#like i owe All of them some sort of compensation for having been around me lmao.... i feel like i owe all of them an apology and just. a fix

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: heat waves

summary: after a bad date, you find yourself on carmy's doorstep. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: so much pining you may be entitled to compensation after reading this, swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19, eventual smut.

word count: 3.5k

listen to: i like me better - lauv | ceilings - lizzy mcalpine | heat waves - glass animals (i'm sorry but this song invented sexual tension. full stop.) better than i know myself - del water gap

read: chapter two

“sometimes all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of june…” (heat waves – glass animals)

*

June 2021

You: Hey, I’m in your neighborhood. You around?

Carmy: Yeah, what’s up?

You: Want some company?

Carmy: 👍

You: Heading your way.

Carmy: It started raining. Be careful.

You: I noticed. Thanks, dad. 

Carmy: 🙄

You’re not ready to go home yet as you head towards Carmy’s apartment. You’re not sure why you thought it was a good idea to download a dating app the other week… and you’re trying your best not to read into the fact that your first thought was to reach out to Carmy. Hesitant to tell him, you figure you’ll just surprise him by showing up like this – all dressed up. 

It’s not like he’s your boyfriend. He probably won’t even notice, you think to yourself. 

You hope he just doesn’t say anything – so that you don’t have to tell him you were on a date – but as soon as the torrential downpour starts, there’s no way he won’t say anything. You're only a block and a half away, so you decide to power through, storm be damned. 

“Woah,” he says, as soon as he opens the door.

“‘Looks like you got caught in the rain’ woah, or…like a ‘you look overdressed’ kinda woah?” you ask back, your hair beginning to drip on the carpet. 

“Both?” he offers up, trying his best to make it seem like he’s not checking you out. “You’re uh… fancy.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, not sure how much you’re going to reveal. It’s just not something you’ve really talked about yet and you’re ambivalent about how he may react. Hell, you’re ambivalent about how you feel about it too. 

But Carmy hasn’t invited you in yet either, blocking your pathway as he tries not to make it blatantly obvious that he’s gawking at you. “I uh… sort of had a date.”

“Oh,” he mutters, before stepping aside to invite you in. 

He takes a beat, watching you carefully as you enter his apartment. 

“How’d it go?” he asks, hesitantly.

“Uh… not great,” you admit, with a shrug. “But I’m not sure what I expected either. Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Oh! Yeah sure,” he nods, hurrying into his bedroom. 

Carmy mentally scolds himself for even asking. Would you really be here on his doorstep if it had gone well? He knows the answer, but what feels unfamiliar is the tight feeling that’s lodged itself in his chest. 

He wonders when you started dating. It’s not like you’d said anything about it to him. It’s not like you owed it to him to say anything either. Were you on those apps he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around? Or maybe one of those investment banker fuckos that had come into the restaurant a few weeks ago. He’d been this close to burning the whole place down when he noticed one of them practically undressing you with their eyes as you’d walked by from your visit with another table.

Carmy returns to you with a pair of sweatpants and one of his pristine white t-shirts, his eyes fixed on you as you remove your shoes. The kitchen overhead is the only light that’s on, leaving most of the apartment lit only by the TV. You can see a few cigarette butts that have been aimlessly thrown across the ashtray he keeps on his coffee table, and you know he’s been smoking tonight. 

“Pasta Grannies?” is all you ask, gesturing towards the TV. 

“Yeah,” he nods. It’s as if he’s just remembered that he’s holding a dry pair of clothes for you, a look of panic plastered on his face. “Shit. I forgot. Here.”

“Thanks, Carm,” you say, taking them and disappearing into the bathroom for a quick change. 

You examine your reflection in the mirror as you wring the excess water from your hair right into the sink. You take your time, tying your hair into a bun over the top of your head, immediately feeling at ease now that you’re here with him. While most of your makeup is gone, swept away by the rain, you feel much more like yourself in a pair of Carmy’s sweatpants that you ever felt in a fancy dress on that date. You hang your very wet dress over the shower curtain rod in Carmy’s bathroom to dry, before opening the door to rejoin him in the living room. 

Carmy’s returned to the couch, his feet kicked up on the outside of the couch as he stretches out across it. 

“Much better,” you comment, making your way towards him. 

You settle into the couch with Carmy, curled up apart on opposite sides of the couch. It’s a comfortable pattern you’ve fallen into: hanging out, watching movies till 3 am while he smokes a few cigarettes to unwind from the day. You like this rhythm. And you like that it’s with him. 

As another episode of Pasta Grannies begins, Carmy’s mind continues to race. He’s wracking his brain for any excuse to bring it up again – this whole, you dating thing. 

He searches your face for any kind of in. He’s not sure what he’s looking for: a furrowed brow, a sigh of frustration, a look of dissatisfaction? Something he can ask about so that you’ll tell him more about your night. But as he examines you closely, trying his best to get a read on you, iit seems as if you’ve forgotten all about it, comfortably curled up on his shitty $50 dollar couch that he’d found at Goodwill. 

“So… what was so bad about this date?” he finally manages to get out, surprising you. 

You shrug, carelessly, “Men suck.”

Your answer makes him chuckle as he agrees with a, “Yeah, we do.”

You’re honestly surprised that he’s asking. You and Carmy had never really talked about dating – save for a few stories about your exes here and there. You got the impression that Carmy hadn’t dated a lot at all, nor did he seem all that interested in dating. At least that’s what you’ve figured, considering you spend all of your time together and he’s not once tried to make a move. 

“Uh…” you start, figuring you’ll elaborate since he’s taken such an interest. “Just… not great conversationalist. The guy spent half the night trying to convince me that cryptocurrency was worth investing in and uh… I don’t know. Just wasn’t there for me, I guess.”

“What?”

“You know… that spark, I guess.”

And he does. He feels it every single time you look at him with your ‘you’re totally pissing me off and I hate how endearing it is’ look. He feels it on the rare occasion that he makes you laugh. Every time he makes you a new dish he’s working on and you tell him how annoying it is that he’s this damn good.

“Yeah, no I uh-. Sounds like it’d be important,” he offers up, suddenly feeling out of his league. It’s not like he can commiserate or agree with you from experience. 

“You uh… wanna watch something else?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject. 

“Sure, yeah,” he replies, tossing you the remote. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him as you take it. 

You begin scrolling through his smart TV’s apps, searching for a movie to put on in the background. The sounds of the rain falling harder and harder against his apartment windows fill his ears since nothing is playing in the background just yet. He doesn’t remember hearing about a storm, but it must’ve come on unexpectedly. 

Carmy watches you as you explore your options, and he feels like his heart is going to explode out of his chest at the thought of some asshat sitting here on this couch with you – someone that’s not him. He swallows, suddenly aware that he’s clenching his fist. He relaxes it, beginning to fidget with a spare key chain that lays on the coffee table. 

“You end up calling your brother?” you question, in reference to the last conversation you’d had about his Mikey. 

You’d encouraged him to call, even though it seemed like Michael had been in touch lately. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, disappointedly. “Didn’t pick up.”

“Sorry,” you sympathize, giving him an apologetic smile. 

You decide on the first John Wick film when you learn that Carmy’s never seen it. You insist that it’s a classic and he tells you something along the lines of ‘that’s something my cousin would say.’ As the movie rolls on, you stretch your legs out, curling them in towards the back of the couch, while Carmy relaxes, taking up the space of the couch on the outside of you. 

“I can’t believe you like this!” Carmy exclaims, gesturing towards the graphic depiction of violence on the TV. You watch Michael Nyqvist’s character shoot Willem Dafoe’s character multiple times, completely unphased, as he searches your face for any kind of emotional reaction. 

“What?! Being a woman in a male dominated industry… I’ve found that watching action movies brings a sort of… catharsis to me,” you defend yourself playfully. 

“So what you’re saying is… I’m sitting across from a psychopath?” he jokes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s great.”

“Yeah,” you reply, matter of factly. 

Carmy laughs dryly, his eyes flickering back to you. Your face, lit only by the dim cool hues of the television screen, seems more beautiful than ever. He wonders where the hell that thought came from, brushing it off like it’s nothing. Taking a more teasing tone, he lifts his head to ask:

“And how many times have you fantasized about doing that to me?” 

You smirk, shaking your head as you reply, “You don’t want to know.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, letting out the smallest chuckle, before settling back into his spot on the couch. You laugh once again, enjoying this way more than your fancy dinner date. 

You’re not sure how you’ve both managed to fall asleep in the midst of an action movie, but when you finally come to, you’re halfway through the second John Wick film and Carmy’s fast asleep. Your phone’s managed to fall on the floor, and you have to lean over Carmy’s legs to grab it.

“Shit what time is it?” he stirs, peeking an eye open as you lean over his feet, reaching for your phone. He finds the TV remote right next to him, hitting the pause button. 

“Uh… 2 am,” you answer, sleepily, beginning to sit up. “I should probably go.”

“No, I’m not gonna make you uh-… you wanna take the bed?” he asks, mirroring your body language and sitting up with you too.

“Oh! No, it’s okay. I’m comfy right here,” you reply, returning to your spot on the couch.

“You sure?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you reassure him. 

“Okay uh…” he says, making his way up to his feet. “... let me get you a pillow and a blanket.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not that you wouldn’t take the bed, but you’d hate to kick him out of his own bed. And truthfully? You can’t stand the fact that he doesn’t even have a bed frame. 

That’s right.

The man sleeps on a mattress on the floor. 

As Carmy returns to you, pillow and thick comforter in hand, the only sounds that fill the room are the storm outside. You watch as he gently places the pillow down on the couch for you, and you thank him as you take the comforter, laying it across the couch. 

The sounds of a low rumble of thunder fill your ears and you can feel the way the sound reverberates off of Carmy’s apartment.

“You sure you don’t want to take the bed?” Carmy asks you, running a tattooed hand through his messy curls. 

“I’m sure,” you reply confidently. 

“Okay,” he resigns himself. “Need anything else?”

Just you. 

“No, Goodnight, Carmy,” you say, with a soft smile on your face. 

“Goodnight,” he replies, with the slightest wave. 

Carmy leaves you for his bedroom, closing the door behind him. You slide underneath the thick comforter he’s given you, closing your eyes in an attempt to lure yourself back into another slumber. 

But it’s not so easy to fall asleep this time. 

It’s funny… thinking about Carmy being in the next room. It’s not like you hadn’t fallen asleep together on the couch before. In fact, you’d napped on the couch with each other multiple times. And nothing had ever happened. You’d just slept. You wonder if you should’ve taken the bed. Should’ve told him to grow up and that you were both adults who could sleep in the same bed together without things getting weird. Unless… 

All of a sudden, your mind is invaded with flashes of a fantasy: your fingers tangled in his perfect curls, his lips on yours, the way his body would feel on top of yours as you writhe underneath him… 

Holy fuck. What are you thinking?! You and Carmy are just friends. Carmy doesn’t feel that way about you and you don’t feel that way about him, you think to yourself, snapping yourself out of the vision.

You go over the facts in your head, in an attempt to calm yourself down. You’ve been here before. He’s never made a move on you. You’ve never made a move on him.

You’re just friends. 

Maybe you just need a cold glass of water… or a cold shower… 

As you sit up to get a glass of water, you let out the smallest gasp as Carmy’s bedroom door swings open. He stands there, staring at you with unwavering eye contact – one of those long languid looks that used to think meant he hated you. 

For a moment, then tension is thick. You hear another crack of thunder that shakes the floor as a bright flash of lightning from outside electrifies every molecule inside of his apartment. If anything were to happen between the two of you, it had to be now, right?

“Water,” is all he says. 

“What?” you ask, trying your best to hide your surprise that that’s all he said. 

“I-, I forgot water,” he stammers out, beelining for the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you reply as you rise to your feet.

You follow him into the kitchen area, maintaining your distance as you watch him fill up two glasses of water. You’re not sure what’s come over you tonight, but there’s something different inside of you. As he hands you the glass of water he’s filled for you, you could swear he gives you the most wistful look you’ve ever seen, making it impossible not to get lost in how blue his eyes are. 

“You okay?” he asks you when you don’t take the glass of water.  

Calm down, you think to yourself. 

“Yeah, sorry. Just tired,” you whisper, finally taking the glass from him. 

And just when you think this is all in your head and that Carmy’s going to return to his bedroom with a second thought about it, he doesn’t. He just stands there in the middle of the kitchen with you. He doesn’t take a sip of his water. He stays, his eyes fixed on you as the storm outside rages on, another crack of thunder ricocheting through the apartment.

It’s much louder this time – the loud booms and cracks of thunder alternating with brilliant flashes of lightning. 

Carmy opens his mouth to say something as the room is temporarily lit by another flash, but he can’t figure out what to say either. It’s just the two of you, holding glasses of water in your hands, trying your fucking best not to drop them as you stare at each other. He doesn’t know what he’d even say to you:

You’re irresistible when you wear my clothes. 

I’m holding onto this glass of water so tightly it may shatter. 

I think I might love you.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t do anything. 

He doesn’t take a step towards you and you don’t either. 

You hope he can’t hear the shaking in your voice as you say, “Goodnight, Carmy. And uh, thanks. For the water.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, your words snapping him out of his head. 

“Goodnight.”

*

As you wake the next morning, you can’t figure out what the hell had gotten into you last night. You almost crossed the line with him – with Carmy, with your best friend – threatening everything you’ve built together. You’re relieved that you didn’t, that neither of you said anything, because the idea of this ending scares the hell out of you. 

“How’d you sleep?” Carmy asks as he comes out of his bedroom, his curls unruly and all kinds of wild.

In the light of day, you know it would’ve been a stupid idea – what could’ve happened seeming more and more preposterous the longer you think about it. 

“Not great, but I’ve had worse,” you answer honestly. 

“Should’ve taken the bed,” he points out, an ‘I told you so’ on the tip of his tongue. 

“Carmy,” you sigh, unwillingly. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” you mutter with a shake of your head. 

“No, what’s up?” he asks you, taking a few steps toward you. He’s not tall, but he towers over you as you remain seated on his couch. You rise to your feet so that you have a little ground to stand on as you muster up the courage to finally tell him. 

“You need to get a bed frame. You’re a grown ass adult,” you demand, eliciting another dry laugh from him. You take a step towards him, closing some of the distance between the two of you. “And when that happens… I’ll take the bed.”

He shakes his head. He knows you’re right, and he can’t believe it’s taken this long for you to tell him. 

“Heard, chef.”

It’s another few weeks before you let yourself go over to Carmy’s – partially because you like hanging out your place with him more, and partially because you’re terrified that whatever juju put those thoughts in your head that night may take you over again. But it doesn’t, and you’re more than pleasantly surprised to see that he’s purchased a bed frame. It’s nothing fancy – just bed slats and risers – but it’s a bed frame nonetheless. 

“You ready?” Carmy asks you, as he’s just finished putting his shoes on. 

“Yeah,” you reply, slipping off your jacket. 

“There’s usually a ton of a/c in the shop. You might get cold?” he suggests. 

The sight of your bare shoulders in the tank top you’re wearing causes his brain to short circuit for a second. 

“Oh I know, but I like yours more,” you reply, reaching for one of his denim jackets that hangs on the coat hook. 

He smiles, watching you slip into the jacket.

His jacket.

The one he let you borrow you the night he got promoted to CDC.

“Now I’m ready. What’re you gonna get by the way?” you ask curiously, in reference to the tattoo appointment you’re accompanying him to. 

“Uh… was thinking like… a hand with a chef’s knife going through it. You know. On my hand,” he shares with you. 

“You’re so weird,” you blurt out, even though you find it the most endearing.

He is. And yet, you’ve stuck around so far. 

“Yeah, I am,” he chuckles to himself. 

*

“He literally bought a bed for you!” Liz exclaims enthusiastically, one night after work. 

“For himself,” you correct her in hushed tones, asking her to lower her voice. 

“Uh no… for you. Because you told him to. And because he wants to get you in it… naked,” she replies. She lets out a frustrated groan before turning to you. “You know what me and Maya call you?”

“What?” you ask, bracing for whatever nickname she’s about to share with you. 

“The Queen of Denial,” she says. 

“What!?” you exclaim this time, defensively. 

Liz chooses to ignore your response, knowing that your defensiveness comes from the fact that you know she’s right. 

“Why are you going out on these dates with guys you don’t even like when Carmy is right there?” she asks you, pointing out the obvious. 

“I-, I don’t know. I don’t get the sense that he’s interested in dating… anyone,” you admit, your voice softer this time. 

“Well, have you asked him?” she states, as if she already knows the answer. 

“We talked about it once,” you hesitate. 

“Bullshit! The conversation about what Nate said doesn’t count!” she pushes you. 

You sigh. There’s so much fear for you here: fear of losing him as your friend, fear of making yourself look like a fool, fear of letting Carmy love you. 

Because it just feels safer not to acknowledge any of these things.

“I don’t know,” you admit, quietly. “After my last relationship I just… I don’t know if I'm ready, I guess. And then pandemic happened and it was a much welcomed break from dating. I didn’t expect… I didn’t think Carmy and I would get this close. I don’t want to fuck up what we have right now, you know? Dating other people feels like… lower stakes.”

Liz takes a moment to let you hear what you’ve just said, but with an unwavering determination, she’s not letting you off the hook. 

“Sweetie, I love you. And I know you don’t want to get hurt again. But one of these days you are going to have to own up to what’s really going on between the two of you. Sooner rather than later. For all of our sakes,” she pleads.

She’s right. 

You know she’s right. 

But you’d also like getting to pretend, even for a little while. 

Because pretending is easy… uncomplicated… and right now, it seems to work for both you and Carmy. 

Fuck, you were fucked.

read chapter four

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @the-nursery

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos

[thatbadadvice]

Help! A Grown-Ass Man Didn’t Do A Thing He Wasn’t Obligated To Do

Alison Green, Inc.com, 19 October 2022:

A candidate hasn't attend his job interview, even though we called him to choose an interview time and then sent a confirmation email including time and location. I was wondering if I can send him an email in which I discipline him for not attending, because it cost me time and money for reserving the location, and inform him that he's been blacklisted from our organization.

I’m sorry -- you set up one entire job interview with a man, an incredible favor that speaks to your thoughtfulness, generosity, and good spirit, a thing you did for him out of the sheer goodness of your own heart, out of no interest of your own, entirely altruistically, and this is the thanks you get? The ungrateful boor cannot be allowed to disrespect you and the deep investment you made in him -- my goodness, you sent him a confirmation email for Pete’s sake! There is only one reason for a person not to show up to a job interview, and that reason is because they are a cruel, ungracious churl whose sole delight in this world is making your life more difficult, like you personally and specifically. No one ever gets sick or in a terrible car accident or has to care for a loved one or gets wrapped up in a community emergency requiring them to prioritize literally anything over spending a half-hour telling another stranger about how their greatest weakness is being the world’s biggest perfectionist.

If this lout is not turned into a shell of his former self by the merciless punishment you personally mete out to him in the service of preserving your good name, you run the risk of it getting around the 2728 North Highway 16 Commercial Park that you are some sort of employer looking for employees with whom to engage in a business relationship, to wit: the exchange of labor for compensation. If this great shame is made public, your reputation might never recover.

What did you have in mind? One worries that someone as kind and considerate as you (a confirmation email! one cannot get over it!) might be reticent to deliver the full thrust of discipline required to ensure that this man never forgets the horrible mistake he made the day he didn’t do a thing he wasn’t obligated to do, with someone who has no power over him whatsoever and to whom he owes absolutely nothing. Certainly calling him some mean names in an email is a place to start, but have you considered: also sending some rude texts? He will really rue the day he failed to discover all the wondrous benefits of hitching his economic apple wagon to your shining star! Spend some time brainstorming other options -- a little light flaying might do this guy a world of good.

At the very least, this man needs to be informed in no uncertain terms that you, the people who set up an interview to which he entirely fucking ghosted, are really the ones who didn’t want to work with him, and that actually you don’t even care if he works there or not, he can absolutely sit and spin as far as you are concerned, you hope he falls off the face of the earth, you barely have even given him a second thought, he is entirely meaningless to you and no person in the entire universe could possibly interest you less. 

(Any chance this no-show good-for-nothing is an entitled Millennial or lazy Gen-Z-er? The younger generations really have no understanding of workplace norms at all!)

#bad advice #workplace #job interviews #job search #careers #career advice #bad bosses #workplace drama #i wish a mf would #advice

[butterfly-winx]

Today is my birthday, could you wish me a happy birthday please ❤ and you would give me a beautiful gift by answering my question. So could you tell us about Domino's royal family not so you said that Daphne grew up with cousins ​​when she talks about this big family and if you have some time that too is Solaria I would like to know who they were if they were appreciated I don't know about you but I already know that you will amaze me.

Happy birthday! I’m so sorry I couldn’t get around to answering this on the day, but hope you had a great celebrations!

I have some nice Dominian royal family tree factoids for you as compensation :)

Yes, Bloom and Daphne have a lot of cousins. Oritel has two siblings and Marion is 2nd youngest of five, and most of these seven siblings had children. Due to time-and-population-freezing scheningans some of who started out as older than Bloom end up being younger. When Domino fell, Bloom had been a little older than a year (13-15mo) and had 2-3 year old cousins who stayed 2-3 until she resurrected her planet at age 20, so.

Oritel is the middle of three brothers, an older Károly and a “younger” twin brother Silan. As Dominian traditions dictate the brothers decided who would become heir when their father was still alive and the choice fell on Oritel. Károly, relived of his responsibilities went off to travel the world and has 4 children from 3 different wifes, the first three being around Daphne’s age, the fourth considerably younger but not Bloom aged. Silan unfortunately died in the war against the Ancestresss and had no children or a married partner before.

Marion’s family is grand and complicated. Her oldest brother Byron is significantly older than her and actually widowed (they had 2 children). He then took on a much younger partner that all the family thinks is a gold digger but she is just a very sweet, if naive, girl. The second sibling Vera transitioned late in her life and split from her until then wife not too long before the war. Marion had a good sisterhood to Hyun, the now ex-wife and this sisterhood demanded she side with her in arguments. However she now owed sisterhood to Vera too, her “new” sister. She hates being impartial thoguh. Solving this conondrum she chose to be on the side of both of them, flip-flopping her support in family arguments much to the annoyance of all her other siblings. In the end Hyun and her 4 children (a little younger than Daphne, early to late teens when Domino froze) started to withdraw from the family a little. The middle sibling Iren is truly and well a middle one, not really sure where she is going in life, having neither the drive nor pride of her other siblings. She did not have children at the time, but was eying all sorts of exotic pets and kept supplying her nieces and nephews with them. Marion obviously had Daphne and then Bloom with a huge gap between them. And finally the youngest brother, Felix has two children him and his husband adopted: a preschooler and the aforementioned 3 year old, but he is also a good chunk younger Marion.

Daphne mostly spent her time with Karoly’s kids as they lived in the capital as well and saw Marion’s sie of the family less often, but she greatly preferred the company of Vera’s children: they went on fun family vacations, saw more of the world and were more relaxed. Plus their younger age made Daphne relax and escape from her constant duty of pretending to be an adult when she was not. She thinks Felixes youngest is the cutest baby in existence only dethroned by the arrival of her own baby sister.

Bloom is not really close to any of them, for obvious reasons. When she resurrects Domino they are all the ages that they disappeared as and only a few of them really experienced or noticed the passage of time. Age wise her peers are again Karoly’s children, but they come from such a different world: if you counted their age from their actual birth date they would be in their later 30s to late 40s! One of Byron’s children is just like her snd she is very fond of him, so that would be her chosen fave cousin. She does absolutely not vibe with referring to the 3yo baby with honorifics meant for an older relative. Felix’s husband likes to tease and watch her squirm.

#asks #winx club #winx club rewrite #butterfly fic adjacent #hap birth

[tlacehualli]

“I’ll always be here when you need me. You know that, right?”

The silence stretches between them. She's inhaling the familiar sharp nicotine smoke and she can feel the way it tastes as well as the cold in the air, not that it stands a chance when her body is burning through energy like it is. She's been eating a lot to compensate. There's little perks to that, as if by sheer coincidence, the way she functioned made her artificially highly resistant to the cold. It used to come at the cost of making her far worse in the heat - though the woman next to her had been the one to fix that a long time ago.

She owed her a fuck of a lot. Certainly not to act like a fucking zombie at her house after breaking into it. Some steel comes over her expression, not quite stony but brave and she's forcing pieces of herself back together into something colder and more removed. The silence, the cold, the warmth next to her and the arm around her shoulder, the smoke and snow in the darkness - she contemplates it all like meditation, letting her senses become hyper aware of outside stimuli to lessen the loudness in her mind. She's been beside herself for long enough.

