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#That would just have this vague fuzzy feeling around a more masculine more hard and strong and aggressive - this ''preconceived notion''

selinakidreams · 3 years

Text

pairing: merman! dabi x gn reader

warnings: nameless character deaths, a singular mention of nausea + throwing up, unfortunately a lot of blood mentions, near death experiences, SHARK! THERES A SHARK IN THE WATER ! (I SWEAR this is supposed to be pretty but the warnings make it seem otherwise) slight soulmate au?, dabi had a SINGULAR moment of softness.

a/n: guys I don’t even know what this is and it’s unedited,, but welcome to my contribution to mermay ! I had two scenes plain as day STUCK in my head and I just needed to get them out,,, honestly this was just supposed to be a short lil thing but I’m invested,, so here this is

ps, though this may not be edited... I would like to thank all my monster fucking moots who helped me to piece together the perfect mer version of dabi— I love you guys so so so much.

looking out into the darkness of the night, unable to locate the horizon from your position at the edge of the ship- you lift your gaze to the sky with a small sigh.

an unimaginable amount of stars litter the atmosphere, the clear view above could never be tiresome.

the city was no place for you; too crowded, full of men who were trying to court you for your fathers money and your beauty, not enough adventure. the ocean offered a type of freedom land could never- granted, the ship wasn’t much different from the bustling towns in the sense that all the soldiers would eye you like you’re a slab of meat.

the only difference given at sea is that you’re able to put those undesirable fuckers in their place. given your ranking, your power obsessed father wasn’t completely useless.

escaping to the empty deck had been your big feat today; everyone below was gulping down wine by the barrel when you managed to slip out. it was much colder out here, the chill of the salty wind was refreshing, sobering you up quite a bit- but still mentally fuzzy enough to tempt yourself into discarding edict and loosening up your tighter garments.

your drunken attention span shifted from fiddling with your bow in the back to the inky deep water...

what was that?

ripples were quietly dancing on the surface, the warm light reflections coming from the ship’s sconces moved along with them.

it had been really fast, so fast that you were almost left to wonder if you had actually imagined the most vibrant blue eyes you had ever seen... bobbing in the ocean.

two days. it had been two days since you had first “spotted” them and absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. the sailors still went about uglily gawking at you, your captain of a father was still behind the wheel, barking orders at everyone, while you went about your business. Sighing, the image of the eyes still fresh in your mind, you prepared to be lowered into the shallower sea.

upon hearing that there was a small island not too far from your current coordinates, you commanded a stop be made, needing to take some time away from the close knit quarters you constantly share with those horrific pigs. thankfully, no arguments surfaced and you headed straight for the dinghy. it had been surprisingly easy.

the trip wasn’t too long; you patiently waited for the tip of the boat to breach the soft sand, excited for what awaited you. it was such a lovely sunny day, big puffy white clouds dotted the expansive blue sky while the palm trees at the base of the beach greeted you with a steady sway.

once your boots sunk into the wet sand, you turned to the two other men who had escorted you and informed them that you were not to be followed- but to wait right there- which in retrospect, was not a good idea. that was too much trust and responsibility that was placed in their incapable hands.

you wasted no time trudging through the lush greenery to get to the other side of the island, wanting to be as far away from the crew members as possible.

it couldn’t have taken you more than two hours for you to reach an elaborate array of tide pools sporadically placed on a flat uneven rocky surface, some being lapped over by waves while others sat calmly- living in their own little world.

you had to look in each and every one of them.

wide eyes and mouth open, looking at all the lives in the crystal clear pools was an absolute marvel. some only held a few small sea anemones of different colors while others not only held the soft flowery plant but also housed fighting crabs of all sizes, large chunky starfish, and even a fish or two!

you took careful steps towards the end of the rocks, towards the ones where the waves were constantly restocking the pools with new life, your heart flipping in your chest at the colors of the crashing waves.

peering down into one of the deeper ones, you found it hard to take your sights away from the glistening sun streaks that cut through the water; a small gateway to the open ocean was at the bottom of this pool. it’s like you were hypnotized. making yourself comfortable, you laid yourself down next to the glistening water and began to break the calm surface with your finger tips, eyes trained on the tiny ripples.

“they left you, you know.”

you felt so at ease with the sound of the waves crashing around you, you almost didn’t hear it. it wasn’t until the nagging feeling that you weren’t alone hugged you in all the wrong places, that you looked up... only to be met with nothing.

scrunching your brow, the tranquility you were feeling before suddenly slipping through your fingers. you sat up, but not before you held a lingering glance at the glowing water once more. that’s an image that will stay in your mind; you almost wish you had your sketch book.

your mind went blank when you saw something block the light as it swam by... something big. the next few minutes happened in a blur. after scrambling up to get away from the pool, a huge body washed up on a nearby rock plateau and by no means was it graceful. your heart dropped to your stomach as you watched the lifeless body get smacked with harsh waves.

he was wearing your ship’s uniform, now drenched in blood.

nothing came up when you fell on your knees and lurched over, your eyes squeezing shut- the gruesome image of the crew member engrained in your mind.

“they got what they deserved.”

this time when you whipped your head up to follow the velvet voice, you fell into an almost trance. those breathtaking turquoise eyes you had seen a few days ago were now staring right at you, not too far away.

you couldn’t help the gasp that you inhaled as you fell back. looking at him in his entirety- you must have been hallucinating. growing up hearing the tales of deep sea monsters and nasty magical land creatures could never have prepared you for what laid in front of you.

it was such a drastic change; going from looking at something so appalling to something so... flawless... it was indescribable.

on display, your eyes followed the curled figure- wet white hair flopped against a pale forehead, the tips of his pointed finned-ears peaking out from the wet hair. there were deep dark purple markings starting underneath his eyes, slightly mimicking bags that then restarted at the bottom half of his face- all the way down his neck, ending at just the top of his chest. the markings then continued down his arms, right up to his knuckles contrasting the pale thin slightly webbed fingers that merged to sharp claws, gleaming in the sun. his toned chest eased into a pearly type of color around his hips before submerging into a black ragged tail- but it did the strangest thing. when the sun reflected off of it, a blue so royal- that you’ve only seen it on the most expensive of garments- came to life. the dorsal fin looked just as rugged as the tail did, but his odyssey fluke was splayed out so beautifully, you didn’t give it a second thought.

it wasn’t until you took a second glance that you noticed there was a red tint to his claws that you put into context what was said earlier.

“did you- di- you killed that man?”

his voice came out as smooth as silk, “I did.”

how could you be so dense? this was a creature that came from the sea- a ruthless underwater world. he was a predator. but wait-

“you can speak- you s-said.. did you kill them for me? are you going to-?”

“I killed those men because of all humans, the ones who betray others for their own greed serve no purpose.”

he didn’t tell you more than necessary in his opinion, but he was smart enough and old enough to know that you’re still going to ask more.

it seemed you were sitting on quite the pile of questions but he wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. it was clear that you were mulling over what should be said first.

“was it you I saw at sea the other night?”

out of all the things you could ask, that was the only thing your mind had on repeat- the only thought present.

“and if it was?”

after receiving two similar vague reactions, something in you was screaming for something to happen. the interaction seemed to be going nowhere and here you were, in front of a creature that you’ve heard so much about but never actually met- a drastic change in interaction was calling, and who were you to ignore it?

in hindsight, it was a terrible idea.

one minute you were on land, next you were shedding your heavy, restrictive clothing- the mer watching with a slight smirk and a heavy gaze- then seconds later, were in the violent push and pull of the ocean. luckily you were far enough to be out of the rocky reach, but the current was too strong. you were being swayed back and forth with too much force.

if it had been your first time in the ocean, you would have been a goner- you would have washed right into the sharp jagged edges; a terribly painful way to go. but thankfully, flowing with the ocean had been your specialty since you were young. incredibly masculine and dirty, but you simply couldn’t stay away. the watery depths have lured you in and there was no escaping the spell it had casted on you all those years ago.

maybe that’s why you dove in. or maybe you wanted to see what the mer would do. whatever the case, there you were in the lull of the tide and running out of air. breaching the surface was your main goal, urging your arms and legs to snap out of the shock of the cold water.

eyes on the bubbles traveling upwards, you finally get your arms to push through the current almost missing the dark shadow swimming closer and closer to you, getting larger and larger.

a quick sideways glance in the clear water showed something large with many many rows of teeth out on display, heading toward you and gaining momentum.

a shark.

a... shark.

of all the ways you possibly thought you could go... this was not one of them. it’s almost ironic- the one way you thought you wouldn’t go would end up getting you.

breaking the surface, you gulp your last breath of air- painfully waiting for the horrifying moment when powerful jaws clamp around your body... but it never came. all you felt was a strong current zip past your feet, slightly pulling you along with it.

you’re heart was pounding; adrenaline coursing through your veins, breathing choppy as you whip your head in every which way to see what was going on in the water beneath you. then you saw it.

blood.

just then, the gory image of the crewmate’s body flashed into your mind. there had been another sailor... the mermaid didn’t pull up two bodies- he wasn’t the only predator in the water.

before you could evaluate further, you were pulled by the ankle under the water and into a place where the blood hadn’t seeped yet.

not enough air was sucked in before you submerged, so you frantically searched for ways you could reach the surface again- not even thinking about the now-absent steady grip that dragged you under.

then you felt it. pointed claws lightly tracing up your sides before his handsome face was leveled with yours. if seeing him on land wasn’t good enough, seeing him in his element was nearly heart stopping.

but your lungs were going to collapse before your heart could-

or so you thought.

he flattened his palm around your waist, cupping it gently before he inched his face toward yours, lips slightly ghosting yours, as if asking for permission.

with his toned body pressed against yours, it was hard to think straight, but the most prominent siren going off in your mind was the fact that you were loosing oxygen, and quickly. you found yourself panicking in his grip. was this really the time?

his lips were on yours in less than a second, your struggling becoming more and more apparent- but it was when he got your mouth to open that you realized what he was doing.

A mermaid’s kiss gives you the eternal breath; the ability to breathe under water.

pulling away, he watched as your eyes went wide, the small smirk you’d seen before had appeared once more.

the sensation was otherworldly; though there was a heavy pressure in your chest as the water was filtering in and out of your system, you were breathing underwater.

slowed down by the new density, you lifted your head to look up at the mer- no doubt the most excited and bewildered expression on your face, just to realize the size difference. he was huge- how had you not noticed this on land?

the more human half of his body had to be around the six foot range, his muscular tail roughly adding another ten. the massive figure floating around you was... beautiful.

he had the softest gaze when looking down at you, it nearly shocked you more that the new incredible ability had. he didn’t seem like the type to be full of expressions; it was such a warm and familiar look, something that you hadn’t seen in a long time- and one you typically didn’t see on a stranger’s face, much less a merman you had only just met.

opening your mouth to say something-if you could, that is- his expression changed in a blink, fear now contorted his features.

everything was so fast with him; his arm wrapped around your waist in mere seconds before speedily guiding you through a passage of underwater tunnels that lead to somewhere you assumed to be in the middle of the island- a lush green grotto.

once you resurfaced, you inhaled a breath you didn’t realize you needed; the new air burned your lungs- you almost didn’t want to breathe.

“just keep breathing. it will get easier over time.”

he almost sounded... bored? a complete one 180 to what you had just witnessed in the water.

the mer guided you up to the pool’s edge, lifting you with ease until you sat with only your legs dangling in the water.

outwardly, it stayed quiet for a while. there wasn’t much noise around besides the occasional bird call and the delicate sound of waded water.

your breathing had slightly evened out but you weren’t too confident in your voice, so keeping your mouth shut seemed like the best option.

what now?

tag list: @zhongh-li

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ckret2 · 3 years

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skelien scene 2

Does your executive ever dysfunction so hard that you casually start a novel

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The skeleton wasn't sure how much time had passed between collapsing into the hammock to get lost in a trivial stream of data, and the sound of someone quietly picking the deadbolt lock. Rolling over to swing its gaze from the blank wall to the nearest window rocked the hammock so violently it almost fell out. Still dark. Or dark again. Hard to tell. Head too fuzzy to find a clock to check.

It reached down to grab up a mask off the floor as it called to the would-be intruder at the door, "It's unlocked."

The quiet scratching stopped. The door didn't open.

Fuck's sake. It rolled out of the hammock gracelessly, tripped over a box of old spelunking gear, and managed to stumble to a vertical position as it clattered toward the door. "I said it's unlocked. That's an implicit invitation, see, it means I want you to come in. Why are you less likely to come in when I actually want you to? Is it only satisfying if you know you're not wanted, is that it?"

The skeleton opened the door. The hall was empty.

"Come on," it griped loudly, unconcerned about how many neighbors it was about to annoy. "What are you here for? Were you here to rob me? Rough me up for somebody I hit? You can come back! I'm fine with that! I've got too much shit anyway! Talk to me about your business model, I'm behind the times on the burglary industry! Seriously"—there was an edge of desperation to its voice—"you've got no idea what a favor you'd be doing me. I'm about to starve to death from boredom. I'm not even offended. Come back?"

The hall was silent.

It considered fighting through its mental haze to try to hunt down the almost-intruder—bolt for the fireproof stairwell and jump the railings to race them down to the first floor—but no, it decided tiredly, there were too many ways it could miss the intruder—what if they went up to the roof, what if they lived in the complex and had gone home, what if it was waiting in the lobby while they were already out on the streets or what if they made it down to the lobby slowly while it was already out on the streets searching—and wandering the over-familiar streets in a fever of boredom didn't seem likely to do anything to clear the haze from their mind or chase the itch from their marrow. It might as well stay here where it was comfortable.

It groaned, let its joints go loose, and collapsed backward on the floor. It lifted one foot to press its calcaneus against the edge of the door and shove it closed.

A shadow moved behind it.

It rolled over with a clatter, grabbed the first object its phalanges brushed—a set of binoculars—and hopped to its feet with the binoculars raised in preparation to use them as an impromptu bludgeoning weapon. Under its breath, it muttered, "Thank fuck."

The figure was silhouetted black in the window, their edges smooth and formless—wearing some kind of robe. Their round goggles reflected all the tiny electronic lights in the room, looking like glittering bug eyes or a multicolored starry sky. It could think of several religious orders that called for robes like that, but no groups with a reputation for sneaking into people's apartments, and none that also mandated goggles like that. Not a uniform, then, but some individual's idea of a stealthy outfit. This could be anybody, sent by anybody.

"Are you here to kill me or hire me?" it asked.

The vague shape didn't move or answer.

"Great. A job." Without turning away, it leaned back to click the deadbolt on its door shut. "Let's lay out some ground rules here. First, I don't intimidate easy. I'm nearly as old as god, I've seen it all, I've done it all, and no matter how mysterious you get, I'm not going to forget that you're either just another person with a home life and interior thoughts or else you're a clever machine built by one. Pull the whole silent-and-inscrutable routine, and I have two emotional reactions: curious or bored. I spend more time than you could possibly imagine bored, so if you keep this up long enough that I run out of curiosity, I kick you out of my window, and you're the one who's going to have to recover from a bad first impression if you still want to hire me. We clear?"

The vague shape remained silent.

"Terrific." It hung its binoculars' strap around its neck and started circling around the shape, half heartedly attempting to clean the room to give its guest an easier walking path and perhaps somewhere to sit. The clutter of hobbies past shifted like sand dunes, opening a vague trail toward a desk whose chair was piled high with calligraphy materials. "Second: if you want me to shut up, give me a reason to. Threats don't count. Either give me something more interesting to do than talk or something more interesting than myself to listen to. It's easier than it sounds. You could start by talking." It looked around for somewhere to set its pile of nice paper and pen boxes, used an elbow to shove a toolkit on the edge of the desk closer to the center, and plopped the papers down where the toolkit had been. "Three—this isn't a rule, but I'm going to forget it if I don't say it now—" It plopped down in the desk chair and fixed its guest with a keen look. "I'm very interested in that little trick you pulled—getting past me without me seeing. How did you pull that off?" It realized it had taken the seat it had been clearing off for its guest, hopped up, and gestured invitingly to it. "Some kind of invisibility tech? An accomplice at the door to distract me while you sneak in the window? Are you a little drone in a big cloak that shuffled across the floor like a pile of moving laundry while I was looking down the hall?"

The shape didn't answer; but after a moment, they swept across the floor to claim the empty seat. They cut a smooth path across the cluttered floor, no lurching or zigzagging to dodge the many items underfoot; and the skeleton didn't feel the air stir as they passed.

"A drone," it concluded. "Not wearing laundry, though. A hologram projector?" Guessing, it added, "Shoved in through the keyhole?"

"Clever." The shape's voice emanated from behind its goggles and was slightly tinny, as if coming through a cheap earbud, and sounded just on the masculine side of androgyny. "It's not what we need you for, though."

"That's what you think." The skeleton danced through its clutter like navigating an obstacle course, tripped again over the spelunking supplies, and heaved itself into its hammock. "But go on, you've got my attention. Undivided, even. What's the job, Mr. Googly Eyes?" It tilted its head. "Mister? Miss? Other?"

"Mister is fine," Googly Eyes said. "We believe we've identified a grave threat to our nation's government. We think you're well-qualified to deal with it."

"You sound like a conspiracy nut. That's not a dealbreaker, conspiracy nuts are fun, but I thought you should know," the skeleton said. "You say 'we've identified,' who's 'we'?"

"The government."

"You sound a little less like a conspiracy nut. Can you prove it?"

"Through a hologram messenger in the middle of the night? No."

"Fair. What kind of threat to the government?"

"I can't discuss the details—"

"No no, just a broad overview," the skeleton said. "Just this much: religious or secular?"

Googly Eyes was silent, head turning to the side as if glancing back over his shoulder at the wall. The skeleton could imagine him covering his microphone as he whispered a hasty question to some supervisor.

But after a moment he faced the skeleton again. "Secular."

"All right. I'm in."

Sounding faintly amused, he said, "Only knowing that much?"

"You know how easily bored I get, don't you?"

"It's mentioned in your file, yes."

"Does it mention the kind of things I do when I'm very bored?"

Googly Eyes stayed silent.

The skeleton leaned forward, so far it threatened to tumble out of its hammock. "Right now, I am very bored," it said. "I'm in."

#writing #my writing #skelien #(I'm trying to finish a commission but got hit by several Inconveniences that are taking JUST enough mental energy so I can't focus on it)#(instead I CAN focus on... 1500 words of something completely unrelated)#(anyway I've been meaning to do something with this idea for Ages so might as well kick this out into the wild to see what y'all think)

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gerrystamour · 3 years

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the bittersweet between my teeth, Chapter 6

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

Some Important Notes:

I choose to believe that anything is possible in the future and that includes ridiculously quick turnaround times after near-death and also Getting Sexy New Teef bc I personally find it really hot.

The smut is only available on AO3! Link is in my pinned post! There is nothing in the smutty parts that is plot heavy, so you aren’t “missing” anything that isn’t covered in the PG-13 parts.

Nureyev is a gender euphoric trans man, as in he does not experience any dysphoria, and has not hat top-surgery, and he does not wear a binder. I use a mix of typically masculine and feminine terminology for his anatomy, particularly his genitalia, as I do for my own body as a transmasc individual.

Nureyev is never depicted with dysphoria in my fics, or having discomfort with his body because describing such a thing with a character I deeply identify with will trigger discomfort in my own body, etc.

Chapter Six [Previous Chapter][First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev woke up slowly, his entire body feeling heavy and fatigued with a dull pain in his back and across his stomach, along with lesser pains all over his body. He swallowed and grimaced at the sensation of bandages across his throat.

The memories of the heist were slow to return to him. He could remember the sewers before entering, remembered getting to the vault and collecting the weapons. Then Nureyev remembered the Piranha, Juno coming to rescue him and the slice of pain as the knife plunged between his ribs. He remembered only flashes of their desperate escape, mostly just perfect, stupid, noble Juno refusing to leave him behind, even after discovering the wound.

