitchen for anything other than a bottle of wine from the fridge, decided he needs to learn to cook?

But it hasn’t only been the cooking.

Crowley tried his hand at sewing the other day, too - to fix one of the buttons on Aziraphale’s coat when he noticed the threads holding it to the fabric had begun to fray. He accidentally ended up sewing the coat closed, but it was a valiant first effort if Aziraphale says so himself.

And that’s another thing.

All of these little experiments at domesticity have been aimed at Aziraphale – fixing Aziraphale’s coat, trimming Aziraphale’s hair (a disaster deserving of its own sitcom), baking Aziraphale cookies. Crowley started off by tidying Aziraphale’s bookshop, which he’d been so expert at, Aziraphale couldn’t find half his belongings without magic for days.

But Crowley has his own flat to clean. And his car. Why is he so focused on Aziraphale? When had it started?

What were they doing when this began?

Well, the very first thing Crowley did for him was to clean his bookshop.

Cleaning is a nervous tick he has, something he does to calm down.

They’d been drinking before that. And talking. Reminiscing. Crowley had made a joke – a tongue-in-cheek comment about shame we didn’t invite the archangels to the wedding. To rub it in their faces sort of thing. And Aziraphale had said …

What did he say?

He doesn’t remember.

But he knows he’d made mention of Sandalphon punching him in the stomach because that’s when the atmosphere in the bookshop changed.

Crowley had gone sober.

His eyes went completely yellow.

And his claws came out.

“Wot? When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was hardly worth mentioning after all was said and done. Considering Adam turned back time, it probably didn’t even happen.” It was a pathetic excuse for a joke.

And it didn’t land well.

But his next comment … that’s the one that should have stayed in his mouth, never made it past his tongue.

“Besides, why do you care?”

Crowley’s face had turned so bright red, it made his hair look positively pink in comparison.

“I’m your husband! It’s my job to take care of you! Christ! Even the humans get to do that for one another!”

“Well, you were hardly my husband then, so you can put it behind you!” Aziraphale had said. He wasn’t angry at Crowley. He’d simply wanted to end the argument as his own anger and humiliation over the memory had started to get the better of him. To be honest, he adored the idea that his husband wanted to take care of him. To protect him.

And that’s what these cookies are all about.

And the haircut and the sewing.

Yes, Crowley had nearly shorn off all of Aziraphale’s hair, sewn his favorite coat closed, and made these cookies, chock full of ingredients that probably have no business being together, but they were done out of a need.

A need to nourish.

A need to comfort.

A need to protect.

A need to express love.

Needs that Crowley has that’ve begun to overwhelm him. That he’s having a difficult time adjusting to.

With a regretful breath in, Aziraphale starts to understand.

Crowley is trying to take care of him.

And he feels like he’s failing.

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale mutters around his mouthful of cookie.

“Yes?” Crowley says, and it breaks Aziraphale’s heart how skeptical he sounds.

Aziraphale opens his eyes. “These are, without a doubt, the best cookies I’ve ever eaten in my entire 6000 plus years.”

Crowley’s eyes light up. “You mean … they taste good?”

“Oh no, my dear.” Aziraphale coughs when a rogue piece of cookie breaks off from the rest and makes its way down his throat. He turns his head, tastefully spits what’s left into his napkin. “They taste atrocious. No one in their right mind should ever eat these.”

Crowley frowns, his smile dropping so fast it’s both impressive and comical in its delivery. “Gee. Thanks.”

“But …” Aziraphale stands from his chair and wraps his arms around his demon’s waist “… that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t welcome these cookies on my table every day for the remainder of my existence. They came from you, and they’re full of your love for me. Ergo, they’re my favorite.”

“Then you’re welcome … I guess,” Crowley says, hiding a smile in the corners and crevices of his pouting.

“Just don’t offer them to the children when they come ‘round.” Aziraphale rises on tiptoe and gives Crowley a kiss on the cheek.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Crowley says, grinning like the bastard he is, all but telling his husband that that’s exactly where he intends on the rest of the batch going. “Do you wanna know what my secret is?”

“What, my dear?”

“Allspice.”

Aziraphale’s face goes pale. He peeks over his shoulder at the sienna-brown cookies, his mouth watering again with what remains of their savory aftertaste. “All … spice?”