The cigarette goes out and she lets the flame die in the wind before turning to Angela and nodding her head at the door wordlessly, and the two head inside - though this time she takes the doctor's hand in her own and squeezes it in a wordless 'Don't worry, I haven't lost myself into incomprehensible brain soup again' sort of gesture. She removes her little boots and lets go of the doctor's hand, heading further into the house. "Put on something for us to watch? I'm just gonna wash my face and brush my teeth."

"Go ahead. I'll make us hot chocolate."

Angela's in 'take care of others' mode and Sombra recognizes it, has performed it's mirror for Angela more than once by now. It makes her actually smile whilst heading down the hallway. She steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind her, squeezing her eyes shut and just taking a deep lungful of air before exhaling slowly. Opens her eyes and meets them in the mirror with something fierce within her, taking the soap in one hand and turning on the faucet with another. Washing her hands, brushing her teeth, that becomes meditation too. Looking at herself in the mirror every once in a while. She was gonna have to go back tomorrow and her shit needed to be together in a way it was absolutely not right now. Luckily it was a short flight - just over a mountain range and she'd be there in an hour or so. Which was good. She needed to sleep late.

Also she was gonna have to look at the Widow in a way that didn't make it fucking obvious that she was having some weird sort of breakdown. So. Together.

She dries her mouth, her hands, and opens the door to the bathroom, stepping out into the hallway. There's the sound of seagulls and a peaceful voice with a distinctly British accent (she forgot the gringo's name but he was super famous or something) that grows louder with each of her steps and a swelling, distinct smell of really good, really fancy Swiss hot chocolate and it softens some of the sharpness she'd molded herself into in there. Angela's looking back from the couch at her with a kind smile that the hacker returns, settling into the couch next to her carefully so as not to disturb their mugs.

"Okay. So. You have probably deduced that there's a lot of stuff I just don't talk about." Her words become clipped and precise, her accent providing a lilt around perfect grammar and a tilt to her diction that is distinctly Mexican. Also she's cognizant of the look of amused disbelief on Angela's expression at her overt formality about an extremely personal thing. But it was the only way she knew how to say it without getting all weepy. So she sticks out her tongue and shushes her before settling in closer to the doctor so as to share warmth under a blanket.

Part of her is also watching the screen - a pod of orcas has broken the surface near chunks of ice where a seal is hanging out and it's getting incredibly violent on screen. "Shit. Glad I'm not a seal." She sips at hot chocolate and smirks half-heartedly before continuing. "So, as usual, I can't give you any details but I'll just phrase it in a way that captivates my situation." Still really technical, but unlike her previous, terse sentences, there's a great amount of thought put into the way she's saying things.

"One of my sins is eating away at me. It's a sin that I haven't technically committed yet but it will. It may as well have come to pass already a long time ago." She goes in for another slow, long sip, contemplative whilst her cybernetic eyes commit everything on the screen to memory. The seal's been slapped into the air with a powerful kick and she sees a crimson arc spray in one direction. Little thing doesn't stand a chance. She almost feels as if her teeth are particularly sharp in that moment. "There's nothing I can do to stop it. It might be today. Next week. Next year. I don't know. I think I find comfort in quantifying things and putting boxes around them but I can't do that with this."

The seal is enough to feed all three. They're not gentle. By the time they're done, their sharp teeth have painted a large patch of water - larger than she'd thought it would be - in deep crimson fading away into dark Arctic ocean blue. She looks at her nails instead, noting chips at the edges of their pale violet hue.

"I'll always be there when you need me. You know that, right?"

She doesn't know how true that would be if she could be specific with the details - but that's not the reality she's living in right now and probably never would be. That wasn't going to be a good day, though. Was it selfish of her to seek solace in someone who might very well want to kill her about it if she knew? Was it monstrous of her? She found she didn't know the answer when she looked at her.

Ah well. What was another sin. "I know. So will I if I have any say in it."

#veqva #asks #the vision continues!!!!

[wannabee-succubus]

Wanna know the amount of times that my ed actually did its job? one time. ONE fucking instance of this shitstain of a disease ever doing anything for me. I remember everything that went on in my head very vividly, possibly because I used to put a lot of effort into completely eradicating any memory tied with my ultra fatass days. Still, I can very clearly remember the determination with which I went from 90 something kgs(almost 200 pounds) to 62(130 pounds, my lowest weight to date), while being around 183cms, or 6-6'1ft. So it was pretty fucking great. I actually looked the part. I could play on my ribs like fucking guitar strings and I had such bony legs it literally hurt to put them together when I was laying on the side. (Still does, but it's not the same). It was cathartic. But you know how it always is with these stories, you never actually get to develop a lifetime regimen out of this crap. It ebbs and flows like hell and it's really hard to relapse sometimes. For me it has been. I've been absolutely STUCK at 68 kgs now and I've never felt more shit. Even when I was double my size I didn't feel this horrible. But you know what? This terrible feeling isn't permanent. It comes and it goes. I could wake up feeling all body positive, eat a shit ton of sweets and suddenly have a nice cherry on top in the form of my ed coming back into existence to shit in my mouth some more. Can't you be there before I commit these things? Can't you just stay and not toy with me like this?

My attention span is nonexistent, I can hardly commit to any goal or thought lately. I can't tell what the fuck it is that I need to do to relapse successfully. I've never wanted to grow out of it, but somehow at a certain point in my life I felt that I was enough for a while and that shit was all I needed to "cure" me forever? I fucking refuse to believe that. That's nuts. I simply need something or someone or a combination of both to keep reminding me how absolutely pathetic I look and that no matter how many tricks I pull, nothing, NOTHING is going to compensate for the lack of discipline. For all this goddamn fat. I need a drug of some sort to keep my filthy pighole shut.

it's exhausting. I look back at the things I write, I recite all the insults I say to myself and it just doesn't do it for me anymore. I don't feel the same guilt I used to. I no longer feel like I'm so gut wrenchingly hideous anymore that I need to stay in my room 24/7. I no longer shy away from buying and eating snacks when I'm out with my friends because I'm afraid of making someone else conscious about their weight. ana has done a lot for me and I owe my life to it, but I still wouldn't wish it upon anyone else. They all have incredible souls and personalities that shine through and their weight literally never matters to me, they're all equally gorgeous all the time. I don't have that privilege. I need this shit to be beautiful, I need it to be appreciated and desired. Even if it objectifies me in a way, I couldn't care less. I pray daily to any deity out there who would hear my plea and simply grant me the willpower to do what I need to do, but they never do. Even the goal of my life, which is to transition successfully, has been made so fucking daunting NOT because of any gender related implications or passing, but because I read somewhere that hormones can make you gain weight. There's still time before hormone therapy, but I can't trust myself with having my weight issue resolved by that time. Mtf btw.

I'm ranting at this point, but that's exactly what this account is for anyways. maybe I'll magically remember to visit this place regularly. maybe seeing my thoughts laid out like this is just what I need to successfully relapse. I'd love to have a following with which I could share my progress, I feel like that would help me out a lot. although I'm fine with doing this on my own as well. I'll just make a.. rule of sorts, to post my weight update every week or so. hope that's enough to keep me in check. hope I return victorious.

[sk2lton]

Hello! I love the headcanons you make! If it's okay I would like to request a headcanon! Basically, the reader goes up to the overblot gang and ask them for money for their therapy session since reader is basically a therapist to everyone in NRC. (And if you wanted Crowley too because reader isn't working for free!) Thank you~!

✿。THERAPIST FOR HIRE — ꒰ TWST ꒱

overblot gang + crowley when reader asks for compensation from being everybody's therapist!

— warnings/reader: gn! reader, spoilers for basically who overblots, unedited

— characters: riddle, leona, azul, crowley + two others 

✿。 riddle — he isn't fazed by you asking for money, come on, ace and deuce have probably already done that many times before. but what the money was for was shocking to him. him? therapy? no, he's perfectly fine, he insists.

— when you explain that you already had the session after his overblot, he'll grow slightly embarrassed and realize what you're getting at. if you bother him enough, he will actually give you money. he says it's to get you to be quiet, but in truth, he does feel a little bad that you have to run around being a therapist for not just him, but everybody else in nrc.

✿。 leona — you think you're a therapist? leona disagrees! the moment you demand the money, explaining that it's for your therapy session, leona just scoffs. he'll tease you by saying that your therapy session should've happened before he went into overblot! — again, like riddle, bother him enough, and he will give in. name your price and he'll give it. he just wants to nap in peace but well.. it wouldn't be very good of him to get mad at his "therapist" even if you aren't a legitimate one.

✿。 azul — you were crazy to expect him to even listen to your ask for compensation in the first place! he'll tell you that he thought therapy was supposed to be effective, but then later go to you and ask to vent like... obviously, your therapy must be doing something if he keeps coming back! — he might slide some money your way. he did trouble you a lot with the entire overblot thing and you know, enslaving your friends. he'll say something like "don't expect much," then gives you a lot more than you expected.

✿。 jamil — no way is he giving you money! he may actually make you a meal though.. but don't go telling others about it because this is just for the trouble he caused you. trust me, he's used to having to deal with somebody else causing trouble whether it was unintentional or not, so he feels somewhat bad that you need to run around providing therapy for every student. — now, will he help you coerce other overblot members into paying you for the helpful therapy session that you provided them with? yes, he will. it's the most he can do.

✿。 vil — he's also sort of embarrassed once you continued explaining. he does feel somewhat guilty, even though he understands your lightheartedly joking. he won't necessarily cough up the money, but he'll repay you in his own way! — he admits that he definitely owes you for being a great help to him, so expect him to ask if it's all right to do your makeup or hair! he'll ask you how you want it done too.

✿。 crowley — although he does appreciate your work around the nrc, why would he pay you! he's already letting you stay on campus, providing food, your basic necessities... don't you see how selfless and generous he already is!! — but... if you offer to open genuine therapy sessions with students, he might reconsider. you know, it's been hard having to explain the increasing number of overblotting students to the general public. maybe then, and only then, will he slide some money your way!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanon #twst #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst azul #twst leona #twst jamil #twst vil #twst crowley #twst riddle

[thirstyforlulu]

Yandere Hellsing x Reader HCs? Including Millennium

Integra:

She’s a very possessive yandere

With her money and power, she has the means to get her hands on you

She’s good at playing cool, you won’t catch on for a while

Sure you notice that she never sends you on missions and that she’s always having you work near her office, but that’s just her being a good friend

When she decides to approach you romantically, she’s very forward

Around you she’s a touch starved animal, unlike her usual put together appearance

If you deny her feelings or try to run, get ready because she’s not giving up that easily

She’ll pull whatever strings she has to in order to find you

She’ll spend thousands bribing people or tracking you

Once she knows where you are, she’ll send Alucard to collect you

When she has you she’s very loving

She’ll want to constantly be touching you in some way

Usually that means sitting beside her while she works at her desk

As long as you’re good, she’ll let you wander the entirety of the manor

Since you tried to run she’s added all sorts of security measures so you can’t get out

Act up though and she will chain you to the wall in her office

“Y/N, your behavior has been deplorable lately and needs correcting.

Don’t give me those sad eyes, this is all your fault.”

Walter:

He’s a sneaky yandere

Very observant, he’ll learn your patterns and preferences

At the start he’ll leave you gifts like your favorite food or pretty flowers

He uses it as an excuse to get closer to you

He’s always offering to do favors for you, secretly lowering your defenses around him

He’s not the type to take anything from you but he will take the time to appreciate them

If you let him clean your room he’ll likely pause to sniff some clothes

You notice how much he knows about you but you just think he’s very observant

You don’t realize it’s due to his obsession

He’s the type to take more precautions

If you deny his advances he’ll lock you up somewhere, probably his room

He’ll get chains and a cage if necessary

If you really act up, he’ll lock you in the basement

The way you cling to him in fear after spending all night in the dark is addictive

His wires are always nearby

If you try to run you’ll only get a few steps out the door before the wires wrap you up and pull you back

He does his best not to hurt you, but if you struggle too much, a few cuts are inevitable

Seras:

She’s a very clingy yandere

She’ll want you on every mission she goes on

When you have free time she’ll take you out into the area nearby for some quality time

If you ever push her away, she gets angry

She’ll pout like a child then force her way into whatever it is you’re doing

At the time, she’ll act like it’s just a coincidence and you might even believe her

You’re not getting rid of her so easily

She’s also a very sweet yandere

If she feels she’s hurt your feelings she’ll go out of her way to get you presents or treat you nicely

Until you say you forgive her, she won’t stop pampering you

No one else is allowed near you, not even Integra

She’ll make excuses and do whatever it takes to keep you to herself

She would never kidnap you or lock you up because she hates to see you sad, but her “loving” behavior will be a trap in itself

Don’t forget that despite how cute she is, she’s still a powerful monster that can and will do what it takes to keep you

If that means making you one of her familiars then so be it

Alucard:

He’s a terrifying yandere

He can control you and the people around you, holding you captive

You’re not a stupid person, you know how easily he could end your life, so you tend to let it all happen

On the plus side, he’s very passionate and often brings you gifts

He’s such a smooth talker you’ll end up forgetting the terrifying threats he’s made in the past

Anyone who flirts with you will mysteriously disappear

Anyone who hurts you will turn up days later torn to shreds in a ditch

He would never do anything to hurt you, but that doesn’t stop him from making threats

“I could tear you apart just like that man from last week. I would love to hear your moans of anguish, but I’d prefer moans of pleasure.”

When you act out he manhandles you

He’ll press you against a wall and bite your neck to remind you of your place

He enjoys when you become complicit, but he likes when you’re occasionally act out

It gives him an excuse to punish you, which he always loves

After that, you’ll think twice before disobeying him

Millenium:

Jan:

Bro this man is already wild

When he sets his sights on you it’s go time

He won’t let anyone else near you or get to know you, not even his brother

He’ll threaten people, meeting them after work for overstepping their boundaries

He’s very touchy, like he’s trying to leave his scent all over you

Out in public, he’ll hang on you, showing others that you’re already taken

He’ll growl at people that look at you too long when passing by

He flicks a lot of people off, all the time but more so when he’s around you

He’s paranoid and doesn’t like anyone else around you, even friends

Clearly he’s a fan of body modification so if he can convince you he’ll want to get some kind of matching piercing/tattoo

If you get it, he’ll pay special attention to it any time you cuddle, running his fingers over it countless times

He can be very intense so he might yell at you, but when he sees the hurt look in your eyes he backs off

In his own weird way, he loves you and doesn’t want to see you hurting

But if he has to hurt you to keep you then so be it

Luke:

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is

He tries to play it cool, but if someone tries to touch you he will blatantly smack their hand away

Always has an excuse to be around you and if he doesn’t, he’ll find one

He’s not as touchy as Jan, but he does like to hold your hand

You’ll feel his pinky brush against you before his hand completely envelops yours

His grip tightens when he sees you looking at others

Your attention is something he so desperately craves

He gives you every moment of his time and he wants you to do the same

If you’re ever in danger he’s there before anyone else even knows

It helps that he was already watching you

Be ready to compensate him

At first he’s just worried about you, but then once he knows you’re alright, he’ll start making demands

“You owe me for coming to your rescue dear. Or would you like me to toss you back? Maybe then you’ll beg me in such a cute way.”

Rip:

She does not care what other people think

She’ll ruin relationships to get closer to you

She’ll endanger her own job if it keeps you two apart

Doing favors is how she gets closer to you

Anytime you need something she’s there and ready to go

She’d leave in the middle of a mission if she hears you need help

Anyone causing you problems will be slaughtered and presented to you as a gift

“See y/n, I took off their heads just for you.”

She can get very aggressive especially if she thinks you’re denying her advances

She won’t hurt you, beyond a little pinch or so, but she’ll make threats

She’s very sadistic and would be willing to lock you up

Having you as a pet is actually an attractive idea to her

She’ll take good care of you wherever you’re locked up, but she won’t allow many freedoms

“Look at my pretty pet. How lucky am I.”

The Captain:

He’s like a pet, always following you around

He’ll growl at people he doesn’t like around you

His arms are always around you, keeping you close

No one else is allowed to tend to you after missions

When he’s patching you up, he’ll run his hands along your arms and legs, lovingly caressing your limbs

He’ll use that as an excuse to stay around you

Popping in to “check on you” at all hours

You won’t even know he’s come in until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed

He’s the type the would sit there for a moment watching you breathe

If he can, he’ll try to get you to be his assistant

If he can convince the higher ups that he needs one, he’ll do whatever he can

Then he’ll be around you even when he works and will be able to protect you

No one on the battlefield will be able to even get close to you

He’ll ignore his own tasks to protect you

He’s extremely loyal and obsessive

The Doctor

Oh man it is terrifying when he has his eye on someone

He views it like just another experiment, wanting to test and push you

He’ll have you coming to him for “examinations” all the time

He’d likely put a bug on you

Suddenly he knows things you don’t remember telling him, but you can’t prove anything

People you like start disappearing, people you had no idea he knew about

If he suspects you’re starting to catch on and trying to get away, he’ll start drugging you

Then you’ll have to come to him if you’re going to get better

While he’s treating you, he’ll trick you mentally manipulating you to grow closer to him

You’re going to think so highly of him, forgetting all the red flags you’d seen before

He is absolutely a gas lighter but he’s damn good at it

Even if you have experience with this stuff you won’t pick up on it

It’s a game of cat and mouse with him

The Major

He is not subtle and does not care

Your needs or emotions don’t matter to him

If you don’t respond well to his advances he will make terrible threats

If that doesn’t work he’ll take it a step further, allowing the ghouls to get close to taking a bite out of you

Torture is the next step

He doesn’t care about your mood, he has to have you

“Y/N, why do you fight so hard when you know I’m just going to hurt you again?”

He’ll want to do most of it by hand, but if he needs to he will get the others involved

“Would you like me to make a spectacle out of you? I think the others would enjoy that.”

Behave and he won’t hurt you

If he gets mad enough he’ll remove your arms and legs

You’ll become his good little doll, always on display for him

Like a bird in a cage, you’re his favorite display item

#yandere #yandere behavior #integra hellsing x reader #integra x reader #walter x reader #walter c dornez x reader #seras x reader #seras victoria x reader #alucard x reader #jan valentine x reader #jan x reader #luke valentine x reader #luke x reader #rip van winkle x reader #rip x reader #the captain x reader #the doctor x reader #the major x reader

[mssjynx]

Mic: ON

dreamnap oneshot 3687 words warnings: steamy!!  ao3 link

-

“Sapnap. Don’t send it.”

Dream’s warning voice held a lot more threat than usual coming through Nick’s headset, and he suspected it was because the two now shared a house. He was all too aware of his friend’s presence only two doors down, and had it just been the two of them, Nick probably would have already given in and saved himself an ass kicking. Dream was a noticeable few inches taller than him, and definitely stronger though Nick would never admit it outloud. 

Nick was good at picking his fights.

Or he was, usually. 

But with Dream in one ear, and Quackity, George and Karl in the other, he was tiptoeing the line of a very pissed off Dream. The three idiots had been egging him on for the past half hour, begging him to send the video since the moment he’d mentioned having it. And he wasn’t actually going to send it, he just really enjoyed stirring Dream up and he knew the other three found it just as funny. 

“Sapnap! Sapnap! Sapnap!” Karl’s chanting overlapped the other two voices, Alex making odd monkey sounds as George laughed himself into hysterics. 

“Send it, Sap! You have to show us, you have to.” George’s words were gasped out between wheezes in his comically high-pitched voice that appeared whenever he was losing his mind laughing at something. 

Nick knew that if any of them laid their eyes on the video, they would never ever get over it. 

He’d captured the valuable video the night prior when Dream had overslept an alarm that he’d set for a recording session with the Among Us crowd. When Nick had crept in there to wake him up, a task he dreaded after the first time he’d done it and successfully pissed Dream off for two full days, he had been met with a sight he never thought he’d see. It was too good to resist flicking out his phone and capturing the moment. 

Dream had been splayed out across the bed, three pillows tucked under his back and his head tipped back off the mattress entirely. A trail of dried drool stained his cheek and his slack mouth was releasing a mix of whistling snores and little snuffling sounds as he slept. His fourth pillow was clutched to his chest in a grip that made Nick feel bad for it, white knuckles making Nick gulp as he crept back out of the room and returned to his Discord call to pass on the disappointing news. 

He had intended to keep the video to himself, locked away in his phone for a later day of humiliation. He hadn’t intended that later day to be the day following but he made the mistake of mentioning the beautiful video and it had all gone downhill from there. 

Karl, George and Alex were relentless when they wanted something, and to say they wanted to see this video was a huge understatement. 

“We need to see it, Sapnap, it’s worth the risk! It’s worth it!” Alex pleaded. 

“The risk!?” Nick snorted, offended by the lack of care. “I’m gonna get my teeth kicked in, Quackity! The risk is my impending death.” 

“It’s worth it, it’s worth it!” 

“Vouch!” 

Karl and Alex were a terrible influence on each other. 

“Guys, Dream’s scawy,” Sapnap said, hoping his baby “uwu” voice would soften Dream’s heart. He knew that whether he sent it or not, Dream was going to kill him for taking it in the first place. 

“You haven’t seen ‘scary’,” Dream muttered and Nick shot a weary glance to the door of his office. There wasn’t even a lock. 

George whined, adding his own baby voice to the mix, and Sapnap could practically see the stupid pout he was wearing when he begged, “Please, Sap. He won’t actually kill you!” 

Dream’s scoff was dry and humourless, “Oh, I will,” and Nick could hear the exhaustion that layered his irritation. He’d been up for over twenty hours editing his upcoming video and keeping the guys company in their streams. He knew that Dream was ready to collapse into bed the second he could, but the risk of his pride held enough weight to keep him upright for the time being. 

Nick almost felt bad for him, except he remembered the horrific photo that Dream had shared with their chat less than a month earlier. 

This was only payback; well, it would be if Nick was actually going to send it. But he was better than that, he was the bigger man and he also valued having all of his teeth and an unbroken nose. 

With a sigh, he reached to click delete on the keyboard to remove the video from the textbox. The ominous ‘Sapnap is typing…’ that sat at the bottom of all of their screens had only added to the excitement (and anger), but he knew that they’d had their fun and it was over. When he tried to snatch up his water bottle at the same time, his device unbalanced in his fingers and the thunk of it hitting the carpet was accompanied by the little “shwoop” sound of a message sending. 

Every voice except Dream’s exploded in the call and Nick froze in his chair.

“Oh god,” he whispered, dropping his bottle and scrambling for his phone. “Oh, no, no, no- I didn’t- It was an accident, I dropped my-” His voice was drowned out by Karl and Alex’s cheering, hysterical laughter pouring from George’s end. Dream’s icon vanished from the call and the slam of a door opening reached Nick’s ears.

Dream’s footsteps were loud and angry.  

“Guys, guys, GUYS!” His bedroom door burst open and Nick threw off his headphones, ripping the cord from his PC as he stumbled out of his chair. The look on Dream’s face made Nick genuinely fear for his life as he backed up away from Dream. 

“Oh my God, he’s so cuuuute!” Karl cooed. George howled with laughter. 

Nick had messed up. He had royally screwed himself, and today was the day he was going to die. “Dream, Clay. It was an accident, I was going to delete it and I dropped my phone and- I wasn’t actually going to send it, I swear. I promise. Pinky promise? What if we hug and make up?” Words tumbled off his tongue with panicked desperation but Nick knew a losing fight when he saw it. “Dream?” he tried weakly when Dream stepped forward, but the stoic glare didn’t shift. 

He could hear Alex calling Dream’s name, futile attempts at rescuing Nick from certain death. But the laughter that drowned him out only sealed his fate.

He was completely and totally done. 

Dream lunged for him and an embarrassingly high-pitched scream ripped from Nick’s throat. He bolted to the bed, clambering over the mattress with his eyes on the open door. But his chances were shot when a rough hand grabbed his ankle, yanking him backwards and off balance. His face slammed into the mattress, cutting off his yelp, and he barely managed to squirm over onto his back before Dream pounced. 

“You’re done, Nick,” Dream snarled, and Nick knew that it was his turn to be mortified. He caught Dream by the upper arms, straining as he kept Dream’s hands just inches away from his own shoulders and face. “You’re such an asshole, I told you not to send it!” 

“I told you,” Nick gasped, his arms aching as he turned his face away from Dream’s clawing fingers, “I didn’t mean to!” 

Dream growled, glaring down at Nick for a second before spitting: “Liar.” and throwing his weight to the side. Nick lost his grip and within seconds Dream had hooked an arm around his back, pinning Nick’s head between his arm and his ribs. The wrestling training Sapnap did back in middle school leapt to the front of his mind as he got his arms around Dream’s middle and tried to push him back. They both grunted and yelped, jabbing fingers into sensitive spots and cursing as they wrestled and fought. 