Straining a bit, he could remember the sewers, laying on the ground while Juno was on his comms, panicked and pleading. The memory of Juno’s outrage at the thought of Nureyev—a thief, a murderer, a nameless criminal, a wanted terrorist—dying in a gutter like he deserved, his conviction that he wouldn’t…

“I love you, Nureyev.”

Jolting at the memory, Nureyev found himself properly awake and looking around for his beautiful detective.

Dread settled in his gut as Nureyev noticed multiple things at once. First, Juno was not anywhere to be seen. Second, he was in a hospital room, which did not bode well. Third, he had no glasses, which made it difficult to get an accurate impression on his situation.

The room he was in appeared to be either rundown or unfinished. The bed he was on felt new, however, so he was inclined to assume the latter. Swallowing thickly, he realized just how dry his throat was and looked around again.

He startled when he realized that someone had actually been sitting beside him, and Nureyev wondered how strong of painkillers he was on were. At first, with how groggy he felt and how fuzzy his vision was, he thought it was Juno, but quickly realized it was Benten.

Benten was reading a book but looked up as Nureyev moved around. He snorted a bit before standing to hand Nureyev a pair of glasses.

“Juno grabbed those for you from your hotel room,” he explained as Nureyev put the glasses on, adding, “He paid for a reservation extension, by the way.”

Nureyev attempted to thank Benten, but only a croak came out. When Benten handed him a water bottle and a straw, he nodded gratefully and took long sips. With his throat soothed a bit, Nureyev tried again and asked, “Where’s Juno?”

Benten stared at him, his expression stony before he sucked his teeth and said, “Taking care of whatever you idiots stole.”

“Ah, right,” Nureyev said with a nod, leaning back and trying not to feel disappointed. That was the smart thing to do, and Nureyev knew it. But waking up, remembering the panicked confessions, and not seeing the lady himself… “That’s good, then.”

“Don’t be too upset, Rex. He was here day and night until you were given the all-clear,” Benten said blandly at Nureyev’s sulking. “It would have been romantic, but he’s my brother, so it’s gross.”

“I’m sure,” Nureyev said with a laugh, looking around again now that he could see. Sure enough, the room he was in was unfinished, with most of the equipment missing and wires hanging from where there would someday be cameras.

“Okay, you know what? No,” Benten burst out, startling Nureyev out of his thoughts abruptly. When Nureyev looked back at him, Benten was glaring at him. “It wouldn’t’ve been romantic, because what you two did was stupid , and reckless , and so far beyond selfish, even I am disgusted with it.”

“Pardon?” Nureyev questioned, bewildered. “We were stopping—”

“Yeah, yeah, you were saving the world, whatever ,” Benten snapped, and it was at that moment that Nureyev realized there were tears in his eyes. “I’m just a little sick of hauling my brother out of gutters, covered in blood. And worse, you two and Rita hid it from me!”

“Benzaiten,” Nureyev started, but he quickly closed his mouth when he realized that nothing he could have said would be helpful.

“Like, fuck,” Benten said with a heavy sigh as he slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “When Juno told us to open without him, and Rita was jumpy all day and then you didn’t show, my first thought was you two dumb saps eloped—”

Nureyev actually choked a bit, blushing deeply. “I didnʼt— We wouldnʼt—”

“—That was literally my worst-case scenario, you know that, Rex? Then Juno’s call happened, and then…” Benten trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Nureyev in the bed before he pouted at the wall next to him.

“Benzaiten, I’m— There’s nothing I can say that can make up for what we did, but I am sorry,” Nureyev said slowly, carefully, and he barely refrained from flinching when Benten looked at him sharply out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Benten said sternly, heaving a huge sigh. “Still mad as hell, though.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said with a nod before asking, “So, what happened after I passed out?”

Benten shrugged before saying, “Rita and I closed the cafe early, raced over, you were… bad , and Juno was…”

When he trailed off again, Nureyev remembered the hysterical edge to Juno’s voice just before he faded completely, and nodded.

“I called Mick, since he’s a security guard here, and he pulled some strings to get you up here,” Benten continued after a moment. “No cameras, and no records at all. Juno threw a ton of creds at the doctors and nurses. Rita’s checking constantly to make sure they keep their end of the deal.”

“Thank you,” Nureyev said after a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“It was Rita’s idea, mostly,” Benten said with a shrug of his shoulders and an eye-roll. “She heard you say ‘no hospitals’ like one of those ridiculous characters from her cheesiest streams and hatched the whole idea.”

Nureyev smiled at that and leaned back against the pillows. “Still, thank you, Benzaiten.”

“Whatever, Rex,” he replied with another eye-roll.

Nureyev actually chuckled, feeling exhaustion coming over him again. “Careful, Benzaiten. You’re almost being nice to me.”

“I’m contractually required to do anything my brother asks for twenty-four hours if he cries,” Benten said flatly. “He asked me to wait with you and ‘be nice’ when you woke up.”

Nureyev laughed out loud, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Licking his chapped lips, he flinched when he found the gap where his teeth used to be. He pressed his tongue into the hole, and made a face, resolving to fix that as quickly as possible.

“Plus, I mean,” Benten began with an explosive sigh. “I can’t really listen to my brother sob about how much he loves a guy while he’s bleeding out in a gutter and then get right back to bullying him when he wakes up. I have some morals or whatever. Yelling at you for being stupid does not count as bullying, though.”

Nureyev froze, eyes flashing open to look at Benten sharply. “How much… did you overhear?”

“Some of it. Enough of it, I guess,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug. “Juno already tore into me about your name, by the way. I get it, my lips are sealed, I’m leaving it alone. You’re ‘Rex’ until you tell me otherwise, okay?”

“Sounds agreeable,” Nureyev said tensely, but he forced himself to relax. This was Benzaiten Steel, the love of his life’s twin brother, with whom Juno shared nearly everything. If there was another person in the galaxy Nureyev would have eventually told, it likely would have been him.

“Just don’t be too hard on him about it,” Benten said quickly. “He’s been working himself into at least three ulcers over it.”

Nureyev merely nodded before he closed his eyes again and laid back. He would think about it more later when he had the opportunity to do so alone.

Benten made an unimpressed noise. “You have to choose your meals, Rex. It’s the paper on your tray.”

Nureyev sighed and shook his head. Exhaustion was dragging on his limbs and he couldn’t be bothered to choose what awful hospital food he would have forced on him.

“Fine, go to sleep. Gonna set you up with a liquid diet,” Benten said sourly. “Nothing but smoothies and broth.”

Nureyev laughed a bit before allowing himself to drop off back to sleep.

It was the next day when Juno returned.

Nureyev was picking at his meal, having eaten everything remotely palatable while Mick sat with him, shuffling a deck of cards. They had played a few rounds of various games up until someone delivered him his meal.

He could hear Juno’s heavy boots in the hall and looked over at the door moments before the detective walked in. Seeing him again, after everything they’d gone through, took the breath right out of Nureyev’s lungs.

Juno’s clothes were dusty and rumpled in a way that made Nureyev think heʼd slept in them, and he had more than a little bit of stubble on his jaw. Nureyev remembered that Juno loved him, and a thousand butterflies took wing in his stomach. He wanted to leap out of the bed and embrace Juno, shower him with romantic verse and tell him over and over and over again that he loved him, too.

But when Juno’s eye met his, he froze in the doorway, his expression open and easy to read for only the briefest of moments. It showed relief first, and then fear before it was closed, like shutters being pulled to keep Nureyev out.

That was concerning, but he wasn’t about to jump to any conclusions.

Mick looked over and grinned, his big goofy one that was usually contagious. “Hey, JayJay! Welcome back!”

“Hey, Mick,” Juno greeted, biting the inside of his cheek but not entering the room any further. “How’s everything?”

“Everything’s great!” Mick replied, turning to scoop up his cards and put them away in their box. “Especially now that you’re back, everything’s perfect!”

“Where are you going?” Juno asked, a look of panic overcoming his expression when his big friend stood and walked toward the door.

“I mean, I was going back to work? I do actually have a job here, you know,” he replied with a full laugh, looking between Juno and Nureyev with a suggestive look. “That, and I figure you two lovebirds would like the chance to catch up.”

Before either of them could say anything, Mick was already out the door, only pausing to clap a heavy hand on Juno’s shoulder as he passed. Once the door shut behind him with a loud clap, silence fell over the room.

After a minute or two with nothing said between them, Nureyev motioned to what was left of his food. “Hungry? I’m not eating the rest of this,” he said, sneering at the remainder of his meal.

Eying what Nureyev had left on his tray, Juno snorted. “Too good for jello and applesauce, Rex?”

“Yes,” Nureyev replied flatly.

With a chuckle, Juno picked up the applesauce pouch and opened it, eating the stuff slowly while Nureyev watched him. The detective was obviously thinking about something, and it wasn’t sitting very well on his mind either. Nureyev just wasn’t quite sure how to bring the topic up in a way that would be productive with his detective.

“Juno, darling—”

“I have to check on the cafe. It's been closed for a couple days,” Juno said suddenly, furrowing his brow down at the pouch of applesauce. “Gotta make sure it’s still in one piece.”

“I—” Nureyev started, his mouth twisting with hurt but he didn’t know what to say. Despite saying he should go, however, Juno hadn’t made any move to leave which gave Nureyev some hope. “O-of course, I understand. Could we talk before you leave, dear?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Juno asked, still pointedly looking at the pouch in his hands, and Nureyev’s frown deepened.

“Well, we can start with something small. How did disposing of the weapons go?” Nureyev asked, working hard to keep his voice steady.

“Went fine, your friend isn’t very talkative,” Juno replied, still not looking at him. “Feel like he kinda overcharged for his services, but hey, I’m not about to argue with someone twice my size. Plus, seemed kind of fitting to use Pereyra’s hush-money.”

“Of course,” Nureyev said, and the sigh escaped him before he could stop it, and he asked, “Have I done something wrong, Juno?”

“What?” Juno asked, finally meeting Nureyev’s gaze with an alarmed look.

“I mean, of course, I’m struggling to think of anything I could’ve done, given that I’ve been unconscious—”

“Rex, why the hell would you think you’ve done anything wrong?” Juno interrupted and Nureyev laughed at the question.

“You have barely looked at me since you returned and were planning to leave the moment you saw I was conscious,” Nureyev listed back at him, raising an eyebrow, trying to calm the rising panic in his gut. “So, either I’ve done something, or… I don’t know, Juno. I don’t know what else all of that could mean.”

“No, Rex, that’s not—” Juno abruptly cut himself off, and just like that, the wall came crumbling down. “I’m—I fucked up, so much, and didn’t listen to anything you said. I know you said no hospitals—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know it was really selfish of me to risk your identity—”

“My love, please—”

“—But I couldn’t just let it happen like that. And then Benten reminded me about Mick—”

“Juno—”

“—and I know Benten overheard your name, I fucked up, forgetting the comms—”

“Juno! Please,” Nureyev finally managed to get in, and Juno shut his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. Nureyev swivelled his tray out of the way and looked at Juno. “Yes, I said I couldn’t go to the hospital, but you seem to have sufficiently worked around the issues I have with them. As for your other point, yes it was not ideal, someone else learning my name, but I’m not— you didn’t do anything wrong. It can’t be taken back now, regardless.”

“But Rex—”

“I’ve talked to Benzaiten about it already. Now answer this for me: would I have survived if you had not brought me here?” Nureyev interrupted curtly, and he could feel himself shaking as he waited for Juno’s answer.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, and his eye went glassy and wet with emotion. “No,” he replied, his voice something quiet and delicate.

“Then I’m grateful you ignored my wishes, Juno,” Nureyev said with a smile, holding his hand out to reach for Juno. “Now, please, can you just come here and lay with me?”

Juno was quick with tossing the empty pouch of applesauce in the trash and removing his boots before climbing onto the bed next to Nureyev. Juno only paused in laying down to give him a kiss, deepening it with a keening whine and a swipe of his tongue, straddling his lap carefully. The rasp of Juno’s stubble against Nureyev’s face was novel and exquisite, and he almost pulled the detective in for even more.

Then Juno pulled away with a bit of a grimace, laughing at Nureyev’s puzzled expression. “Sorry,” he laughed again, not sounding sorry at all. “Feels kinda weird with the missing teeth.”

Nureyev groaned. “I’m well aware, dear.”

Juno chuckled and kissed him again. “I’m sure I can get used to it. You know, if we practice a bit,” he said suggestively, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in for another kiss. Nureyev smirked and deepened it just enough to warrant a quick nip at Juno’s lower lip as he pulled away.

“That is certainly something we can do,” he agreed, grabbing the front of Juno’s shirt and pulling him in for more.

They made out slow and easy with no sense of urgency and very little heat for some time. Juno brought his hands up to hold Nureyev’s between them, sighing happily as Nureyev licked into his mouth.

After some time passed languidly like that, Juno pulled back to grumble, “How is it you can be out cold for two days and not have just rancid morning breath?”

“They do let me out of this bed, dear detective,” Nureyev replied with a laugh. “That is actually a requirement for them to discharge me. I’ve both bathed and brushed my teeth today.”

“Right, yeah,” Juno said sheepishly. “That makes sense. So you’ll be discharged soon?”

Nureyev nodded and said, “In a few days. The wound on my back has one more round of treatment before I can resume most normal physical activity.”

Juno nodded but was startled by a very big and very loud yawn. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Rex, I’m not bored, just exhausted,” he grumbled a bit as he rubbed his eye tiredly.

Nureyev smiled sweetly at Juno, which had the detective looking at him with a wide eye and chewing on the inside of his cheek. The expression was so strange on his face, so vulnerable that Nureyev expected the shutters to be pulled any moment, but then they weren’t. Another flock of butterflies burst to flight in his stomach.

“You’re fine, darling. Come and lay down with me,” Nureyev finally said, beckoning Juno into his arms, an invitation that was immediately accepted.

Nureyev let out a contented sigh as Juno wrapped around him like an octopus, his mouth and nose pressed into his throat, against the parts of his skin that weren’t covered in bandages. Nureyev shivered at the brushing touch of Juno’s lips, at the hot breath against his neck and felt the fluttering in his gut settle as he wrapped an arm around Juno’s shoulders. Held tight in Nureyev’s arms, Juno sucked in a deep breath through his nose, seemingly holding it before slowly releasing it and burrowing deeper into the nape of his neck.

“Is everything okay, Juno?” he asked quietly, feeling his entire body relaxing with the warmth of his lover against him.

“Mm-hmm,” Juno mumbled, his voice already thick and sleepy. “I was just… just needed to check something.”

Nureyev smiled at that and turned to press his lips against the top of Juno’s head in a gentle kiss. “Juno,” he said quietly, his heart jumping when he remembered Juno’s confession again. “I wanted to ask you something.”

There was no response from the detective except for a quiet, gentle snore. Juno was sound asleep within the handful of minutes it had taken him to settle in against him, and Nureyev couldn’t have helped the smile that came to his face if he wanted to.

- - - - -

It was dark when Nureyev was woken up, and he was immediately tense. Something was wrong, and for a delirious moment he thought it was the weight holding him down that was the issue. Then the memories of the hospital, Juno returning, and both of them falling asleep together came back in a rush.

Juno twitched and let out a low groan, his fingers curled tightly into the front of Nureyev’s medical gown. He was clammy, his sweat soaking through to Nureyev’s skin, and he was shivering. Then Juno gagged, dry-heaving as he woke up and looked around wildly.

Nureyev grabbed the little bucket he had been provided by the hospital and handed it to Juno, who immediately used it with incredible enthusiasm. The whole time, Nureyev rubbed his back gently, pausing to massage the back of Juno’s neck when he was done unloading the contents of his stomach, humming quietly as the detective tried to calm his breathing. A few minutes later, after successfully staving off another bout of puking, Juno finally leaned over to place the bucket on the bedside table.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he groaned, covering his face and his voice sounded entirely too upset for Nureyev’s liking. “They come back when I’m stressed out. The nightmares, I mean.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Nureyev asked, reaching up to gently pull Juno’s hands away from his face.

Juno blinked at him as if the answer was plain as day, baffled that he would even have to ask. “I woke you up,” Juno said flatly, as if that was enough of a reason. “I woke you up, almost puked on you, and shit, I’m so sweaty—”

“Juno, dear, do you realize how low those things are on my list of priorities?” Nureyev interrupted, lifting his hands to cradle Juno’s face. “Right now, I’m worried about you, love.”

He could feel Juno’s face heat up against his palms, the detective clearly embarrassed and perhaps a bit overwhelmed. “It’s— you need your sleep, so I should go,” Juno quickly said, but before he could get up, Nureyev adjusted his hands to hold the back of Juno’s head.

“What you’re going to do, Juno Steel, is go into that bathroom and use one of the toothbrushes provided by the hospital,” Nureyev said firmly, and Juno went still next to him. “Then you’re going to come back here and lay with me again.

“You don’t have to do this, Rex,” Juno whispered, and Nureyev pulled him down so he could press a kiss to his forehead.

“Of course I don’t, Juno. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Nureyev replied, sighing as he let Juno sit back enough to meet his gaze again. “If you refuse to let me do this for you, then do as I ask for my own comfort. I’m worried about you, and would very much like to hold you.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek as he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he eventually asked and Nureyev laughed softly.

“Of course I am, darling,” he replied, pursing his lips tightly. “Now go and brush your teeth. I expect you to come right back here.”

Juno huffed a weak laugh and as he slipped off the bed, he muttered a quiet, “Yes, sir.” Nureyev found himself a bit breathless at being called “sir” and decided that might be something for them to explore properly later.

A few minutes later, Juno crawled back onto the bed, squawking a bit when Nureyev yanked him forward by the front of his shirt. Tucking the detective in beside him, Nureyev dipped his head to capture Juno’s lips in a chaste kiss, sighing when Juno pressed up into it.

“Would it… help to talk about it?” Nureyev asked a bit haltingly when they pulled apart. He personally had very little experience with nightmares and even less with the nightmares of a loved one.

“I don’t know,” Juno replied after a bit, and he flopped down next to Nureyev, tucking his head under his chin. “They’re just about when I lost my eye.”

“Ah, I see,” Nureyev hummed, rubbing Juno’s back soothingly.

“But now you’re there,” he confessed, wrapping his arm tightly around Nureyev’s waist. “When I was so busy fussing about my aim that she got you. Keeps replaying.”

“Juno, please understand that I am incredibly grateful for you taking what time you did to aim,” Nureyev said firmly. “Also, understand that she was going to ‘get me’ whether you shot her or not.”

Juno stiffened in his arms before propping himself up to look at Nureyev’s face. “What?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure if this will be comforting to you or not,” Nureyev started, before sighing. “I felt the knife before you even lifted your blaster, Juno. It was likely her plan to stab me, and let me bleed out while she continued taunting you.”

At that, Juno sat up fully to meet Nureyev’s gaze properly. “Seriously?”

“She underestimated you, dear detective,” Nureyev replied, smiling. “She didn’t do it as some sort of last moment revenge on you. She truly believed she had won.”

“That’s…” Juno trailed off before chuckling a bit. “That actually is kind of comforting.”

“I should hope so,” Nureyev said with a laugh of his own. “You were amazing in there, and I cannot thank you enough for doing literally nothing I told you to.”

Juno laughed out loud and bent to kiss Nureyev, slow and searching before pulling away to snuggle in tight again.

“I’ve always had a problem with authority,” he joked around a yawn.

Nureyev chuckled at that and squeezed Juno against his side. Within a few minutes, Juno was asleep again and Nureyev was drifting off to join him.

- - - - -

Nureyev discharged himself from the hospital a day early. He had managed to convince Juno to go home early in the evening, and that he would come by the cafe the next day at dinnertime, so there was no need to visit him again. There was part of him that knew leaving Mars immediately was wiser, that staying was just asking to get caught again by Ramses or even Pereyra.