“Yeah. Allspice. I mean, why do you have to use any other spice when all the spices you’ll ever need are in one bottle? Seems ridiculous that no one else has figured it out yet, if you ask me.”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “Dear Lord …”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

On ducks, chocolate and things that shouldn’t be

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: general audiences Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley  Summary: Crowley is incredibly eloquent, except when he isn't. Aziraphale is obtuse in love, except when he isn't. When it comes to feelings, metaphors are a demon's best friend.

The apocalypse was over before it even began and that was a good thing, Crowley thought. World was safe, well, as safe as it could be with a bunch of power-hungry people who would come up with something really stupid every couple of years, a decade or so, like eating laundry detergents, putting pineapple on pizza (Crowley barely managed to keep a straight face when he received a commendation for that one) or kicking Pluto out of the Solar system and then grieving for...what exactly? Crowley had no clue. Anyway, back to the point...he definitely had one, right?

Oh yes. World was safe. So were they, along with their beloved things, like expensive vintage wine, hot cocoa and (but they were never to find out they belonged on the list) Crowley's plants. So technically, all should be good. Except it wasn't. 

With the Armageddon safely locked away, the very convenient excuse Crowley had for meeting up with Aziraphale whenever he felt like it vanished into thin air. 

Crowley found himself concerned with the F word.

FEELINGS. 

Crowley's thoughts often reverted back to the touch of the angel's hand in his during the bus drive towards their destruction, or at least what they assumed would be one. And he was apprehensive towards a future in which that exquisite sensation would remain only a memory. On the other hand, if you sit in a hole for a long time, say, 6000 years give or take, the prospect of freedom tends to be equally appealing and terrifying. And changing anything about his and Aziraphale's relationship was anything but easy, especially when there was the demon thing involved. Confessing how he felt was one thing, but talking to a being of love about something a demon wasn't supposed to know or feel? That would be like reading one of modern interpretations of Shakespeare to the author himself, laughable at best, at worst...Crowley preferred to think of things less horrifying, like hellhounds or Lucifer's wrath directed at him personally. So...not changing a thing was safe. But then again, was there any better time for a change? Probably not. Maybe this was the right moment to dare to be stupid. And Crowley excelled at being stupid (apart from all the times he was awfully clever, but when it came to the only angel who ever mattered to him, stupid was the way to go). 

They were just returning from the Ritz and Crowley suggested a walk, you know, angel, to enjoy all the things that weren't supposed to exist anymore but still do, thanks to Adam. It was no surprise that their steps led to the park, their usual meeting spot. And while they stood there, both staring at the calmly swimming ducks and reminiscing about all the good times, the bad times and the awful times (such as the holy water thing, may it forever be forgotten), Crowley made a decision. He would speak up. He would be clear, enchanting, direct. He will confess his f...the thing without remorse, without shame and without dancing around the topic. 

"So..." he began, "...ducks." 

The angel blinked in confusion and stared at Cowley as if he'd grown a second head. "Excuse me?" Good start.

Crowley took a deep breath and assumed what he perceived to be a casual pose. To any indifferent observer, it might have seemed as a rake-leaning-on-a-barn-wall impression, but Crowley's head was too occupied to notice. "I have a thought on ducks. If...you'd be interested. To discuss. Ducks." Nice and clear, as intended.

Confusion did not leave Aziraphale's face, but then he slowly nodded and smiled at Crowley in a benevolent way. "Anything you find interesting, my dear boy." 

The demon slowly (not) exhaled. "Okay. Good. Great. Um." One deep breath and he continued. "So, let's just...pretend for a second. A theoretical scenario if you will. Let's pretend that there are no ducks, the world is duckless, just...like dragons, but ducks. And another person tells you they saw a duck." He waited for a moment for his words to sink in. "Would you believe them?" 

Aziraphale seemed to be thinking hard. "I'm not sure I follow...but I'll play along. Does the person in question truly believe he saw a duck?"

"Yes," Crowley nodded vigorously. "Yes, he is absolutely sure. He feels the duckiness as something terrifyingly real and he cannot comprehend how it could not be a duck. Even though he should not be seeing any ducks anywhere. Especially not him." The last bit slipped him before he could think. Bless it.

A frown this time. Crowley didn't like it when Aziraphale frowned, he much preferred to see him smiling, his eyes closed in ecstasy as he was nibbling on something delicious. "Why should he be special in not seeing ducks?" 