From the computer, the other three were cheering them on, placing bets back and forth. Except they were all betting on Dream and Nick couldn’t even blame them as he scrambled on top of Dream’s back for half a second before he was thrown off.

A jab to his stomach knocked all the air out of him and in seconds he was flat on his back with his arms pinned either side of his head. He gasped for air, face hot and red from exertion as he blinked his dizzy eyes up at Dream. 

He made a weak attempt at getting one leg between him and Dream, hoping to plant a foot to his chest and shove him back, but Dream shoved his knee down into the muscle of Nick’s thigh and a shot of pain at the pressure cut his escape attempt off.

The grin on his face made Nick’s head spin faster, though he didn’t know whether it was fear or adrenaline that flipped his stomach like a pancake.  

“Dead,” Clay declared, proud and smug as if it was at all a fair fight. He was six foot two for Heaven’s sake. 

“Shut up, you’re such a dick,” Nick spat, craning his head off the mattress. The grip on his wrists tightened and Dream pressed them harder into the mattress, leaning his weight into his knee. Nick yelped in pain, wriggling in a weak attempt of dislodging his roommate. 

Dream scoffed. “Shouldn’t have sent the video, should you?” His sneer was twisted with a satisfied grin and Nick would have been relieved to see that he was more smug than angry if that smile didn’t trigger every fear sensor in Nick’s body. 

“Well, look- Ow- You got me now, so… you don’t have to, uh, kill me or anything! Wouldn’t want you to go to prison now,” he says, awkward chuckle leaving his lips. He hears Karl and George lose it from the computer speakers, quiet but distinct enough to heighten Nick’s irritation. They weren’t helping him at all.  

“No chance.” Dream narrowed his eyes. “I want some sort of compensation. You have to let me post whatever I want from your twitter,” and the crooked grin he wore told Nick that his revenge would be far worse than the five second video of Dream snoring. 

“No way,” he said, shaking his head and yanking on his arms. The taller man leaned his weight onto his wrists and Nick gave up on fighting. “Get off me, Dream.” 

They both ignored the three amigos cheering in the background, this time for Nick’s demise.

Two-faced assholes...

“What’s your password, Nick,” Dream asked, cocking his head to the side with his sly grin. He was, humiliatingly, completely at Dream’s mercy and his stomach twisted at the thought.

It was definitely the first time that they’d been so close to each other; Nick had never been able to see this much detail in Dream’s face. For a moment, he got distracted by the little scar that marred the right side of Clay’s top lip, wondering when and how he’d gotten it. When his lips twitched down into a confused frown, Nick snapped back into the moment with the realisation that he’d been staring at Dream’s mouth. 

He snapped his focus back up to Dream’s eyes, unable to miss the way his brows were creased with thought, and pushed a defensive snarl onto his own mouth as he glared up at Dream. “It’s not happening,” he said bluntly, hoping the embarrassed red of his cheeks could be passed off from their wrestling. 

Dream’s frown deepened with annoyance. “What’s your password, Nick?” he repeated, pressing his thumb hard into the inside of Nick’s wrist. He watched Nick’s face with an intensity that definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago, murky green eyes flickering over Nick’s features as searching for something specific. 

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” 

“George, you dick!”

“He’s from Florida, man! He’ll do it!” 

The pressure on Nick’s inner wrist made him grimace and when Nick forced out a rough: “No, Clay,” he squeezed the other wrist harder, pinching the skin. The jolt of pain mixed with the tingle in his fingertips; Nick sucked in a deep breath and bit down hard on his bottom lip as he desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation. 

His train of thought was slammed to a stop when Dream’s eyes snapped down to Nick’s mouth like a magnet, time screeching to a neck-breaking halt. For a moment, neither of them moved. Dream’s grip loosened on Nick’s wrist but he didn’t even consider moving away, unable to focus on anything other than Dream’s gaze locked on his mouth and his own heartbeat slamming in his chest, in his throat, in his head. 

His lip slipped out from between his teeth, and out of reflex, he flicked his tongue to soothe the sting, and he could not ignore the way Dream sucked in a breath sharply through his teeth. Nick watched his pupils swell and he couldn’t say anything about Dream’s pink cheeks because he knew his own were just as warm. 

And then it was like a flip was switched. Dream clenched his jaw, eyes flicking back up to Nick’s with a clarity that caught him off guard. “Fine,” Dream said, voice low and even. He stuck his tongue in his cheek for a moment of thought, and Nick tried desperately to keep up with the hidden thoughts behind Dream’s eyes. “Have it your way.” 

Those words ran through Nick’s mind just once, before one wrist was released. Before he could even think to make his escape, rough fingers caught him by the jaw, tipping Nick’s head back as a grin flashed over Dream’s lips. 

Then those lips were on Nick’s. 

Dream kissed him and he kissed him hard, sinking his teeth into Nick’s bottom lip without waiting for a response. The jolt of pain dragged a grunt from Nick’s mouth, and he pressed it up against Dream’s, allowing the thumb on his chin to drag his lips apart. Clay kissed him hard and deep and hot and Nick gave it back just as rough and unforgiving. 

His free hand jumped to the back of Dream’s head, threading fingers through loose blonde hair as he tilted his head up into the kiss. He craned his head up off the mattress, nipping at Dream’s tongue when it flicked his top lip. With a fistful of hair in his hand, he smirked into the kiss and yanked hard, dragging Clay’s mouth off him so he could gasp in a breath of air. 

It was only a moment before Dream caught Nick by the wrist, shoving his hand back down into the mattress. Except this time, he slipped his fingers up, interlocking them with Nick’s as he kissed him. He pressed his tongue past Nick’s lips, growling at the sharp bites Nick delivered in return. 

He’d forgotten about Clay’s knee on his thigh until the pressure vanished, Dream instead using his knee to push Nick’s leg to the side. It only felt natural to drag his knee up, dragging his ankle along the backside of Dream’s legs and pulling on the back of his thigh.

Even when they were kissing, they were fighting. Nick tried to press up against Dream, squirming and yanking on his wrists all the while trying to chase Dream’s tongue back into his own mouth. “Dream,” he growled when the Clay once again blocked Nick’s tongue, shoving his head back down against the mattress.

“Shut up,” Dream snarled, shifting his knee up the mattress between Nick’s legs. It wasn’t close enough and Nick’s underwear was too tight and too hot for him to handle. He bit back an irritated whine, and blushed at the smirk on Dream’s face. 

“You’re such a dick,” Nick bit, squirming when Dream put both of his wrists together and with one hand, held them both down. His other hand caught Nick by the jaw as he scanned the Texan boy’s flushed face and kiss-worried lips, holding him still despite how Nick shifted and fought, wanting to get his hands on Dream’s shoulders, in his shirt, in his hair. 

He was frustratingly intoxicating and Nick could not get enough. Dream who smelt like heat, like sweat and aftershave. Dream who dug his fingertips into Nick’s jaw and chin, grinning while he tilted Nick’s head back so he could kiss him deeper. 

The tongue that pressed into Nick’s mouth was hot and greedy as it teased his own, and Nick could feel the smug glee that oozed from the man above him. “Takes one to know one,” he whispered against Nick’s cheek, before pushing Nick’s head all the way back and dropping his mouth to the curve of his throat. 

Somewhere in the back of Sapnap’s head, he registered that he could still hear the other boys. Their conversation, the video, the fight; it felt so much further away with Dream’s tongue abseiling down his neck, and numbly he wondered if the boys had forgotten they were there. 

The sweet trail of kisses that crept up the side of his neck were followed by a sharp bite to the skin just below Nick’s ear, and he couldn’t stop the cry from spilling from his mouth. Grinning lips and a cruel tongue smothered the stinging pain as Nick groaned; words of: “Fuck you, that hurt,” being followed by a moan he couldn’t bite back when Clay’s hand disappeared from his jaw and reappeared between his legs, pressing flat to Nick’s straining arousal. The flush of pleasure that wasn’t quite enough dragged a helpless whimper from his tongue as Nick tried to grind up into the touch only to have it vanish altogether. “Clay-” he moaned at the greedy sucking on his neck, loud and desperate and without a touch of shame. “Fuck, touch me- Please,” he gasped.

And that right there was his second screw up of the night. 

“Woah, WHAT!?” 

“FUCK, no, my ears!”

“Oh God, oh no, that’s- they’re not fighting anymore, that’s not fighting!” 

The clamour of voices exploded from Nick’s computer, their previous quiet conversation completely forgotten as all three men’s heads were undoubtedly flooded with scenes they didn’t want to imagine, ever. 

Dream vanished from on top of Nick within seconds, bolting to the computer as Nick scrambled to sit upright. His face was burning hot and he could barely catch his breath as he watched Dream smack a few buttons on the computer before rounding on him. 

His own cheeks were flushed bright red and the look of alarm would have made Nick laugh had their situation not been as embarrassing as it was for the both of them. “You didn’t mute your mic!?” Dream demanded and Nick stared back at him in disbelief. 

“What, was I supposed to anticipate that!?” he snapped back, squirming under Dream’s dirty look. He was still embarrassingly turned on from their… activities, and he had no idea what was even going to happen now. 

They were best friends who lived together, not horny teenagers who jumped each other when they got a little bit worked up! 

Dream rubbed his face with his hands, taking a deep breath and holding it. After a second of silence, he let it out with an exhausted laugh, shaking his head as he lifted it to look back over at Nick. “Well, that’s going to be an uncomfortable conversation,” he said simply, and Nick couldn’t help but laugh as well. What else was there to do?

“At least they weren’t streaming,” he offered and Dream snickered at the thought, tapping a few more buttons until the screen went black. Nick dropped back onto the mattress, hands on his face as he took a few breaths. His heart was still racing like crazy, and the pressure between his legs was starting to ache. 

When he pushed back up onto his forearms, dropping a hand to readjust himself as he lifted his gaze to Dream. Sharp, green eyes were locked on him, more specifically his hand, which paused in its movements under the intense stare. 

Nick watched with bated breath as a small smile twisted Dream’s lips, eyes dragging up over Nick as if considering all the things he could do to him. Wondering what was going through Clay’s head made Nick’s stomach drop and head spin. Dream slowly returned to the edge of the bed and Nick sat up further, unsure if he felt more scared of excited by the look in Clay’s eyes. He moved to drag his legs back towards him, but before he could get very far, Dream’s hands were locking onto his ankles, one hard pull dragging Nick to the edge of the mattress. 

He tipped his head back to look up at Dream, biting his tongue when Dream cupped his cheek, running his thumb along his bottom lip. 

“That’s an issue for another day,” Dream said, wetting his lip with his tongue as he tipped Nick’s head back further. He shifted back, arms barely holding him up as he tilted his head away from Dream’s hand. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a nervous laugh dropping from his mouth as he scooted back further. 

Dream nodded, grin unfazed as he crawled onto the mattress. A hand to Nick’s chest pushed him back onto the mattress, another hand sliding up the inside of Nick’s leg. “Yeah,” Dream said, ghosting his fingers over the front of his sweats and watching Nick bite back a whimper. “Kinda busy right now.” He dipped down, capturing Nick’s mouth in another kiss; this one sweeter and softer than any of their others. He coaxed a soft sound from Nick’s throat, sucking his bottom lip and drawing his tongue out to flick against his own. 

“Busy?” Nick gasped when Dream pulled back for a breath, both hands falling to the waistband on Nick’s sweatpants. 

“Yeah,” he said with a sly grin, “Really busy.” 

#dreamnap #dream #sapnap #fic #fanfic #steamy fic #this is the first and closest thing ive written to smut #in literally 9 months #so #go easy on me but let me know what u think- i know its messy #but i tried my best and i like it :)

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: 780 Days

Parts One, Two, and Three of the Nayeon prequels.

---

Day 3: 

On your first date Im Nayeon reaches over and swipes the two pieces of delicious-looking salmon sashimi off the wooden tray of sushi the waiter had just placed in front of you.

“I love salmon,” she says.

Her theft complete, she takes two pieces of tamago sushi from her own tray and places them on yours. It was clearly meant to be some sort of payment or compensation for the grand theft sushi that had just been committed in front of your very eyes - a deal you were clearly on the losing end of.

You look up at her, still a little dumbfounded at her brashness during a first date, when most people were often overly concerned with being on their best manners and presenting the best version of themselves that they could. But here she was, swiping the two most delicious - and expensive - pieces of sushi from you, uncaring of your say in the matter.

You are about to open your mouth and start a tirade about how unjust and unfair this transaction was for you, when she gives you a smile - toothy and gummy, not a hint or remorse on her adorable features. 

The prominence of her two front teeth remind you a little bit of those of a rabbit. You smile back despite how surprised you were by her sushi theft.

This probably wasn’t going to last very long.

Day 7:

ImNayeon says: I had a good time last week :)

You say: So did I!

ImNayeon says: I owe you some salmon I guess. Free on Friday?

You sigh out loud as you receive her text. You didn’t have the best of first dates. You didn’t have much in common, she seemed a little more straightforward than you would’ve liked, and you weren’t sure you were over the entire sushi theft thing. 

She was cute, though, and that smile - that damn smile.

You didn’t know it at the time, but as you type your response a smile has crept onto your lips.

You say: Sure - pick you up at 7?

Day 20:

Your first time was awkward. 

You were both young and inexperienced, bumbling around each others’ bodies trying to recreate things you’d seen in porn or trying something that might have worked with a previous partner, not quite realizing just yet that every person’s body is different, and what worked for your prom date on prom night was by no means guaranteed to work for this young woman.

But what you lacked in experience you more than made up for with enthusiasm. It had been months since your last hookup, and from the second you’d entered her dorm room you were metaphorically and physically salivating at the opportunity to sleep with her. Nayeon seemed a little more hesitant, a little more nervous about where things were going, but she was still clearly as into it as you were, if the soft gasps and sighs that left her mouth as you explored her neck were any indication. Your hands, hungry to finally have the opportunity to explore her body for the first time, roam her small, tight frame, squeezing her cute little butt, caressing her back, pressing against her sides.

You both stumble onto the bed - quite literally, as you were both too focused on exploring each others’ mouths to realize how close it actually was. Nayeon falls onto it first, a cute little giggle leaving her mouth as she does so. You loom over her for a moment, enraptured by her smile, those cute bunny teeth of hers, those welcoming lips, her button nose, those perfect, expressive eyes rendered into adorable upside down arcs - her image took your breath away.

You find a smile appearing at the corner of your lips, the way it always seemed to whenever you spent time with this amazing young woman who had been at the center of your thoughts over the past couple of weeks. Sometimes it was something she said or did that made you smile - a funny joke, the way she reacted with half-serious anger when you teased her about her unusually large hands, the clumsy way she blew strands of hair away from her face while she studied. Sometimes she made you smile just by being her - when she was doing nothing in particular, managing to bring a smile to your lips even before you knew your lips were moving.

The sex that was to come was awkward, clumsy, far from being the best sex you’d ever had. But when it is over and you are both lying there with her head on your chest, you take a moment to look down and watch as she begins to doze off, her eyes slowly becoming too heavy for her to keep open, until finally she drifts off and begins to lightly snore.

You add that moment to the growing list of moments when Im Nayeon made you smile.

Day 21: 

“...and counting you, yeah, that’s the number.”

Nayeon takes a moment to respond, and you fear that you might have surprised her with how many girls you’d slept with. Should you have lied? What number was she expecting when she asked you? You tilt your head as best you could to try and get a look at her face as she rests her head in the crook of your neck. She is facing away from the nearby window and the mid-morning sunlight of the day after your first time together sheds little light on her expression.

“Is that… a lot for you?” you ask.

“No, no it’s not,” she replies, “Don’t worry, I’m not a prude or anything. People can sleep with as many people as they want. It’s just sex. This isn’t the 1800s.”

You find it a little difficult to gauge her reaction from her flat response.

“Some of them were just one night stands. Stupid drunken hookups at house parties. They didn’t mean anything-”

“What about me? Do I mean anything?” she asks suddenly. She tilts her head up at you, and you are relieved to see the cheesy smile on her face that told you she had meant the question mostly as a joke.

“Of course you do,” you reply, before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, “I don’t usually buy my sexual partners dinner.”

Nayeon gives you a punch to the gut, and while she meant it to be playful it still caught you unprepared. 

“What about you?” you ask once sufficiently recovered. “What’s your number?”

Nayeon takes another moment to consider her answer, tapping her bottom lip with her index finger as though reviewing the entirety of her sexual history in her head. The length of time she takes to compose her answer makes you more than a little nervous, but you resolve to accept whatever number she gives you - she was right; it wasn’t the 1800s.

Nayeon’s finger leaves her mouth and she places it back onto your chest, where she begins to idly play with a random patch of skin.

“Counting you?” she asks, softly.

“Yeah.”

“One,” she answers.

Day 113:

Im Nayeon turned out to be a pretty good shot.

Of the ten targets set up at the carnival booth you were currently visiting, she downed eight with her BB gun - good enough for the surprised staff member to give her her choice of oversized stuffed animal.

“You’re a pretty damn good shot,” you say as you leave the booth, a large stuffed rabbit slung over your back. “If you’re some sort of international super spy you should probably tell me now.”

“Nope, not a spy,” she answers as she takes a bite from the large cloud of cotton candy she just bought from a nearby stand. She rips off a small piece and pops it into your mouth before hooking her arm in yours.

“Special Forces?”

“Nah, I don’t take orders very well.”

“Cop?”

“Fuck cops,” she says plainly, an edge in her voice. “No way in hell I’d ever want to be a cop.”

Day 283: 

It didn’t take long for sex to become a regular and frequent occurence with Nayeon.

It almost seemed like your first time together had flipped a switch inside the young woman, as though she were introduced to this new exciting thing that she had to have at every opportunity. 

You were both taking mid-level classes now and while the school workload and extracurricular commitments had ramped up, you both made sure to set time aside for each other. Nayeon was a caring, loving young woman and you were constantly in awe at the fact that you were lucky enough to be in a relationship with her. She was everything you had ever wanted in a girlfriend, and you did your best to make her feel as such. She rarely admitted it with words, but you could tell from the small things - the way she held your hand, the way she always bought you little trinkets and snacks and gifts, the way she looked longingly into your eyes every now and then - that she must have felt the same. 

It surprised you, then, that such a sweet and caring girl could be so aggressive and daring when it came to sex. You’d figured her to be the vanilla, simple type, especially after your first time together - but she quickly became open to experimenting with different positions and kinks. It was most often her that wanted to try new things in the bedroom - or the library, or the bathroom. Recently she’d taken a liking to two new kinks - light bondage, and sex in increasingly daring places on campus.

Nayeon hated the professor of the mid-level criminology class she was currently taking, and so she wanted to exact some measure of revenge on him by having sex on the lectern in the lecture hall a few hours before her class. It was a flimsy excuse, but you weren’t one to turn down such an opportunity.

She even dressed for the occasion - her blue plaid skirt and the tight white button up she wore gave her all the appearance of an innocent schoolgirl, even if the shirt was currently undone and the skirt bunched up around her waist. She even went through the trouble of wearing white knee socks and a blue tie to complete the schoolgirl ensemble, although the tie was currently serving rather admirably as a restraint for her wrists, bound behind her back.

You are almost worried that being pressed face down onto the lectern without her hands to support her was painful for her, but the tightness of her tight, slick pussy wrapped around your cock and her endless stream of only half-suppressed sighs and moans convinced you that there was nothing to be worried about. Your hands wander her helpless body as you take her roughly from behind, sometimes squeezing a cute ass cheek, sometimes pulling her body back by her shoulders as you slam forward with your hips, sometimes grasping a handful of chocolate hair, moistened with sweat, and pulling back, enjoying the gasp of pleasure and pain that leaves her throat with each tug of her hair.

Fucking her over the lecture hall lectern was a risky move, of course, given that absolutely anyone in the university community could have walked in and witnessed you pounding away at her - but Nayeon’s sexual appetite had become more and more ravenous in the past couple of months, and when she decided she wanted it, you were in no position to refuse her.

It had started simple enough, with some relatively vanilla sexual positions in her dorm room or yours. And then it turned into weekends where you did little more than eat, sleep and fuck. Then you began fucking on campus, starting in the library against the bookshelves, and then in washrooms between classes - culminating now in this afternoon’s escapade, your most brazen one yet.

You wonder, for a split second, what the punishment might be should a faculty member walk in and find you two going at it atop the lecture hall’s stage. But as Nayeon’s pussy tightens around you and her moans begin to reach a crescendo, you realize that you would have accepted any such punishment with a happy, satisfied smile on your face.

“I’m gonna fucking cum on your cock,” Nayeon states through gritted teeth, matter-of-factly, as though she were answering a question posed by her professor, and not being fucked atop his lectern. “You’re so… so fucking big inside me.”

The audacity of the situation she had put you in - the thrill of the possibility of being caught, her schoolgirl outfit, the tight, wet heat of her pussy and the level of arousal she was clearly experiencing - it was no surprise how turned on you both were. Your bodies made it obvious.

“And you’re so fucking tight, Nayeon. Are you… gonna think of us fucking on this lectern when you’re in class later?”

“Fuck yes!” Nayeon gasps, “Fuck, fuck yes, I want to picture you fucking me on this lectern while the professor gives his lecture, it’s gonna make me so wet, oh fuck, oh fuck… I want to sit in class with your cum in my pussy, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Fucking cum for me, Nayeon,” you spit. 

“Oh fuck oh god I’m gonna fucking cum oh fuck I’m cumming!--”

You grit your teeth as she does just that, her body tightening and pulsating around you, her limbs shaking as she tries and fails to contain the pleasure radiating out from her core. You consider joining her, and your aching cock almost begs for release as it continues to pound the quivering young woman atop the lectern - but you do your best to hang on a little longer, seeking to savor every moment, relish every thrust into Nayeon’s tight, slick pussy.

And so when the door to the lecture hall opens, you almost don’t realize it.

Nayeon is thankfully more alert than you, and even through her post-orgasm haze she realizes the danger the opening of the door posed to the both of you. Before you realize what she is doing she pushes herself off you and off the lectern, ducking beneath it. On her knees, she quickly turns to face you and before you know it she takes your cock into her mouth.

You are left breathless, suddenly going from having your cock buried in your girlfriend’s pussy to having her under the lectern and having your cock buried in her mouth literally leaves you unable to move, much less process the fact that someone else has entered the lecture hall.

It is a few more seconds before you are cognizant enough to realize that the newcomer is dressed in grey overalls - a janitor. While he is far off at the top of the stairs that lead to the entrance of the large lecture hall, from his stooped posture you could tell he was likely an older gentleman. The fact that the lectern is a solid piece of wood, combined with the janitor’s age and eyesight, likely meant that there was little chance of him realizing Nayeon was there.

“Oh, sorry, professor, I didn’t know you were in here. Just cleaning up the garbage bins,” the janitor says as he shuffles towards the bins at either corner of the hall.

“Oh, no problem at all,” you answer, your voice wavering only slightly as Nayeon continues to take your stiff, aching cock in and out of her mouth, “I’m just… getting some notes ready.”

You make a show of shuffling some random papers and forms that were lying atop the lectern. You are too afraid to look down, knowing that the sight of Nayeon’s large, expressive eyes as she took your cock in and out between her lips, her arms still bound behind her, might be too much for you to handle.

“Nice weather we’re having, eh?” the janitor asks in a pleasant tone as he finally reaches one of the bins at the corner of the hall.

“Wonderful!” you snap, your voice cracking as you answer, “-wonderful. It’s pretty damn hot down there.”

“Down there?” the janitor asks, quizzically. 

“Out there. Sorry. I meant to say ‘out there.’”

“Ah,” he responds, before shuffling, painfully slowly, towards the other bin.

Beneath the lectern Nayeon redoubles her efforts, as though challenging you to cum before the janitor leaves the room. Her lips tighten around your cock, her tongue dancing in random patterns around and under your head, each swipe of it sending fierce shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your grip tightens on the lectern’s edge as you seek some outlet for the pleasure.

You try to focus on the random notes that some previous professor had left on the lectern, trying to avoid looking down at Nayeon as she continues to suck deeply on your cock. At the top of the lecture hall the janitor has almost reached the second bin.

You notice some struggling going on beneath the lectern, and you glance down long enough to see that Nayeon has relieved herself of the tie wrapped around her wrists - you hadn’t deemed it necessary to double knot it, trusting in her lust and newfound desire to be bound up to keep her wrists tied. 