But Nureyev was fairly confident that the information dug up and subsequently leaked for both mayoral candidates would keep them busy for the foreseeable future, at least long enough to spend a couple more nights however he pleased.

And what he wanted most was to spend his last night on Mars with a cranky private investigator. He also had another appointment.

So he changed hotels to something fancier, though discreet with very few surveillance cameras in the halls, as the establishment catered to guests seeking a more romantic experience. They would not be watched, nor bothered, and the rooms all had incredible sound-proofing between units.

Nureyev decided he should go all out for his romantic evening with Juno, and rented the honeymoon suite. It was a corner suite on the highest floor, which would give them an almost panoramic view of Hyperion City and the surface of Mars beyond the dome through uninterrupted floor-to-ceiling windows. Just off the spacious living room through a set of double-doors was the bedroom and it’s ensuite.

Nureyev was particularly enamoured with the king-sized four-poster bed, which was on a raised platform and tucked right into the corner of windows. There were gauzy fabrics hanging from the ceiling and secured at points above the corners of the bed, though they only draped to curtain off the two sides of the bed facing into the bedroom. The gauzy fabric was lined with thousands of dots of gentle, amber lights that twinkled like stars.

The ensuite itself was massive, with a huge soaker tub and luxurious shower stall, both also situated against floor-to-ceiling windows.

Nureyev spent the better part of his afternoon chatting with the concierge about arrangements for the next evening and then, after asking her a few questions about local stores, he headed out to do some shopping.

The next day, Nureyev properly groomed himself for the first time since the heist, which had been… a bit of an ordeal he hadn’t anticipated.

It was the first time he had seen himself naked for any amount of time without bandages and there was a vain part of him that cringed away from himself, that squirmed at the idea of Juno seeing him like that.

The scars on his face would be easy to hide with make-up, he decided, especially the thinner ones that decorated his cheeks and the line of his jaw. The ones on his throat would be trickier, and he cursed his lack of foresight during his shopping trip the day before. He could have gotten a nice collar or something to cover them up. He would have to use make-up until he found a more suitable alternative.

It was the mess of slashes on his chest and the electrical burn scars on his abdomen that caused him the most distress, given his penchant for revealing tops. He didn’t have much in the way of sexy clothing that would hide those, and make-up wouldn’t be ideal.

What would Juno think?

But then he remembered that Juno wore his scars, if not with pride then with defiance. What would that say to Juno, if Nureyev went to such great lengths to hide his own wounds? What would that communicate to his sensitive detective?

So with a determined sigh, Nureyev got dressed without consideration for hiding anything, putting on a black, cropped top with a plunging neckline that showed off all of the jagged scars across his chest, and if not for the corset-waisted slacks he wore, the burn scar would also have been almost completely visible.

He finished his look off with a loose braid, tied off with a black ribbon, keeping his hair quite nicely out of his face.

Nureyev looked at himself in the mirror again, and hated what he saw, but he would learn to be okay with it. If Juno could, so could Nureyev.

As he left the hotel that afternoon, he stopped by the front desk to verify that the special accommodations he set up the night before were still happening, and to inform them he was leaving for the day for their convenience.

The cab ride to his first destination was short and sweet, and Nureyev asked the driver to keep the meter running, regardless of how long it took him to return.

It did not take long, as he had been promised it wouldn’t when the specialist had visited him at the hospital. It was only thirty minutes, and he was returning to the cab with a new set of teeth. The marvels of modern medicine and cosmetic surgery had allowed him to easily and almost painlessly fix the mess the Piranha had made of his iconic smile. He even paid a little bit extra to get something a bit flashier than boring old white, going instead with something that looked like rose gold, inspired by the ear cuff Juno always wore.

In the back of the cab, Nureyev was beside himself with excitement to show Juno, bouncing his knee and drumming a beat on his thigh. By the time they reached the cafe, he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Keep the meter running again, please,” Nureyev said breathlessly to the driver, sliding out and walking into the cafe

Juno was behind the counter with Benten and Rita, the three of them chatting while Juno was balancing an empty serving tray on the tip of his finger. Juno was less rumpled—wearing a pink sweater-dress that exposed his shoulders and just enough of his collarbones to make Nureyev’s mouth water—though he still had quite a bit of stubble defining the sharp edge of his jaw.

Nureyev may have commented on the stubble at one point while he was in the hospital, perhaps in the middle of a heated make-out session with his detective. There was also the possibility that he had made a crude comment about where else he might enjoy feeling the burn of it. Juno had since been conspicuously lax on shaving, and that excited Nureyev greatly.

Juno looked over, and when he properly registered that it was indeed Nureyev he was seeing, his face lit up. It wasn’t a grin, but there was a way his face would shift when he smirked at him that felt like the entire sun was being channelled through it. Juno’s posture straightened and he grabbed the tray between both of his hands to avoid dropping it.

“They let you out early for good behaviour?” Juno asked teasingly, pushing a grumpy Benten out of the way so he could lean against the counter as Nureyev approached. “Thought you wouldn’t be here until after dinner.”

“I actually discharged myself last night to get a few things prepared. I also had an appointment today,” Nureyev said as he stopped at the counter. He placed his hands on the counter top and leaned close, grinning broadly at the detective.

The moment Juno saw the new teeth, his eye widened and the tray slipped out of his hands, clattering loudly against the counter before hitting the floor.

Benten let out a low, begrudgingly impressed whistle before turning a judgmental look on Juno.

Rita however shoved herself up as tall as she could get on the counter short of standing on it, letting out a high-pitched sound of excitement. Without hesitation, she grabbed Nureyev’s face with both hands and turned it side to side before squealing again.

“Wow, Mista Glass, that is so cool! And preeetty!” she gushed before gasping dramatically and letting go of his face. “They’re pretty-cool! Not pretty cool as in cooler than normal, boring cool, but pretty-cool as in they’re both pretty and cool because they’re cool and pretty!”

She barely paused to catch her breath before she smacked Juno’s arm with a stern look. “Mista Steel, aren’tcha gonna say something nice about Mista Glass’ new teeth?” she growled in a tone that she possibly thought was quiet, but the entire restaurant heard her.

Juno swallowed thickly, taking in a shaky breath before nodding. “Uh,” he began, his voice too hoarse to continue right away, so he cleared his throat before saying, “They’re, uh, they’re really great. They l-look, uh, good.”

Nureyev took a moment to bite his bottom lip, feigning shyness to show off the teeth pressing into soft flesh. Juno’s breath left him in a quick whoosh at that, his expression taking on an even more dazed quality.

“Holy shit,” Juno whispered dreamily, quiet enough that only the three of them with him at the counter could hear.

At that, Benten pulled a face and gagged audibly. “Oh, gross. Get a room,” he groaned loudly, and Juno spluttered for a moment, successfully snapped out of his stupor.

Nureyev turned a broad grin on Benten, not missing the way Juno’s eye locked on his mouth again.

“I did, in fact, get one,” he said, and turned to look at Juno again, adding, “I’m here to collect my dear detective for the evening.”

Rita actually screamed with her delight, gaining the attention of every patron in the cafe, and abruptly turned to start pulling Juno’s apron off.

“Aw, Mista Glass, how romantic! C’mon, Mista Steel, get outta here!” she commanded, growling when Juno kept knocking her hands away.

Juno bit the inside of his cheek, finally managing to get Rita to stop grabbing at his clothes. For the first time since Nureyev arrived, Juno looked unsure and Nureyev wanted to pull him into a kiss.

“I’m not really dressed for a date, Rex,” he said, and Nureyev could tell he was pulling down the back of his dress nervously. Nureyev smiled at him, feeling utterly fond of Juno in a way that was almost smothering.

“You look beautiful, radiant even, my love,” he replied and Rita made that sound of hers again, the one like a rocketship revving, while Benten groaned and rolled his eyes.

“What a line, Rex,” Benten said flatly. “Juno’s not that easy—”

“Y-yeah, okay. Yeah,” Juno interrupted, his gaze turning dreamy again as he fished the keys to the cafe out of the pocket of his dress and finished taking off his apron.

“Wow, I stand corrected,” Benten murmured, eyebrows raised as he accepted the keys from Juno. “Are you going to be home in time to open tomorrow, or should I post a sign?”

Juno glanced at Nureyev, who merely smirked at him suggestively, relishing Benten’s gag and Rita’s snickers.

“The sign might be a better idea, Ben,” Juno replied with his own little smirk before he came around the counter and followed Nureyev out.

They slid into the backseat of the cab, sitting flush together and the moment they were settled, Nureyev pulled Juno into a kiss. It was chaste, for the sake of the driver if nothing else, but he desperately wanted to deepen it. Juno, the absolute minx, tested his restraint when he dragged his pierced tongue along the seam of his lips.

However, the driver cleared his throat and Juno pulled away so quickly, Nureyev feared he might exit the vehicle entirely.

“So, where to now, Mr Rose?” the driver asked, his expression unimpressed in the rear view mirror.

Nureyev only smiled at the man’s sour look and said, “Back to the hotel, please.”

“Your hotel?” Juno asked, and when Nureyev looked at him, he was delighted to see the confused little pout.

It was obvious Juno was thinking about the seedy little hotel room he’d booked before the heist, and it was endearing that he had expected better. Nureyev smiled soothingly down at Juno, grabbing his thigh and squeezing lightly.

“Do you trust me, love?” Nureyev asked, low and quiet.

“Well, yeah,” Juno said without hesitation.

Nureyev leaned down and gave Juno a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and the detective immediately turned into it. Nureyev was almost sad that he had to pull away, lest he get carried away.

“Then trust that I wouldn’t take you to a hovel for—” he paused, realizing what he was about to say, and that it would be the first time he was saying it aloud. Nureyev took a deep breath, and said, “For our last night before I leave.”

Juno’s expression faltered, becoming deeply sad before he visibly rallied himself with a small smile. “Okay.”

When they pulled up to the hotel, Juno let out a low whistle and looked down at his sweater-dress and clunky leather boots. “Damn, Duke. Now I’m definitely underdressed,” he said, and while it was said as if it was a joke, it sounded a bit too self-deprecating for Nureyev’s liking.

Nureyev paid the cabby handsomely for being a chauffeur and got out when the doorman opened his door. Reaching back into the cab, he helped Juno slide out with a firm grip on his hand.

“I said you looked radiant, love, and I meant it,” Nureyev soothed. “And if it worries you so much, I do have something up in the room for you to change into.”

“You bought me clothes?” Juno asked him incredulously, his face the picture of annoyance but his tone lacked all heat.

“Only a few items, love, and at quite the discount, too. A steal even,” Nureyev said cheekily, kissing the top of Juno’s head and tangling their fingers together. “So don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours.”

“Duke, is this… okay?” Juno asked quietly as Nureyev led him inside by their clasped hands. When Juno tucked himself in close to his side, Nureyev looked down at him and while the detective looked unsure, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

“This hotel is very discreet, very few cameras,” Nureyev explained, squeezing Juno’s hand a bit. “Also, we aren’t hiding from mayors, aspiring or otherwise, nor their shared criminal bodyguard.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Juno said as an adorable smile curved his lips, and Nureyev was very nearly about to bend and kiss him senseless right there in the lobby.

“And,” Nureyev began in a lower voice as they arrived at the elevators. “The staff might think it’s odd if we walked in acting like we barely knew each other.”

“And why’s that?” Juno asked, looking up at him through his lashes.

“I requested a few romantic accommodations earlier,” he replied with a smirk, pausing at Juno’s shaky inhale. “And, I did rent the honeymoon suite.”

“Are you serious?” Juno asked as the elevator dinged with its arrival, his hand twitching in Nureyev’s.

“Of course I am,” Nureyev says with a winning smile as they stepped inside. Juno’s gaze, as Nureyev expected, was immediately drawn to the new teeth. “Only the best for my beautiful lady, after all.”

As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, Nureyev was dragged down by the front of his loose and flowy shirt, his mouth captured in a hungry kiss. Juno whined, pressing as close to Nureyev’s body as he could, tongue pressing into his mouth insistently. The sudden armful of solid detective had Nureyev stumbling back against the wall, chuckling into Juno’s mouth before meeting his tongue halfway. He allowed the kiss for a few moments before he gently pushed Juno back, grinning at the detective’s dazed expression.

“Slow down, love,” he said soothingly as the elevator slowed to a stop. When the doors reopened, Nureyev took Juno’s hand again and began to lead him down the hall. “We have all night.”

“That a promise?” Juno asked huskily, and Nureyev was shocked at how slick he felt between his legs already.

“Well, I’m certainly up for the challenge,” Nureyev replied as they arrived at the door to the suite, pulling out his key and smirking down at Juno. “And I fully expect you to stay the night this time.”

“Sounding pretty confident there, Rose,” Juno teased.

“I can be quite persuasive, I’ve been told,” Nureyev replied, beckoning Juno inside once he got the door open.

Upon seeing the suite, Juno gasped and let go of Nureyev’s hand to cross the room to the windows overlooking his city.

Nureyev took the time that Juno was distracted to survey the room for his requests and remove his gloves. There was a small table set up with a tablecloth and a beautiful flower arrangement, ready and waiting for their dinner to be delivered in the next hour or so. The monitor was on, set to a station that was playing gentle, romantic music.

Overall, he was pleased with the hotel’s work and had faith the bedroom and ensuite were to his specifications as well. Joining Juno at the windows, he looked down and his breath caught at the stunned expression on the detective’s face. Juno finally turned his gaze away to look at the suite, his eye wide.

“Nureyev,” he started, and it was that moment that Nureyev realized he hadn’t heard his name from those lips in days, a realization that almost knocked him off his feet. “This is… really nice.”

Nureyev was very suddenly unsure of his plans, whether they were the right course of action or if they were more likely to scare the detective away. Juno looked overwhelmed, his eye wet with unshed tears, his bottom lip quivering a bit before he bit it lightly. Nureyev cupped Juno’s cheeks in both hands, wiping away a tear that was about to fall.

“Juno, is this okay?” he asked, truly worried he’d gone too far.

“Yeah, jeez, sorry. This is amazing, just,” Juno said with a laugh, tilting his head into one of Nureyev’s hands and closing his eye with a watery sigh. “No one’s ever done something this nice for me.”

Not for the first time, Nureyev was overcome with the urge to hunt down and strangle the life out of every single person who had deemed themselves worthy of Juno Steel’s time. They had all swept him up and they took, and took, and took from him, not once putting in the work to deserve him, leaving Juno to tear up over the bare minimum.

Instead, Nureyev stooped to kiss Juno, deep and searching, drawing the soft little gasping moans he loved so dearly from his gorgeous detective.

“Well, then I’m glad to have been the first,” he said as they parted for air. “Dinner should be arriving in just over an hour. The bathroom is just inside the bedroom if you would like to freshen up a bit?”

Juno took a deep breath and nodded, stepping out of Nureyev’s embrace. “Yeah, I’ll go do that,” he said, a bit dazed still, and when he turned to walk away, Nureyev followed him.

“You know, I’ve been running around all morning, so I think I’ll get cleaned up as well,” he said with a cheeky grin, the expression widening at Juno’s sceptical snort.

“I doubt we have time for both of us to take a shower, Nureyev,” Juno said.

“I’m sure we could think of some sort of arrangement, love,” Nureyev purred suggestively, thoroughly enjoying the confused look on Juno’s face when he glanced back.

“What the hell does—” he began, but at Nureyev’s smirk, his expression went slack with realization, an expression Nureyev found as beautiful as it was priceless. “—Oh.”

Juno swallowed thickly and stammered, “Y-yeah, I mean sure—yeah, we can do that. Totally.”

Nureyev smiled wide when Juno cut himself off shyly, biting the inside of his cheek. Juno glanced at the new teeth again, and Nureyev took that moment to drag his tongue lightly across the points of them. Juno took a shuddery breath before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bedroom.

The opulence of the bedroom actually tripped Juno up a bit, Nureyev running into him when he staggered to a halt with a gasp.

The curtains around the bed were freed from their tie-backs, and the twinkling lights in the billowy canopy were turned on. The gauzy fabrics obscured the view of the bed and windows beyond by quite a bit, but Nureyev did like that they wouldn’t offer complete privacy.

Taking a deep breath, Juno continued into the ensuite, only to come to an abrupt halt all over again.

The room was lit up in the gentle, amber light of the chandelier hanging above the huge round soaker tub to their left. It was set into a ledge which sat against the massive windows overlooking the city. The tub was already full of steamy water, and there was a near-solid layer of rose petals across the surface. The petals were also scattered across the edge of the tub, the window ledge, and the floor around it.

“Jeez, Nureyev. Are there any roses left in Hyperion City?” Juno all but whispered next to him, and he flushed deeply.

He had requested a romantic set-up for the evening, certainly, but he had expressed that his date would not appreciate a spectacle. The concierge had confirmed a subtle, understated romantic feel, and Nureyev shuddered at the thought of what the full romantic package would have looked like.

Nureyev turned to defend himself and saw the expression on Juno’s face. His eye was wide with wonder and delight, as well as something intense like yearning— no, it was love that overtook Juno’s expression. Nureyev was winded when he realized that Juno loved it, every part of it, right down to the floral massacre in the bathtub. The sass was an attempt at deflecting, at trying not to let on just how much he wanted it.

With a tug of their clasped hands, Nureyev spun Juno into his embrace and dipped down for a searching kiss, hands twisting in the knit of Juno’s dress. Juno whined and opened for him, pushing up onto his toes with his hands holding Nureyev’s biceps. They stood flush together, mouths moving slow and perfect, and Nureyev sighed when Juno’s tongue pressed against his own, the piercings sending a thrill through him.

Nureyev pulled back to catch his breath, and Juno tipped back onto his heels to stare up at him, dazed and smiling. He took in the face of his detective, his gaze lingering on the plain black eyepatch for a few moments before lifting a hand questioningly. It wasn’t even particularly important to him if Juno wore the eyepatch or not—that was Juno’s decision, and his decision only. Nureyev only figured that it would be an inconvenient obstacle in the bath.

Juno sucked in a sharp breath as Nureyev’s fingers lightly touched the eyepatch, and Nureyev waited for a sign to continue or back off. There was a beat before Juno gave him a quick nod, and Nureyev slowly lifted it off, tossing it onto the vanity.

Turning back to his detective, Nureyev took in the full view of Juno’s face for the first time since meeting him.

Nureyev found himself surprised to see that Juno still had his natural eye. For whatever reason, he had expected the eye to have been completely removed, but that was not the case.

“They were able to save the eye itself,” Juno muttered quietly, tensely as if hearing Nureyev’s thoughts. “Couldn’t get the vision back.”

Nureyev nodded with a comforting smile and looked his face over, really taking it in and cataloging each new thing.

There were three very distinct scars running vertically over the eyelid. Two of them were quite shallow and short, just enough to have drawn blood and cause pain, but minimal permanent damage. The third, however, was deep and jagged, starting just under Juno’s brow and ending just about his cheekbone. While the eye itself had been salvaged, it was murky where the scarring and blood vessels had formed over the damaged iris and pupil.

The injury would have been brutal, the pain immense, and for a moment Nureyev was deeply disappointed that the Piranha had been given a quick execution.

Juno’s breathing quickened as Nureyev took his time, his eyes glancing down before he began to turn away, biting the inside of his cheek. Nureyev made a small sound, a gentle tsk as he cupped Juno’s jaw with both hands and turned him back to meet his gaze. The detective was shaking, waiting for Nureyev’s reaction and it was obvious he expected the worst.

And Nureyev wasn’t sure he could blame Juno; if anything Piranha had said about this supposed fiance of Juno’s was true, he had every reason to fear such vulnerability.

Slowly, Nureyev bent to place a gentle, lingering kiss to Juno’s cheekbone, waiting out the bout of shuddering breaths. The moment Juno released a soft sigh, and the tension leaked out of his shoulders, he moved his lips to the corner of his eye. There he waited again, humming happily when Juno almost immediately tilted his head back, and leaned his body closer to Nureyev.