Crowley cursed his snake brain. "Let me try again, this probably wasn't the best metaphor...perhaps chocolate would be better." Waiting for Aziraphale's slow nod, he rambled on. "Yes. Chocolate. Um. What if you believe you are offering someone chocolate, but you've had no sense of taste for so long you cannot be sure? And the person you are offering it to is maybe disappointed because you promised them chocolate and it's not, perhaps it is something else, not as good, but you didn't know and then things get awkward and you destroy it all..." His rambling came to a sudden halt when he realized that he may have said too much. He was watching the floating birds with such a focus that he missed a sharp intake of breath next to him.

For a moment, it was completely silent between them, but then Aziraphale spoke. It was soft and barely audible, but full of determination. The angel may have been as soft as a cloud, but his will was unshakeable. "What if I said I didn't care if it was chocolate, a duck or something else? Maybe it is just what the other person has to share that I find irresistible...theoretically speaking," he added quickly. When Crowley didn't respond, he tentatively reacher out and laid a hand on the demon's shoulder. "My dear?"

Crowley found himself on a slippery slope, or at least something that reminded him of one very much. He felt something was moving between them, but the control had long since left him. "So...in theory. If it was me. If I told you that I'm experiencing something...unnatural for me? Something undemonic? Or would it be non-demonic? Non demon...demonope...ish?" He finally found the courage to look the angel in the eye. There was no frown this time, only...fondness? He really wished it was that.

"I would want to know what it is. No matter what it may be," Aziraphale announced, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Crowley found himself unable to hold that pure gaze. And the fact that Aziraphale's hand was still on his shoulder wasn't helping either. "Even when you'd be well in your rights to tell me that I am wrong?" he nearly whispered.

The angel gave a disbelieving chuckle. "Why would I tell you that you are wrong? And don't say because it may not be chocolate!" he quickly added when he sensed Crowley might attempt to dodge the question. 

And that was the last straw for Crowley. Growling, he clutched his hair and collapsed against the railing. The ducks were now watching him, looking about as confused as Aziraphale. "Because you know what it feels like and I don't! You...you know the true, pure thing and I can't be sure, even though I'm pretty sure myself, but maybe that's just some kind of...a twisted version of the thing. And if it is, then I don't want you to know because you could be disappointed, disgusted even...and I just don't want to put you through that." I never want you to think that I'm not who you believed I was. 

For a moment, he was certain Aziraphale would leave, that their relationship never got past the Alpha Centauri rejection. And so when he felt those gentle fingers on his shoulder again, his breath may have hitched a little bit. but only a little. "Oh, Crowley," breathed Aziraphale and Crowley could swear he felt something strangely familiar in his voice, something reminiscent of the constant longing that took root in his heart, feeding on the angel's gazes, words, gestures, as if perhaps, by a miracle - because otherwise it's not possible, these things do not happen! - Aziraphale had one just like that, one that demanded Crowley's presence. The angel's perfectly manicured fingertips squeezed him tighter, urging him to look away from the pond. "You thinking this way is proof enough that it isn't twisted at all?" Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley gulped and, thankful for his dark glasses, shifted his snake pupils sideways, to finally meet that kind, round face. "You tell me, angel...you are the only one whose opinion I trust. So if you say the duck or chocolate isn't twisted, I want to believe that. I will believe that." And because his mind could hardly keep up with the development (because even if your mind is demonically sharp, going from 0 to 100 on feeling sharing after 6000 years would do a number on anyone), panic crept into his voice. "Are we still on the same page? Have we even been? Angel, tell me you know what I'm talking about, otherwise I'll have to come up with a different explanation, and a much less coherent one!" Because this was my best shot, the overly honest voice in his head added.

Thankfully, no new metaphors were necessary; Aziraphale somehow managed to squeeze himself between Crowley and the railing and, gently sliding down, his palms were suddenly warm and welcome in Crowley's grasp. "Yes, my dear. Correct me if I am wrong, but am I correct that I have just had the pleasure of hearing the most confusing and roundabout proposal ever?" 

Crowley was staring at the intertwined fingers. He did not see this coming, he definitely wasn't ready and he probably should have warmed his fingers up before this happened, Aziraphale may not like cold fingers, and wasn't he supposed to say something? Something to fill the hopeful silence? "Err...yes?"