You watch, enraptured, as Nayeon takes you halfway into her mouth, her eyes locked on yours, lips tight around your shaft. Her hands now free, she quickly slips her already unbuttoned white shirt over her creamy shoulders before quickly reaching behind her and undoing her bra, letting it fall from her now topless frame. She lets your cock pop out of her mouth, jerking it slowly with her right hand as she straightens her torso and lets you have a glimpse of her naked chest, a thick stream of saliva dripping from her lips to fall down her chin and onto her small, round breasts.

As she continues to jerk you off with her right hand, eyes still fixed on yours, her left hand drops to her upper chest before capturing one of her own stiff nipples and pinching the hard bud between her index finger and thumb. You gasp audibly as you watch her touch herself. Knowing every ounce of your attention is fixated on her, she slips her hand between her legs and beneath the hem of her skirt. From the sudden pleasured expression on her face you know she has slipped her fingers inside herself.

Eyes glazed over with pleasure, she locks her gaze on yours and takes you into her mouth again.

Nothing else exists in your world. Never mind the janitor - every one of the two hundred seats in front of you could have been filled with students and nothing could have stopped you from watching, helplessly, as Nayeon brings you to orgasm. In reality it probably only took twenty seconds or so of her sucking your cock while she fingered herself - but in your mind it seemed to last forever.

A split second before you reach your peak you bury yourself as deeply inside her mouth, reaching down involuntarily with your right hand to grasp the back of her head and thrusting your cock as deep between her warm, wet lips as you could. Nayeon gags slightly as the head of your cock enters her throat, but she manages to control her gag reflex, and maintains it as your orgasm overtakes your senses and you send thick, hot semen down her throat. Time became abstract - seemed to slow down and then stop completely as you fill Nayeon’s mouth and throat with your cum.

“All done!” comes an announcement from some far away voice - and it takes you a few seconds before you realize it is the janitor, having finally reached and emptied the second garbage bin. “Sorry to bother you again, professor. Have a wonderful class.”

“Th… thanks,” you mumble as the janitor gives you a friendly wave, one you struggle to return with a weak wave of your own quivering arm. Your knees have similarly gone weak, and you are holding onto the lectern with both hands now, struggling to remain upright.

Beneath the lectern Nayeon tries to ensure that she swallows as much of your cum as possible, her throat working quickly to greedily swallow each rope of thick semen that you give her. Despite her best efforts she fails, some of the large volume of cum escaping from the corners of her lips to drip down her chin and onto her naked chest. When she has swallowed as much as she can she swirls her tongue around your hyper-sensitive cock a few times before finally releasing it from her lips. As her mouth leaves your cock it remains joined to her lips by a thick stream of semen, before the rope snaps and drips onto her naked upper chest.

“Fuck, I wanted it in my pussy,” she says as she begins to clean your slick cock with a thirsty tongue, “I guess you’ll have to fuck me here again tomorrow.” 

Day 365: 

“It’s leaking out of me.”

“Jesus, Nayeon, it was your idea. I thought you cleaned up before we left the bathroom.”

“I didn’t know there would be that much. I thought I drained you this morning,” she answers, squirming about in her seat. She straightens her dress as best she could, but there was no hiding the recent wrinkles that came with having said dress pulled up around her waist.

“Either way, it was hot as fuck,” you admit. Having sex in a university library or even in a lecture hall seemed woefully vanilla now that you could both add sex in a high-class, overly expensive restaurant’s bathroom to your list of achievements.

“Definitely,” she answers, a sly smile on her lips and a slight blush on her cute, puffy cheeks. It amazed you, sometimes, how she could switch so quickly between being adorable and sultry and beautiful. Sometimes she was all three, all at the same time.

“Anyway,” she continues, “I got a present for you. It’s our anniversary, if you didn’t notice.”

She bends to pick something out from her purse before sliding the rectangular velvet box across the table. You are a little surprised, suddenly worried that the new pair of running shoes you’d bought for her earlier in the day was now not enough. What the hell were you thinking getting a girl a pair of Nikes for your anniversary? In your defense, she loved to run, she loved Nikes and she had insisted that she make it easy for you by picking out a pair for you that she wanted... but you should’ve known better, should’ve gotten her a bracelet or a necklace or-

“Open it,” she says, softly, a small, sly smile on her otherwise unreadable features. She takes a small bite of her salad, but her eyes remain locked on yours, as though wanting to capture every split second of your reaction.

You are a little apprehensive when you reach for the box and open it, expecting a watch or bracelet or some other expensive piece of jewelry.

Inside is a circular strip of red leather - a choker or collar of some sort. Its buckle gleams in the restaurant’s low light.

“Um, thanks, Nayeon,” you answer, a little puzzled by the present, even if it was clearly of exceptional quality and looked quite expensive. “I don’t own a pet, though.”

“It’s not for animals,” Nayeon answers as she pushes around some of the lettuce on her plate. “It’s for a slave. It’s for me.”

Day 712:

“It’s not a sexy anniversary present this time, so don’t get your hopes up,” Nayeon says as you tear the neatly applied wrapping paper from the box. Sitting next to you on the couch of your apartment, she idly plays with the necklace you had just given her, her fingertips tracing the outline of the silver bunny rabbit at the end of the black leather string. Her lips curve upward in a soft, happy smile. You’d learned from last year and weren’t about to make the same mistake two years in a row.

“I’m sure it’s awesome no matter what it is,” you reply, truthfully. You finally open the box to find a blue hoodie inside it - simple in design, but you could tell by its fabric and its details that it was a high quality one.

“You’re always shivering in those ratty old sweaters and jackets of yours,” she notes. “I can’t have my boyfriend freezing his ass off all the time.”

You smile as you give the hoodie a closer look, admiring its stitching and the detail work. It was such a simple present, but it spoke of how much she thought of you.

“I love it. I’ll never take it off.”

Day 741:

Nayeon is playing idly with your knuckles atop the restaurant table as she describes an interesting case study in her criminology textbook - something about inter-jurisdictional police work, or something like that. Truth be told, you could barely piece together what she was going on about, other than the fact that it involved the rules and regulations put in place when law enforcement agencies and personnel from one country have to work in another.

She seemed engrossed in the topic - and while she was an intelligent young woman who seemed to breeze through all of her classes with flying colors, she had rarely shown this much actual personal interest in any of her other school work.

So while you weren’t quite following or understanding every detail she was relating about the complexities of international law and its relation to cross-jurisdictional law enforcement, you were content simply to watch her speak, gesturing expressively with her free hand while she kept her other atop yours, her thumb idly stroking the knuckle of your index finger. You smile and nod, content simply to watch her talk about something she was so deeply interested in.

The waiter arrives with your order - two wooden trays of assorted sushi. He gives you both a friendly smile as he places the food down on the table; you’d been to the restaurant almost weekly since your first date there more than two years ago. Despite the waiter’s friendly demeanor and the impending prospect of another delicious meal, you feel a ping of sadness in your heart as Nayeon lets go of your hand to make room for the newly arrived food.

Almost as soon as the waiter leaves, you pick up your two pieces of salmon and reach over to drop them onto Nayeon’s tray. In return she leaves you with her pieces of tamago, which you’d come to love over the past couple of years.

You look at each other and share a smile. She begins to dig into her food, but your gaze lingers on her for a moment more, your smile refusing to leave quite yet.

Day 751:

“Huh,” you say out loud as you read through the email.

“Mmm?” Nayeon asks as she pops the last french fry on her plate into her mouth. You are both sitting in the university student union building, having just shared a quick lunch between classes. Sitting next to you, she leans over to get a better look at the screen of your laptop.

“I applied to this job at this company called JYP last week, and they want to interview me.”

“Ooooh. I hear they’re gonna be big soon. Go for it.”

“Not sure if I’d even want the job if I were to get it, though,” you answer. “Their head office is all the way on the other side of the country and I’m not gonna move all that way for a job - even if it does sound a bit like a pretty cool company. And it’s for a pretty low level position.”

“You should still take the interview -  it might be good experience for the future, when you’re doing an interview for a job you’re more serious about. Worst case scenario you make a fool of yourself in front of people you’ll never see again. Best case scenario, you get a job offer from one of the best companies in the industry.”

“Yeah, I hear thousands of people apply for these new-grad positions and they only accept a handful. It’s a career-defining opportunity… but making people move to the other side of the country so they can start at the bottom making coffee for meetings is a big ask.”

“You’re a fresh grad - they’re not gonna give you your own team and have you travel the world making deals right off the bat. There’s no point in thinking about it, either way. Take the interview, and if you get an offer that’s great, if not, well, at least you got some experience out of it.”

“That’s true,” you admit. “Okay, let’s make deal. I’ll take this interview, you apply for that grad school program you’ve been thinking about.”

Nayeon groans - she was majoring in criminology and was thinking about pursuing a career in the field, but hadn’t quite decided on whether grad school was something she wanted to pursue given the amount of work that it would entail.

“Ugh - you know how I feel about that.”

“Nayeon, you love the field. You don’t stop telling me about these new cases you come across in your classes. Your grades are more than good enough. It would be awesome for your career.”

“I suppose. But we’ve been over this. I want to find a good job right after graduation. I have plans for post-school life. We have plans.”

You nod, knowing Nayeon was referring to the idea of the both of you moving in together after graduation. Things were getting pretty serious with her, and you were both looking forward to taking the next step. You’d caught her once or twice looking at listings for apartments around the city in neighborhoods you’d both liked. And more than once her gaze lingered for more than a few seconds at rings in jewelry stores as you passed by them on the street.

“I get that, but you can still work while you’re in grad school. And hey, if we live together, it won’t be so bad. Soon you’ll finish the program and get a job as an international crime fighter and I’ll sit at home being your trophy husband - which is my real dream job, let’s be honest.”

Nayeon giggles, snuggling closer to you on the cafeteria bench. Her cheeks blush pink, and it takes you a second to realize it was probably because you used the word ‘husband.’ While you knew you were both young and the idea of marriage seemed a little premature, you would’ve been lying if you’d said it hadn’t crossed your mind once or twice over the past couple of years. 

“Husband, huh? What makes you think I want to marry you?”

“Well, I’m your dream guy,” you answer as nonchalantly as you could, “of course you’d want to marry me. We’d live in a perfect little apartment downtown next to our favorite sushi restaurant and we’d have three dogs named Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle. You can go off chasing bad guys in foreign countries while I concentrate on being the very best - like no one ever was.”

“I suppose that does sound like a dream come true,” she says softly, her eyes suddenly thoughtful. She touches the silver rabbit on her necklace, her fingers tracing the well worn patterns on it.

“Right? So we’ve agreed, then. I’ll interview for JYP, you apply for that grad school program.”

“Gah, fine,” Nayeon submits, although you could tell her reaction was more than a little exaggerated. Her cheeks are still flushed, her eyes still wistful, as though she were processing the thousand little thoughts running through her head.

“Good. Let us drink to our agreement.”

You raise your half-empty can of coke, and Nayeon picks up her water bottle.

“To chasing our dreams,” she says, before you tap your drinks together.

Day 783:

It takes Nayeon most of the morning to get out of bed. 

When she finally drags herself to the washroom to look at herself in the mirror, she can barely recognize the mess she sees in its reflection.

Her eyes are red, dry, and itchy after having spent the night before crying herself to sleep. For a moment she thinks of grabbing her phone, of calling you and telling you that you could still be together, that you broke up prematurely, that you were meant to be - that you could maybe give a long distance relationship a try. It was a temptation that came up often in the past three days since your breakup. Every time it came up she fought it off, even if every time she did it cost her in tears and heartache.

She sighs. You were probably already starting your new life on the other side of the country. Far away from your university, far away from the sushi restaurant where she traded egg for salmon, far away from the apartment open houses that she’d hoped you would visit together - far away from the life she thought she’d be living with you.

She feels the tears start to well up again. 

But this time she tries her best to fight them off, wiping at them with a tissue before they have the chance to fall down her cheeks.

She needed something, anything to get her mind off of you. And while the prospect of crawling back into her bed and allowing sleep to dull her heartache was appealing to her, she knew it would solve nothing, wouldn’t do anything to help her recover. She was sad now, and she would be sad when she woke up.

The new textbooks for her graduate program in criminology, sitting in a pile on her desk, catch her attention.

Eyes still red and teary, she breaks the first one open and begins to read.

Day 2,013:

It takes Nayeon most of the morning to get the stench of the decomposing body out of her nostrils. 

“Jesus Christ,” her partner swears as they step out of the main elevator in the building where the murders took place, “I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.”

“Neither will I,” she agrees, taking long sniffs of air through her nostrils in a vain attempt to cleanse her sense of smell.

“What’s your call, boss?”

“Jealous wife stabs cheating husband to death in his sleep. There was a hunting rifle and ammo elsewhere in the house that she could have used if she just wanted him dead. They were filthy rich, so I doubt this was life insurance fraud or anything like that. This wasn’t about money. Use of the knife suggests it was personal. Passionate. Repeated stabs, too, not just one clean cut. She wanted to send that asshole a message as she killed him.”

“Their mistake was in getting married,” her partner states, unprompted. He fancied himself a bit of a playboy, although Nayeon knew his self-confident exterior and dismissal of long term relationships masked an internal irrational fear of commitment. She’d always been good at getting the measure of people, even before her job as a detective allowed her to turn it into a career.

“Whatever,” she says, dismissive. “Let’s pull the CCTV from the building, especially the ones from the underground garage. This was a crime committed in the heat of passion. Unplanned. I’m guessing she panicked, took their car and drove off. We should be able to pull a license plate - make sure you get it out and distributed in case she stayed local. They’ve got a ton of money so she’s probably out of the country by now, but we can at least track the car on airport CCTV and deduce what flight she hopped on. Pull their credit card info and start looking for flights. Once you have that I’ll start having a chat with my contacts in those countries.”

“Roger that, boss,” her partner says. “Another case Sherlocked by the great Im Nayeon,” he adds, before heading off to track down the building superintendent.

Nayeon smirks in his direction as she ducks under the yellow police tape that bars the entrance doors to the building, pushing past the gathering crowd of concerned apartment neighbors.

As she approaches her squad car to head back to the precinct, her phone vibrates in her jacket.

“Detective Im,” she answers.

“Im? Im Nayeon? I’m not sure if you remember me, but this is Park Jihyo of the Seoul Metropolitan Police. We met at that convention in Madrid last year.”

“Of course I remember you, Jihyo. How are you? What’s up?”

“I’m doing good, thanks. Listen, something’s come up here in Seoul that I was hoping you could help me with.”

Nayeon puts her phone on speaker, continuing her conversation with Jihyo as she pulls the squad car out of the garage and starts to head back to the precinct. 

After their call Nayeon reaches under her jacket to the black string of the necklace around her neck. Her fingers find and trace the outline of the silver rabbit hanging from it.

The chance to chase an old dream. It was time to see if it would come true.

--

Author’s Note: 

Too much fluff? :P

Yes, this was heavily inspired by 500 Days of Summer lol. I had thought of having the days in mixed order like in the movie but decided to keep it linear so as to not confuse people. 

Let me know what y’all think. :)

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #twice #twice nayeon #im nayeon #male reader #pov smut #twice smut

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】  Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-4 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

North District

Ji Xiaoyu and older sister Ji Xiaoqing originally lived in a two-bedroom apartment in the north district, left by their parents.

After that apartment was forcibly seized by the loan company, the sisters started to rent an apartment.

Xia Yan and I came to the place that Ji Xiaoyu was now renting, according to the address Sphinx gave. However, we waited for a long time, during which Ji Xiaoyu never showed up.

Xia Yan: According to Sphinx, Ji Xiaoyu took on three to four part-time jobs at the same time after Qian Yi’s death.

Xia Yan: Within a few months, she took on a severely high workload from morning to night. Typically, she returns home at around 11:30 at night.

Xia Yan: However, she suddenly left all her jobs two days ago.

MC: Could she be engaging a lawyer for a lawsuit? To repurchase her parents’ real estate?

MC: She’s saved enough money now and needs to focus on the case, so she left her jobs?

Xia Yan: Possibly.

MC: Then I could probably provide her legal assistance to talk to her, right? Perhaps she’ll be more willing to communicate with us then.

Xia Yan: Okay. I’ll say that I received a commission to investigate the Bedo Loan Company trap loan issue, and that I’m preparing to help my client file for a civil compensation lawsuit.

Xia Yan: If she wants to file for a civil lawsuit, she’ll probably be willing to talk to us.

Xia Yan and I were in the middle of talking when we heard faraway footsteps – it just happened to be Ji Xiaoyu.

In the video Xia Yan and I had seen in the afternoon, Ji Xiaoyu’s condition could be called “haggard” or “fragile”.

But now… she was basically skin and bones, surrounded by an air as heavy as death, and her face was completely frozen.

--

START INSPECTION

⊳ Box and leaflet

MC: (A casket and a cemetery leaflet…)

MC: (So she worked hard to accumulate money to buy a place in the cemetery for her sister?)

MC: (The casket looks newly bought. She’s probably selected a place at the cemetery and is preparing to bury it…)

 What are the injuries on her right wrist?

⊳ Wrist slit injuries ⊳ Scrapes

MC: (Injuries layered on top of each other… she must have attempted suicide many times.)

MC: (Though they look like old injuries, she really doesn’t look like she’s come around…)

 ⊳ Clothes

MC: (Her clothes are splitting at the seams, yet there was no attempt to fix them… it looks like she doesn’t care about herself.)

 ⊳ Eyes

MC: (Such severe dark circles. She must not have slept in a long time…)

--

MC: (Ji Xiaoyu’s condition does not look good at all. I should carefully observe some more and think cautiously first.)

 END INSPECTION

MC: Xia Yan, Ji Xiaoyu…

Xia Yan: Mhmm, I know. We have to find out what’s going on with her as soon as possible.

Xia Yan and I walked towards Ji Xiaoyu. However, she walked past us expressionlessly, without even giving us a single glance, as if we did not exist.

We could only double back a few steps and block her with outstretched hands.

Xia Yan: Hello, you must be Miss Ji Xiaoyu?

Ji Xiaoyu: …

Xia Yan: I am a private detective who’s received a commission to investigate the case of Bedo Loan Company’s trap loans.

Xia Yan: This case will open trial soon. My client plans to collect evidence to file for civil litigation.

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, may I ask you a few questions?

Xia Yan: With your clues, I might be able to find a few new investigative directions.

MC: Miss Ji, I am Lawyer MC.

MC: If needed, I can provide legal assistance for you and help you file for a civil compensation lawsuit.

Xia Yan and I handed her our own namecards, but Ji Xiaoyu did not take them.

She searched up the employers indicated on Xia Yan’s and my namecards, only stopping when she saw news that involved my legal defense.

She lifted those lifeless eyes slightly.

Ji Xiaoyu: What do you want to know? Do you want me to serve as a witness or write a testimony?

Ji Xiaoyu: I’m fine with it all. Only… my sister will be buried within a few days. Please do not give me trouble during this time.

MC: Understood, we will be careful.

Xia Yan: My apologies, Miss Ji, but we have a request right now.

Xia Yan: Can we speak with you about the progression of events for this matter? Of course… I understand that this will make you remember unhappy matters.

Ji Xiaoyu’s expression remained as numb as ever. Only her lips pursed slightly.

Ji Xiaoyu: … Come with me.

--

Ji Xiaoyu’s Residence

We followed Ji Xiaoyu into the place she was now renting.

That was a room of a mere ten square meters. The room was filled with a musty smell, as if no air had circulated here in a long time.

Miscellaneous items were piled in the corner of the room. Only the two boxes of corrugated cardboard near the door were uniquely neat and tidy.

Ji Xiaoyu: I’m guessing that you wanted to ask why I ended up in that trap loan?

Xia Yan: We do have some questions about that.

Ji Xiaoyu: Because I wanted to buy something, but was short by two thousand dollars.

Ji Xiaoyu did not wait for us to continue asking and began to speak.

Her tone as she spoke was completely emotionless and smooth, as familiar and indifferent as if she had repeated it many times.

Ji Xiaoyu: I feared being criticized by my classmates if I bought something so expensive suddenly, so I did not borrow from them.

Ji Xiaoyu: Back then, I thought that I would be able to repay it the month after, when I received my wages.

Ji Xiaoyu: I never thought that I would end up trapped.

Ji Xiaoyu: Because I could not pay back the money, they said that if I agreed to take a nude photograph, they would extend the time I had. Otherwise, they would tell my sister and school immediately.

Ji Xiaoyu: Foolishly, I took the photos.

Ji Xiaoyu: So after, I was even more scared of telling my sister, and I didn’t dare call the police. And for my reputation, my sister could only bear the humiliation and not call the police.

She narrated until the end, a heavy self-mocking gradually settling itself into her voice.

MC: (Miss Ji…)

Ji Xiaoyu: What else do you want to ask?

--

START QUESTIONING

⊳ Qian Yi

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, you once accused Qian Yi and Bedo Loan Company of being related. But the police concluded that evidence was insufficient after investigation.

Xia Yan: What did Qian Yi do during the case?

When this name was brought up, Ji Xiaoyu’s frozen face suddenly distorted as she clenched her fist.

Ji Xiaoyu: He never came to collect debts with that loan company before.

Ji Xiaoyu: He merely kept providing me and my sister’s whereabouts to those people.

MC: Providing your whereabouts?

Ji Xiaoyu: After Bedo Loan Company took away me and my sister’s house, we thought everything was over.

Ji Xiaoyu: But they refused to release us, saying that I still owed them money, pushing me to work at a karaoke bar to return the money.

Ji Xiaoyu: Otherwise, they would reveal that photo to all the people around me and my sister.

MC: …

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister moved houses with me several times to hide, but he kept finding us very quickly.

Xia Yan: After finding you, what did he do?

Ji Xiaoyu let out a strange laugh.

Ji Xiaoyu: Nothing at all.

MC: Nothing at all?

Ji Xiaoyu: He merely appeared near our rental location and smiled at us smugly.

Ji Xiaoyu: After, the scoundrels from the loan company would come to our door.

Ji Xiaoyu: Once, big sister couldn’t bear it anymore and begged him to let us go, but…

--

[Flashback]

Qian Yi: You say that I’m following you and revealing your locations to Bedo Loan Company. Then… “where’s the evidence”?

Qian Yi: Under the clear heavens, all is balanced. You cannot slander others based on nothing.

Qian Yi: I simply just… somehow always manage to run into you. Maybe this is some sort of destiny?

Qian Yi: Then, I just happened to bring you two up with those that I know.

Ji Xiaoqing: Then… what will it take for you to stop bringing us up?

Ji Xiaoqing: You all have already taken all our money—

Qian Yi: Miss Ji, people are also a sort of financial property.

Qian Yi: According to what I know, Miss Ji, you just hopped to a big company with a pretty decent annual salary?

[Flashback end]

--

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister originally wanted to move out of the city, but my student enrollment is within Stellis.

Ji Xiaoyu: Which is why we’ve always stayed here.

Ji Xiaoyu: Bedo Loan Company and Qian Yi were basically two colluding villains.

Ji Xiaoyu: But in the end, the police said that there was no evidence and they could only let him go.

Ji Xiaoyu let out a mocking laugh.

Ji Xiaoyu: I’ve heard people call this “procedural justice”. What is justice, then…

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

 ⊳ Relationship to Qian Yi’s death

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, according to my investigations, you bought a restricted blade the day before Qian Yi’s death.

Xia Yan: That day, you were given a violation ticket from police for carrying prohibited items, and the blade was confiscated.

Xia Yan: After Qian Yi’s death by cardiac arrest, the police also investigated you.

Xia Yan: Back then, a police officer testified for you, saying that he had been keeping an eye on you secretly, and that you did not have the time to commit the crime.

Xia Yan: But if I’ve guessed right, you were following Qian Yi back then, correct?

Ji Xiaoyu: Is how that human scum died that important to you?

MC: It’s like this, Miss Ji. Qian Yi just might be linked to another case that we’re investigating.

MC: So we wanted to ask you whether you noticed if Qian Yi was acting unusually at any point.

Ji Xiaoyu: No need to explain. He’s dead anyways, and I don’t care why you’re investigating him.

Ji Xiaoyu: But you came for nothing.

Ji Xiaoyu: I did follow him for a few days, but didn’t notice anything unusual about him.

Ji Xiaoyu: Even if someone did kill him, they would have just been “enforcing justice for the heavens”.

 ⊳ Ji Xiaoqing

MC: Miss Ji, we… have a few questions about your sister Ji Xiaoqing…

Ji Xiaoyu: No need to be so hesitant. Go ahead and ask what you want.

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, according to what we know, your sister found out about everything only when Bedo Loan Company seized your real estate.