Nureyev dropped a hand to wrap around Juno’s back to hold him firmly, soothingly, and gently brushed a gentle, barely-there kiss to Juno’s scarred eyelid.

“You’re gorgeous, my love,” Nureyev breathed, and he could feel tears pricking behind his eyelids with the ferocity of his emotions for Juno. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Juno made a soft, almost wounded sound before he tipped his head back and surged up onto his toes to capture Nureyev’s lips again. With a happy sigh, Nureyev gathered Juno up into his arms, pressing closer and deeper, wanting to taste and feel Juno as much and as quickly as possible. He was overwhelmed by the way the detective clung and squirmed against him, making soft and desperate sounds against his tongue.

Nureyev pulled back with a groan and dropped his mouth to Juno’s shoulder, exposed as it was with the open panels of his dress, and bit it lightly. Juno gasped, tipping his head back with a shudder, and Nureyev let go to place an open-mouthed kiss against the spot, lapping at it soothingly as Juno let out a sob.

He startled at the metallic tang of blood and pulled back to check on Juno. There were two cuts, each tiny enough to have stopped bleeding already, but Nureyev still cursed himself under his breath for being reckless.

“I’m sorry about that, my love,” he said sheepishly, kissing the spot soothingly again. “These new teeth are quite sharp.”

“Yeah, they are,” Juno sighed dreamily, and when Nureyev properly looked at him, the detective appeared perfectly blissed out. “They’re amazing.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, are they?” he asked with a smirk, and at Juno’s rare, unrestrained grin, Nureyev pressed in for another searching kiss.

- - - - -

They sat in the bathtub for some time, slowly making out while they caught their breath after their impromptu romp. Nureyev was floating above the clouds it seemed, weightless and blissed-out with his lady in his lap and in his arms.

Juno made a small sound in his throat at one particularly languid pass of Nureyev’s tongue and squirmed against him. Heat was building again, and Nureyev was happy to be swept away by it again. He knew there was a reason not to, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember it when Juno shifted to straddle his lap, sitting flush to his front and playing with his tits idly.

“The hell was that?”

Nureyev actually whined when Juno wrenched away from his mouth, and he chased after the kiss. His lips found Juno’s throat instead, which was perfectly fine for him.

“Duke, knock it off, I heard something!” Juno hissed and that caught Nureyev’s attention.

Pulling away, Nureyev and Juno sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the sound of movement in the living room. At a sound that was clearly the clinking of cutlery and crystal, Nureyev cringed.

“That is likely the serving staff,” he said slowly, tipping his head back against the cushioned lip of the tub and closing his eyes. “Delivering our food.”

“Duke… did you close any of the doors coming in here?” Juno asked quietly, drawing the question out and pulling a chuckle from Nureyev.

“I did not,” he confessed. “I foolishly had not planned for us to have… appetizers, so to speak.”

“So they heard at least some of that?”

There was something odd in Juno’s tone, and Nureyev opened his eyes again to meet his gaze, worried that Juno was upset. “It’s entirely likely,” he replied carefully.

Nureyev did not miss the look of intense interest that crossed Juno’s face, and he was a little shocked that the detective would be inclined toward a bit of exhibitionism. Then again, he thought, Juno had been the one to wear fancy lingerie to work under a sweater-dress that barely covered his ass. Excitement pulsed through Nureyev at the thought of Juno wanting to show off a bit, about taking Juno where they might get caught, where they could be heard and possibly seen.

He quickly filed that away, however, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he got too hot again.

“Perhaps we should wash up while we wait for them to leave?” Nureyev suggested, and Juno nodded quickly, smiling openly at the thief.

They took their time wiping each other down, slowly kissing while they did. Nureyev paid special attention to Juno, keeping his touches light and chaste, though their intent for later were quite clear. Juno leaned heavily against him, accepting the pampering with a sigh while he mouthed at Nureyev’s pulse.

When they had finished up, Nureyev cradled Juno’s cheek gently and smiled lightly when their gazes met again. Juno leaned forward with a sigh, and Nureyev happily accepted the slow, sweet kiss, wrapping his detective in his arms loosely. It was utterly perfect, and Nureyev almost cursed when the noises from the living room quieted and they heard the door to the hallway close.

“I think it is safe to get out now, dear,” he murmured against Juno’s lips, gently pushing him away and encouraging him to stand up.

Juno grumbled as he did, unclipping the collar of his harness and peeling it off of himself. Nureyev watched Juno move around the bathroom in all of his naked glory with an appreciative eye as he got out of the tub.

“I have something else for you to wear this evening,” Nureyev said as Juno moved to grab his sweater-dress off the ground, touching his arm lightly and smiling when the detective looked up at him questioningly. “It’s in the closet just inside the room. I’ll meet you at the dinner table.”

Juno blinked up at him, a bit dazed by the gentle commands, and nodded as he returned the smile.

Nureyev watched the detective leave before he turned to the cabinet in the bathroom, where he kept his own outfit for the evening.

It could hardly be called an “outfit,” though.

After seeing Juno in his harness on their first date, Nureyev simply had to get his own, a sleek black and gold number that had straps and the gold detailing all the way down to mid-thigh. The embroidered design decorated his abdomen with a chevron that ended just below his sternum, framing his pelvis along the outside edge of the piercings lining his hips.

Over the harness, Nureyev pulled on a short, sheer black robe which tied shut at the waist with a thick black ribbon. The entire back of the robe was lace and completely see-through, showing off all of the straps of his harness where they hugged his pale skin.

Slipping his glasses back onto his face, Nureyev looked around the room and made a face at the smudges, huffing with some annoyance. He picked his pants up off the floor and dug for the cloth he kept specially for cleaning them, cursing his hoarding tendencies for the first time in his decades-long career. After a few too many moments of struggling, Nureyev made a small sound of triumph when his fingers finally closed around the little scrap of material.

Wiping his glasses clean and putting them back on, he completed the ensemble with a pair of black silk slippers. Then, fixing his braid, Nureyev walked out to the living room to join his lover.

Nureyev was nearly winded at the sight of Juno as he stood by the windows and looked out over Hyperion City in the long, sleeveless robe Nureyev had bought him. The fabric was gauzy and pale pink, sheer enough to see the outline of Juno’s legs through it with the neon of the city shining in on him.

Juno must have heard him and turned around a bit with a warm smile. Nureyev could see a hint of the new harness he procured for Juno through the V of the robe, pink and cream flowers decorating his chest and ending in a pretty collar of flowers at the base of his throat. The robe itself was tied by three delicate ribbons at the thick panel of pink and blue flowery lace just above Juno’s natural waist.

Nureyev wanted nothing more than to untie those little ribbons and devour Juno.

When he finally snapped himself out of his own thoughts, he realized Juno was staring. Their gazes met in the next moment and they both swallowed thickly. Juno’s expression was so beautiful, full of want and love, that Nureyev was ready to forgo every plan he had to leave the next day and stay.

Juno cleared his throat and he glanced away. “The hell do you have such long legs for, Nureyev?” Juno asked, his tone so offended and accusatory that Nureyev couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“And why are yours so thick and enticing?” the thief countered, looking pointedly at where he could see Juno’s gorgeous thighs through the opening of his robe.

Juno merely bit the inside of his cheek, and the smirk he wore was tinged with something distinctly pleased.

Nureyev motioned at the table set with their dinner and asked, “Care to join me, dear?”

Juno smirked and crossed the room. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teased and sat down.

Their dinner was quite lovely, filled with casual chatter, laughter, and more than a few glasses of champagne. Juno looked so happy and relaxed across from him, smiling and laughing openly. Nureyev couldn’t help but watch him dreamily as he animatedly told a story from his childhood.

Juno looked so beautiful in the dim, amber lighting of the living room, and Nureyev’s heart ached with the weight of knowing he could not keep him.

Nureyev remembered the pleading “I love you’s” from the sewers as Juno ended his story, and he placed his glass on the table.

“Juno, I distinctly remember I had asked you to accompany me to a gala,” Nureyev started, drawing it out only in part to enjoy the way Juno pouted. “I had done so with the hope that I would have the honour of dancing with you.”

Juno cringed. “Yeah?”

Nureyev nodded and stood, his gut churning with anxiety about what he was about to do for the first time that evening. Offering his hand to Juno, he asked, “May I have this dance?”

“Here?” Juno asked, biting the inside of his cheek. “Now?”

“There’s music, there’s space, and there’s two of us,” Nureyev replied, smiling winningly down at Juno, even as his stomach roiled. He was only comforted a small amount by Juno’s hungry look at his new teeth. “So why not here? Why not now?”

Juno made a face of mock disapproval, but accepted the offered hand and allowed Nureyev to tug him in close. They were hardly dancing, only holding each other and gently rocking, but for Nureyev it was perfect. When he looked down at the detective, he could see tears in Juno’s eyes, belying once again just how much he loved it. It only took a few slow turns for Juno to melt completely against Nureyev with a sigh, resting his ear against the thief’s chest.

They danced together quietly while Nureyev contemplated how best to bring up what he heard in the sewers. He didn’t want to scare Juno off, but Nureyev couldn’t leave Mars without telling the beautiful detective the depths of his own feelings.

“Juno, I wanted to ask you about something,” Nureyev started tentatively, and frowned when Juno tensed in his arms.

“Mm-hmm?” Juno prompted, and Nureyev really wished he’d started this when he could see the detective’s face.

“Well, it’s more I would like to tell you something, but,” he babbled a bit nervously before he took a deep, calming breath that did nothing to help calm him, and said, “I remember hearing you say something in the sewers before I passed out.”

Juno went rigid and pulled back, though they did not pause in their dance. Nureyev’s stomach twisted when he realized that Juno had that unreadable expression on his face that he’d only seen once before.

When he had told him his name and confessed to working for the people who ruined his life.

“You do?” Juno asked, his voice flat and Nureyev realized too late he had brought it up all wrong and began scrambling internally for the words to defuse the situation.

“Yes,” Nureyev said after taking a deep breath. “I was still lucid enough to hear you, when you said you lo—”

“Shit, I didn’t—” Juno hissed, pulling out of the embrace, and Nureyev let him. Then he growled at himself, “Shit, Steel, there you go ruining things again.”

Nureyev stepped forward and gently grabbed Juno’s hand. “Juno, just let me finish—”

Juno wrenched his hand away and looked around the room. His expression was so intensely sad for just a second that Nureyev felt his own eyes prickle with tears. Then the shutters behind Juno’s gaze slammed down, and when Juno’s eyes met his again, he saw anger.

“I always do this, get too attached, too soon and then—” Juno muttered, mostly to himself before cutting off with a bitter laugh and eye-roll. “That’s why you did this, isn’t it?”

“Well, the short answer is yes, Juno, but—”

“All of this, it’s all just a joke. Or I’m an easy lay until you find the next stupid sap on some other stupid planet who’ll spread their legs for you,” Juno spat, but then his expression changed, filling with something like humiliation. “Or worse, you felt bad.”

“Juno, please—” Nureyev began, reaching for the detective again, frustration building in him when Juno stepped away from him. For how intelligent and logical he knew Juno to be most of the time, Nureyev was genuinely surprised by his commitment to jumping to the worst possible conclusions if the truth meant happiness for him.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” Juno cut him off again, and though he worded it like a question, it was spoken as an accusation with such bitter anger that Nureyev almost flinched. “You feel bad for me because I was stupid enough to fall in lo— fall for you in two weeks like some fucking teenager. About what the Piranha said about my ex. About my eye. All of it.”

Nureyev’s thoughts were swirling as he felt everything falling apart. He loved Juno deeply and fully, and he had desperately needed him to know it, but now their last few hours together were unravelling because he tried to say it. He berated himself for his impulsiveness, for jumping the gun and breaking the fragile truce he’d come to with Juno’s sense of self-worth.

He wanted to drop it and ask Juno to forget he had said anything, but the longer Nureyev said nothing, the surer Juno became in his conviction.

Tears brimmed Juno’s eyes when Nureyev met his gaze again for just a moment before he strengthened his glare.

“Admit it, Nureyev,” Juno demanded, crossing his arms over his middle.

Nureyev reached forward to grab Juno’s hand with both of his and held tight when the detective tried to pull it away again. “Juno, I promise—”

“Just admit it, Nureyev!” Juno all but growled, fighting the grip on his hand.

“You won’t even allow me a word in edgewise, Juno, even for that much!” Nureyev snapped, not quite yelling but close to it, and Juno’s mouth shut with an audible click.

Nureyev softened, pulling Juno closer and cradling his jaw gently in one hand while the other wrapped around his waist. He held tight when Juno made a half-hearted attempt at breaking free, and after a few moments Juno’s breath left him in whoosh.

When the detective relaxed almost completely against him, Nureyev felt hopeful that he could turn this evening around for both of them.

“You are so clever, so good, and absolutely gorgeous, Juno,” Nureyev said fondly. “You are also frustratingly committed to self-sabotage, love.”

Juno pulled a face, and he looked almost embarrassed. “What the—”

“No, I’m talking now, detective,” Nureyev said sternly, and Juno instantly closed his mouth again. “Do you truly believe I would do all of this for you as a… a pity fuck?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, Nureyev,” Juno snapped. “Had a guy almost marry me, and it turned out he only stuck around as long as he did because he felt bad for me.”

Nureyev felt rage wash over him at that, wanting to know the name and last known location of Juno’s former fiance. Perhaps this was information he could get from Benten or Rita before he left, he thought briefly but dismissed it in favour of focusing on the conversation at hand.

“Juno, I would never do that to you,” he said instead, tone gentle and earnest. “This isn’t a pity fuck, I’m not using you, I’m— if you wanted to leave right now, I wouldn’t stop you. You could walk right out that door, and that would be the end of it. You’ll never hear from me again.”

Juno bit the inside of his cheek and glanced around. For a heart-stopping moment, it looked like Juno would actually pull away and get changed. Nureyev was prepared to stand by his promise, but he felt gutted at the mere thought of having to.

Then Juno sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head to lean into Nureyev’s palm, and asked so quietly Nureyev almost couldn’t hear him over the music, “What the hell else is this, then?”

Nureyev lifted his other hand to cradle his face in both, lifting Juno’s gaze to his own again. “I’ve done all of this—the room, the clothes, the dinner—as well as given you my name, Juno, because,” Nureyev paused to take a deep breath, “I believe I’ve fallen in love with you as well.”

Juno sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, a tear falling as he quietly asked, “W-what?”

Nureyev wiped the tear away with this thumb with a gentle smile. “I love you, Juno. I thought that much was obvious since our first night, but I suppose you could benefit from hearing it being said.”

“B-but you— that— you barely know me,” he stammered, trying to look away but Nureyev held fast.

“You know even less about me, Juno,” Nureyev pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Yet you love me?”

“That’s different,” he said stubbornly, and Nureyev’s heart broke.

“How is it different, Juno?” he asked gently. “If you truly believe that, help me to understand it.”

Juno let out a gusty sigh and his eyes teared up even more. Seeing both eyes—one a deep blue and the other murky white—glassy with unshed tears had rage boiling in his gut all over again. He wanted to hurt every single person who taught someone as beautiful, and good, and caring as Juno to feel shame and guilt for being told he was loved.

And suddenly Nureyev understood why Juno couldn’t readily accept his confession; Juno saw himself as inherently unworthy of love and affection while giving himself completely to everyone, hoping they would finally see he had something to offer. That was where it made sense to Juno that he could fall in love with someone he barely knew, but those feelings could not be reciprocated.

“It’s just different,” Juno repeated firmly and with such finality that Nureyev knew he couldn’t push for a proper answer without damaging something between them beyond repair.

So Nureyev stepped closer to Juno instead, their bodies pressed flush together again. “Do you trust me, Juno?” he asked, stroking both of the detective’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“Yes,” Juno said without hesitation.

“Do you trust that I wouldn’t lie about something important?” he asked, and when Juno’s expression twisted, he added, “If we were having any other conversation right now, would you trust I was being honest with all of the important details?”

“Yeah,” Juno answered quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Then allow me to put things into perspective for you,” Nureyev said earnestly, meeting Juno’s gaze and holding it. “You are the first person to have learned my real name with my consent in twenty years.”

Juno took a shaky breath, and though his expression was still sceptical, it was also so soft. Nureyev could see that Juno wanted to believe everything, that he wanted to accept what he was offering, so Nureyev continued.

“Do you think a master thief would have risked courting you the way I had just for fun?” Nureyev asked, and did not wait for Juno to respond before he wrapped an arm around his waist. “I have given you the key to a past I’ve tried to bury, as well as the very thread that could unravel my entire career for the past twenty years.”

Juno looked up at him, his expression unreadable as he lifted a hand to cover Nureyev’s still cradling his cheek.

“Look me in the eye and tell me none of that means anything, Juno,” Nureyev offered, and shivered when Juno closed his eyes and turned his head just enough to press his lips to the middle of his palm. “I wouldn’t give any of that to just anyone, Juno.”

Juno was quiet for what felt like an eternity, his eyes closed and breathing softly against Nureyev’s palm. Eventually, the detective sighed and kissed him gently before turning to meet Nureyev’s gaze.

“You’re about to sign up for one hell of a time trying to convince me, Nureyev,” Juno said lightly, and though it was said as a joke, Nureyev could tell he was also completely serious.

Nureyev smiled broadly and stooped to kiss Juno, sweet and chaste.

“Then I gladly accept that challenge, starting tonight,” Nureyev said against Juno’s lips before kissing his way up his cheek, taking a small detour to press a light kiss just below Juno’s right eye. He finished his journey at the hinge of Juno’s jaw and whispered, “I love you, Juno Steel.”

Juno exhaled sharply and sobbed, angling his mouth up for the searching, needy kiss Nureyev had for him.

“I love you…” Juno whispered when they pulled apart for air, and very quietly, almost reluctantly, he added, “Too. I love you, too.”

The quiet concession, even if it was clear he didn’t quite believe it but was willing to try, made Nureyev’s heart pound and butterflies burst to life in his gut. Just hearing those three words again, this time when he was meant to hear them and he wasn’t knocking on Death’s door, brought tears to Nureyev’s eyes.

It was at that moment when Nureyev realized, or allowed himself to realize, that he hadn’t let himself get close enough to anyone since Mag to be loved. He kept himself unreachable and unknowable for twenty years, leaving Mag as the last person to have said they loved him and meant it.

Several moments of heart-stopping terror followed that revelation, and Nureyev wanted to run from it. He did the calculations instantly; he knew the flight schedule for every ship off of Mars by heart for the next week and a half, and with a good distraction, he could catch one within the hour. His fingers itched for his comms and he instinctively began to slip out of Juno’s arms, pretty words and a prettier lie already on the tip of his tongue.

Juno pulled him in tighter, however, clinging to him as he brought their lips together again, and Nureyev was shaken from his thoughts.

“Shit,” Juno all but sobbed against his lips, laughing wetly as tears fell down his cheeks. “I love you, Nureyev.”

Just like that, Nureyev dumped every contingency plan and escape route he had drawn up. There Juno was, giving him everything he had, and Nureyev was thinking of leaving him with nothing. Master thief though he may be, Nureyev was determined to not become one of the people to steal Juno’s heart. He would make a fair trade for it, give himself to Juno, and share the heartbreak of their parting.

Nureyev recognized the desire to run, to leave and never look back, but he knew that he would never be able to compartmentalize his love for Juno.

At Juno’s shivery whine, Nureyev hauled him up into his arms and groaned when Juno’s legs locked around his waist. With one arm around Juno’s waist, and his other hand holding his thigh, Nureyev stumbled in the direction of the bedroom. Juno’s hands were in his hair, messing his braid up and pulling on the freed strands, and Nureyev couldn’t help the soft, needy sounds he was making. Losing focus and rapidly losing his balance, Nureyev stopped just outside the bedroom, and pinned Juno against the wall next to the double-doors, licking deep into Juno’s mouth while he slid his hand up to grope at his ass.