Aziraphale beamed him, taking a step closer. "Then yes." 

Oh great, confusion was apparently contagious. "Yes...what?" 

"Let's see," the angel began and pulled Crowley closer with his inhuman strength and an undignified demonic squeak. "To list it all: I believe you saw a duck. I believe what you're offering is chocolate. And I would love to spend the rest of eternity watching the non-existent ducks with you and tasting chocolate with you. Anything, as long as it's with you." 

Fortunately, Crowley's brain finally capitulated and gave control over the whole body to his anxious heart. Crossing over those last few inches separating them, the demon did what he had longed for since Eden, for long, long centuries, even millennia. And he was happy to discover that it wasn't only Aziraphale's hands that were soft. 

They were in no rush to separate again, but eventually the moment had to come. Crowley found himself smiling like an idiot, and any other time he might have minded, but just now he came to a realization that a happy idiot was a much better option than his usual depressed genius. "Really anything, angel?" he croaked out, but the smile did not disappear. "Even...bebop?" 

Aziraphale laughed and pulled him back in. "Don't push your luck." 

And the park's ducks (also known as the unwilling inspiration for Crowley's worst metaphor yet and the unwilling participant of the closing act of the slowest burn ever) floated away with looks of dignified disgust, because of course, getting together with the love of your life was nice and all, but who on earth took the best feeding spot and did not even attempt to miracle a breadcrumb or two? How rude.

[eiressofinspirationwrites]

Shying Away

Pairing: Crowley x Female Angel!Reader

Word Count: 1239

Requested: Yes

Description: A couple of incidents in which Crowley flirts and because of your chronic shyness and overall awkwardness you divert his advances.

********************

“Y/n, what are the odds that I’d run into you here?” Crowley asked as he leaned up against the bookshelf you were trying to restock.

“Oh, I’d say the odds are pretty good, Crowley,” you rolled your eyes at him, “This is Aziraphale’ bookshop and I just so happen to work here.”

“Good point,” Crowley said, “what do you say we get out of here?”

“What did you have in mind?” you asked without looking at him as you slid another book into place.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Crowley shrugged, “Maybe a romantic stroll through the park?”

The entire stack of books you held in your arms clattered to the ground and when you knelt down to regather them, Crowley leaned down to help.

“It seems you’ve got butter fingers, love,” Crowley chuckled as he picked a couple of the weathered tomes.

“S-sorry,” you stammered as a blush crept up your cheeks, “They just, uh, slipped.”

“Right,” Crowley smiled knowingly, “Here you are.”

“Th-thanks,” your hand shook slightly as you took the book back.

Crowley smirked when your hands brushed slightly and the slight blush tinging your cheeks deepened furiously.

“So, how about that walk in the park?” Crowley asked.

“I actually have to, um, do a different activity,” you said lamely.

“An activity?” Crowley’s eyebrows arched skeptically.

“Yeah, I’ve had it planned awhile,” you explained as you hastily placed the remaining books in their places, “and, oh, look at the time! I’m actually running late for that activity, so if you’ll excuse me!”

“Wait, angel-,” Crowley tried to get you to slow down but you cut him off.

“I’ll, um, talk to you later, Crowley,” you said before you popped out of existence on your way anywhere that wasn’t the bookshop.

“Crowley is that you?” Aziraphale called as he descended from the flat upstairs.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Crowley shook his head as he stared where you had been standing only moments before.

“Where’s Y/n?” Aziraphale frowned when he noticed your absence.

“Apparently she had an activity to do elsewhere,” Crowley replied.

“Oh lord,” Aziraphale sighed, “you did it again, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” Crowley asked innocently.

“You tried flirting with her,” Aziraphale said, “You know that she’s much to shy for that.”

“All I did was ask her to accompany me on a walk through the park,” Crowley defended himself.

“I highly doubt that you phrased it so lightly if she popped out of the shop so quickly,” Aziraphale said skeptically as he examined the shelf you had been working on, “She didn’t put these back in their proper places.”

“So?” Crowley asked, “What do a few books matter?”

“She would never store the books so carelessly,” Aziraphale explained as he removed the books and put them back in their proper places, “She’s the one who set up this filing system. She knows where every single book goes and would never leave a book out of place. Unless you had flustered her.”