Xia Yan: After, she was always low-spirited, and then ended up getting into an accident due to drunkenness.

Xia Yan: I’d like to ask you about the details when your sister found out about the trap loans.

Xia Yan: Did she make any unusual actions?

Ji Xiaoyu: Unusual? Under those circumstances, what sort of actions wouldn’t be unusual?

MC: …Could you tell us about where she was different from before then?

Ji Xiaoyu: My sister had always been a very hardworking, motivated person, both in work and life.

Ji Xiaoyu: The year my parents passed just happened to be the one where she was testing for university.

Ji Xiaoyu: Because of limited money and to take care of me, sister gave up on the famous university she’d set her heart on and went to a typical university.

Ji Xiaoyu: Without the halo of a famous school, she worked harder than anyone when it came to studying and work.

Ji Xiaoyu: A few months before Bedo Loan Company found my sister, she had just job-hopped to a very famous company.

Ji Xiaoyu: When Bedo Loan Company had just come knocking, sister still pretended to be lively as she went to work…

Ji Xiaoyu stopped for a moment.

Ji Xiaoyu: But when the police were investigating my sister’s cause of death, they found the people from her company. Only then did I find out…

Ji Xiaoyu: Those scoundrels knew that sister was working at a big company, so they often went to harass her, to make her hand her earnings to them…

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister refused, so those people handed out flyers insulting us at the company…

Ji Xiaoyu: Sister’s mistakes increased in frequency at the company. After, she resigned.

Xia Yan: But you just said that she would pretend to be lively at work? So she went out to…?

Ji Xiaoyu: I don’t know why sister pretended to go to work in the days after.

Ji Xiaoyu: I’m guessing that she just didn’t want to see me at home and think of sorrowful things…

MC: Have you ever secretly followed your sister?

Ji Xiaoyu: … What right do I have to follow my sister?

Ji Xiaoyu: It makes perfect sense for her to want to avoid me, to have time and space to herself.

Ji Xiaoyu: I harmed her so much. Should I not even give her this bit of space?

MC: Miss Ji…

Ji Xiaoyu: But you’re also right. I should have followed my sister.

Ji Xiaoyu: If I watched over her more and worried over her, then at least, I could’ve brought her home after she got drunk, and she wouldn’t have gotten into an accident.

Ji Xiaoyu: But back then, I was only worried about my own sadness and shame. I never thought once for her.

 ⊳ Other people she’s interacted with

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, may I ask, has anyone found you after you told the police about the trap loan?

Ji Xiaoyu: After sister passed, I dropped out of school.

Ji Xiaoyu: After teachers at school found out, they came to see me a few times.

Ji Xiaoyu: The rest were a few reporters who came to interview me and take pictures for news.

Ji Xiaoyu: After attention on this matter subsided, no one else came.

 ⊳ Civil compensation

MC: Miss Ji, Bedo Loan Company will begin trial for a case soon.

MC: I read the case details – the real estate that your parents left behind were defrauded away by the company using a fake lawsuit.

MC: After the court comes out with a criminal case verdict on Bedo Loan company, I can help you file for civil litigation.

MC: This way, what your parents left, as well as your assets that were defrauded from you, can be taken back.

Ji Xiaoyu: No need. I don’t need compensation.

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s already pointless…

END QUESTIONING

 Ji Xiaoyu: Are there no other questions?

Ji Xiaoyu finished answering all of Xia Yan’s and my questions.

I originally thought that asking these would poke at her emotional wounds, but the whole time, her voice was expressionless, unusually indifferent.

Xia Yan and I locked eyes for a moment, seeing the same confusion and worry in each other’s eyes.

Xia Yan observed the items in the room again, looking at those two cardboard boxes near the door.

Xia Yan: The things in these boxes are…?

Though we could guess what was in it, Xia Yan still acted with caution, avoiding saying anything along the lines of “things left by the dead”.

Ji Xiaoyu: They’re my sister’s things.

Xia Yan: Can we take a look?

Ji Xiaoyu nodded slightly, then opened the cardboard box.

We first saw a journal with Ji Xiaoqing’s name on the cover.

Xia Yan flipped through the diary, giving it a few flip-throughs. The handwriting was beautiful and organized, and the contents focused on work and the comfortable times spent with her little sister.

Xia Yan: Your sister had a habit of writing in a diary, yet she didn’t write anything after finding out about the trap loan?

Ji Xiaoyu: She did. Several times, I saw her writing things in a black leather notebook.

Ji Xiaoyu: I don’t know what she wrote in there. Every time she saw me come over, she would immediately hide the notebook away.

Ji Xiaoyu: She probably wrote a lot about hating me…

Ji Xiaoyu: She clearly should’ve blown up at me, beat me, cursed me, and thrown me away so she could live in another city… but she still put on a strong face in front of me, every day.

Ji Xiaoyu: She also needed to vent, so I didn’t sneak any peeks.

MC: (Miss Ji…)

Xia Yan: Is that black leather notebook still around?

Ji Xiaoyu: I couldn’t find it. Maybe she tossed it away after she finished writing in it, or maybe it dropped somewhere on the day of the accident.

Just when Xia Yan and I were planning to look at some of Ji Xiaoqing’s other items, Ji Xiaoyu brought up a suggestion.

Ji Xiaoyu: You can take these boxes away and take your time going through them.

MC: Can we? These things…

Ji Xiaoyu: I’ll be preparing to bury my sister tomorrow, so I’m very busy. I need to rest right now, and I can’t wait for you.

Xia Yan: I understand – we’ll take these away for now, then. Don’t worry, we’ll examine them carefully and won’t break them.

Ji Xiaoyu: …

Ji Xiaoyu: I’d like to let you know that after my sister’s accident, the police also examined them. But they didn’t notice anything.

After hearing Ji Xiaoyu’s words, Xia Yan and I picked up the boxes with Ji Xiaoqing’s items and prepared to leave.

Ji Xiaoyu: Wait.

MC: Miss Ji, is there anything else you need?

Ji Xiaoyu: Why… why are you treating me like this!

Right when we were about to leave, Ji Xiaoyu suddenly became agitated.

MC: I’m so sorry, Miss Ji. If we have offended you in any way—

Ji Xiaoyu: Why aren’t you condemning me!

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s because I got too greedy and wanted to buy something expensive that I borrowed the money! It’s all because I wasn’t cautious enough that I ended up in the trap loan!

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s because I was a coward who was too scared to tell my sister or call the police that I kept sinking deeper!

Ji Xiaoyu: It’s all because of me… that my parents’ house ended up being defrauded away and that my sister died…

Ji Xiaoyu: You asked me so much, but why didn’t you scold me…

Ji Xiaoyu: Why… did you speak to me so sympathetically… when I committed so many unforgivable mistakes…

MC: …

Xia Yan: …

For a moment, I wasn’t quite sure of how to respond.

Xia Yan: Miss Ji, though this issue started because of you, you were not the one to cause all the misfortune.

Ji Xiaoyu: Have you not heard of the phrase, “flies don’t bite eggs without cracks”? Those who are pitiful must have a hateful side…

Xia Yan: But those who did evil are ultimately those “flies”.

Xia Yan: Whether pitiful or hateful, I have never thought that the focal point of a case should be whether the victim is perfect.

Xia Yan: You’ve already condemned yourself enough.

Ji Xiaoyu: …

Xia Yan: Even if you’ve already bought your sister’s resting place, don’t rush to do anything foolish.

Xia Yan: At least wait for our investigation to end.

Ji Xiaoyu: W-what do you mean?

Xia Yan: I feel like we might be able to find your sister’s black leather notebook.

Xia Yan: No matter how much you just pretended to not care, you must actually want to know what your sister was thinking and doing during that period of time.

Ji Xiaoyu was silent as tears rolled nonstop down her face.

Ji Xiaoyu: If you really find any clue that my sister left behind…

Ji Xiaoyu: No matter what it is… no matter how angrily she cursed… please tell it all to me.

Xia Yan: We will.

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan #luke pearce #未定事件簿 #pls make sure that if you really need a loan #you get it from trustworthy ppl or reputable institutions;; #highly recommend listening to the voice acting #poor ji xiaoyu

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 14 rewatch thoughts, in which there is much ado about Looking

let’s get the most Look heavy out of the way first lol

- the scene of din holding the silver ball is shot from below, like we often get when we’re in baby’s POV because grogu’s almost always gazing up at him. so the camera/audience is looking at him through the child’s eyes still, in a way, just to emphasize the connection even more. h e l p  m e

that firmly established ‘din looks down, baby looks up’ rhythm paying for itself yet again 😭😭😭 also I love the effect that because of the smoke it looks like he’s standing in a serious thunderstorm, while the sky is actually really bright and lit up with only light cloud cover from other angles. it plays into this thing that... this is basically the end of the world for him, and barely anyone else knows or cares. he or the baby never appear in the sequels, din doesn’t have a huge ~*destiny*~ within the Force, his world is so much smaller than what we’re used to in star wars -- his grief at having it come crashing down around him is only a black cloud around him, it doesn’t block out the sun on a galactic scale ala anakin skywalker. he’s not Important. except actually he’s the MOST IMPORTANT, perhaps exactly because of that. (he certainly is to me) y’know? well I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t, I’m not sure I know. but my heart is so full.    

- for a good portion of the scene where din is picking through the ashes of the razor crest (;_____________; still not over it) boba is actually looking at fennec looking at din

more precisely he seems to be looking at her while din is looking at the silver ball, and is looking at din and having some kind of Emotion while din finds the beskar spear

hm. I am now exTREMELY curious to know what boba and fennec’s relationship is actually like in more detail. strictly canonically I’m pretty sure there shouldn’t be enough of an age difference that he could sort of be a father figure, but... there’s something here, some parallells being drawn

the shots of them right before din finds the ball is interesting too -- you have fennec looking at din with a pained flinching sort of sympathy

and then she looks down and glances half towards boba like she’s checking in with him out of the corner of her eyes, but she’s not seeking gaze contact at all, she’s not asking him about anything or even initiating contact (it comes across better in motion but this was the best I could do to show it)

presumably they’ve already decided they’re going to help din, from the matter of fact way they inform him about it right afterwards, but there’s something complicated going on here within fennec at least, I think, it makes me want to know more about her backstory. (boba does look at her when he says they’ll help, and he’s trying to meet her eyes even if she doesn’t reciprocate)

and then at the very end of that scene boba is looking at fennec again, and she’s finally meeting his eyes and they both seem pretty satisfied and pleased (I guess doing the right thing has not necessarily figured hugely in either of their careers lol)   

sideline but boba has so many excellent Stances in this episode, it’s wonderful. he looks so steady and grounded

- also boba and fennec are close enough that the smoke actually affects their point of view for now and darkens their world too. how’s that for a metaphor for empathy hahaha 

- it’s actually quite sweet of boba to take the time to explain his own state of mandalorian-ness to din, like he’s at least eliminating the one source of uncertainty and tension that it’s in his power to remove haha  

(I wonder if he’s also gauging din’s reaction to the concept of foundlings? I’ve seen some people theorize that it might not be a recognized tradition across all of mandalorian space (then again... what even is, the only true mandalorian trait is accusing someone else of not being mandalorian right) and that it was one of the apples of cultural discord in the civil wars)

- the whole journey boba’s face goes on as he watches din with the spear... I do not understand what it is exactly but I am OBSESSED with it, his eyes are doing some things and it makes my heart feel funny

he pretty quickly glances away with a sharp inhale of breath that’s some shade of ‘well. fuck.’, but I can’t quite tell you exactly what’s going on there haha

- okay so honestly -- maybe we find a force user to train the baby and maybe we don’t, but not having din be an active part of that training either way would be a fucking CRIME. din clearly just has so much fun being able to engage with him like that, as does the baby, and it gets results. if someone shows up to help with this I hope they have the insight and flexibility to understand that. (listen to baby’s excited squeal and din’s breath of laughter before he encourages ‘come on, you can do it’! it’s consistently the most engaged and happy we see din and baby obviously feels safe doing this with him when he doesn’t with anyone else, come ON)

- the soft soft mando and baby music kicking in when din gives grogu the silver ball back and tells him he’s special T_______T oh my actual god  

- I love the way boba’s just... studying din all the way through their first meeting, it’s such a look of cold, dispassionate but not necessarily unkind evaluation. that’s the gaze of a bird of prey or something, it’s perfect (his eyes have softened significantly when looking at din towards the end of the episode, I guess that whole father son situation hit a tender spot huh lol)

- din’s shoulders rise up immediately when fennec starts talking about the bounty on grogu :’)

it also seems he’s a little 😬 about being in such a hurry back in chapter 5 that he missed that she wasn’t actually, y’know, dead haha, he slumps a bit uncomfortably and there’s also the “I owe you one” later on

- oh to have the utter yet unwarranted confidence of this storm trooper behind a minigun, still blasting away as the boulder crushes me

- I want to say something to gideon about what sorts of things a man must be compensating for to take the time to gleefully gloat at AN ACTUAL BABY, but thankfully I’m way too classy for that

- fennec shand using her entire strong but slender sniper’s frame to push that boulder off the cliff... poetry

I love that one pose she does jumping backwards off the stones at one point too, it’s so graceful, she looks like a dancer

- this entire scene of boba fett fucking eliminating storm trooper after storm trooper is doing some stuff to me, I can’t lie

it’s so AWESOME to see a mando interact with their armour in the same natural and expert way as din -- bo katan & co didn’t really have that many surprises and tricks to theirs, it’s more sleekly functional, boba and din’s have a different feeling to them, more personal to them and lived in, in a way (probably because they work alone much more often and need some tricks up their sleeves)

bo katan’s armour is for War and has been for generations, theirs is more just to Live as themselves? does that make any sense?   

- I wonder what it feels like for din to try to push through the force barrier - he’s making sounds not just of exertion but with a little bit of pain to it?

- I really like that when boba says “I was aiming for the other one” fennec clearly knows he’s not joking, she doesn’t smile or anything. it makes it feel like they actually know each other quite well at this point

- grogu makes small sleeping baby noises when he’s passed out on top of the stone Y____________Y  

- genuinely touched by how much better boba’s armour looks in the next episode, after him having it back for like a week max. LOVE what this show does with the relationship between a mandalorian and their armour and how it’s almost a living thing when it’s with them, and dead when it’s taken away

- the way boba leans forward a little in his seat when he spots the big ship *chef kiss* it so instinctively reads as him watching something dangerous, and after seeing the way he went through all those troopers like a hot knife through butter you fucking KNOW that if he’s unsettled you’re damn well unsettled too haha

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #this is one of those where I'm trying to explain things to myself more than anything haha #anyway boba fett Hot

[chemist-ana]

Chapter 11- The Shopping Trip— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Robin

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N This is a brand new series that I was inspired to write. I am going to go chapter by chapter in Sam Daltons POV. This story is completely inspired by Choices The Nanny Affair. I have used most of the dialogue from the actual story, anything written in BOLD was taken directly from the book and therefore is not my writing- credit to our good friends over at Pixelberry! All characters are credit to Pixelberry except for my OCs

Summary: Sofia corners me into taking Ana for the day on a shopping trip, what happens next is anyones guess.

Word Count: 3500

Tag List: @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383@chrissythadon

I eye Sofia warily as she sticks her hip out, arms crossed, her brown eyes not leaving mine.

“I don’t see what the problem is, Sam. I just want to borrow Ana for the day.” Her voice has a measured evenness that makes me question her true intention.

“Alright, I will take the boys out.” A smile curves her lips at my words.”But, Sofia, please treat her with respect.”

My hands grip the marble counter as she turns to walk away, her heels clicking as she rounds the corner towards Ana’s room without another word.

This is a bad idea…

I quietly follow Sofia, stopping right outside Ana’s door. I can hear their muffled conversation. I take a step closer.

“Fine. Give me the card.” I hear Ana say reluctantly.

“You’re a lifesaver, Ana. I will see you very soon.”

I dart into my open bedroom door before I hear Sofia leave Ana’s room. I wait until I hear the elevator doors close before walking back over to Ana’s room, knocking softly on the partially open door.

“Is it safe to come in?” I ask with a crooked smile.

“Sam, you really are scared of Sofia, huh?” Her lips curve up into a mocking smile. “You’re a grown man sneaking around his own fiancee. You see that, right?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘sneaking’. More like… walking with discretion.” I slip into her room. “But I am sorry she ambushed you like that. I owe you, big time.”

“Good thing I know just what I want as compensation.” She looks me up and down, her eyes lingering.

“Oh? And what’s that?” I lean against her dresser, crossing my arms across my chest.

“I want you.” She takes a step towards me, her eyes darkening. “Just you, all to myself. Send the kids to spend the weekend with their grandparents, and leave us the penthouse…”

My mind instantly jumps to every fantasy I have ever had of her, spread in front of me on the kitchen counter, her moans echoing through the living room as I pin her to the floor to ceiling windows, and her wet and screaming my name in my shower. I push off of her dresser, taking a step towards her.

“That seems like a… dangerous proposition.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” Her gaze slides up to mine and I can see every speck of gold mixed with her emerald eyes.

“Ana…” I can feel the desire growing before my brain finally takes back control. I lean back, clearing my throat. “For the time being, maybe there’s something more immediate I can do to make it up to you?”

“I’m listening… intently.” Her eyes travel down, lingering on the now-obvious bulge in my pants. Damn, woman.

“I was thinking I could make you breakfast with…. You know, pancakes, eggs, bacon, the works.”

“Sofia would never approve.” She smiles as her eyes rise to mine.

“Sofia isn’t here. I’m willing to risk it. What do you say?”

“I guess making me breakfast is the least you can do.” She says with a sigh.

“Right this way. Chef Sam is at your service.”

I follow her out to the kitchen, my eyes glued to her hips as they sway left to right, her perfect peach of an ass daring me to grab it. I swallow as I watch her slide into a bar stool, my eyes snapping up to hers as she turns her gaze on me.

I take a deep breath, grabbing the apron from the pantry and knotting it around my waist. Alright, it’s been a while, but you know how to do this, Dalton. Impress the lady. I can at least fake it til I make it, right?

I grab some butter and set it to melt in a nonstick. I can feel her eyes on me and I give her a crooked grin.

“Normally I’m the one enjoying the view while you make breakfast.”

“I didn’t notice you were taking in the scenery.” She smiles as she squirms slightly in her seat and a blush spreads across her cheeks.

“I do try to be subtle… even if I don’t always succeed.”

Alright Dalton, pancakes first. I start adding the ingredients to a bowl.

“You have a favorite thing about what you saw?” Her voice breaks the silence.

Ahh, fishing now are we Ms. Schuyler. I will gladly take the bait.

“I’m not sure I can narrow it down to just one thing… between your adorable bedhead and cute little pajamas, my eyes just don’t know where to look.” My eyes flick up and notice her nipples have hardened under her thin t shirt. “But I definitely appreciate how sweet you are with my boys… even when they’re loud and rambunctious before coffee.”

“Sam… I care about them.” Her cheeks warm even more. “That makes it easy.”

“I’ve met my boys, Ana. I’m under no illusion that taking care of them is easy, even if you do have a magic touch.” I give her a wry smile before looking back down at my breakfast preparations. “Would you like to help, or would you prefer to relax?”

“I’ll watch you from over here. This is my treat, remember? I intend to enjoy it fully.”

Oh well, I tried to get her to come closer to me. My eyes swing up to hers and she is giving me a devilish grin as she leans back in her chair.

“Good. I hope I… live up to your expectations.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

“That’s because I haven’t set the kitchen on fire yet. I’ve always been a little helpless when it comes to this sort of thing…”

I grab some walnuts for the pancakes and chop them on the cutting board, all while trying to ignore the heat from her gaze.

“You know, for someone who claims to be ‘helpless’, you seem to know your way around a chef’s knife.”

“The chopping part comes naturally from years of working hands-on in a lab. You need the same sort of steady strokes for both. But when it comes to the rest of it… I swear, I’ve never met a chicken I couldn’t burn to a crisp.” Why did I offer to cook for her again?

I flick the walnut pieces into the batter and stir them in.

“Should I be worried about these pancakes? You are going to have to cook them…” She chides.

“You can supervise while I attempt to not burn them.” I give her a small chuckle as I start pouring the batter. Expertly flipping them and cooking them to a beautiful golden brown. I plate her a stack of steaming pancakes. “A little cinnamon, a little honey, top with strawberries…” My eyes rise to hers as she watches me with a smile. “I hope you like ‘em sweet.”

“You know I do. Don’t forget the secret ingredient… lots of love!”

My chest tightens at her words as I turn to present her pancakes.

“Looks delicious.”

I watch as she delicately places a small piece of pancake in her mouth, her pink lips wrapping around the fork as her eyes flutter closed. Who knew watching someone eat could be so erotic…

“Mmmm… so good.” She moans as her eyes open again and meet mine. “Are you sure you’re bad at this?”

“Pancakes are the one dish I’ve perfected over the years. Theres’s a reason I offered to make you breakfast and not dinner.” I smile at the satisfaction on her face.

“And here I thought it was because you wanted to lick syrup off of me.” Her tongue darts out to lick the syrup off of her bottom lip.

I can’t help but groan at her words. “Ana…” Our gaze lingers on each other before I watch her reach for the syrup. I would lick syrup off of every single inch of your skin if I could…

“Whoops! Sorry…” Her eyes grow wide when she knocks the bottle over. She smiles sheepishly as rounds the corner of the bar to help clean up the spill. The sweet smell of jasmine and syrup fill my senses as she stands close to me.

“I’ve got it.”

“No, let me help…” She insists.

I turn to watch her as she insists on wiping up the mess with a napkin. Finally she turns to me, and I realize just how close we are standing to each other. The familiar arc of electricity flowing between our bodies, charging the air.

“Did I get it all?” I ask her breathlessly.

I watch her tongue dart out and lick her lips as she swallows heavily.

“You missed a spot on my neck.” She tilts her head to the side and my gaze narrows in to the delicate curve of her neck and throat.

I lean in, bringing my tongue to her sweet skin. I can feel her heart beating at her pulse point, and she tilts her head further to give me better access.

“Mmmm… so delicious.” I smile into my kisses on her neck. So fucking sweet.

“Wait until you taste the rest of me.” She says, her voice low.

“Oh god…” Her words send desire surging through me as I imagine the small taste I have already gotten. My hands find her delicate waist as I bunch up her shirt trying to expose her soft skin. “Ana…” I moan as I continue kissing her neck.

She twines her fingers into my hair and pulls my lips to hers, kissing me with a sense of urgency and passion that I match stroke for stroke.

“Touch me, Sam…” She whispers against my lips. “I need to feel you…”

My hands find the hem of her shirt and I reach under to explore the planes of her bare skin, relishing in the curves of her back.

“Like this?” I whisper.

“God yes…” She moans.

My hands continue exploring all of the muscles of her back, pulling her tight against my body and my growing desire. Her breathing is accelerating as I can feel her nearing the edge. Oh beautiful girl, the way you respond to my touch is unbelievable… where have you been all my life?

I completely forgot that we weren’t exactly alone in the penthouse when I heard the thunder of bare feet running down the hall. I immediately drop my arms from Ana and take a step back.

“Crap!” She says breathlessly.

I reach up and run my hands through my hair as my eyes scan Ana’s face. Her lips are swollen from our kisses and she is trying to catch her breath.

“I thought Aunt Sofia threw away all our good food!” Mickey yells as he rounds the corner.

“Boys! We made pancakes!” Ana says quickly averting her eyes from mine.

“Score!” Mickey cheers as him and his brother slide into the seats at the kitchen bar.

I watch Ana carefully as she serves two plates of pancakes for the boys, blushing furiously.

“Boys, what do you say to Ana?” My eyes fall on Mickey and Mason as she slides their plates in front of them.

“Thank you! It’s really good!” Mason says with a mouth full of pancake.

“Mmm. Yeah, way better than Aunt Sofia’s- I mean, thank you!” Mickey stops mid-Sofia insult as I narrow my eyes at him.

Ana studiously ignores me for the rest of breakfast as she slowly regains her composure.

When the kitchen has been cleaned and pancakes have been finished, she makes her way towards the foyer.

“Ana, wait! Before you go…” I walk up quickly behind her holding a travel mug with fresh coffee. “Something tells me you’re gonna need the extra caffeine to get through your day.” I smile as our fingers brush.

“Thanks.” She brings the cup to her lips, taking a small sip. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you, again, Ana.”

She gives me a small smile before the elevators close between us.

I let out a sharp breath before walking back into the kitchen with Mickey and Mason.

“Well, boys, what should we do today?”

***

I check my phone for what seems like the hundredth time since Ana left the penthouse this morning. My mind wanders to all the possible things Sofia could be saying to her. I turn my gaze up as Mason and Mickey put their batting helmets on.