When Juno turned his face away to catch his breath, Nureyev latched onto his throat, kissing, biting, and licking the length of it, paying extra attention to the underside of his jaw when Juno’s cries grew higher in pitch.

“N’reyev, the bed,” Juno whimpered and Nureyev moaned his agreement into the bruise he had just worried into Juno’s skin.

After a few more stumbling moments and close calls, Nureyev found the bed, which was tall enough that Juno was almost sitting on it already when he let him go. As he stepped back a couple paces, Juno looked up at him with eyes still glassy with unshed tears, but the softest smile Nureyev had ever seen on his face. Juno reached out to hold Nureyev’s hand, as if needing some sort of physical contact and Nureyev could understand.

Stroking the back of Juno’s hand with this thumb, Nureyev asked, “How do you want to spend the rest of our evening, my love?”

With a shiver, Juno shifted onto his knees to undo the belt of Nureyev’s robe and admired the view as it fell open. Nureyev shuddered a bit as the silky material slipped down his arms and pooled around his feet. Juno pressed in for another kiss, wrapping one arm around Nureyev’s shoulders and walking the other down his stomach teasingly.

“Think it’s pretty obvious what I want, Nureyev,” Juno replied cheekily as his fingers reached his lower abdomen.

“Use your words, dear,” Nureyev scolded lightly, grabbing Juno’s wrist gently. “Or you get nothing at all.”

Juno huffed, but it had no heat to it. Nureyev did not doubt that Juno was a bit frustrated—used to being tipped over and tumbled without ceremony as he was—but he also knew Juno thoroughly enjoyed being told what to do.

“Do I have to do this every time?” Juno asked with a pout.

“With me?” Nureyev replied with a chuckle, stooping to kiss Juno’s cheek. “Yes.”

Juno shivered and nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek before he pressed up against Nureyev, both arms around his shoulders as he untied the ribbon holding Nureyev’s braid together.

“I-I want you to fuck me into this mattress until the neighbours complain,” Juno whispered in a bit of a rush, and Nureyev’s breath hitched.

“The sound-proofing in this hotel is almost absolute, dear detective,” Nureyev responded huskily.

Juno laughed lightly before looking up at Nureyev coyly through his lashes. “I’m sure it is,” he said softly and deliberately.

Nureyev groaned and recaptured Juno’s lips, bringing both hands up to cradle the back of his head and keep him there while he kissed the breath from his lungs.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Nureyev all but growled between kisses and swallowed Juno’s excited laugh.

- - - - -

Nureyev worked to catch his breath, his arm slung around Juno’s waist so he could run his hand up and down his back soothingly. Occasionally, he would sweep his palm further to massage the muscled thigh thrown over his hip.

“Are you okay, love?” Nureyev asked around a yawn when Juno stretched with a bit of a pained sound.

“Yeah, I’m golden,” Juno said softly with a dreamy sigh, nuzzling his forehead against Nureyev’s chest before meeting his gaze with a blissed-out smile. “I’m perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear it, my love,” Nureyev hummed, stealing a chaste kiss from Juno before saying, “We should wash up before bed, though.”

Juno groaned and snuggled in closer, shaking his head with a little hmph. “Don’wanna,” he mumbled petulantly.

Nureyev laughed, just as disinterested in the prospect of getting up, but there were some general hygiene items they needed to take care of. “Come along, love, up we get,” Nureyev said, sitting up and giving Juno’s ass a sharp slap.

“Babe, if you want me out of this bed, you better knock that off,” Juno teased with a sexy sprawl, but the effect was lost when he yawned hugely.

“No offense, dear, but I don’t think either of us have the stamina to make good on any threats like that,” Nureyev laughed, and eventually dragged Juno out of the bed and into the ensuite.

The shower stall was ridiculous in its size, and set in the bathroom so one of it’s walls was just windows. The windows in the shower weren’t quite floor to ceiling, and had a tiled ledge that was about half a foot tall. There was also a safety bar that travelled along the window. The spray of the shower came from a fixture right above them, the water coming down like a perfect, warm rain. It reminded Nureyev of a rain storm he had found himself caught in the one time he had gone to earth, and Juno hummed thoughtfully when he told him as much.

Neither of them was particularly keen on turning on the lights, so they showered by the lights of the city coming through the window. Juno was looking down at Hyperion City, his city, with his hands resting on the safety bar while Nureyev lathered up a plush washcloth and began wiping his body down.

Standing flush behind Juno, Nureyev wrapped an arm around his shoulder and chest, holding him tenderly as he washed his stomach and lower. With a contented hum, he pressed a kiss to the hinge of Juno’s jaw and frowned when the detective sighed a touch too wistful for Nureyev’s comfort.

“What’s on your mind, my love?” he asked before mouthing at Juno’s throat.

“What if you could stay?” Juno asked, his tone flat but curious.

Nureyev hesitated a moment before asking, “Do you want me to answer that?”

“Yeah,” he replied after a thoughtful hum. “The honest one.”

“That would be the only one I would give you, dear detective. You’re too important and too smart for any of the others,” Nureyev sighed, and he couldn’t help the teasingly bitter tone out of his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Juno snorted, and Nureyev could hear the eye-roll. “You’re deflecting.”

“We would be happy for a bit, I think— No, I know we would be happy, at first that is. Then I would get bored,” he confessed in a sigh against Juno’s ear, and when he felt Juno tense in his arms, he added quickly, “Not of you, my love. Never of you. But I would go mad sitting still. Doing busywork.”

Juno chuckled, as if laughing at some private joke, but the humour didn’t quite reach it.

“Like a caged fox. Or something,” Juno supplied, and leaned his forehead against the glass.

“Exactly,” Nureyev replied quietly, a sad smile of his own twisting his mouth. “And if you could come with me?”

Though he couldn’t see Juno’s face completely, Nureyev could tell there were tears in his eyes with the way he bit his lower lip.

“I… I would be miserable without Benten and Rita,” he admitted, his voice watery. He lifted his hand to wipe a tear that fell away and Nureyev’s heart broke. “I don’t think I’d be happy without them at all, even in the beginning. I’m sorry—”

Nureyev turned Juno around and kissed him soundly, sighing when Juno opened for him readily. There was no way to measure who would hurt the most when it came time for Nureyev to leave, the one who could stay and would hate it, or the one who could leave but would suffer. But they didn’t have to think about that tonight.

Nureyev just wished they didn’t have to think about it at all.

“Don’t apologize, Juno,” Nureyev whispered when he pulled back to finish washing them up. “I understand.”

A short time later, they slipped back into the bed, still damp and naked from their shower. Nureyev propped himself over Juno, kissing him breathless with lazy and slow motions. With a contented noise, Juno kissed his way to the line of Nureyev’s jaw, lips pausing over the raised line of the new scar there. Nureyev shivered a bit when Juno pressed his fingers against his chest, gently feeling the jagged lines before sliding down to press his whole palm to the burn on his abdomen.

When he didn’t move his hand any further, Nureyev pulled back to look at Juno’s face.

Juno was thoughtful, looking down at the lines of his scars, stroking the burn gently with a furrowed brow. Nureyev reached up to brush his thumb across Juno’s cheekbone, below his blinded eye. The detective almost flinched away as if the touch burned before he settled and leaned into the touch.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Nureyev asked, dropping a soft kiss just below his eye.

Juno shivered under the gentle affection with a little sigh. “Are you going to get your scars reduced?” Juno asked after a bit, scrunching his face up adorably when Nureyev moved his lips to the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Why would I?” Nureyev asked, pulling back and meeting Juno’s gaze.

The detective shrugged, glancing away and chewing his cheek. “Your whole anonymity thing?” Juno offered in a quiet mumble. There was obviously more to that thought, but Nureyev wouldn’t pry.

“Going under for surgery is risky, so I typically avoid doing so outside of emergencies,” Nureyev replied with a small smile. “I’ll simply cover them as needed if I must.”

Juno hummed at that, nodding and moved his gaze away to look at the jagged lines that criss-crossed his throat.

“Besides,” Nureyev continued, lowering himself to lay his full weight against Juno, his legs straddling his thick thighs. He gave Juno’s eye another soft kiss, and said, “I find scars to be quite… sexy.”

“Of course, you do,” Juno said with a snort.

“I do,” Nureyev replied seriously, figuring Juno didn’t have to know how much he hated the scars at the moment, and coaxed Juno into a searching kiss.

Juno didn’t respond as readily as he had expected, so Nureyev pulled back and met his eyes again. The detective was still pensive and even a bit sceptical, which was far too serious for Nureyev’s liking.

“Juno, darling,” he prompted gently. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong, just thinking,” Juno said almost flippantly, but he seemed to realize he was dismissing and deflecting. With a sigh he said, “I don’t… believe you when you say the scars don’t bother you, but that’s not— You didn’t— I get it, if you didn’t like them. They’re ugly—”

“They’re not ugly,” Nureyev interrupted firmly, and Juno glared a bit up at him. “If we’re to have these sorts of talks, dear, we should keep this… negative self-talk to a minimum.”

Juno snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” Juno conceded and took a deep breath. “My ex wanted me to get mine fixed, or reduced, or whatever. He was really pushy about it, and wanted me to get a fake eye, too. Even just a basic glass one. Nothing fancy.”

“But you didn’t,” Nureyev encouraged.

“Well, obviously. I didn’t want to spend Pereyra’s hush money, and I just… didn’t want another surgery,” Juno said quietly. “I didn’t really get that it was such a big deal for him until he— until I ended things. Or, when he left.”

“Do you know why it was such a big issue with him?” Nureyev asked, even as he planned the very painful way he would dispatch the bastard. When Juno raised his eyebrow at him sceptically, it hit him instantly.

Juno had looked like Benten, until he lost his eye.

“It’s the past, and it should stay there,” Juno replied eventually, and hummed when Nureyev drew him into a gentle press of lips.

“I will be honest with you, Juno; I hate my scars, as they are right now,” Nureyev confessed when he pulled away, smiling weakly at Juno’s curious expression. “Perhaps once they’re less fresh, I will find them more tolerable, but I was considering covering them up before meeting with you tonight.”

“Why didn’t you?” Juno asked.

“Because of you, honestly,” Nureyev said, smiling openly at Juno. “I thought of you, and how beautiful I believe you to be, and your scars are part of that.”

“Jeez, Nureyev,” Juno huffed, glancing away bashfully and chewing the inside of his cheek. “You’re laying it on pretty thick.”

“All of it is the truth, my love,” Nureyev sighed with a grin. “I just can’t believe no one else had figured it out as well.”

“Well,” Juno started with a shrug, “I got you out of it, didn’t I?”

“I was avoiding celebrating decades of people being incredibly stupid and cruel to you, dear,” he chastised lightly, pulling a laugh from Juno.

“Go ahead and celebrate. I mean, I am,” Juno said, accepting another kiss with a quiet moan.

“Are you?” Nureyev asked teasingly, their lips still pressed tightly together.

“Little bit,” Juno sighed and Nureyev laughed, deepening the kiss.

Nureyev kept it up until Juno began faltering in returning the kisses, his eyes fluttering shut. The detective would shake himself awake every time his mouth fell slack under Nureyev’s, returning the kisses with renewed fervor and enthusiasm, hands finding their way into his hair to ground himself.

Eventually though, when Juno drifted off, Nureyev pulled away and let him sleep.

Nureyev laid next to Juno for a while, watching the love of his life sleep peacefully, partially lit up by the city beyond the windows. The next day, he knew he would have to leave, but he thanked every entity from every planet orbiting every star that must have answered whatever secret prayer he had whispered.

Juno Steel was such a gift he didn’t deserve, it had to have been divine intervention.

With a sigh and one last chaste kiss to Juno’s cheek, Nureyev lowered his head to his own pillow and quickly drifted off to sleep as well.

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#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #gerry writes #full fic #bittersweet

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ellaenchanting · 4 years

Text

Hypnovember Day 27: Confidence

Warnings: non-consensual, unethical mental health practices

Richard paced nervously outside in the waiting room. The blue walls and minimalist style were clearly designed to be soothing, but Richard didn't feel comforted. Why had he let Marissa talk him into going to therapy anyway? He felt ashamed of asking for this kind of help. He wasn't crazy or anything- he just needed to figure some things out. Ever since Marissa had broken up with him, Richard had felt lost and unconfident. It had been over two years already. He needed some perspective.

Dr Eleanor had been recommended to Richard by his friend Jon who had seen her previously. "She won’t bullshit you," he had said, "she just gets right to the roots of your issues and helps you solve them." He must have known what he was talking about- a year after visiting Dr Eleanor, Jon had recently married a wonderful woman. He was also running marathons and succeeding professionally. There were worse people to listen to, Richard thought.

So Richard booked an appointment. Some of the questions on Dr Eleanor's website had seemed a bit odd- there was a surreal one where she asked him to imagine a beach and indicate if he could picture the sand, hear the waves, or feel the sun better- but he was here. Ready to be thereapized. Ready to feel better.

"Richard?" called a voice from the office. Dr Eleanor looked very similar to her website picture- older and stylish with cat eye glasses and dark greying hair. She smiled at him. "Come in!"

Her therapy office was a little darker than he expected, but it felt comfortable and was tastefully-decorated. He sank slightly more than he expected into the large plush chair as he sat down. He noticed the position of the blinders and the way their positioning directed light onto him and his chair.

Dr Eleanor offered to make them some tea, which Richard accepted. While she was working, he tried to identify what the office smelled like. There was a dark, musty smell that was almost a little overpowering- not like the patchouli he had vaguely been anticipating. It wasn't unpleasant necessarily but- odd. He'd have to ask her about it later- maybe even politely request that she not use it during future sessions.

If there were future sessions, that is.

Dr Eleanor gave him some tea and watched expectantly as he took a sip. Then she started out the session by explaining her therapeutic style. She stated that a lot of her clients suffered from problematic relationship patterns and, thus, she liked to use the therapist/client relationship as a model for examining and learning how to better navigate others. She indicated that she would ask a lot of questions even from the beginning about the relationship between herself and Richard. She also wanted to let him know that she used a lot of visualization and meditation practices in her work. Based on his intake, she thought Richard would respond very well to these.

After getting his consent, Dr Eleanor asked him to tell her a little about his history of confidence issues. He started by detailing his relationship with his mother. She had been a classic over-protective single mother who limited his ability to explore as a kid. He grew up relatively sheltered and timid but was academically successful until he went to college. There, his first taste of freedom had led to issues with alcohol and him nearly dropping out several times. He told the story of meeting his ex Marissa in the last year of school and how she inspired him to pull himself together enough to graduate. They were happy together for a few years, but she had broken up with him 2 years ago. Although they had remained friends, his life had fallen apart in the ensuing years since the breakup. He had lost his confidence and was feeling aimless.

As he talked, Richard noticed that he was beginning to feel more and more at ease with Dr Eleanor- it seemed like somehow she could truly understand and empathize with everything he was saying. He noticed a few times that she even shifted in her chair when he shifted or moved when he moved- like they were sharing the same mind for a moment. Occasionally she would interrupt his story to ask a few, sometimes unrelated questions. (Who was his favorite teacher as a child? How did he feel when she was paying attention to him? In what ways was she similar to Dr Eleanor? What drew him to his romantic interests? What had made Richard choose therapy with her?)

It was comfortable here, having this conversation with her. Almost too comfortable. He noticed the musty smell from before again, only it smelled a bit sweeter now. It was nice, he decided. Heady. The sun was setting and the light was flashing through the blinds and tiring his eyes a bit.

He didn't mind, though. He felt good and warm and peaceful.

Dr Eleanor must have noticed. She observed that he was blinking more often. She asked him if all of this processing was making him tired.

Tired? Suddenly that seemed very true. He nodded, eyes blinking heavily.

She nodded along with him, “You know, often when people come to therapy they’re just so tired. Tired of having to cope with their life stressors on their own. Tired of trying to seek out meaning by themselves. Tired of trying to solve problems all by themselves. Are you feeling tired in that way?”

Richard nodded again, suddenly feeling too drowsy and heavy to speak. That was ok. He felt more inclined to listen right now, anyway.

Dr Eleanor leaned forward as she continued. “So- let me reflect back to you what I’ve heard so far this session. You’re someone who has been struggling, all by himself, to try and make good decisions for your wellbeing and for your future. But when you try to make those decisions independently, you find that you aren’t strong enough to carry through with them and you fail or succumb to laziness. You thrive when you have a powerful woman in your life to push you and give you guidance, but deep inside there’s a self-sabotaging part of you that rejects help and dysfunctionally seeks self-reliance. This is despite knowing that on some level that you’re the kind of person who isn't really able to thrive alone. You feel guilty about your need for guidance and are trapped by the demands of a toxic masculinity into fruitlessly following your undisciplined urges into ruin, over and over again.” She stopped and looked at him kindly. “I can see why you’re so sad.”

How did she understand him so well after such a short time? Her analysis was incredible and felt so accurate. He wanted to tell her this, but the spinny feeling in his head had increased while she was talking and it was had to think of the words. He settled on nodding again.

She nodded along. Her tone softened more as her face took on a gentle, concerned expression. “You ARE tired. You poor thing, you’re been so alone. So helpless. You must be exhausted.”

He nodded, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.

Her smile softened. “I want you to try something. Try saying it: ‘I need guidance’ See how it feels.”

As a small tear formed, he repeated “I need guidance.” He blinked and it fell down his cheek.

She beamed. “Good! Excellent! Now- let’s practice an important skill. I know this may be unusual for you to do but it’s really important to be able to ask for help. Why don’t you try asking me directly for guidance now?”

“Please guide me, Dr Eleanor” he asked her. He started to feel like he was floating away, far above the chair.

“Of course I will, sweet boy. Why don’t you close your eyes and we’ll do some meditation exercises.”

Richard’s eyes slammed shut and he was momentarily overwhelmed by the sweet relief of finally being able to relax and let go. Dr. Eleanor started speaking to him, guiding him through some visualization exercises. He couldn’t quite remember everything afterwards- he might have dozed- but he did have a vague fuzzy recollection of re-examining some early childhood memories. Dr Eleanor guided Richard through remembering times when he felt like he knew best but his decisions had been wrong or unwise. “The silly brashness of an ignorant boy,” she said. She noted when his mother and other women around him had guided him safely to better outcomes than he could anticipate on his own.

At one point, Richard started to have a dream about a particularly difficult moment in elementary school- only, this time, when things were hard, Dr Eleanor was there. He could feel her hand on his shoulder as she helped him through a hard time, providing the guidance and direction and care that he needed. It was so nice to re-remember his childhood this way- safe and secure and peaceful. It was nice to not have to make decisions. It was nice to let someone else be in control. It was nice to be guided.

“Well, time’s up!”

Richard opened his eyes, snapping out of his reverie.

Dr Eleanor was rapidly writing down some notes on her notepad. She looked up, briefly. “You’ll be coming back the same time next week, yes?”

Richard felt gleeful at the prospect. Finally, he was going to get the guidance he needed to get his life back on track. “Yes Dr Eleanor! Thank you Dr Eleanor!”

Her smile was business-like. “Good. You may leave.”

Richard beamed, feeling energized and fantastic leaving the office. He never imagine therapy could work this well! He understood himself so much more fully and felt so much better just from one session. Why hadn't anyone told him it could be this effective?

As he left the office, the thought came to his mind of bringing Dr Eleanor a gift at the next session. After all, it was the least he could do to repay all her help so far. She deserved something nice.

He whistled as he made his way to the car, considering the prospect. Then he hopped in and drove away- into his new life.