“Okay, fine,” Crowley relented, “I may have asked her out for a romantic walk in the park.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned, “You know better.”

“It’s not my fault that she is so shy,” Crowley argued.

“No, but after 6000 years you should know better,” Aziraphale chastised him, “She’s always been quite delicate.”

“And I love that about her,” Crowley admitted, “and Satan knows she’s such a perfectionist that it’s hard to get her to do anything that puts a toe out of line but I’ve been trying to be subtle for centuries and it’s gotten me nowhere. It’s now or never Aziraphale. The end of the world is less than 11 years away now.”

“Subtle?” Aziraphale scoffed, “Is that what you call the incident at the globe?”

“Well,” Crowley considered as he recalled that day, “maybe that time wasn’t so subtle.”

*flashback*

“Aziraphale,” you groaned as you watched the lone performer on the stage deliver his lines, “why are we here?”

“I thought you liked Shakespeare?” Aziraphale asked.

“I do but I much prefer his funny ones,” you replied as you struggled to ignore the travesty occurring on such a magnificent stage, “This is just… not good.”

“Oh, give it a chance,” Aziraphale pleaded.

“I’ve been trying,” you said petulantly, “but it’s so dull.”

“Maybe I can make things more interesting,” Crowley whispered in your ear.

“Crowley!” you yelped and stumbled away startled by his sudden appearance.

“Careful!” Crowley exclaimed when you tripped over your skirt.

He quickly caught you and when you looked up at him you blushed furiously, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, angel,” Crowley smiled as he guided you back into a fully upright position.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you struggled to hide how flustered you were.

“Heard you two were in the area,” Crowley shrugged, “Thought I would drop by but I hate to see such a pretty face so distraught.”

“I am some pretty face, Crowley,” you mumbled, “and I am not distraught.”

“Oh, it’s alright to admit it,” Crowley patted your cheek lightly, “Why don’t I liven things up a bit?”

You were so tongue-tied from Crowley’s actions that it was up to Aziraphale to protest when Crowley sauntered up to the stage and climbed up.

“Crowley, what do you think you’re doing?!” Aziraphale watched in horror as Crowley shooed the actor off the stage.

Before anyone could stop him, Crowley cleared his throat and began delivering a speech,

“O my angel, wherefore art thou an angel?

Deny thy mother and refuse thy name.

Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love

And I’ll no longer be a demon.

‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy:

Thou art thyself, though not an angel.

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

So Angel would, were she not an angel call’d,

Retain that dear perfection which she owes

Without that title. Angel, doff thy name,

And for that name, which is no part of thee,

Take all myself.”

Once he was done, Crowley hopped off the stage and sauntered confidently back over to you, where you were trying to hide behind Aziraphale.

“How was that, angel?” Crowley asked grinning broadly, “I know it hardly followed all the rules but I was inspired by your beauty.”

“I-I’ve got to go,” you squeaked before you vanished into thin air.

“Well done, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed dramatically, “You’ve gone and embarrassed the poor girl.”

“Where do you think she went?” Crowley asked, mildly disappointed by your reaction.

“Oh, if I know her she probably popped away to our living quarters,” Aziraphale considered, “She’ll need to calm down and process being put on the spot like that.”

“Where is that then?” Crowley asked.

“Oh no, you wily serpent,” Aziraphale wagged his finger at Crowley crossly, “You will not be going and bothering her anymore today.”

“Come on, Aziraphale,” Crowley begged, “I just want to-,”

Before Crowley could continue he was interrupted, “Excuse me, gents,” Shakespeare said, “That was quite the performance would you mind if I borrowed some of it?”

“Not at all,” Crowley said dismissively, “Now would you mind leaving my friend and me alone?”

*end flashback*

“She was not happy when Romeo and Juliet was released,” Crowley laughed, “She didn’t speak to me for over a century.”

“That’s the closest I’ve ever come to murder,” Crowley and Aziraphale spun around when they heard your voice behind them.

“You came back!” Crowley was shocked.

“Yes, well,” you said timidly and blushed, “I am a bit tired after nearly 6000 years of running.”

 ********************

Note: Hope you enjoyed, @owba-chan! Thank you for the request! Also, the flashback scene isn’t the scene from the show. Not a 100% sure where in history it would fit but I thought the stage bit was a cute idea, so I went with it anyway. Have a great week, everyone! ~M