“Alright boys, are you ready?”

“Ready, dad!” They say in unison.

I shove my phone in my pocket, it will all be over soon… right?

***

Mason and Mickey dash into the penthouse as soon as the elevator doors open. I pull out my phone… still nothing from Ana.

I sit down on the couch, turning my attention to the trees swaying in the wind in Central Park.

Suddenly my phone pings with a text message. I grab it and look at the screen, Ana.

Ana: I don’t think Im gonna last a whole afternoon w/Sofia

I sigh and sit back on the couch.

Sam: What did she do this time?

Ana: What HASNT She done?

Ana: I’m trying to not let her get to me but…

Sam: She wears you down.

Sam: I know the feeling all too well.

Sam: What can I do? Would a distraction help?

Sam: Ana? I lose you there?

When she doesn’t immediately respond, I text her again… what are you? A fucking highschooler.

Ana: Ok, I have to ask… Is our relationship all in my head?

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Fuck

Sam: No, definitely not. Where’s this coming from?

Ana: Just something Sofia said…

Damn it, I knew this was going to be a problem.

Sam: Ana, please don’t listen to her.

Sam: She doesn’t know anything about our relationship. And she’s a master at manipulation.

Ana: I kno I kno, its just she found a sore spot I guess.

Sam: I should’ve know she’d pulls something like this. She was so insistent when she asked. I didn’t want to arouse suspicion by resisting too much.

Ana: Her mind games are seriously next level. At this point, I wonder if her assistant even has a kid.

Sam: Ana, I WILL make this right. Sit tight.

I stand up, sending a quick text to Carter to let him know I am running out and leaving the boys at home. I stuff my phone in my pocket, grabbing the keys to the Porsche and ignoring the many incoming texts as my phone pings in my pocket. Hold tight, Ana. I am coming for you.

***

After stopping at Laudree and getting a box of macarons, I park the Porsche outside of Viver and make my way inside.

“Did you know there’s a gourmet bakery just down the street from here?” I smile as I walk into the back, Ana is bent over her phone on the chaise.

“Sam!” I watch her face light up as stands up, her long legs stepping up to me as she throws her arms around my shoulders.

“I should surprise you like this more often.” I smile as she steps away from me.

“If our think you’re gonna get away with pawning me off on Sofia for an entire day ever again…” She rolls her eyes.

“I guess I’ll just have to come up with another way to surprise you.” I give her a nudge with my elbow.

“Sam, you know how to turn my day around. Thank you for finding a way to show that you care.” She grabs the box from my hands.

“It’s the least I could do, given what you’ve done for me today to show that you care.” I place my hand on her arm and give her a long look. “You need me, I’m here. Okay?”

She gives me a small nod and I watch her melt at my words.

“Is that my boo-bear?” I flinch slightly as I hear Sofia’s voice call from the dressing room. She rounds the corner with a smile on her face. “And you brought… cookies! That’s very sweet, literally. I’ll have to save it for my cheat day.”

“I’m told they’re the best cookies in the city. Consider it my way of thanking you two, since you spent all day preparing for an event on my behalf.” I look at Sofia with a smile. “But since it looks like you’re done already, maybe I can kill two birds with one stone and take Ana home with me?”

“Hm? Oh yes, that’s fine. I have an appointment soon anyway.” Sofia grabs her phone out of her purse and barely spares me another glance.

“Ana? Shall we?”

I watch Ana give Sofia a weird look, which I decide to ignore, before she follows me out of the shop.

I open the passenger side door for her and she gracefully slides into the seat of the Porsche, her long legs look so damn good in this car. I bite my lip before I close her door, climbing into the drivers side and I put the car into drive.

My hand is resting on the center console. I feel her fingers gently brush mine before she intertwines our fingers. I glance down at our hands with a small smile.

“So, you’re going to a charity gala this weekend?” She asks casually.

“It’s not as fun as it sounds, believe me. Even though it’s not official business, it’ll be all shoptalk, all night.”

“With fancy food and fancy drinks and fancy dancing? That doesn’t sound all bad.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” I squeeze her hand lightly. “And with the right date, it could be downright fun. But-“

“You’re going with Sofia.” Her voice sounds sad as she shifts her gaze out of the window.

“Yeah. She has her moments, but she tends to stay laser-focused on business events like this.” I wish you were coming with me though…

“I wish I was going with you. You’d have so much more fun with me. Just like at your engagement party.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not bringing you, then. You were dangerous that night.” My mind wanders back to her body pressed against mine, the dark look in her eyes.

“Just that night?” I can see her look at me out of the corner of my eye.

“And every night since.” I flick my eyes to hers. “It’s not fair to tease me when I’m supposed to keep my eyes on the road.”

“I never said I play fair.”

“Ana…” My voice almost sounds like a growl as I try not to imagine her body pressed up against me, her hips pressing into mine.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be good… for now.” She smiles before facing forward, our fingers still interlaced.

***

“Are you serious, Sof? You know how big of a deal tonight is.”

“I know, Sam, and I really do apologize. I do not feel well enough to attend.” Her voice sounds quiet and subdued. “I have an idea that would keep my seat filled at the table.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I could bring Ana…

“You should bring, Ana.” My eyes widen at her words. “She was with me when I was practicing, she should know who everyone of importance is.”

“I don’t know, Sofia.”

“I do, Sam, I insist. She won’t look as good at me on your arm, but she is better than nothing.”

I pause for effect.

“Alright, well, I hope you feel better.”

“Thank you, Sam. Don’t have too much fun without me tonight.”

“Bye, Sof.”

I am glad she can’t see the grin on my face as I end the phone call, sending a quick text to my assistant to order a gold dress from my personal shopper at Nordstroms in Ana’s size and to change my tux to one that will match.

***

The doorman delivers the suit bag and the dress box to the elevator and I walk quickly into my room, changing into the tux with the gold accents and gold tie. I take one last look in the full length mirror before turning to the box.

I carefully unbox the dress, damn this is going to look so fucking good on her…

I make my way to Ana’s room and knock softly on her closed door.

I hear her voice on the other side of the door before she swings it open. Her brown hair cascading down her back and chest, wearing that thin t shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. I clear my throat as I remember why I am even standing here in the first place.

“Sam… you look amazing.” She reaches out and adjusts my lapels and runs her hands down my chest. “There. Now you’re perfect.” Her eyes find mine again with a sigh,

“What would I do without you?”

“Walk around with a wrinkled lapel, I expect.” She laughs softly, such a beautiful sound…

I clear my throat and her face turns serious.

“Ana, I know this is terribly short notice, but… will you be my date to the gala?” I hold my breath as surprise flashes across her face, followed by confusion.

Oh god, say yes.

#choices the stories you play #the nanny affair #choices sam dalton #samdalton #tna #sams pov

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Our Nightly Confidant 9

Lightest before Dusk

Her dresses flutter as she strides into her throne room. The hushed whispers die down at her entrance, her courtiers startled and her guards standing at attention.

When they had mentioned a tear in space, Zelda's heartbeat had picked up. There were only so many explanations, and some of her agents had already confirmed that they felt no hostile power in the spell. Was her Hero back? He'd been gone for weeks now. It seemed only right that he returned to her sooner than later.

(She forbid herself the thought that it might have been-)

But on her way, another servant had come to greet them. Link. Link had returned. And so she had entered with her queenly mask in place and her thoughts light.

A few of the heroes still groan as they try to get back their bearings. By the looks of surprise, it might not have been a very graceful landing. Her people shuffle about, nervous by the presence of armed strangers, and those that recognize Link amongst them... stiffen. She makes a mental note of their faces and allegiances, for later review.

The hero with the blue scarf notices her first, and he goes on one knee with a smooth, practiced motion. A knight, that one, she immediately knows.

The rest imitates the motion or pay her respect in whatever custom their era holds. The youngest is amusingly the stiffest, his eyes not on her but the knight. A touching bond, she imagines.

With pose, she greets them all, until Link's nearest companion – scarred, a little younger, naturally sticking close to Link in the middle of a crowd – seems to realize that she is Queen over Link. His expression turns from respectful to impish, mischievous and far too triumphant.

Link cringes as if he realizes exactly what goes through that one's mind.

… And he put that one's neck in a sidehold, trying to stifle the barks of laughter without much success.

“Oh, hey, your majesty, did you know what Twi sa-?”

Link's hand slaps on top of the exuberant one's mouth. A tad desperate for his silence, and though she knows no words her Hero had spoken would be truly damaging, she cannot resist the urge to tease him. With her best, coldest mask, she arches a single eyebrow. Link's face takes on a cherry red color, one she had yet to see from him.

Muffled and swallowed snickers abound from the group of heroes. Poor Link shushes them, and it is when the knightly one reminds them of her presence that they settle, somewhat. Link looks grateful, and a little torn. What relationship does he share with this hero? One of surface level friction, she muses, that cannot reach the core of their trust in one another.

Link schools his expression into a solemn look.

“My Queen,” he says, a hand over his chest and his head bowed.

“My Hero,” she replies, so perfectly even. “Have you travelled well?”

He has a dark glare for the scarred hero.

“It's been... an adventure.”

Yes, she pictures it nicely now. And part of her warms to the image of her Hero so well looked after.

“Is there need of my assistance for any of your companions, My Hero?”

Link pauses, then quickly glances back. “Right this second? No, we could use a moment to rest,” he says, and rolls his shoulder for show.

She allows herself a small smile.

“I bid you all welcome into the kingdom of Hyrule, brave heroes of time past and to come. Accommodations will be arranged for all of you tonight. Refreshments and food will be brought to you. You need only ask. The Royal Family does not forget the debt owed to its saviors.”

“We would be thankful for such generosity, My Queen,” he says, and the relief in the others is badly hidden.

She gestures for her guards to show them to chambers being prepared by some poor, rushing maids. Circumstances oblige. They'd be compensated in some way later. As the heroes move to obey, however, she raises her voice once more.

“My Hero, I would have you share some tea with me. We have much to discuss.”

A few of them misstep, and shoot Link curious glances.

The one-eyed soldier lifts an eyebrow.

But Link shakes his head at his commander. He lands a strong clap on the man's back and juts his chin at the exit. Silent words are exchanged without even a twitch, and, on cue, eight heroes leave the throne room through the front doors, led by an honor escort. Link, however, breaks the distance between them and offers a second bow.

“I am at your service.”

That you are, she thinks to herself. Her courtiers do not notice. Not the irony of her thoughts, nor the displeasure she must hide from them every other week.

They disappear together through the passage only the royal family may take, and together they climb the staircase to the highest point of the castle. Few members of her forces patrol the area, all of which pay her their respect, and try to hide some contempt for Link. It cements her plan in her mind.

She waits two heartbeats after the doors to her chambers close, then rushes into his arms.

“Zelda,” he whispers, at first, his arms strong around her, “it's not proper.”

She knows. Of course she knows. Many like to remind her. But queen she might be, she is also Hylian, and she missed him. Him and his lack of decorum, care for propriety. She never asked it of him. Not as themselves.

“Farore has blessed many of my court,” she replies, pulling away from him.

Tea and biscuits have been laid out at her orders, and she invites him to sit.

“To think they would still suggest you to be too lowly for any association with me.”

Link hums in his teacup. “They do say Farore loves her fools.”

Zelda shoots him a sharp look. “Do not insult yourself so.”

For all of a second, her knight looks sheepish. Then: “But...?” he asked, his fangs shining in the corner of his mouth.

She lets out a sigh. “But those people specifically are, indeed, fools.”

His chest rumbles with an unspoken hum, a melody from home. Ordon. Zelda has rarely visited, and not once in recent memory. For all Hyrule rules over Ordon, that province is marginal at best. Out of sight and out of mind to most her subjects, she knows. How ironic that the Golden Three would pick their Hero out of this forgotten corner of Hyrule. A reminder, it would seem, that none of her subjects deserve to be neglected. She took it seriously; she wonders more often than not if her nobles have.

Link does not speak right away. He samples the biscuits, always a little wary of food he cannot identify at a glance. A remnant of the life of the traveler, she had long guessed. But after the first bite, he nearly swallows the next two whole. They must have gone without rest for some time before the portal brought them to her. She is glad the kitchen had been forewarned to cater to their whims.

Her first sip of tea coats a floral flavor on her tongue. It is one of Link's favorites, and she can appreciate its subtle qualities beneath the light, almost perfume-like fragrances. She had not cared for it before, but now she is away from public eyes, she is quite famished herself.

Link looks at her like he knows, and it prompts her to, in more delicate words, play with him.

“The scarred, insolent one,” she starts, her tone neutral to hide her teasing, “he is the one the goddesses sent you to help, isn't he?”

Link pales a bit. “My Queen, he meant no-”

“Peace,” she says with a smile. “I care not, My Hero, for protocol beyond its use in social gatherings. Least of all for one I see dear to your heart.”

Reassured, Link relaxes, settling back into his seat with an equally tender smile. His eyes flit to her window, to the rolling clouds and the splatters of rain on the glass. So many tears from the heavens.

(They do not shatter two hearts.)

She banishes the thought. Her Hero is here, and followed by eight others across time and space. The very idea fascinates her. Makes her wish for time to speak with them and show them what records the kingdom has kept. The Chosen Hero, the Hero of Light, the Hero of Time. Hyrule only remembers so few, and there is temptation all on its own, to know that some may come from times yet to come.

But her desires do not weigh enough for the indulgence. Other matters are of greater import.

“Those heroes of legend. You trust them, then?”

“With my life.”

No pause. No consideration. Yes, she had thought as much. If no one else, Heroes of Courage could only be trustworthy. The Goddesses would never tolerate otherwise.

But in truth, that judgment, she had already decided upon witnessing the easy manners Link displayed around them. Link suffers no false-faced turncloaks. There had been nothing begrudging in their interactions. Rather, the brotherly banters they had shushed upon her arrival had amused her as much as it had enlightened her.

“Can you tell me about them?” she asks, gently. Not an order, but a request from a curious mind.

He lights up, and his earnest joy shines above the drab atmosphere of the late afternoon. He speaks exuberantly, familiarly, as if they are old friends. He even manages to snatch a laugh out of her, something she is well aware her court desperately tries ever still. Ice queen, they murmur out of her sight. A few hinges their courtship on their charm, and for the life of her, Zelda knows they cannot equal this simple man speaking of the love he has for these newfound brothers-in-arms.

He speaks of them like Ordon, like home, and perhaps it is what emboldens her to ask, after a delicate bite of her biscuit: “Do they... like their Zelda?”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile smaller and somehow more mysterious. Puzzling. It is not a mannerism he used to have. She wonders which heroes he picked it up from. Perhaps the scarred, one-eyed hero. Link had stood by him with a deference he is loath to show any he doesn't believe deserve it. And that man had been the stoic sort, at least on a surface level. If her suspicions about their respective identities proved correct...

Well. It matters not, she supposes.

Link takes the time to swallow another swing of his tea, the impudent farmboy that he is, and looks at her knowingly.

“The Chosen's smitten.” Link wipes some breadcrumbs from his mouth, which then turns upward into a smirk. “You should hear him when he tries to write her songs. It's adorable.”

“Yes, adorable,” she repeats to herself, willing her cheeks not to burn.

Quick as it came, the amusement drains out of him, and he sounds more apologetic next. “The truth is, I don't know, my Queen. Some of them are fond, some are a bit like strangers, and some are like us.” He points at her and himself a few times. “In-between. What do you think of that?”

“In some ways... reassuring, I would say. Part of me worries that I have not done enough for my kingdom in its time of need.”

He opens his mouth, indignation naked on his face, and she preempts him with a raised hand. He silences his reply, and she does not back down from his glare.

“She was always more important to your quest than I.”

With a grimace, he sits back down.

“True.”

He does not lie to her. She appreciates that, on the heels of a meeting with courtiers who are never honest with her. When they had barged in this very room, during the Twilight Invasion, one cursed, one mortally wounded, she had known that it would be her choice. Her choice, and her chance to save her kingdom. When Link speaks of her, he softens at this part, at the sanded out edge of her wits and quips.

There's a faint hurt in Zelda's chest. A longing, phantom, mere daydreams that do not belong to her. To give part of one's soul is to accept part of someone else's in return. In that way, it is quite like love. She had known it would hurt, and had done it anyway, for her hero needed another princess. But Nayru, at the very least, blessed her too much to let those visions of a brave wolf and braver man cloud her reason. No union could be successful from a pair of fools chasing shadows.

“You were important though, My Queen. Don't underestimate yourself.” He holds out her gaze with the strength that let him challenge the King of Evil. “You were our goal, our salvation – more than once, the last one to give me strength against Ganondorf. You brought the Light Spirits' blessing to that battle, and the Three know I wouldn't have managed without it.”

She finishes her cup. “One's advices are so much more convincing when equally applied to oneself.”

“Fair. We were meant to do it together, My Queen. Believe me, it's like history told me eight times over.”

Her lips curl up faintly. “Only eight times? And to think you could be told a hundred times without moving before. Nayru has finally seen you fit to receive some of her blessing,”

His indignation flashes in his eyes, and settles in his innocent, wolf-like grin. “Aww, shucks. Your Majesty, don't you be using big words to insult lil' ol' me.”

“It was no insult. Your determination often forces admiration, My Hero.”

He chuckles under his breath. He says something that might be 'wolf boy'.

This is what they are to each other: a way to remember one they do not wish to forget and whose hearts long to, so they may at last heal. They are. Healing. She knows this. Just as she knows the process is slow and grueling, but every meeting they hold in her chambers, every teacup shared by the window, their gaze overlooking Castle Town... she feels closer to it.

And by the gentleness in Link's eyes, she thinks he feels the same way. That even away from her, gallivanting through time and space, he has progressed as well.

Naturally, with none of the terrible awkwardness that plagued their early conversations, their words drift away to more casual topics, the health of the servants, the network of the resistance, the state of the kingdom. Easy words for her to speak. They drift from anecdotes about the castle's kitchen to the latest nobility gathering to her bemoaning of the state's newest budget.

At his request, she produces the copy for him to skim, which he does with a ferocity that is rather inappropriate for questions of maintaining bridges and holding the annual solstice celebrations. And therein lies the problem. He begins his commentary.

Link, it must be said, is also a miser of the worst sort. He would never let her exceed budget and does indeed question anything but the strictest necessity. It is as useful an attribute in an advisor as it is prodigiously irritating.

“My Hero, whilst the people can survive perfectly well on a tight purse, they do not want to. I must consider... certain sensibilities.”

“Why?” he finally asks, standing and disturbing his cup on the desk. “Why must you when it seems none of them ever do? How can they bow to you and then demand? You're their queen! Everything you've done has been to help Hyrule recover and thrive. Why can't they put their darned wants aside for one season?!”

If only her nobles could be half as loyal, she might actually enjoy the administration of her council. “It is my queenly duty, Link.”

His stubborn, darkened look recedes. “Aye, aye, I know. Big part of why I believe in you, Zelda, but...”

Her hand catches his, and through her glove and his gauntlet, warmth reaches from and to the divine mark they share.

“You wish it was not so. That others might be willing to sacrifice for the good of their brethrens.”

His ears droop.

To be a hero is to walk a lonely road. To have the world at your feet and its weight on your shoulders. And Link is strong, so strong to have done it.

In her hearth, the fire crackles and spits out dying ember. The dregs of tea in her cup have gone cold. They have been at this long, long enough for the gossip to come back to life, and momentarily, she dares imagine the ribbing Link will be subjected to when he meets back with his companion.

But, Zelda regrets, that would come to a quick stop, once they notice.

She has delayed as much as she could. But, again, duty demands it of her, of him.

“Forgive me, my Hero, for what I must ask of you.”

She sees it in his gaze. The surety, the sturdiness that is a man of the land. Stubborn and decisive. Less delusions than most. He knows, then, that she means it. That it is no idle speculation, and that he will suffer in the course of his duty.

Yet he nods, once, a short thing. “You already are.”

There is no doubt in him.

Not yet.

She names the place she must send him to, and so rises the shadows of his regrets in his sky blue eyes.

He does not hear much of her explanation. She proceeds as if he does, as gentle an offering of time for him to gather his Courage she can afford to give.

“My Hero,” she whispers to him at last, her touch light on his chin, “Link, return to me whole.”

It's as much an order as she dares give, and the ghost of his smile lets her know he understands her feelings.

“As long as you need me, My Queen.”

Need me forever, don't let me go, not you too, is the prayer he will never voice. Nayru help us both.

***

Flecks of sand grates against his skin as harsh winds pick up. He wants to say he doesn't notice, but it would be a lie. He'd rather focus on the irritating grit, on the whistle of scorching dry air. On the glare of the sun even as the shadows of pillars inch closer to them.

Yet, he can't quite manage.

He stares ahead at the place he most hates in his Hyrule.

He loves his country. Loves the beauty he found in every corner, in the smile of strangers and the purr of beasts. From start to finish, Twilight had simply loved the world he was born in. But this place, he can't bring himself to feel anything for it.

(he would be swallowed)

(torn from the inside, darkness spreading, a mask with tendrils forced on his face like those poor people he couldn't save)

“Sky... You probably don't want to get inside that place,” he hears himself say.

The patient wait twists into a knot of tension. The ring of silent question bears on his back, and he turns, comes face to face with a Sky that is stone-faced, all but daring to be left behind. His eyes are more steel than the sword in Twilight's hand.

A nod.

It was a futile hope. Sky was the first to incarnate the Hero's Spirit. He never lacked in Courage. But this will hurt. Hurt so bad to show Sky a glimpse of the darkness that the dream shared with his love will unleash.

(it's not on him, never was on Sky, their sweet knight from above, but Twilight knows too much about heroes not to predict what one feels about responsibilities)

Time stalks forward, diffusion some of the tension.

“Is this one of your world's temples, Pup?”

A temple? He wants to scoff. This place is no temple. Nothing sacred, not anymore. It's a place of misery and pain and grudges never allowed to rest. It's a testament of sin and it's the place he wakes up to in his nightmares, one prisoner amongst many, chained with a spiked collar, Hylian or wolf.

The others wait after his words, and he hates the honest curiosity he sees in their gazes.

He should find a gentler way to say it.

But simply standing in the shadow of this place drains him of his energy. He already feels the weight of memories pulling at his limbs. It takes a mild effort to look back to the old man.

“... No, but I believe it is where one used to be. This is the prison they built when they exterminated the Gerudo.”

Blood rushes out of Time's face. He looks pale, horrified. There's no real need to elaborate, is there? The Hero of Time knows why and how Hyrule and its Gerudo neighbors would go to war.

Something like guilt and disgust twist inside Twilight's stomach. Why did he say that?

“Twi!” Wild shouts, his objection all too obvious.

“Those that stayed died. The warriors. The zealots. Those that didn't believe the kokiri seer had been truthful about Ganondorf's reign of terror.”

Time looks on the verge of being sick. “They weren't meant... ” he trails off, his one good eye staring at the torture complex.

Twilight puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know the details. You'd have to ask my Queen for the records of the kingdom's history.” – He sighs, squeezes gently. – “But peace didn't last, and that's why this place was built out of the ruins of a sacred place. A desecration of the worst kind. To let the torments of the regretful last.”

He wants to ease the pain on Time's face so bad, but... he can't. Whatever else happened, Time had been a child at the time. He'd saved the kingdom. The cost...

Twilight fumbles with a match to light his lantern. He can't think of costs right now. It's not the place. The flame from his lantern illuminates the first few steps into the broken doors of the prison complex.

“Be careful inside. This place is haunted by more than just the horrors of Hyrule's dark past. Lost souls and living corpses are trapped inside.”

“Gloom and doom, much?” Legend snarks.

It takes effort not to snarl.

“Just don't get paralyzed by a scream when you're standing on quicksand, Bunnyboy.”

The others straighten at his uncharacteristical snap. That, or the image he suddenly conjured of them, slowly engulfed by torrents of sand, unable to move but all too aware of what was happening. Back then, if it hadn't been for...

Not the time to be losing himself in old memories.

His chest pangs with guilt. The way the others look at him. The surprise. The shock for his poor manners. He mumbles an apology. Turns away quickly to face the dried out shadows of the unlit tunnel.

Farore, he hates how the Arbiter's Grounds empties him from the inside out.

***

There were, to Twilight's knowledge, two likely locations for what his queen asked him to investigate. He had been silently praying when he'd opened the gates to the inner sanctum. Had come close to begging as Hyrule and Legend examined the dusty remains of the paper talismans, and though repulsed confirmed their power long lost, alongside what they had been made to restrain. The Lense of Truth hadn't revealed anything else, and

– he couldn't turn into a wolf, not here, not where she –

it had been a waste of time. Unsurprising.