#hypnovember #confidence #non-evidence based practice #evil therapist roleplay #secret tags twist: the drugs are in the tea #shhhh

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ethereousdelirious · 4 years

Text

Ask and ye shall receive

Fandom: T.he G.reat G.atsby

Characters: N.ick C.arraway, T.om B.uchanan

Pairings: N/A

Tropes: hangovers, heat exhaustion

Summary: N.ick, battling a vicious hangover, goes to New York with T.om only to get heat exhaustion. (It’s honestly pitiful how bad I am at writing summaries but that’s what happens ghgdjhgdz)

Warnings/Notes: there’s actually no emeto in this one believe it or not

More notes under cut

Uh yeah so I wasn’t really feeling inspired by the prospect of writing yet another Natsby fic, so I decided to explore Nick’s relationship with Tom? I really like Tom as a character for lots of reasons but in this context because, while he’s genuinely awful and has no redeeming qualities, he’s never really antagonistic toward Nick (or Jordan, for that matter). You can tell he doesn’t think of himself as a bad guy and that’s fucking fascinating to me, especially in terms of his ability to form connections with people he doesn’t perceive as beneath him.

ALSO I was kinda exploring his toxic masculinity vs Nick’s gentler, less threatening masculinity and Tom’s ability to express affection within that hypermasculine framework.

God sorry anyway. You didn’t come here to read an English paper. Here’s the fic. it’s short.

In New York, surrounded by temptation at every turn, it was so hard to not overindulge.

In weaker moments, Nick would reflect that at least his occasional night of drunkenness had far fewer negative consequences than a night spent in the arms of a strange woman, or under heroin's hazy spell.

Today, however, no such excuses filled Nick’s head, only an arrhythmic pounding that worsened significantly when he had to stand up to exit the cab he had taken over to East Egg.

The flat soles of his leather shoes crunched in the white gravel of the driveway, grinding against his eardrums.

It wasn't even the worst hangover he'd had, not by a longshot, but it was certainly enough to make him wish he was back in bed.

Oh, well. Nick sighed as he approached the door. There was nothing to be done about it now.

Tom was waiting for him just beyond the heavy, oak door of the Buchanan estate.

"There you are," he said, his booming voice filling the hall. He pushed past the butler and wrapped his arm around Nick's shoulders. "I was beginning to think you'd never make it."

"Oh, I thought I was on time," Nick said, struggling to check his watch, but Tom wasn't even listening.

"I want to introduce you to some people," Tom said as he steered Nick back down the driveway. "You need connections if you're going to get anywhere in life."

"Oh," Nick said flatly, his head buzzing. Still, he knew from experience it was pointless getting irritated with Tom. "Thanks," he added. His mouth was dry and still tasted vaguely of gin.

"No, no. No need to thank me, Nick," Tom replied loftily. "We look out for each other, don't we?" He gave Nick a long look, the kind that indicated this was not a rhetorical question.

"Of course we do." Nick tried to smile.

"Good." Tom patted him on the back and pushed him toward the passenger side of the coupé. "Now let's go."

The drive into the city was a welcome rest, a sort of calm before the inevitable storm of heat and light that was New York proper. Tom talked the whole way with Nick chiming in at the appropriate pauses, usually to agree. Tom Buchanan was not the sort of man you could argue with.

Nick didn't even bother to ask where they were going when they got out of the car, just followed along in Tom's wake and tried not to walk into people.

It was hot. Even with his hat and the light material of his suit, Nick could feel the sunlight pouring down on him, heating him inside and out.

The light alone would have been enough to exacerbate his headache to the point of agony, but the noise was almost unbearable. Dimly, he could make out Tom's hulking form beginning to disappear into the crowd and he tried to speed up again.

It was too much. He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and tried to catch his breath, to get the buzzing in his head to calm down.

"Nick?" Tom's voice was suddenly near. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, I--"

"Do I have to lead you along like a dog? Come on." Tom put a hand between Nick's shoulders and all but shoved him forward. The crowd obligingly parted for them and Nick allowed Tom to march him forward. It was just easier.

Tom was a fast walker. Usually it was no trouble for Nick to match his pace but today even keeping himself upright felt like a struggle. His face was almost painfully hot and the throbbing in his head was starting to make him feel sick. The hot dryness of his breath irritated his cracked lips and he couldn't help but lick them, wincing at the taste of blood. Nausea rolled threateningly in his stomach and his vision wavered.

"Where're you taking me, New Jersey?" he tried to joke.

"Very funny. We're almost there, just a few more blocks."

Nick fought the urge to just let himself fall down on the sidewalk. He was starting to get dizzy, like he was stuck on one of Coney Island's thrill rides.

Without warning, Tom led him around a corner and Nick stumbled. The vertigo left him unable to right himself and fell heavily against Tom before hitting the wall of the building next to them.

"What's the matter with you?" Tom glanced around like Nick was embarrassing him.

"I..." It was so hard to think, let alone speak. Nick's head was swimming with the severity of the pain hammering at his temples and the base of his skull.

To his credit, Tom did look concerned. He pressed the back of his hand briefly to Nick's cheek, then looked him over. "Must be the heat. My fault, really. You always were delicate."

Nick's knees buckled as if on cue. He slumped half-conscious against Tom's chest, loathing that heat generated by their bodies' proximity but unable to move.

"Okay!" Tom hauled Nick to his feet and arranged his limbs so he could lean against Tom's shoulder. "Think you can make it back to the car without fainting on me?"

It took a long while for the word's to permeate the static buzzing in Nick's ears. They were a ways down the sidewalk when he mumbled an affirmative, more of a sound than a word.

"Good man."

Nick made it to the car without blacking out, but it was a near thing. The world was a blur of pain and noise, stimulus with no clear edges or details. He didn't even notice he was lying down in the backseat until they were halfway over the bridge, and then he only closed his eyes. If he could just sleep.

He couldn't. Even the slightest movement of the car jostled his aching head and brought him closer to the verge of vomiting. It was all he could to not cry out. He doubted Tom would appreciate it.

His breathing must have changed because Tom said, "Hold on, we're almost there," and accelerated.

Even through the feverish haze clouding his mind, Nick couldn't help but be surprised. Tom had always had a soft spot for him, but he would have expected his affections to fade by now. Nick had always lacked the commanding hypermasculinity that Tom always projected. Tom would certainly never allow himself to end up in this position.

Nick was still dwelling on this unhappy line of thought when the car came to a stop. He sat up slowly and stood up even slower.

Tom was waiting there by his shoulder, ready to catch him and give him a paternalistic pat on the shoulder.

"We'll get you sorted out inside, don't you worry."

Only then did Nick notice that they were back at the Buchanan's estate. His heart sank. "Oh, Tom, really, it's okay--"

"Nonsense. You're coming inside and you're not leaving until you're back on your feet again."

Nick was too tired for a proper protest, especially knowing that this was not an argument he could win. But desperation prevailed. "Really, I can just go--"

"I won't hear a word of it."

Tom continued to pull him along at a speed much faster than Nick could manage. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, hard and rapid. He knew he ought to thank Tom, but he really didn't want to.

Still, he tried to move his lips to form the words and found them numb and tingling. The noise of the birds and the wind faded to radio static.

There was an odd pressure on Nick's stomach, preventing him from drawing a full breath. His feet weren't touching the ground.

And he still felt awful.

Confused, he opened his eyes.

Tom had him in a fireman's carry and was walking down one of the many hardwood halls of the Buchanan estate.

Nick sighed, his face burning with shame.

"I can walk," he croaked.

"Nonsense." Tom tried to glance at him, craving his neck awkwardly. He turned, maneuvering through a doorway, and deposited Nick onto a bed.

Nick arranged himself so he was on his back. He didn't have the energy to do much else but stare at the ceiling, although he did notice a pitcher of water on the bedside table.

"You're gonna be just fine," Tom said. He moved to Nick into a sitting position as easily as a child would move a doll, then poured out a glass of water. "Drink."

"Thank you," Nick said. He downed it without even passing for breath. The quickest way out of here would be to get better, and the quickest way to do that would be to drink. So he did. His head was still pounding and fuzzy, too much so for conversation. His eyes were starting to slide closed of their own accord.

Tom's blue gaze appraised Nick with the cool detachment of a predator assessing prey. "Get some rest," he said, reaching down to ruffle Nick's hair. "If you're not better by morning I'm sure Daisy will have a whole army of doctors in here, and I'd rather avoid the hassle." He gave a half-smile.

"I understand," Nick murmured, not able to bring himself to fake a laugh.

He sank back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Before drifting off, he could have sworn he felt Tom gently removing his shoes and bidding him a quiet "good night."

#ethereous writes

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blue-honeycomb · 4 years

Text

Escape Artist: Chapter 1 [Aizawa x Reader]

Decided to play around with this for a bit before going back to my other stuff.

Masterlist

Prologue | Part 1

---

The Escape Artist stared at the television screen with incomprehension, blinking once, twice, until a small hand smacked her dead center in the face. The force was enough to shake her from her thoughts and she cast a sidewards glare at the little brat sitting casually beside her.

Big, off-white eyes stared unflinchingly into her own, equally white, featureless face twisting into some form of expression that was lost on her. Luckily, the little hellion's hair was prone to flashing colors with their emotions, so she at least has some idea as to what they wanted. Even if that idea was vague at best.

"How was I supposed to know there was a whole pack of heros right there?" She huffed, casting her eyes back to the news special broadcasting her latest anti-kidnapping kidnapping with concerningly clear footage. Like, crystal clear HD, not some fuzzy security camera but media quality definition; the kind that got you recognized.

On the screen was a video of her popping into existence in a police station not even 3 yards from where a group of heros and police officers were finishing up an interview, setting the child she'd brought in a chair as he chewed on the mochi she'd thought to bring with her for just such a purpose. As though in slow motion, she could see her screen self whip around and suddenly freeze, staring directly at the heros, and consequencely the cameras, before disappearing once more. Honestly, it was pretty comical, and apparently, a good portion of the in studio reporters seemed to think so too.

"That," She pointed at the screen for emphasis while leveling the yellow flashing, blank-faced little shit a glare. "Was not intentional, no matter what you little misfits seem to think." From the shadow of the color flashing cretin popped another one, this one gray haired and black eyed, grinning widely at her with his wickedly sharp teeth.

"Don't make up shit just cuz you can't understand me. Don't think I'm not on to you, shark boy." Not that any of her brats ever listened to a thing she said anyway. The only one who ever seemed to try was Spitter, but that was because the boy couldn't say no to anyone ever, so it was never satisfying. Hard to feel victorious about getting your way when it took years of abuse to make the person (a little fucking boy) willing to heel on command. Thinking about how'd she'd found the little guy made her stomach turn.

Moving on before she breaks something.

Shark brat said something about hero costumes to Whiteout Brat and a lot of gesturing took place, as well as a good bit of yelling. Thankfully they lived far enough underground to avoid being hear by any passerbys. Escape Artist turned away while they were distracted and let them entertain themselves while she thought about what she'd just seen.

It was the first time the public had seen conclusive evidence of her existence outside of a few shitty grocery store video feeds, and the entirety of Japan seemed to be eating it up. Words like vigilante and uncatchable were being tossed around, as well as theories about teleportation quirks and being a greiving mother seeking vengeance. All these things would have made her snort in amusement had it been even a few months ago. But now? Now she couldn't afford to get caught or have a hoard of glory-hounds on her trail. Too many mouths to feed, for one, and secondly, too many little bodies following her when she wasn't looking. Anything could happen with the added variable of nosy superpower enhanced dogooders.

The problem with working with homeless, traumatized children is that after you've taken care of them for a while they come to expect you to actually take care of them. As in, not just feeding them occasionally and giving them a place to crash, but actually filling that parent shaped whole in their lives and taking over all the responsibilities that comes with it. Like protection, love and trust. And time. Especially time. So much more than she has to spare.

So they've taken to following her when she's not watching closely enough, and that terrifies her because she can give them love and trust in abundance, but protection is something she just can't provide. She simply isn't strong enough to take them with her everywhere she goes, let alone into a situation that may one day be her last.

Speaking of situations.

It was time to go out and get more food. While nothing went bad in her inventory, thank God, it never actually stayed full with how many mouths needed feeding everyday. Shark boy alone could put away half his body weight in a single sitting if given the chance, and even that's got nothing on Bull or Hot Shot. Honestly, and though Escape Artist would never say it aloud, Bull's vigorous appetite may have been the reason she was abandoned in the first place. She just had to eat so much to function that even with the triweekly raids Escape Artist could barely keep up with the ever growing demand.

And then there's Hot Shot. Nicely put, he was a rather enthusiastic young boy in possession of a very destructive, fuel-exhaustive quirk neither she nor he had any idea how to train. It wasn't until he'd joined her merry little band that she'd learned the location of every clothing store in the city. Every single one of them.

Her life sometimes, she swears.

There was a shattering sound in the designated kitchen area, followed by a high pitched screech that fell somewhere between a frog croak and a chirp. Not even a second later the sound of footsteps darting through the tunnels at frankly ridiculous speeds creeked overhead, followed closely by the wall rattling thud of Bull chasing right after.

Escape Artist sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling slightly. Beside her, Shark boy leapt to his feet in a dead run to go watch the drama unfold with unholy glee, Whiteout following at a slightly more moderate pace. Not even 8 in the morning and already the chaos had begun.

Her head thud quietly against the back of the couch. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."

---

Escape Artist was more than a bit concerned by what had happened on her way back home, but she supposed it could have been worse. For one thing, she wasn't dead, and for another, neither was the man she'd smacked headfirst into (or more accurately, he'd smacked face first into her). Unfortunately for the man though, the impact had left him notably unconscious and maybe a little bruised around the nose and forehead. In short, she done fucked up and this time it didn't involve another mouth to feed… she hoped. She didn't know if she had the patience needed to take care of a full grown man on top of the 8 kids at home and the 2 feral cretins that visited occasionally.

It'd been a simple case of bad luck all around, honestly. She'd just finished robbing the local Walmart (yes, it still exists and she still doesn't know how to feel about that months on) and was coming out of ID when she's suddenly been thrown to the ground by a speeding black mass all but flying through the darkened alley. Her first thought upon getting over her shock was to thank whatever was watching over her that night it wasn't a car. Her second was to fret over whoever she'd just gotten killed.

Luckily, it hadn't been a car and the stranger had survived the encounter. So, all was good in her books, besides the obvious part where the guy was laying unconscious in an alley and sporting an obvious hero getup in the shadier part of this district. If that wasn't asking for a knife in the back than she didn't know what was.

So now here she was, sitting across from the unmoving lump of man, chin in hand and elbows firmly planted on her thighs. She'd covered him up with a blanket from her inventory some time ago to keep him at least somewhat warm as the night gradually grew colder around them. She didn't think she'd manage to get the thing back before the guy was up and trying to kick her ass, but Hot Shot needed to learn to control his flames anyway and maybe going coverless for a while was just the motivation he needed to do so. She pointedly didn't think about the extra comforters she'd grabbed because she knew the first wouldn't last three nights in the little shit's care.

She blinked slowly, eyes roaming over what little bit of the man she could make out from under the blanket. Long, dark hair curling over the blanket and his heavily stubbled face (she'd picked the wild mass up off the filthy ground because ew), long lashes and a narrow, masculine face. He was attractive for sure, though the dark lines around his eyes, nose and forehead made him seem almost sickly pale in the unflattering street light. What she noticed most though was the peeks of sleek, firm muscle that the fluffy covers, ridiculously huge scarf and baggy clothing couldn't hide.

She was a woman with damn human needs. It'd been at least 3 years since she's gotten any and she was long overdue. She felt strongly that she should be able to appreciate this man's undeniable beauty so long as she kept her hands to herself and didn't do anything creepy like take pictures or some shit. She blatantly ignored the little voice whispering about how equally creepy it was to watch someone sleep without their consent.

It was also creepy how the observe function of her quirk let her learn a few tidbits about the man without any conscious effort, but for the most part she ignored the notifications hovering around the man all together. It wasn't like she'd ever meet the guy again after this, unless he was trying to arrest her of course. Either way, she doubted learning this guy's name or whatever was really worth invading his privacy anymore than her mere existence did. She'd like to think she has some standards.

In her uncharacteristic moment of distraction she failed to notice the subtle shift of the man's head before he went eeriely still. It wasn't until she was shifting to get more comfortable and noticed that a section of his hair was misplaced that she realized her mistake.

It happened too fast for her to properly react. With a quiet that belied the strength behind the attack, the man launched himself into her personal space and had her wrapped head to toe in the weird scarf he had with him. On instinct she tried to open her ID, but with a cold chill of realization discovered she couldn't get it to activate. In fact, her whole world seemed to suddenly swirl on its axis and for the first time since she'd come to this place her mind blanked with true, mortal terror.

His eyes glowed deep, sinister red against the shadows spread over his handsome face, dark hair whipping above his head like a dark, inhuman halo. Those muscles she'd been admiring just moments ago were suddenly the weapons of intimidation they were meant to be, something that made her heart race and quake with fear.

And her body. Maybe even worse than the sudden influx of terror was the sudden aknowledgement of her body's long forgotten functions. Where once she was satisfied she was now hollow, the movement of long unused organs felt like insects crawling though her body, scratching and nipping as they went.

Suddenly, the world was not just a thing that could be walked away from with a single though and a armful of goods. For the first time since she'd opened her eyes in that alleyway nearly a year ago, it was just her, the world and all the dangers that came with it staring her down with burning red eyes.

For the first time since she received her quirk she was well and truly alive.

"Escape Artist, was it."

#BNHA #Escape Artist AU #Gamer AU #Aizawa Shouta #Aizawa x Reader

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chloemill · 5 years

Text

On threesomes, tacos and The Office

Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? (-me, every single goddamn blog I write) I’m not going to wax poetic on my lack of motivation because, well, I do that every single post and also every single day in the prison of my own mind BUT! Here I am. Let’s just get on with it.

As most of you know, I am single. [thunderous applause from the crowd] please… please, thank you so much, please let me finish. After a solid consecutive five-ish years spent in back-to-back relationships, before which I’d been a crippingly insecure college student content to desperately make out with whatever pasty and emotionally stunted upperclassman would squeeze my boob, I’d never really dipped my toes into the dating app world until the last seven months or so. And I have to say: I am… well? I’m disgusted. It’s no secret that women on the apps match with exponentially more men than the other way around, and given what I’ve seen of men’s profiles, it’s not hard to see why. Men are out here in the virtual streets acting like goddamn buffoons and still expecting sex to be bestowed upon them. It’s a travesty, and nevertheless, it persists. It’s often said you need to be the change you wish to see in the world. So I’ve decided to take matter into my own hands. I present to you: my definitive list of dating app pet peeves.

- The Office quotes. I have to get it out of the way first, or it’ll gnaw at my soul. We all love The Office. It’s one of the greatest comedies of all time. So great that every fucking idiot this side of the Mississippi lists it as one of their top three TV shows. Cut it the fuck out. No mention of it! No “assistant to the regional manager”, no “looking for the Pam to my Jim”, no “Employed at: Dunder Mifflin”, please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up. At this point I’d honestly rather see a blurry, unhygienic and unsolicited dick pic than read “Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica” in some mediocre looking Brayden’s profile. Oh, and if you think you’re off the hook because you quoted Parks and Rec instead? You’re fucking not, Tanner. Watch another show.

- “Kid not mine!!!!!!” Yes, my instinct was that a 24-year-old named Brett on a dating app created for the primary purpose of fucking strangers was going to upload a picture of his infant child as his main photo for which to attract female mates. I’m glad you clarified

- Grown, of age, adult, matured, human men using Snapchat filters and/or boomerangs. This might be the biggest one of all, and that’s saying something. A photo of a man with an artificially round cherub face and giant virtual sparkly anime eyes or, even worse, a squinty boomerang trying desperately to accentuate his weak jawline… sends a chill down the spine. I hate to perpetuate gender roles, but I feel I’m justified in saying straight men aren’t allowed to use Snapchat filters. And boomerangs are only for hot girls making kissy faces and clinking their drinks together - at this point, it’s basically cultural appropriation to use them if you don’t fit that profile. Please, I beg of you, summon a shred of goddamn dignity from the depths of your broken soul and delete the boomerang.

- Jumping off of that last one: emoji use. Again, I mean, I hate to impose the confines of traditional masculinity on anyone, but the monkey-covering-his-eyes emoji has never helped anyone seal the deal. I mean that.

- “Not looking for anything serious” Chad, you have the Macklemore haircut and are wearing American flag swim trunks. I promise you, no one assumed you were looking for something serious

- Mentioning tacos/pizza/[insert delicious and popular food item here]. Look, I am a feminist, and in the spirit of equality I must point out that women pioneered this trend and still perpetuate it heavily - a pattern sociologists have termed the “touch my butt and feed me tacos phenomenon”. However, men have latched onto it in what I can only assume is an eleventh-hour attempt to draw in this demo. Please cease and desist. Everyone likes tacos, Caleb

- The other day I saw a guy on Hinge say his ideal dinner guest was Peter Kavinsky and I’ve never seen anyone else say that but honestly fuck you dude. Fuck you

- When guys are trying to stay anonymous and post a low-quality shirtless torso pic without showing their face…? Has anyone ever actually swiped right on that? I kind of respect the blind confidence, but still.

- ”[insert height here]… because I’ve been told it matters” stop with the qualifier, just tell us how tall you are and go, you coward. Honestly, I think the ideal male dating app profile for me is just 3 grainy vaguely attractive pictures and “6’3” as a bio.

- “In town for the weekend… show me around?” Firstly, that sounds absolutely harrowing. Secondly, I’d respect you more if you just said “in NYC for 24 hours and trying to get it in” than pretend like you’re searching for Sacajawea to show you the new world. It’s NYC. Google it

- Any of the following descriptors: easygoing, laid-back, outgoing, “loves travel/fine dining/yoga/hiking/Netflix/some other generic hobby white people like to talk about”, intelligent, chill, fun, low-key, “up for whatever”, hard-working, humble, etc. These are not bad qualities per se, but anyone who describes themselves as such is 110% guaranteed to be deeply boring.

- I was just swiping to find some more overused descriptive phrases and someone’s bio was “the Earth is cylindrical”… you have my attention, sir

- Guys with accents specifying in their profile that they have an accent. I cannot tell you what an enormous boner killer this is. Do you know what’s a huge turn ON? Being into a guy and then meeting him for the first time and realizing he has a sexy ass accent. You know what’s not a huge turn on? A random English dude you didn’t match with leaving you a 45-second Instagram voice DM (this is a thing somehow) in which he hits on you and then goes “oh… and yeah… I have an accent. Crazy, isn’t it?” Yes, this really happened. Still accepting thoughts and prayers.

- Couples looking for threesomes. This is a delicate process and making a joint profile with “she’s bicurious. He’s straight. We both like kissing girls. Looking for someone to explore with :)” is not only cringeworthy as all motherfuck, but completely ineffective. Listen, I get it. I get that after four years, Tommy and Kayleigh are trying to spice things up. Order a pair of fuzzy handcuffs on Amazon and leave me the hell out of it. Also - every single one of these couples has a very… wide male/female attractiveness margin. Kayleigh can hit me up on her own.

I’m going to stop here because I’m just making myself depressed at this point. It’s really a jungle out there. The truth of it is we’re all braver than the goddamn troops every time we swipe, and I salute each of you out there in the trenches with me. May your monkey emojis be infrequent and your threesome requests be infrequent-er! If worse comes to worse, there’s always arranged marriage.

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frisbee-camp · 5 years

Text

Let Me Help (Complete!)

AO3 Link//Wattpad Link

Tj and Cyrus have been friends for a long time, but will that change after life comes crashing down and impulsive decisions catch up to them? (Angst, Ambi, love notes, slow burn, aged up so they're all in high school, god tier ships, mental health, and like a whole bunch more ladies! Let’s get this angst.)

Chapter 17 Eventually

Cyrus groaned, he didn't know what time it was or how he ended up directly under a skylight, but he did know that he didn't want to get out of bed. He breathed in deeply only to be hit with a pulsing headache, he rolled over into the pillow. He fell back to sleep. When he opened his eyes again, the light was twice as harsh as before. He rolled onto his side and was met with one of Tj's black and white movie posters, this one read Masculin Féminin above French words Cyrus didn't understand. He was in Tj's room, he had seen him at his messiest and he didn't abandon him. Cyrus grinned at the thought. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, Cyrus then realized that he was still in his dress shirt. He sighed and looked around the room, his eyes landed on a neatly folded pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. He dragged himself to the pile and picked up the note placed on top. He opened it, it read Thought you might like these, meet me in the kitchen. The note was on top of a pile of Tj's hoodies, a towel, and a fluffy light purple blanket. Cyrus smiled and heaved himself to the bathroom to take a shower. "Good afternoon sleepy head," Tj smiled at him as Cyrus walked into the kitchen. Cyrus sat on the countertop. TJ was scrambling eggs, he turned down his sad indie music. "What time is it? I think I lost my phone." Cyrus still had his eyes half closed but at least now he was in Tj's hoodie and had a blanket around his shoulders. "It's 2" Tj stood in front of Cyrus, he combed his fingers through Cyrus' unruly hair and chuckled. "Post meridiem?" "Yes Cyrus, pm," Tj hummed and put something in the toaster, Cyrus yawned. "Where's Amber?" Cyrus vaguely remembered being put into her car yesterday. "In her room with Andi, Buffy went with Marty and Jonah and them," TJ had glasses on again, Cyrus grinned at the sight. "How long have you been up?" Cyrus rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Not long, and you didn't lose your phone, Amber has it." The memories of last night flushed over Cyrus, he remembered singing or screaming or both, standing on a table, and Tj kissing him. He blushed furiously, TJ noticed. "Do you remember anything?" Tj asked him quietly. "A little," more like only the first twenty minutes. "Here," Tj pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos. He showed Cyrus a dark video of him and Andi singing a horrible rendition of Defying Gravity from Wicked, it was completely embarrassing, to say the least. "Oh my god," Cyrus hid his face in his hands and leaned on TJ's chest, "was I really that messy?" "Oh don't worry Muffin, we were both trashed," Tj showed him drunk selfies Tj and Cyrus took last night. They both looked incredibly gone. They couldn't stop laughing at each other, it was fantastic. TJ went over to take the bagels out of the toaster. He handed a plate with cream cheese, bagels, and eggs to Cyrus who gladly inhaled it. Tj leaned on the counter and looked at Cyrus very intently, "Cyrus," he said. Cyrus's stomach dropped, did he look horrible all of a sudden? Was TJ about to dump him? "Yes?" he said carefully putting down his bagel. He was about to break up with him, he was sure of it. Cyrus had been trying very hard to look as happy as he could now that he was with TJ, but what if TJ saw straight through that? Suddenly loving yourself is impossible, but Cyrus was working on it. At least now he knew he had someone who understood him. He didn't want to lose TJ already, it was too soon. It was too new, it was still awkward. Did he scare Tj off already? "I meant everything I said last night."Cyrus didn't know what he was talking about. "What did you say last night?" Cyrus wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. "That," Tj looked down and chewed on his lip, "That I don't know what I'd do without you and that I think I'm in love with you." Cyrus fought back tears, Tj didn't mean it. He couldn't have meant it. He was still dreaming, Tj was probably still drunk. Cyrus cast his eyes down and said very quietly, "I don't think I'm what you want TJ." He didn't want TJ to get his hopes up, he didn't want anyone else to be disappointed in him. TJ lightly placed his palm on Cyrus' cheek, "Cyrus don't say that-" "But it true, I can't do anything right, everyone says I'm a wimp, and you probably only kissed me yesterday because you were drunk," Cyrus played with the strings of TJ's hoodie, he was pouting. TJ smirked and gently stroked Cyrus' cheekbone, "So that's what this is about?" "What?" Cyrus said looking up. "You just want me to kiss you again." Cyrus' eyes widened, his nose pinked, he quickly looked up at TJ. It wasn't the only reason, but Cyrus did want to kiss him again, he couldn't really feel the last one. "I knew it," Tj gave a shy smile, Cyrus didn't know where his words had gone. Cyrus slowly blinked and inched himself closer to Tj, he brought his hand up to TJ's cheek. Tj gave a small smile and looked down. Cyrus' heart definitely was not about to slow down anytime soon, he took in a shallow breath. It wasn't his first kiss, but this one was the most important. Cyrus lightly traced TJ's laughter line and bumped noses with TJ. Tj finally closed the gap. It was sweet and not as disgusting as last night's, this time Cyrus could actually feel Tj's lips. They were surprisingly soft, Cyrus didn't want to pull away. His insides felt as fuzzy as the blanket around him, he let out a soft giggle. When he opened his eyes TJ said, "You know," he was leaning on the countertop again, "You were the one that kissed me first yesterday," he bit into a bagel. "I, Wha-" Cyrus stammered. How could he have forgotten that? "Tyler should we get a cat?" Said a bellowing voice, Cyrus was startled, he almost got off the counter but TJ gave him an encouraging tap saying it was alright to stay. A woman lightly strolled into the kitchen wearing a bright pink fur-lined robe, she held a canned bloody mary. "Hey mom, why do you want a cat?" TJ chuckled and handed her a bagel as she gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Why not, do you want one or no?" Tj's mom briskly looked over Cyrus then looked back at her son. "Whatever you want mom," TJ nodded to Cyrus, "This is Cyrus, you know about him." "Ah yes, Cyrus," she raised a very sharp eyebrow, "Do you think we should get a cat?" She very much expected him to answer her question. Cyrus was taken aback, he looked towards TJ for support, "Um." TJ gave him an amused smile and an equally sharp raised eyebrow. Cyrus saw the resemblance. "Wouldn't a little kitten be cute? We could name her petunia or daisy, right Cyrus?" The woman was very blonde, Cyrus thought she looked like a star from one of TJ's old French movies. "Well," Cyrus cleared his throat, "cats are very good pets Mrs. Kippen, they're clean and self-sufficient." Cyrus gave his best polite smile despite having a horrible headache. "Oh, I like you, Cyrus. You can stay," the woman gave a blinding smile. "Mom," Tj said through gritted teeth. Tj's mom ruffled her son's hair and said, "Alright Tyler don't be rude, I'll pick up a kitten this afternoon. I'm grabbing lunch with your father, call the police if you need anything." She picked up her purse and walked out of the kitchen in a flourish. Cyrus didn't speak until he heard the front door close. "Is she going outside in a robe?" Cyrus was very confused at what just happened. TJ leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter and played with the blanket wrapped around Cyrus, "Yea," he said, "She always buys clothes in a robe. She says it clears her mind. She used to take me and Amber when we were younger." "I like her," Cyrus said cracking a smile. TJ laughed to himself, "Yea, people usually do." Cyrus wished he had eccentric parents, instead, he got two sets of boring, thoughtful, and sensible adults. He loved him, but they were drab. "What does she do?" Cyrus asked him. TJ gave Cyrus another bagel and said, "She's a realtor but," he took in a breath, "she's not very good at selling houses. She usually just drinks wine with her friends and gambles with our dad." "How chaotic," Cyrus said, maybe he didn't need quirky parents, stability was nice. TJ smiled up at him and leaned on Cyrus' thigh, "They try to be good parents, but sometimes it doesn't work out very well. That's why Amber and I try to do our own things, they can be a lot to handle and that's just our mom. You haven't met our dad yet." "Do you want me to?" Cyrus asked. He had known that there was something up with Tj's family life, but he didn't know it was this hectic. "If you want to meet him, I don't know when though. I barely see him as it is," Tj roughly ran a hand through his own fluffy dirty blonde hair, Cyrus nudged it away and replaced it with his own gentler hand. "Do you want to meet my parents? I think they'd like you," he said as he ran his fingers through Tj's hair. "Do you want me to?" Tj looked up at him and smiled. Cyrus would do anything for that smile. "I think so," Cyrus said smiling. TJ stood up and turned his music back on. Cyrus affectionally rolled his eyes, he was trying very hard to live in the moment. He hadn't had a depressive episode in a while, but he knew the new medication he was taking wouldn't kick in for a couple months. Some days were better than others, but at least he had TJ to help him through it. At least he didn't feel as alone. TJ grabbed the dirty dishes from him and started washing them, Cyrus hopped off the counter and went to help, but TJ blocked his way. "Tyler James!" Cyrus said laughing, "Let me help!" THE END

#andi mack #andi mack fanfic #tyrus #tyrus fanfic #the last chapter #wow #i cant believe this #maybe a bonus chapter in the future idk #ugh this is so emotional #i cant believe its over #complete #slow but steady

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chugging-sunset-sarsaparilla · 5 years

Text

Something There

Archive of Our Own Link

Summary: After Six and Boone come back from a particularly difficult quest for Red Lucy, Boone specifically asks for Arcade to stitch him up while Julie cares for Six. One small problem: Med-X can be a real mixed bag for people to react to. And Boone gets rather talkative after Arcade realizes he may have slightly messed up the dosage. He said he wasn’t a good practical physician…

Word Count: 1,811

Pairings: Craig Boone/Arcade Gannon, sort of implied Female Courier/Julie Farkas

Characters: Craig Boone, Arcade Gannon, Female Courier, Julie Farkas

Warnings: Mentions of needles, blood, and bare descriptions of medical procedures; nothing explicit

Author's Note: This was a secret santa gift for @ymoapology!

“What did you get into this time,” Arcade mumbled, fishing around in his first aid kit.

“A couple of radscorpions guarding their nest.” Boone’s gruff voice was more soft now. “Six got the worst of it. How the hell she was still standing is beyond me.”

“Well, if anyone can help her, it’s Julie.”

Arcade didn’t look up at Boone. He knew he’d stare if he dared glance up. Ever since Boone had walked in with Six a couple weeks ago, Arcade had found it hard to look away at all. He was always a sucker for the strong, silent, and handsome types, especially ones that had a kind of secret past. People like that were puzzles, Publix cubes just waiting to be solved and unlocked. Hell, Arcade didn’t even know his first name. Made the whole thing a little more exciting.

He’d have all the time to stare when he was stitching up the cut on his arm, but for now, he had to be all business. Hell, he needed to be all business while doing the stitching too. He was never a great practical physician, so he’d need to really focus. It did strike Arcade as odd that Boone had requested that he, specifically, help him out, but he didn’t mind. It certainly beat staring at an aloe leaf through a microscope until his eyes hurt. God, the things he would let this man do him after a glass of wine…

Boone cleared his throat. “So. You study plants.”

It was less of a question than anything else and Arcade cleared his throat as well as he looked up to make eye contact with the ex-NCR sniper. “You could say that, yes. I’m no biologist, but I try.”

“That’s interesting.”

Boone’s eyes were almost unreadable, but there was a genuine interest there that was so different from his usual apathy. Huh.

“I like to think so,” Arcade said as he drew a syringe of Med-X from his kit. “How do you feel about needles?”

Boone just nodded and after a quick test, Arcade steeled himself before taking Boone’s arm and feeling around to find a vein. Oh fuck, he was almost all muscle- Quick, quick, find that damn vein so it wasn’t like he was feeling him up. Hell, Boone just radiated hetero energy, god, why did he always fall for the straight ones-

Before he could fully panic, he found the vein and injected the Med-X. Boone didn’t even flinch as Arcade removed the needle and added to the bin near the door.

“We’ll have to wait a few minutes before it kicks in.” Arcade returned to his seat with a heavy sigh. “You might start to feel a little off, but don’t worry, that’ll just stop you from feeling this next part.”

“Good. The sooner I can get back out there the better.”

Arcade took his handy dandy cleaning cloth, soaked it with whiskey, and ran it over the wound, delicately scrubbing the area to get the rest of the blood off. Boone sucked in a quick breath at the first swipe, but went quiet after. Arcade could see his hands clenched and jaw set, holding back any kind of emotion and sound.

Arcade threaded his needle, took a deep breath and went to work. His hands were shaky at first, the first couple of lines uneven and wider than they probably should have been. But he got back in the swing and quickly sutured the wound shut, tying a neat, tiny knot at the end. He pulled a set of scissors out of his kit and cut the thread before beginning the clean up process. God, his kit really was in terrible shape, he needed to reorganize this whole thing-

“So, you stitch people up often?” Boone was… He was almost joking? Arcade’s surprised look was met with a slightly uncharacteristic twinkle.

“Not usually.” Arcade tried to keep his voice even and measured with as little subtext as possible. “Are you feeling alright, Boone?”

“Craig.”

“Sorry?”

“You can call me Craig,” he repeated.

“What do you mean, Craig?”

“That’s my first name. Craig Boone.”

“Oh.”

The barely present smile vanished. “What’s wrong?”

“Noth-nothing,” Arcade slightly stammered, feeling his face heat up as he stood and walked over to his research counter. “I just… I never got your name before. I thought it was just Boone.”

Craig stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. It was clear and deep, booming around the tent as the battle-hardened sniper laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair.

“Of course I have a first name,” he wheezed, still hooting.

“I…” Arcade was left just starring as Craig tried to catch his breath. “Boo-Craig, you should probably stop laughing. You might tear your stiches and I don’t think I’ll be able to do them as good again.”

“I’m… trying…” he managed to get out before starting to laugh again.

Arcade just watched him try to calm down with a bemused expression. A question flitted across his mind (when was the last time Craig had laughed?), but he just waited out the storm and for him to calm down.

“I feel sort of weird,” Craig mumbled, blinking slowly and rubbing his face. “Like everything’s going a little fuzzy.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Arcade was tinkering around the microscopes, making sure the alignments were right.

“No, this is… off.” Boone slipped a little, straightening himself up and then sliding down again.

Arcade sighed and stood, walking over and helping Craig sit upright in his chair. “Do you want to lie down?”

“You have really pretty eyes,” Craig mumbled, scooting up in his chair slightly and cracking open his eyes to squint at Arcade.

His face started to heat up again. “I think you should lie down for a little bit. You’re not yourself-“

“Why don’t you join me?” Boone made a vague grabbing motion. “I like to cuddle. It’s warm.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Arcade protested, helping Boone stand and walk over to one of the cots.

“Oh come on, ‘Cade… It’d be fun,” he half-whined. “I haven’t cuddled a guy since… since...” Craig yawned. “Since boot camp.”

Arcade blinked slowly as Craig rubbed at his eyes. Of all the people he’d expected-

“Arcade, you want to know a secret?”

“Uh, sure?”

Of all the people he expected to be okay with cuddling another man, it wasn’t Mr. Manly Man, middle name Toxic Masculinity I Don’t Need Anyone-

“I’m bi.” Craig was clearly trying to not laugh. “I’m so bi, Arcade, do you know what bi means?”

“Uh, yes-“

“I’m so bi,” he giggled, giggled, and placed a hand on his forehead.

“I think you need to sleep this off,” Arcade insisted, patting the pillow. “I’m going to get Julie-“

“No!” Craig grabbed his arm. “No, I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be gone for two minutes,” he promised.

“That’s a promise?”

“Yes, I swear it on… Well, I don’t know what I swear it on, but I swear.”

“Okay. You should go get Julie.”

“That’s where I’m going.”

Craig released Arcade’s arm and started to slowly massage his temples.

“Arcade, I like you.”

He paused in the tent door.

“I like you a lot. From here to Reno.” He drew out the o in Reno and then sighed. “Why did I say that.”

“I think you’re high on Med-X.”

“I think you’re too smart.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.” Arcade sighed. “I’m going to get Julie now.”

“Okay… See you soon…” Boone gave a half-hearted wave as the tent flap fell shut.

Arcade held the door open for Julie, whose mohawk scraped the top of the door.

“He’s over there,” Arcade said, gesturing vaguely as he refastened the flap.

She unpacked her doctor’s bag, sighing. Boone was mumbling under his breath, a mixture of expletives and hoping Arcade was coming back soon. Julie gave Arcade a knowing look and picked up Boone’s wrist to take his pulse.

“That feels funny.”