“Why go for the least likely first then?” Warriors had demanded, his stance a bit more defensive.

Because the Death Sword had been sealed in the middle of the prison complex, and if he was wrong, then Twilight would rather avoid having to backtrack through this accursed place. Upon that reasoning, the rest conceded that he had a point, even if they had some complaints.

“If the source of that dark magic flare wasn't in that creepy cell, why are there some many monsters here?” Hyrule asks, off-hands, as he locks swords with a stall captain.

There's no reason to worry, not quite.

“This place is never empty of monsters!” he shouts over his shoulder, crushing some of the smaller skeletons under a broad swing of his sword. “It's been soaked in blood and torment. No one rests in the Arbiter's Grounds.”

Legend, balancing on a near sunken platform above sinking send, kicks away a moldorm with trained ease. He seems pleased for all of a few seconds, before Wind points behind him at a shambling shadow emerging from an alcove in the walls.

Legend's sword seizes midswing, a piercing shriek tearing through the air with the force of a waking nightmare. The scream bounces in their heads, bites into bones and wraps around flesh. It strikes and tempers, and leaves all nine of them fighting their own bodies for the right to move as it inches ever closer to its target. He hears strangled grunts from his left, clatters of metal on the ground from his right. Struggles to break free.

And all Twilight knows is he'll be damned if this place steals another loved one from him.

He stumbles forward, amongst the first to do so. He doesn't waste precious time thinking, assessing. The shadows swallow him, and he dashes on four legs.

Paws stomp over sand, bugs and spikes as he bounds and leaps.

His fangs tear through the rotten flesh with ease. The revolting taste used to make him retch. The decay, the dry leather, the sandpaper texture of bandages. He's not sure if he's imagining it right now, so numb his whole body feels.

He gnarls on the monster's throat till he hits bone, then leaps off. The thing can't scream anymore. It's barely a threat without that power. It's slow, cumbersome. It drags its claymore through sands, but it doesn't get a chance to swing. He steps out of shadows with his sword in hand.

The mummified head rolls on the quicksand, soon sunken and no more than a troubling memory. The rest collapses, and they can breath again.

He's not sure what his are called. They have elements of both Gibdos and Redeads. The massive sword is only in his Hyrule though. Lucky him.

He spits to the side, the glob black and green, and the taste, worse. “Vet, you good?”

Legend's pale, his fingers twitching, and his feet pull him back closer to the center of the platform. Startled is the word that comes to mind. It comes, and goes. Legend's too – wearied – seasoned to let a mere close call shake him.

“Yeah. Thanks, wolfboy. That beast's out of the bag now,” he says, leaning toward the rest.

Despite the spill of sand, the room feels oppressively silent. Tension knots into his back. He's had nightmares of this exact moment, he suddenly realizes. The moment when the secret is out and it is time to face their judgment, be it words, disgust or drawn swords. But the silence doesn't press onto him, doesn't stifle. Warriors gauges the others, Sky looks about ready to speak up, the same way Wild does. Time looks the most wary, and Four sighs with something like relief. An incredulous chuckle building in the back of his throat, it occurs to Twilight that he never told anyone which of them knew his secrets. He's never been one to parse them out, after all. And now...  

Now, Wind's shock simmers into something else as he looks to the other Links and sees little surprise or even wonder.

“Oh,” Hyrule says, the only one dazed, “I had a feeling.”

It's too muted a reaction. It sparks the flurry of feeling boiling just under Wind's skin. “Really?! We're the last two to learn?”

The way he glares at him, at the others. The accusation is clear. He thinks they don't trust him. That Twilight doesn't trust him. That... that he tricked him. Got the feelings out of him, then mocked him behind his back.

Twilight quiets the 'beast!' his mind screams. “It's not like that, Sailor. I never sought to reveal it to anyone. I” – fear – “dislike talking about it. It just happened.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wind bites out.

“I mean it, Sailor,” he tells the kid, hoarse. “I'm sorry.”

His tone gives Wind pause. The teen frowns, looks up at him with suspicion. “This isn't over. I'm gonna ask for more later.”

“Of course.”

“Twi,” Wild suddenly calls, his eyes flashing with worry, “are you okay?”

They can't do this inside the Arbiter's Grounds. The traps alone would be too much of a risk.

He shakes his head, then wipes the congealed blood off his blade. “I'm fine. I just hate this place.”

Warriors, with deliberate timing, clasps his hands. “Great. Finally a point in common between the two of us, Rancher. How about you lead us out of here?”

“I'd be more at ease somewhere with less chances of an ambush,” Time adds, still scanning their surroundings.

He nods. Wrestles with himself. They need him. Him, he can't fail now.

“It shouldn't be too far. Let's go.”

Sky's face twists, something like guilt, something like determination. Twilight doesn't regret following his queen's order, but he does bury the sorrow he feels at seeing his brother's dreams further crushed. Hyrule was... is... a country with a long history, and some of it unworthy of the glory it received.

There's frankly nothing Sky can do to prevent this outcome.

The thought flares with guilt. Look at him, giving lessons about making peace with the inevitable.

He ducks his head and turns back to the traps they will need to navigate.

“We'll need some creative solutions, heroes. This place is best travelled with a very specific item, and I only have the one...”

But though Warriors is the only one to share the spinner item with him, the others all have access to impressive resources to play around the traps that litter the Arbiter's Grounds. And even for the few that look perplexed, Sky's whip, Wind's hookropes or their hookshots allow them to swing back and forth over dangerous obstacles to link the groups together.

All that being said, he will keep a closer eye on his spinner for the next couple of days, because Wild's starry eyes at the sight of Twilight bouncing around on complex rails had left him chuckling for the first time today. And he wasn't blind to the intrigued glances Legend and Four had had for the item either.

Were he in a generous mood, Twilight would advise Warriors to keep a close eye on his stuff too. Kleptomania was apparently a shared trait of the Hero's Spirit.

The skull's fragments are unmoved, and their path takes them past even the boss chamber.

Light washes over them, wonderful thing that chases half the ghosts that linger in his mind after a trek through the cursed prison. Cooling winds makes him want to shout after the dusty, heavy air that mummifies every corpse down there. He wants to celebrate with the others, but in the corner of his eyes, he sees the monolith.

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden. Why? Why is he like this? He tried so hard to heal, to get over it! He's an adult, not a lovesick teenager. He's done his best to deal with the pain. So why is it that he can go months right as rain and then, one day, he just hears the wrong thing, sees the wrong shades, and his whole chest crumbles on him?  

On a shaky breath, he attempts to steel himself, to dry the tears. In vain.

He is, Twilight decides there and then, pathetic.

***

How long does he sit in front of the black stone?

The sun started to set whilst he was here. Red light over sand cast lengthening shadows, and it's too easy for him to get lost in his scrutiny of them. None ever came to life. But he still looked, wondered, ached.

With no real hint to direct their searches, the group had commonly decided that they ought to rest for now, with double watch tonight to make sure they weren't taken by surprise in an ambush. Twilight had agreed, and pretended not to feel Time's insistent stare when he slipped away to...

To do what, exactly?

He's not even sure. He's been sitting there, legs hanging by the edge, scrutinizing the stone as if it would come to life.

Eh. A callback to a bitter period of his life. Damn it! He's over this. He is!

So why aren't you facing the others? Didn't you tell Wind you'd explain everything?

He knows his conscience is right. He still doesn't stand. It seems, on top of everything else, Twilight might also be a hypocrite. Goddesses, why did Farore ever look his way?

They're eating, he tells himself. He can smell the hints of Wild's spice mixes from here. Can hear, vaguely, the conversations, and could even guess the contents if he strained to catch the words. He'll have to apologize. To come clean. And that's enough to root him in place. Just a few hours longer, before they can no longer bear his presence.

The idea sends pricks of ice under his skin. Any of them would be a stab wound, but it's when his mind lingers on Wild, that silly brother of his, that the rage hits.

He doesn't know many tricks, not yet. He's still learning, but on anger alone, he feels as if he could suddenly disintegrate the black stone from his glare alone. He wants it gone. He wants to be freed of it, and it's that thought that flashes last when on the canvas of ink flashes shifting oranges and yellow.

Twilight's already upright. That glimpse of fire... It hadn't been the setting sun!

He wishes he could have said he moved with purpose, his mission still in mind, not a short walk that had his heart beating out of his chest. The closer he gets, the easier it becomes to define the impression. There is someone looking back at him from beyond the stone's reflective surface.

His stomach drops when he reaches the steps.

Only himself.

He knows his queen would have something to say if she knew he felt disappointment at his own reflection. With a surly, self-deprecating smirk, he lets his fingers run over the sharded texture. Presses his palm against the ice cold material.

Imagines that the skin is a paler, greyish shade, splattered black instead of his tanned pink. The fingers would curl into his, intermingles. He holds onto the feeling.

Then yanks.

A hand cut from starless night emerges from the stone, and Twilight throws down a dark copy of himself onto the ground. The doppelganger blinks in shock, momentarily dazed.

The expression hardly improves when the Ordon Sword skewers it to the ground.

“The Prison Gate?” he drawls. “Did you think I wouldn't see a temptation coming?”

That you'd be the first one I faced here? he doesn't say. Twilight has always been good at connecting with accursed things. With forbidden practices and tricks played out in the dark. Even before his quest, before all the things that turned him from goatherd to hero, there had been the book he'd taken a fancy to. The mirror in his basement. Old dreams of a dead wolf and a dead hero.

There's a lot Twilight doesn't say, not in front of some dark apparition.

“Queen's dog,” it spits, ink blood sprayed from the corner of its mouth.

Twilight watches, unmoved, as the shadowed being melts back into the sand by the black stone.

They both know which queen it referred to. Twilight, with a faint smirk, shakes his head. Despite his heart's desires, despite the pangs of the chains in his chest, he is the hero of the Light Realm. And his queen will be pleased to know that her Wolf took care of the problem with the Arbiter's Ground.

He casts his gaze over the desert, the setting sun. It's a shame then, that they will have to spend the night anyway.

***

Time gives up pretense. He has polished his biggoron sword and unclasped some layers of armor and fiddled with his ocarina, and none of this let him clear his mind enough to pretend he wasn't worried out of his skin.

Their evening routine is off. Even in dangerous circumstances, they had always managed to build an atmosphere of safety, of care. The ideal that none of them were at risk so long as they looked after one another.  

Tonight's akin to the long nights he spent with Hyrule watching over wounds and illnesses that he knows he could have prevented somehow. Everyone is of a second mind, and it boils over right after Wild finishes scrubbing his pots.

There's one bowl still full, untouched, a little to the side of their campfire.

The last of the pots vanish in a flash of blue lights. Wild knocks over his bedroll standing. “Okay, I'm done. I'm going to check up on him.”

“I'm coming too,” Four jumps to his feet, a split second faster than Sky, Warriors and Hyrule.

“Like hell I'm getting left out again,” Wind says fiercely.

Time wants to sigh and smirks. Goddesses, he never signed up to feel so much pride for these insane boys of his. Even if one of them takes the route of the electrified chu-chu instead, whom Time has to nudge with the tip of his boot.

“Probably doesn't want to see anyone,” Legend explains, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest, but he ends up on his feet too.

“We'll tell him you were worried too, don't worry,” Warriors drawls, and gets flipped off for good measure.

They find Twilight almost immediately. By common consensus, they'd agreed to begin their search with the chained black stone. Twilight had gazed upon it with the melancholy of an old man reminiscing about his lost wife and children. It had to be a direction, if nothing else, they reasoned. More so from the dark vibes Hyrule picked up from the strange object.

But for all their speculations, they find Twilight as soon as they set out to do so, sitting on some small steps in front of the monolith, facing away from them.

“You don't need to be here,” he says, not looking back.

“I think we do,” Wild snipes back, his stubborn expression eerily familiar. (Twilight's.)

“Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“You sure seem fine to us,” Legend can't help snark.

“I. Am. Fine.”

Clipped words against the bars of a cage.

“Don't bullshit us, Rancher.” Warriors calls out, worry too sharp for calm.

The sand near the pedestal swirls against the wind, then dies down.

Behind Time, Hyrule's breath hitches up. Time understands. He knows enough magic to recognize it and its flares when emotions run high.

“Enough. All of you. We're not here to corner him. Pup, we just want to talk with you. You haven't been yourself since we arrived here and we want to know how we can help you.”

Twilight whirls around with a feral snarl. “I SAID I'M FINE!”  

For the first time since meeting Twilight, Time feels the urge to take a step back. He doesn't give in, never has, but part of him is shocked that a hero gave him the feeling.

It's wrong. So very wrong, to see softness sanded away by pain. The glare sent back is raw, unfiltered, untempered. A sliver of flame through a cover of shades.

And... quick as it flashed, the fury drains out of him, the edges gone and the scowl lifted into a guilty grimace. Shades cup around the flames like hands on candlelight, to protect others from its rays. Twilight's ears droop slightly. The look alone is an apology, and it's so obviously the word on his tongue.

But Twilight says nothing, huffs a little breaths and turns away from them.

It can't be a coincidence that he dangles his cursed amulet just far enough from himself that they get a glimpse of it. He's still not looking back.

“It's dark magic, Wind. I take the form of a wolf by using dark magic. And that stone...” They can see his fists clench. “That stone was the pathway to their world. Not the gate, not the key, just... the path.”

Time wants to urge Wind to err on the side of caution, but he can't without tipping off Twilight, and even the casual confession seem too important to mess up.

Wind only looks thoughtful for a split second. “So where's the key?”

“It's gone now. Goddesses know I've looked.” The admittance sounds like old shame. “But the sages of old used it often enough that the mirror left its mark on it.”

“You're...” Hyrule starts, getting looks from the rest. “You're connected to it.”

Twilight hunches, just enough that it's visible. “Yeah. Collected the shards in the sand, bled on the stone, prayed to the Goddesses. Anything that wouldn't hurt someone else, I guess.”

The glaring omission in that statement makes Time's heartbeat accelerate. What did his pup do?

“Anyway, it was foolish. The path can only open for the true ruler of the Twilight Realm, and boy, is it not me. But the experiments did have a few side-effects.” – a hand gestures vaguely to his forehead – “Uli did say the tattoo fit, in a rugged, strong man kind of way.”

That forced cheer gets a cringe out of Four. Time has to file the observation for later. He cannot turn his focus away from the pup now. Not when he's bleeding pain right in front of him.

“A mother's love is blind,” Wild croons.

“Brat. She'd love you all.” They can hear the grin on his voice. “Not that she wouldn't pull your ear to teach you good manners, but she would love you anyway. Her, Rusl, Colin, even little Lumi, they'd love you guys. I'm so lucky...”

His sigh floats away, forlorn, like a love letter on desert winds. Time instantly thinks of the ranch, of the horses and the singing they all clammer to. It makes him remember the sunlit smile Sky had worn when they found themselves surrounded by clouds and enormous birds, the whooping cry Wind let out when he recognized black sails on the horizon, the relief Legend had hidden at the sight of his rabbit-hooded friend.

Time wants to meet Twilight's family. Wants to know those people that raised this remarkable young man. Wants to help them make him understand he is cherished back.

Because he sees the slight shaking that wavered wolf fur on his shoulders. Almost misses the sob. The admiration, the awed tenderness had grown twisted, uneven from a darkened fondation. It builds in Twilight's frame, builds in the thicker shadows on him and the shifting sands at their feet.

And Twilight's fist strikes the pedestal beside him, and something Time cannot see passes into the sand by the pedestal. Hackles raised, Four's skin is paler. He is staring so intently, his eyes almost a different color entirely in the dusk. More worryingly, Time notes with a grimace, is the faint chime he thinks he hears rising from the Master Sword.

“Pup, just tell us.”

And Twilight does.

He looks them in the eyes, a scowl on his face. “Why am I so selfish?” he rasps in disgust. “Why am I so fucking greedy? Why do I demand more than what I've been fucking blessed with?!”

Aren't they allowed a little selfishness? Time bites back. The goddesses gave them each a war. Why was it so wrong to want their peace once they'd won?

“I was lucky. Incredibly lucky. I found the children of my village, not one hair on their heads harmed. I rescued my childhood friend and restored her memories. I proved myself worthy of my teacher and let him rest. I... I saved Hyrule, Queen Zelda, the Twilight Realm. I didn't lose anything.”

It's like being stripped off a mask he had forgotten he was wearing. Twilight's cry reaches deep, and it's too easy to see why it's spoken like it was a flaw rather than a magnificent triumph. How can he make his boy understand?

Wild shakes his head. “You lost things too.”

“Nothing that mattered,” Twilight adds, under his breath, a cruel bite at the truth. “Most of a village gone, half the army dead, Zora's succession in shambles. All before the Light Spirits told me my destiny. But I'm fine. I'm great.”

“I can say with complete sincerity, Farmhand, that it doesn't help.” Legend juts his chin, then shrinks back, somber and restrained. “What you're doing. Don't salt your own wound. It mattered to you. It was real enough.”

Something about that strikes Twilight silent.

“She's not dead, Vet. She's not even hurt. She just had to leave to fulfill her duties as her people's rightful ruler. I knew that. I always knew that.”

And, strangely enough, Warriors speaks up, his voice soft. “Midna misses you, Rancher. She...” An hesitation. A chuckle. “Let's say she didn't say so in as many words, but sometimes, she'd get this look, as dusk falls.”

Wind's head snapped up at him. “Aw hell... you mean...”

“You weren't kidding,” Four muses, looking a bit embarrassed by the late realization.

And Wild hovers, looking so ready to rush forward toward his mentor. “Your scars are worse than mine.”

“There it is...” Twilight scoffs, or maybe sniffs. He's not looking at them, he seems determined to avoid all their eyes. He's staring right ahead, at the black stone that seems to weep in the settling cold of night. “There, there's my tragedy. A fucking broken heart. One... one person I wasn't allowed to keep.”

Time's heart ache. One person. So little, most would say, but his pup makes his sound like he had indeed lost his world.

“It's NOTHING compared to you all!”

The shout echoes over the winds of the desert. They don't say anything.

They can't say anything. Not when the core of Twilight's pain bristles at hints of their sympathy. Shame convinced him he isn't allowed to receive it. A witness to their woes no longer feeling adequate by his good fortune. It's all Time wanted for his successors.

Nayru, forgive me for my lack of perspective.

“Why are you all here?” Twilight hisses, rubbing at his eyes. “You don't need to hear my whining. Goddesses, I hate feeling like this. I'm fine.”

Fine, is what he repeats. It's enough to make someone hate the word.

“You're not fine,” Wild says, firm.

The answering chuckle bites. “I should be.”

And Time suddenly loses all his words, because his heart just skipped a beat. Farore be good, of all things to bequeath his eldest, it had to be this reluctance. Malon would have a field day with him.

“No one asks that you be invincible,” she speaks through him.

Twilight gives a full body flinch. Finally, he stands, stumbles as if drunk – on anger, on sadness, on self-pity – and he faces them all, red-rimmed eyes and a smile that makes them wince.

“I'm the furthest thing from that. Her last words to me were 'See you later'. See you later, as she destroyed the only way to connect our worlds together! Wolf boy, dog boy,” – they pretend not to see Legend wince – “she used to call me that, patting my head or my back. Good boy. Wolf boy.” Twilight's scoff is brittle, shattered glass. “That's what I am. That stupid dog tied to a tree that waits with a big grin for a master that's never coming back.”

His head jerks to the side with a clap.

Legend pulls back his hand, stern despite the worry. “Don't insult yourself like that, Twilight. You're a Hero, a real one, you hear me?”

The pendant around Twilight's neck suddenly pulses with pitch black light. The markings on his face darken. He straightens with some erratic, wild motion, fangs gritting as he lifts Legend with one hand.

“Then why does it still hurt so much?!”

Legend slips through shaken fingers. He does not flinch or back away.

“Why, Vet?”

“That's the life of a hero,” Legend says, not unkindly. “Lots of scars that don't really fade.”

“A hero? How can I be a hero when she thought the only way to keep our worlds safe was to break them apart? We'd just won, but she still... How can I be when even the person that led me to my quest knew better?” Emptiness reflects in Twilight's watering eyes. “I thought she trusted me.”

Time's hand goes to his sword. Every instinct in his body demands that he fights off what torments his eldest this much, that he proves that princess wrong, that he makes her explain and sooth the injury she inflicted.

“She was wrong, Twi!” Wild screams, clearly aching the same way.

Time reaches forward, and, without hesitation, brings Twilight's face into his shoulder. Runs gentle fingers through the gentle brown locks. His boy shudders, then melts. Grips him with desperate strength. It's not long for the wetness to soak into Time's clothes, and he has rarely cared so little about it before.

“I'm sorry, Pup,” he whispers. “I'm so sorry.”

It's a long time before Twilight pulls back, sniffling.

“Pops, the heck ya talkin' about? Didya punch me when I wasn't lookin'?”

Wild and Wind immediately pointed accusing fingers at him, booing.

“Shush you,” he orders, stern, before softening for his eldest. “And no, I didn't sneak a hit on you, Pup, but I wronged you all the same. Sometimes, you're so good at helping others that I forget you can need help too. I should have asked earlier.”

A hand goes to the back of Twilight's head, and his lips pull into a boyish smile. “Ah, not sure I'd have sang, Old Man. Not for something this... childish.”

“It's not childish, Twilight,” Wind says with a sad, half-grin. “If it hurts, it hurts, right?”

Hyrule jumps on the line and wrestles Twilight's hands away from him. “Sometimes, you have to care for yourself too. Even if it's silly, even if it's a little thing...” And there's the shine of green magic dancing between them. “Brighten up your day.”

“Guys, please,” Twilight begins, red flushing his cheeks.

Four slips right beside him and pokes, which was unexpected enough to get a yelp. “No, no, you said your part, Twi. It's our turn.” The smirk is impish, but subdued. “We're on your side. And we do need to apologize.”

Twilight throws his arms up in frustration. “What for? This is just my problem! Nothing that you need to be concerned with. Nothing that you did.”

“Wrong.” Time doesn't notice who says it. Mostly, because he's heard more than just one voice. (It could have been eight.)

“Because... because we let you take it all on. More than your share.” Warriors crosses his arms, huffs. “It's a leader's role to care for his men, and the soldiers to take on something for their brothers. It's how units work.”

Time ignores the pinch of guilt. The Captain hadn't meant it for him, but he'll take the advice to heart anyway. It should be fine. He can see the plans being born behind Warriors' eyes. For once, he's rather convinced that none of the younger ones will protest whatever rigid protocol Warriors' cooking.

“It's not like that,” Twilight mumbles. Weaker, less stubborn. “I love helping y'all.”

“Makes you feel useful, doesn't it?” Legend scoffs, but it is soft enough that Time can't even bring himself to chastise him.

“No. You deserve it!” he says with sudden heat, eyes clearing. “All of you. You all deserve someone willing to listen and help you. I... I just wanted to help you walk through your troubles. To help you find reasons to smile again...”

He sees it, and he wants to laugh. How fitting, that it's words like these that bring soft smiles on all their faces.

“Well, mission accomplished?” Four smirks.

“Darn it, Rancher,” Warriors grunts, giving Twilight a warning look that goes ignored.

“Can't wrestle that one away from me.”

“Oh, we shall see about that. But first,” – Warriors plops down on the sand, not a care for the time and place – “we're not leaving this unsaid. Spill already so we can smile you.”

It's absurd, but Twilight's gaze flares for a short moment with competitive spirit. Those two would never cease to amaze him in the strangest ways. Twilight kicks a little sand at the captain before letting himself lean in Time's grip.

“I hate her...” he whispers, and the shame shrouds him smaller. “Why did she do this to me? Why did she tie my heart to a promise that she never intended to fulfill? I hate her...” he whispers again, near inaudible. “And I hate that I love her still...”

“So?” Wild slides in.“You know me. You know how I feel about those people from my past.”

'They were friends with me. The whole world told me I was friends with them. Sometimes, it's like I can't escape it. Even if I don't remember what food they liked, when we met, what secrets they had besides what a few glimpses told me...'

“Remember what you told me?”

Twilight huffs, looking sullen and trapped. It takes a little sigh, and then knocking their foreheads together for him to admit. “S'fine if you don't know.”

Time nods, chasing the feeling he usually avoids. The bittersweet triumph at the cost of so many friendships. The lack of recognition meant for strangers on familiar faces.  

“It can be difficult, to share people's joy when the same reason brings us pain. You can be of two minds on the same topic, Pup. People aren't that simple.”

“I feel weak.”

“You're not weak, Twilight,” Sky said with a sad smile. “If I lost my Zelda... I'd shatter.”

“Need I explain what losing Malon would do to me, Pup?” Time adds, rueful.

“But they're... you're couples. Real couples. We were never...”

Legend smacks his shoulder. “'What if's can be more painful than a clean break,” he says, and the two of them look like mirror images, lost to their dreams for the span of a heartbeat. Then, sharper, “Don't apologize.”

Twilight's mouth clicks shut.

“We're in your corner,” Four says with a private smile. “As long as it takes to make you feel better.”

The blush returns. Time will be asking for context later, though he has an inkling. Wind shuffles to one feet, then swears and pats Twilight on the back without looking at him.

“And, you know, there's nothing shameful about crying. Or missing people. Or, you know, strange sadness.”

The pup breaths out a watery giggle, and a whimpered 'brat!' Wind smugly croons to the others, saying that was how it was done. Right until the laughter turns into a shudder, and they gather round again.

“It's okay, Twi,” Sky cooes, bringing him into the folds of his sailcloth. “Let it all out.”

The pup's fight left him. Too drained by the confession. Too raw from unbinding the wraps around his wounds. It's up to them to take care of it, and there's not one of them that hesitates. They're not in the habit of leaving suffering ignored, besides their own. Not anymore.

They promise to be better.

They have to be, for each other's sake. And they will be, Time will do everything in his power to ensure it comes to pass. Their group will come out of it reforged by their own inner fires. Their bonds unbreakable, their trust rewarded.

Thank the Goddesses for the pup.

#Linkeduniverse #Linked Universe #LU Twilight #LU Dusk #LU Time

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Previous

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

**********************

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity.  I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages.  A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’  Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.  

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy.  If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

****************

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric  orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well,  when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck  and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Just a Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Chapter 5

[not-close-to-straight]

100% Professional (Three)

MASTERLIST

*****************

"Tell me about Gwen." Wade flinched when Peter's fingers dug too sharply into his back, and Peter soothed with a quiet sound and lightened the pressure. "You mentioned her last week. Girlfriend?" 

"Wade." Peter sighed over loud. "Don't you think I would have mentioned a girlfriend at some point in the last month? Every week I come here, strip you down, oil you up--" Wade snorted a laugh and Peter grinned. "--and then we spend all week texting like our fingers are gonna fall off. What part of that sounds like I have a girlfriend?" 

"Okay, not a girlfriend then." Another flinch over a particularly sore spot. "Ouch, get away from there, Pete." 

"I will do no such thing." The brunette said blandly, gently but no less purposefully working at the knot near the base of Wade's spine. "You've got a pile of bullshit right here that makes my back hurt just thinking about it, so you'll lay here and take it like a champ. Think of America and it will all be over soon." 

"Wow, we've really just slid right past professional and straight into slightly abusive territory--OW!" Wade jumped when Peter pinched at his side, jumped and then gulped when the pinch turned into a touch that was damn near a caress as Peter settled him back down. "Um... what's up?" 

"Sorry." Peter's palm lingered for just few seconds more, then he went back to work. "I didn't really think about how it might hurt you to jump like that. Sorry." 

"You're apologizing for making me jump but not for pinching me?" 

"Talk shit, get hit." Peter said lightly and Wade laughed again. "Anyway. Gwen is definitely not my girlfriend. She has a sort of boyfriend right now anyway, and when we tried dating before, it just didn’t work out. She's got all these big plans to save the world by taking on big companies for all their environmental disregard and terrible health benefits for employees and I want to stay home and eat pizza. Obviously that’s two different goal sets.”

“Don’t mean there isn’t something there.” 

“Wade, last week she posted an article about how billionaires shouldn't exist because they only get that way by stepping on the backs of others and it was unethical to the point of demanding a guillotine.” Peter pointed out. “She got eggs thrown at her as she walked into work, so she whipped around and threw eggs right back. She had a twelve pack in her purse for such an occasion.” 

"She sounds  real pleasant." Wade grunted and Peter countered, "Gwen is wonderful. She just refuses to take shit for saying what she thinks. I wish I was half as brave." 

"I dunno, coming to random guy's apartments to give them massages seems pretty brave." Wade hissed out a breath when Peter flipped the towel up over his legs and started in at his calves. "I could be a serial killer, Pete. This could be most dangerous place in the world." 

"I know about a billion spots on your body to press at to make you scream." Peter said dryly. "I'm not worried about it. Also, threatening that you may in fact be a serial killer is like the worst flirting ever. Total boner killer." 

"I wasn't trying to flirt." Wade denied. "That would just be creepy, flirting with you while you're rubbing my naked body. Stay professional Pete, damn. Mentioning boners while I'm vulnerable seems like a quick way to get the cops called on you." 

"You're about to get pinched again." Peter threatened, but he was laughing, and Wade settled back down onto the table to just listen. 

A whole month they'd been doing this now, Peter coming all the way uptown to work on Wade. Twice weekly, shorter sessions seemed to be better for Wade so Peter had adjusted his rate accordingly and Wade had compensated by actually paying more to cover the transportation times. Peter fussed about the money via text, Wade replied with snark and sass, Peter sent a barrage of memes back, Wade rolled his eyes over and over at the nonsense... it was good. 

It was good and Wade didn't bother lying to himself about how much the massages were helping him heal, how much he enjoyed Peter's company, how his face lit up every time his phone chimed. 

And it wasn't professional-- well, the massages were professional minus a little good natured ribbing, but nothing else was. Peter was open and honest and teasing, Wade was sarcastic and probably obnoxious and when Peter had called him yesterday to talk about his day at work,  the phone call lasted for well over an hour before they said good bye. 

Peter was outright blatant in talking about how he liked Wade's body, he joked about swooning for muscles, poked fun at Wade for ogling his butt and Wade couldn't deny it. They joked about Wade being a sugar daddy every time money passed hands and Peter talked about needing to pick up more clients like Wade if this was how rich people acted and there were a million references to 'this isn't porn, I'm not that kind of a massage therapist' and it-- it--

--well, it was flirting and it was attraction despite Wade's scars and the several year age difference. It was easy and painless after so much of his life being awful and Wade didn't know the last time he'd thought about dating or even sex but holy shit, Peter made him think all sorts of things. 

It wasn't professional, but it was certainly something. 

"Turn over for me?" Peter smoothed his hands down Wade's side and patted at his hip. "Let me work at your front a little bit." 

"Um--" Wade hesitated, suddenly aware that all his thoughts about Peter had led to a rather delicate...situation. "Pete, why don’t we hold off a bit?” 

"It was alright last time, wasn't it?" Peter busied himself at his bag for a moment to give Wade a bit of privacy. "Didn't hurt too bad?" 

"Well no, but uh, seriously, lets give it a minute.” Wade’s rise and shine wasn’t exactly unimpressive but he knew damn well the first time to show it off wasn’t mid-massage. “I’m just gonna... meditate on my Grammy a little bit.” 

"I brought a weighted blanket for you." Peter held up the blanket with an almost sheepish smile. "Last night when we were texting, you mentioned how since the accident you started standing sideways, always trying to protect your front and that you didn't realize it til I asked you to turn over last appointment and it about made you panic." 

"...alright?" 

"So I brought you a weighted blanket." Peter shook out the quilt and offered it up. "I thought maybe it would feel like body armor or something, maybe it would feel like protection? And it would take care of that little bit of panic you get when you’re belly up and vulnerable.” 

“Belly up, huh?” Wade felt like he wanted to cry all the sudden, and while it was a thankfully instant boner killer, he still hated it, still hated being brought to the edge just because Peter had not only listened as he rambled, but also thought of a way to help. “So I freaked out, and you brought me a blanket? Neat.” 

His therapists had never tried a blanket. They’d been more worried about how he still had nightmares and couldn't walk past tall walls with no windows. God forbid a big truck rolled past on the street, it sent Wade into a straight panic every time and even though he’d purposefully bought the penthouse apartment so he didn’t have to hear traffic noise and random voices, the panic still crept up and lingered if he looked out the window too long.  

He hated it-- he hated it-- and now Pete had bought him a weighted blanket just to try and help and it was all a little too much.

"That's-- Pete, that's completely unnecessary." He insisted, cursing when his voice shook. "I don't need a blankie, I'm not a child. I'll roll over and it's fine." 

"I'm sure it's unnecessary and I know you're fine." Peter ignored Wade’s protest and stretched the blanket out anyway, settling it at the sides of the table. "But tell me how this is anyway." 

The blanket was heavy and warm, comfortingly weighted along every major point of Wade's body, from the tip of his toes clear to his shoulders and even the base of his neck. It felt like full body armor and when Wade breathed out it fell even heavier across his frame. 

And for the first time since the fucking explosion, Wade actually felt safe. 

"Wade?" Peter murmured. "You've been quiet for a while, is everything okay?" 

"It's--everything is--" Damn it. Wade screwed his eyes up tight and pushed his face into the table as he started shaking. "Shit." 

"Hey hey hey." Peter knelt at the front of the front of the table and reached for Wade's hands. "Wade. Too much? Should I get rid of it? I'm sorry, I was just trying to help." 

Wade pushed up onto his elbows but kept his head hanging, and Peter stood up again, stepping close until Wade's forehead was resting against his stomach. "Can you talk to me? Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine." Wade shifted his weight onto one arm and wrapped the other around Peter's waist. "Can you stay here a minute?" 

"Of course I can." Peter's heart clenched when Wade's trembling got worse. "I'm right here, right here. I'm not going anywhere." 

**********

Wade didn't know how long he lay there clutching at Peter while the kid held him tight and rubbed up and down his back, but by the time he came back to himself, the last little bit of sunlight had faded from the windows and the living room was dark. 

"...Pete?" 

"Hey, you back with me?" Peter's fingers were resting at Wade's pulse, but they slid back to tracing circles at his shoulder blades and down his back. "How are you doing?" 

"How long have I been--" 

"That doesn't matter, I was here and everything was fine." Peter interrupted. "Your muscles are locked up right now from laying like this though, so I'm going to help you sit up real slow alright? Nice and easy, slow and smooth. Gonna leave the blanket over your shoulders so there isn't any shock to your system, no sudden cold or weightlessness or anything, okay? You with me?" 

"M'with you, Pete." Wade couldn't even be embarrassed over his apparent melt down when Peter was being so patient, and with a little help, he sat up all the way and swung his feet over the side of the table, then automatically reached out for Peter again, needing the contact to ground him.

"I'm right here." Peter stepped right between Wade's legs, right up into his space and tore the top off a water bottle, pressing it into Wade's hands. "Small sips, work through it. I'm going to stay right here until you're ready for me to move." 

"Kay." Wade took little sips of water until the trembles had gone from his hands, and in between swallows he rested his forehead on Peter's shoulder, shuddering under constant, reassuring touches over the blanket. "I'm really sorry about this." 

"Sorry about what?" Peter ran careful fingers up and over Wade's bare scalp, working at his temples with light pressure. "Sorry about letting me hold you and get my hands on this smoking bod?" 

Wade laughed hoarsely. "Pete--" 

"Wade." Peter swallowed back his own tears and shook his head. "I realize we full on ballerina jumped across about a thousand professional boundaries tonight but that's fine. It's fine. I don't care. Friends who flirt, right? We can be friends who flirt and people who hold each other through this sort of thing. It's fine." 

"I uh-- I didn't expect to have a fuckin' break down cos you gave me a blanket." Wade muttered. "All the therapy I've been to and no one suggested a goddamn blanket?" 

"Did you ever tell your therapist you had a hard time sleeping on anything but your side cos you feel too exposed?" Peter pointed out calmly. "Or that you pile on clothes because you don't like feeling too naked? You had to get raging drunk just to get through being shirtless for our first appointment, Wade. It wasn't a big leap to think maybe you could use something like this." 

"But why do you even know about them?”

"I lost my Uncle Ben when I was in high school." Peter said softly. "We had a fight, I went out walking in the cold and Ben came after me. Wrong place, wrong time, and he ended up getting involved in an armed robbery and I couldn’t save him. For years after that I was cold. Just always cold. Felt like I was never going to be warm again after that night until I a weighted blanket to sleep under and I finally got better. When you told me how you didn't feel safe anymore-- I thought it would help you too." 

"Thank you." 

"It's fine." Peter budged even closer and put both arms around Wade's shoulders. "You want me to stay?" 

"Feel like I might fall apart if you leave." 

"Then I'll stay." 

********

"I didn't want to turn over cos I was thinking about you touching me and got a little... inflagrante delicto." Wade admitted some time later. "But uh, then the blanket happened and I freaked out and here we are." 

"Oh man, I was so close to getting to tap this and then went and ruined it with the blankie?" Peter teased lightly. "We'll have to revisit that later, huh?" 

"Right." Wade huffed. "Cos nothing says sexy like a man hiding beneath a blanket." 

"I dunno." Peter slid his hands beneath the blanket and back onto Wade's skin, smiling when Wade's breath got choppy all over again. "I've always wanted to do it in a blanket fort." 

"Oh my god." Wade's hands tightened at Peter's waist and they both sighed quietly. "Mr. Parker I think you're the man of my dreams. You show up and get me naked, use all sorts of slidey lotions and then announce you want to do it in a blanket fort? I've died and gone to heaven." 

Peter took a chance and pressed a feather light kiss to Wade's temple. "For the record, if you don't call me after this I will consider you a complete fuck boy and never talk to you again." 

"That's bull shit Pete, everyone calls fuck boys back, it's the nature of the game." 

"Oh fuck you and your fuck boy rules. I changed my mind, don't call me." 

“The hell I won’t.” 

*****************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER

*****************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @quietgayguy @nanita90a @justaniche 

@chiby-chan @thanossucks @i-am-worth-it-25 @dan4thefam

#ncts fics #spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson

[join-the-joywrite]

How can we not talk about family (when family's all that we got)

@jatp-week Day 5: found family

(Please be aware that there is exactly one dirty joke in here but I think it's subtle enough to pass under the radar and I'm cackling at it so it stays. And I broke a bit of canon but shh.)

For @zo2paintedlady. I know it's not the sad you were looking for but this sort of ran away from me. What I planned and what I wrote are two very different things skjxnxns but I still need to give you credit because without your post, I would very likely not have even had this idea oop

@kat-maybe-not it is done :>>

Rose was eighteen years old when she met Sunset Curve. She thought they were incredible. The music they made was magic.

Rose was eighteen when it hit her that life was short, temporary and full of risks -- and she owed that realization to Sunset Curve.

She had genuinely liked Bobby back then. They did agree on a date and she was already planning her outfit. But then the rest of his band never showed and the next thing she heard was that they were gone. Just like that.

As she sat with Bobby and did her best to console him, she vowed to never give up what she loved. Music was her life, as it was theirs, and if she would continue playing for anyone, it would be for the boys whose music sounded like magic.

It never did work out with Bobby. They just couldn't look at each other without remembering Luke, Alex and Reggie. But they stayed friends. She could do that much for him.

Bobby was actually the one who introduced her to Ray.

Rose and Ray took a while to bond. Ray couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Bobby's closest friends were gone, let alone that a girl they'd met that night couldn't seem to let them go. He thought it was strange that she was so attached to them. He'd gone to school with them and even he wasn't so affected. He understood Bobby, but Rose . . . she was puzzling.

Eventually, when he realised how much music meant to Rose, he understood why remembering Bobby's friends would be so important to her. The greatest curse to befall any musician was being forgotten.

None of them knew what was happening. One moment, Ray and Rose were helping Bobby hold unofficial concerts, showcasing Sunset Curve's music, and the next, Hollywood swallowed Bobby up whole.

As Bobby drifted from Rose, Ray floated closer. He didn't really get music the way she did, but he thought her voice was the prettiest sound in the world. She said she didn't think she could perform for people, but he always caught her humming to herself, drumming a beat on a table with her fingers, or whispering songs to herself.

Ray wasn't a musical person and he didn't quite grasp the impact it could have on someone, but he was starting to. Every moment spent with Rose, watching as her entire demeanor shifted whenever music was involved, helped him understand. Even if he never did fully understand, the sparkle in Rose's eyes or the bright smile she wore whenever she even talked about music would have reeled him in soon enough.

When Bobby resurfaced as Trevor, Ray barely batted an eyelid when Rose dropped everything for him. He understood Rose. To her, music was everything and what Hollywood had done to Trevor was despicable. He, like Ray and Rose themselves, was still a child. A child who didn't know any better and now that he did, it was too late.

Trevor talked to them about what to do next. Neither of them knew. What they did know was that Trevor was stuck and he needed friends. So they stood by him, come what may.

And in return, Trevor stuck by them, come what may.

Rose quickly learned that there were things more important than music and it was thanks to Ray that she learned it. She found that listening to Ray enthuse about cameras and photography gave her the same swarm of butterflies that playing a new song did. It took her a while to realise it, but she joined the dots eventually. Ray and music gave her the same fluttery feelings because she loved them both. And one day, she realised the butterflies for music were so much calmer than the butterflies for Ray.

Trevor thought it was hilarious that it took her so long. Trevor thought it was incredibly hilarious that Ray was still oblivious. So, obviously, Trevor set them up on a date.

Ray and Rose were the most awkward couple Trevor had ever witnessed. They were as comfortable as can be talking about what they loved but the moment it was a date, neither knew what to say. So Trevor did what any good friend would do and he dropped everything to help them ease into the idea of dating.

With time, Ray and Rose got closer than anyone had ever been. Ray always carried a camera because he thought Rose, even in her most candid moments, made any scene prettier simply by being part of the photograph. Rose had started writing her own music again, most of it just lyrical love letters to Ray. (Trevor teased them both about it; Ray by recreating every Rose photograph and Rose by horribly performing her songs about Ray for her.)

When Ray proposed to Rose, Trevor nearly physically fought Ray to help him buy the most expensive ring he could. Rose laughed when she found out and had to reassure Trevor that the ring Ray got was more than enough. Trevor sulked about it, but he brightened considerably when he was informed that, as part of his best man duties, they would let him completely plan the entire wedding.

They didn't tell him it was because neither of them knew a damn thing and both of them just wanted to escape all the drama of planning a wedding.

Nearly a month before they got married, Trevor purchased a new home for himself. Rose teased him about it being a status thing to impress his current girlfriend. Ray teased him about it being a compensation thing.

None of them said aloud that Trevor had been itching to escape his house ever since September 1995. Rose felt that being in the house kept her closer to his past as Bobby and to the boys, but Trevor couldn't even find it in himself to enter the studio without guilt eating up his insides.

Rose and Ray were stunned to discover that Trevor's wedding gift to them was the very same house. He might have hated living there, but he knew that Rose wanted nothing more. They promised to look after it and Rose specifically promised to look after the studio.

When Trevor got married, Rose performed in front of a crowd for the first time since she'd met Sunset Curve. Ray told Trevor he would handle photography free of charge but Trevor wasn't having any of it.

Nine years after they met, their daughters were born more months apart. Little Caroline Wilson and Juliana Molina were inseparable since the moment Carrie laid eyes on Julie. Even in their infancy, they'd already decided to stay by each other. Ray thought it was a hilarious echo of the relationship between Trevor and Rose, especially when, five years later, Trevor's house was always filled with the sounds of two toddlers hosting concerts, one-year-old Carlos clapping and laughing with no idea what they were doing except that it was entertaining.

They never met up at the Molina's. Rose and Ray never tried to bring Trevor back to his old house. They never wanted to bring back all that trauma and guilt when he was already looking so much better.

Much older now, Trevor talked about coming clean about his music. He was old enough to understand what that meant and he was old enough to take it in his stride. But Ray wondered what the backlash would do to Carrie. Purely out of fear for her, Trevor kept quiet. But he vowed to never let the same thing happen to her. If she chose to walk into Hollywood, he was going to make sure she did it on her own terms.

Carrie and Julie were eight when Carrie's mom left. Carrie didn't quite comprehend what was happening except that Aunt Rose came over more often and sometimes she stayed for dinner that she made and sometimes she tucked Carrie into bed and she always told Carrie that she loved her and Julie got to sleep over now and then.

Rose refused to let Trevor spiral without Carrie's mom. Most days she was gentle. Some days she was firm. She wouldn't let Carrie lose another parent and she wasn't about to lose a brother.

Carrie and Julie got a lot closer after that.

When Rose got sick, Carrie and Julie were old enough to understand what was going on. Julie started visiting Carrie less often. Carrie started visiting Julie. Trevor still couldn't find it in himself to go back to the house he left. Rose never blamed him. He was only seventeen when he lost his band, his friends, his family. To go back now would open floodgates that Trevor had worked to seal up.

But Trevor didn't give up on Rose. He brought her the best doctors money could buy and he took care of Julie and Carlos so Ray could be by his wife no matter the time. On the days when Carrie visited them, Trevor would send whatever he thought they might need. He heard Rose's sister, Victoria, had moved closer to help out too. It made him feel a bit better, knowing Rose had more people in her life that cared than a coward who couldn't face his past.

When Rose died last year, Ray and Trevor fell apart. Both believed that Rose was all that held them together. Now, all that kept them in minimal contact was the passed greetings via a visiting Carrie.

But eventually, Carrie stopped visiting. Julie withdrew within herself and Carrie struggled to break through for months. It was when Julie fully gave up music, the one thing Rose always told them to cherish, that Carrie snapped. Trusting that Julie would have Flynn, Carrie left. To her, nothing was more important than music. Rose made sure she knew that.

But it's true that you never turn your back on the family you built for yourself. Rose had built her family up one person at a time and she wasn't going to let her absence allow it to fall apart. She was going to fight and she was going to make her family fight to stay together.

So one morning, when the fall winds tried to turn him away, Trevor Wilson marched on and rang the doorbell. What was he going to say? He hadn't planned further than driving to his old house -- mostly because he thought he'd chicken out before he got there.

Rose had redecorated beautifully. He barely recognized the front of the house. He had no idea what he was doing.

So when Ray opened the door, the first thing Trevor did was blurt out something that had been sitting on his mind since he saw the video on Carrie's laptop. "The boys in her band. They're-- they're. . ."

"I figured."

The two of them stood awkwardly for a moment.

"I was just packing lunch leftovers away. I could take some out if you want to sit?"

"I. . ." Trevor hesitated. He didn't really want to go inside. He hadn't been in there since he left the house in Rose's hands.

"Or," Ray said slowly, "you could visit Julie in the studio. I think she has some friends lurking around who'd wanna hear the truth."

"But Carrie is with her now and--"

"And Carrie deserves the truth too. She's old enough." Ray held Trevor's gaze. "Rose would've said the same thing. You know that."

It was the mention of Rose that weakened Trevor's resolve and he mutely followed Ray down to the studio.

"This is ridiculous!" Carrie cried from inside. "I can't believe your dad doesn't know about this. Either you need a shrink or I need a shrink. Whichever it is, I'm telling your dad."

Flynn and Julie's protests overlapped while a soft giggle came from Carlos as Ray pushed the door open. "Julie?"

Carrie, in all her concern for Julie's mental health, bounced right back to where she'd been a little less than a year ago. "Julie's lost her mind, Uncle Ray! Wait . . . what are you doing here, dad?"

Trevor, who was looking around at the studio, jumped slightly.

"Yeah," Luke said, leaning towards Julie, "ask him what he's doing here, Jules."

Ray leaned against the door that was still closed. "Bobby has something to say. To all of you."

While Carrie's face scrunched up and Flynn slightly frowned in confusion, Carlos waited patiently and the boys fell silent, the gears in Julie's head slowly ticked until they fell into place. "You already knew. . ."

Ray folded his arms and glanced at Trevor, nodding his head towards the kids in the garage. In stark contrast to Ray's casual stance and easy air about him, Trevor had never been more tense in his life -- well, aside from the two days where he lost his brothers and then his sister.

And once Bobby started, he couldn't stop. The words spilled out of him like a broken damn whose water gushed forward with no way of stopping anytime soon. He cried a few times. They cried too.

And as he watched Julie and Carrie crawl up to the seated Bobby and envelope him in a tight hug, Ray thought he could see Rose sitting behind the piano, smiling at them all. And then, Julie said she had something to show -- someone. With the boys in front of him, Bobby broke down again. Had she not been sitting with the boys to keep them visible, Julie wouldn't have hesitated to fall into Uncle Bobby's lap and wipe his tears the way she did when she and Carrie were little.

Ray sat down beside his brother and just like that, Rose's family was whole again.

They say you can't choose your family, but Rose had chosen to love these people and even in her absence, she was still what strung them all together and kept them like that. They were her family, and she would make sure they stayed together until she could bring them home, to her. But until then, all they had was each other and honestly, that's all any of them ever needed.

Mara's masterlist

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #ray molina #rose molina #jatpweek #day 5