Julie stared at Boone, glancing back over at Arcade with a raised eyebrow. She let go of his wrist and pulled her stethoscope out from around her neck. Julie moved the stethoscope around, a look of intense concentration as Boone’s chest rose and fell. She checked his pulse again, nodding to herself, then frowning.

“He’ll be fine,” she declared, packing up her bag. “Just a little too much Med-X. Could have happened to anyone. Just make sure he’s propped up correctly and don’t give him any more. I’d recommend keeping an eye on him for the first hour or so after he falls asleep. If anything’s going to happen, it’ll be then.”

Arcade nodded curtly. “Will do. How is Six?”

She pursed her lips. “Bad. But not critical. She’ll pull through, but needs to stick around for more than a couple days. That scorpion venom really did a number on her.”

“Should I tell Crai-Boone when he wakes up?”

Arcade’s slip up didn’t make it past Julie and she barely smiled before returning to all business. “You might want to. I know he’s not exactly the type to stay in one spot for a while.”

She picked up her bag and headed for the door. Arcade took a seat next to Boone with a sigh, grabbing a book and cracking it open.

“Arcade?”

“Yes?” He pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked over at her.

“Next time, just ask me or another tech for help, alright? Wouldn’t want you accidentally killing the first guy you’ve even let look at you in a non-platonic way.”

He laughed sharply, swallowing and scoffing. “Uh, yes, of course, Julie. And he’s not- I mean- yes, I’ll make sure to ask next time.”

“Alright. Have a good night, Arcade.”

He sighed when he was alone again, kicking up his feet on another chair as he opened his book again. Ah yes, Top Down: A Textbook of Bottom Up Biological Physics. Another book with about a hundred pages of ramblings about an aloe plant. Just… just great. Just great. Such riveting bedside reading material. What was he thinking? What was he doing?

He snapped the book closed with a huff and glanced over at Boone. He was fast asleep, hand dangling slightly over the side of the bed. He sighed again, taking Boone’s hand to lift it up and set it down on his chest.

However, Craig’s hand clenched around his hand and when Arcade went to let go, his grip got tighter. Arcade’s eyes went wide and he tried to shake his hand free. It didn’t budge. He tried to pull his hand free, but Boone’s grip was iron.

Well. Looked like he was stuck here. Not the worst place to be for a couple of hours. Or… however it took for him to wake up.

#arcade gannon #craig boone #arcade/craig #arcade gannon/craig boone #fanfiction #fallout new vegas fanfiction

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laudnagirlfriend · 6 years

Text

What Friends Are For

Chapter 5: Yasha

(Gonna start cross-posting my work on tumblr! :D)

Caleb’s drunk, and Yasha is awesome (as always)

Caleb was into his fourth (fifth? Sixth?) mug of ale, and his mind was buzzing pleasantly. He vaguely remembered most of the others trudging upstairs, Nott stopping to pat him on the cheek and mutter something in his ear that he couldn’t remember now. It probably wasn’t urgent. Nothing seemed urgent right now, anyway; everything seemed soft, and nice, and maybe friendly. Caleb smiled at no one and everyone.

“We should probably be getting to bed now, Caleb.” Yasha’s face came swimming into his field of vision. He smiled wider.

“Yasha!” Caleb shouted. He winced; too loud. “Yasha, I’m drunk, I think,” he whispered.

“I think you’re right about that,” she replied in her quiet voice.

Yasha wasn’t drinking anything, Caleb noticed in his addled state. was she staying down here just for him? The thought made him happy for some reason. “You are very very kind, Yasha. I haven’t ever told you that but you are very good.”

“Thank you, Caleb,” Yasha said with an amused smile.

Caleb felt warm. Is this what friendship felt like? He loved his friends so much. “You are a good friend,” he said. “Do you want to dance? I’m out of practice but I can waltz.”

“No, I’ve never danced before,” Yasha said. “I don’t really think I’d be any good at it.”

Caleb grabbed her hand, suddenly, with both of his own. “Yasha,” he said. “Yasha. You’re great. You will be so great at dancing.”

Yasha laughed, but let Caleb hold her hand. “You’re a lot more... tactile when you’re drunk. And talkative.”

He beamed at her. Then, something occurred to him, and he pulled his hand away. “We are friends, right Yasha? I know, I know you said we were but- are we really? I haven’t- had friends in awhile, besides Nott. Is this- is this what it’s like?” Caleb felt the world swaying gently around him, almost like faint hints of memories of his mother when she used to rock him to sleep after a bad dream.

Yasha looked at him with such a sad look on her face. Caleb felt anxiety bloom in his chest for the first time since his third mug of ale. “Well, to tell the truth-“

“Hey, you,” came a gruff voice. Caleb turned to see an angry-looking half-orc stumbling towards them. He was followed by several equally pissed off humanoids, ranging from elf to halfling, all staggering drunkenly. “You. The- the big one. Yeah, you, lady.”

Yasha looked at them passively, not saying a word. The half-orc seemed to take that as an invitation to keep going.

“You- I know your type, I seen the likes a ya on the border. You’re one a them cricks, comin’ in from Xhorhas.” His voice was slurring, almost indecipherable. “I’ve seen ones like ya, lookin’ almost human, but ya can’t trick us Empire folk.” At this point, he spit right in Yasha’s face, earning a few mutters from nearby patrons of the tavern. Yasha, for her part, didn’t flinch. “Get outta our tavern.”

Before Caleb knew what he was doing, he was pushing back his chair and stumbling out of his seat. “Hey! Arschloch!” Caleb stood right in front of the half-orc, just now realizing that the stranger was a full head taller than him. For some reason, Caleb‘s mind didn’t register that as a problem. “That is meine Freundin you are speaking to, Arschgesicht, and-“ here Caleb had to suppress a hiccup, “-and she is free to drink wherever she likes, so, kindly Verpiss dich, Scheißkerl!”

Caleb realized two things in the moments immediately after giving this speech. The first was that he had spoken about half of it in Zemnian, which explained the confused look on the half-orc’s face. He realized the second thing as he saw the half-orc’s hand move, revealing an empty glass bottle which rapidly found its way to Caleb’s face, shattering on impact: that he was an idiot.

Then the world got a little blurry, fading to black along the edges. He heard the sounds of people fighting, but was too far gone to process what that meant. Soon, the sounds quieted, and he felt his body shift. Then brief pain, then he was staring at a ceiling, head throbbing. Caleb groaned.

“Ah- sorry, I kind of... carried you up to my room,” Yasha said. “I figured you wouldn’t want to wake up Nott and make her worry.” Caleb realized there was a damp cloth on his forehead. He reached up to push it away, finding that it was stained with blood.

“I tried to heal that up as best as I could, but I don’t really have all that much magic. I thought you could just ask Jester in the morning.”

Caleb nodded, then winced at the pain that shot through his skull. “Scheiße... what happened?”

Yasha shrugged. “After that guy hit you, they tried to start some shit with me.” She grinned. “No such luck.”

“So, you took them all out?” Caleb asked. He tried not to let the awe creep into his voice.

“It was not too hard, and besides...” she paused, considering. “Besides, I was worried about you.”

Caleb snorted. “Ja, well, I made an utter fool of myself back there, if I remember correctly. So I might not have minded much if I had died, it would have saved me the embarrassment I am currently feeling.”

Yasha laughed, soft and sweet. “I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish.”

“I have no idea what was going through my mind,” Caleb replied, smiling. “I am not usually one for heroic gestures. Unless I have been drinking, apparently.”

“But...” Yasha started. “But it was... very sweet of you. To do that. I- uh. I haven’t had many friends who would... stand up for me. So, thank you.” She shifted uncomfortably, twisting her hands together. “I was going to tell you that earlier, that I wasn’t used to having friends, before that half-orc showed up.”

Oh. Caleb felt that same warmth from earlier rise in his chest, but this time it wasn’t a result of alcohol. “Oh. Ja, I... ah. I am glad we are friends, Yasha, even though I am not really good at this whole... ‘friendship’ thing.”

Yasha patted his hand awkwardly, a little too hard, but she was trying. “I- yeah,” she said. “I am. Um. Me either.”

They sat in companionable, but still awkward, silence for a few moments. Then Yasha cleared her throat.

“Uh, what were those things you said in Zemnian? I think one was like... ‘arsh-gesit?’”

“Oh, Arschgesicht. Yes, that means fuckface.”

Yasha laughed. “I like that! You should teach us some curse words in Zemnian, so we can shout them when we’re fighting as sort of a, you know, psychological blow.”

“That is a very good idea,” Caleb said, grinning. “Do you remember any other words I said? It is a little fuzzy for me.”

She thought for a moment. “I think you said... ‘froy-den?’”

Caleb paused for a moment, his brain switching gears. “I remember that, sort of. I think I called you meine Freundin. It means ‘my friend.’”

She furrowed her brow. “So, if I wanted to tell you that you are my friend, I would say... you are ‘mine-a froy-den’?”

He laughed. “Your accent is terrible,” he said, “and meine Freundin is the feminine version. For the masculine version, you would say mein Freund.”

“‘Mine froind,’” she repeated carefully. “I like the way that sounds. You are mein Freund.”

“Your pronunciation is getting better!” Caleb said, beaming. He was strangely proud of her, like when Nott sent him her first message using the spell he had taught her. “I will teach you some more Zemnian later, if you want.”

“I would like that,” she replied, smiling.

Caleb sighed contentedly. This... was nice. He hadn’t had anything this nice in a long time, it felt like. But now he had Yasha, and Nott, and the others.... he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled this much. Not in years.

“I should probably sleep, now, though,” he said finally, pushing himself off the bed and ignoring the slight dizziness the motion caused. Yasha noticed, though, and grabbed him by the arm.

“Alright, just don’t pass out on your way over there,” she said, helping him to the door of her room. He gave a small wave as he stumbled into his and Nott’s shared room, careful not to wake her as he collapsed on the bed. There was still a smile on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

#critical role #crit role #caleb widogast #yasha #critical role fic #critical role fanfiction #fanfic #ellie writes #my fic #will add a readmore when i get to my laptop!#long post

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rantsaboutsomething-blog · 6 years

Text

Gender feels… so complicated

I’m sort of slowly trying to figure things out, but it feels difficult to grasp. I’m mostly writing this to rant in an attempt to order things in my own head, but I also kinda feel like it would be helpful to talk to some people about it. Like, how do you figure out if you’re genderqueer, nonbinary and/or trans?

Ofc, no one has to respond, and I’m not entitled to your time if you don’t want to. Just, I would appreciate it, you know?

I’m putting the rant under a cut, because it’s long, so nobody has to read it if they don’t want to (you also don’t have to read it to talk to me, I mean it’s like over a thousand words you don’t have to deal with that)

I was assigned female at birth, and I’ve lived my life as a cis woman up until and including now, but sometimes womanhood just feels… restricting? Sickening? Like it sort of fits, but not entirely?

And I’m trying, a little bit, sort of slowly, to figure out if maybe I’m not actually (only/fully) a woman. But it feels complicated, and difficult to grasp, because there are so many factors and not really any precise definitions for anything.

Like, what does it mean to be a woman? What does it mean to be a man? I get it when other people say they identify as one or the other, that that is what they can feel that they are, but I can’t really connect that with myself. How do I feel if I’m a woman? What does it mean to feel like a woman?

Since our ideas of gender are a social construct, doesn’t that mean that being a woman is whatever it is constructed to mean? This is the point that gets very confusing to me.

I like some parts of womanhood, and I feel fine with others. I like skirts and dresses, I like the feeling of the fabric dancing around my legs when I walk. I like having long hair, the feeling of it brushing against my back (especially when I put it up in a high ponytail, because it’s actually long enough to reach down from up there now). But I think I could also like having short hair, to get some sort of satisfaction out of not “fitting” into the mold of a typical woman. I have also though quite a lot about trying out wearing a binder lately. I don’t feel bad about having breasts most of the time (though sometimes they make me feel too sexualized and forced into a certain idea of women as sexual objects and then I get uncomfortable), but I also think that maybe it would feel good to sometimes not have them? Like the thought of just having like, a set of “men’s” clothes that I could wear on some days with a binder just seems kind of… appealing

Like, most of the time I’m fine with presenting in a feminine way, but sometimes it feels… off. Mostly when I’m around men I don’t know? Like I’m being polarized to them, which feels like it pushes me away from who I actually am

But gender expression isn’t gender identity, and wanting to wear certain clothes doesn’t have to be a deciding factor for my gender identity. I might just be a queer woman. There’s butch women who dress in the clothes I wanna try, without identifying as anything other than women. There are even one that go by he/him pronouns, or choose more masculine or gender neutral names (a gender neutral name sounds appealing, not like my current name hurts horribly or anything or I absolutely have to legally change it but like, a nickname could be nice?)

But then there is more to it than just clothes and names, which is what I meant by there being many factors.

I feel absolutely sickened by the idea of ever getting pregnant. Imagining being pregnant makes me want to die. The social pressure to get pregnant and have kids, that expectation placed on women, makes me feel panicked and trapped. It has gotten to the point where I feel disgusted and uncomfortable with my body when I get my period, because it reminds me that I have the parts in me that allow for pregnancy to happen. It’s pretty distressing. It’s also at this point that I sometimes start to feel uncomfortable with my body being too “womanly”, and I don’t like seeing it very much. A binder sounds very appealing in a way that it otherwise doesn’t (not that it feels like something I would feel uncomfortable with at other times, but rather this is the time when it feels the closest to being a NEED).

I didn’t feel this way about periods when I was younger. Of course, I felt awkward about them, but I think that was just like, normal teenage girl getting her period for the first time kind of a feeling. The discomfort has increased the closer I have gotten in age to when I’m expected to have kids.

I have also realized recently that I don’t like the idea of being in a relationship with a man. I am sometimes attracted to men (albeit it is a fairly rare occurrence), but when I imagine being their girlfriend it feels… restricting. Like taking up a role, being put into a box. It feels a little bit less like this with queer men, but it varies a bit with individuals as well.

So, in short, I have come to realize that there are certain parts of womanhood that feels restricting and just bad, parts that I want to reject. I think there may be two different explanations for this, and I have difficulty telling which one is the correct one, since gender is such a… fuzzy concept (to me at least).

The first is that I’m not a cis woman. I may have some connection to womanhood, some partial identification, but I am not wholly or only a woman. I do not think I am straight up a trans man, as that thought feels vaguely restricting as well, and I do not feel the need to permanently alter my body (except for maybe getting rid of pregnancy bits), but rather have it maybe vary from day to day (of course, there are trans men who prefer to not physically alter their body, and who varies their gender expression, but I personally just don’t quite feel like “man” fits my preferences so.. uh, I don’t know). If I am not cis, I would most likely be something outside the gender binary, maybe partially a man or woman but not fully?

The second explanation would be that I am, after all, a cis woman. Perhaps certain parts of womanhood feel restricting because womanhood has, historically, been built to be restricting (and dehumanizing). There are women who don’t want to dress in a “feminine” way all the time, who don’t want to be pregnant and have kids (who gets their tubes tied, which sounds appealing), who don’t want to be together with men, who don’t like the though of being in a relationship with restricting gender roles (which is much much more likely to be present in a relationship with a man). Maybe what I find restricting in womanhood are just these gender roles, a certain way of constructing womanhood that is pretty common in our culture and based on sexism.

How could I tell which one of these explanations is the correct one? Maybe it could be partially both? Maybe I could be something other than a woman because the way womanhood is constructed is restricting to me, because that’s what it’s built to be? Or maybe I’m just not a woman regardless, and the fuzziness of gender makes that hard to tell. Gender feels so complicated, how do people figure it out? I’m not doubting their conclusions, I’m just… wondering if I can manage to do the same

#gender #genderqueer #nonbinary #questioning #lgbtq #its fine if nobody wants to respond!!#again i would apprichiate it but just writing things out helped a bit i think #its also not like im panicked or in horrible pain from this or anything #i just think it would be nice to sort of #start figuring it out #since ive been putting it on the shelf for quite some time

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uursaminors · 7 years

Text

you’ll look good (in between my sheets)

prompt: person A and person B meet at a bar, each nursing a broken heart after a recent breakup. bonus for a selfie and smut.

word count: 3,654 (*aaron burr voice* sweet jesus)

pairing: daveed diggs x reader

warnings: smut, daveed “i can charm the skirts off a nun” diggs, “okay so we’re doing this” reader.

a/n: when i die, delete this so daveed never finds this sin.

So here's the thing, Your boyfriend Peter (Captain Dickhead, your friends would call him) called you this afternoon and so sweetly said "Hey babe, it's not gonna work out anymore! I found a sugar momma to pay my way through life so bye, it's been real" (Those weren't his exact words but that pretty much covers it)

So here you are, sulking and painfully single at a bar, drowning your sorrows in your fifth gin and tonic.

To add insult to the injury, not a single guy had approached you. You must be emitting the "I'm getting drunk because I'm miserable and self destructive and I have no self control" vibes.

You lay your head down on the bar, pressing your flushed cheek against the cool wood and trace the rim of your glass with a lazy finger.

The song on the radio changes to one of those stupid cheesy 80s love songs, you screw your eyes shut and let out a soft groan, "Nooo, I hate this song"

"Why?" A voice startles you, you peek up under long lashes to see a man sitting next to you, nursing tequila.

Wow.

Seriously wow.

He was super, stupidly attractive. Like the type of attractive that made you stop in your tracks and stare, the type of attractive that you can't help but secretly marvel at.

"Uh...um...what?" You mentally face palm, really smooth, You're practically a master of seduction.

"This song" He waves a hand, "Why do you hate it?"

You lift up, tucking your hair behind your ears and then turn to him, "I hate it because it's a love song"

"You have something against love?" He asks, quirking an inquisitive brow

"Actually I do" You reply, picking at a scratch in the wood.

He considers it for a moment before nodding, "I guess I do to"

"Really?" You reply, sending him a sidelong glance, "Why?"

"Because me and my girlfriend broke up"

"What?" You're in disbelief, "Same! But it was me and my boyfriend, not to say I couldn't have a girlfriend, that's not my orientation but of course there's nothing about that, I'm 100% for equal rights for the lgbt community and---

He laughs, it was a deep throaty sound that sends warm fuzzy feelings through your bones, "Darling, you are rambling"

"Oh" You flush deep scarlet, "That happens when I'm buzzed"

"Interesting" He comments before taking a swig of his drink, "Why did you and your boyfriend break up?"

"He found a sugar momma" You answer with a heavy sigh

He blinks in confusion and shakes his head, "Excuse me, what?"

"I know" You groan, "It's horrible! Embarrassing! My boyfriend traded me in for a granny with a fat bank account"

He laughs, you find yourself perking up, "What about you? Why are you single?"

"Let's say...different values" He replies with a wry smile

"Vague" You nod

"I don't want to talk about her" He leans in and brushes a stray eyelash from your cheek, You feel warmth bloom at the brush of his thumb against your skin, "I wanna talk about you"

. . .

Daveed, to put it lightly, was completely enamored by the beautiful spit-fire sitting next to him, he found himself admiring the shape of your waist and the length if your legs more than once.

You throw your head back a laugh, eyes shimmering with an ocean of stars, "You're playing me"

"I'm not" Daveed swears, raising his hand, "Scout's honor"

"How lame" You tease poking your tongue out at him

"So you're really a broadway star huh?" You say with a grin, tapping your fingernails against the countertop

"I am" He insists, "I star in Hamilton, how have you never heard of it before? You live in New York"

"I know" You sigh wistfully, "I'm painfully uncultured"

"We can change that" Daveed says, "I'll get you a seat"

You raise a brow, "Oh no, I wouldn't be able to contain myself seeing your period garb"

"Really?"

"Yeah" You nod, "Mr. Darcy was absolutely my one true love for the longest time"

"How can I compete with Mr. Darcy?" Daveed wonders aloud

"You could dance with me" You reply, feeling brave and breathless and bold, "It took Mr. Darcy ages to ask for a proper dance"

"Dancing" Daveed takes your hand, “Is something I happen to excel in” He leads you out to the dance floor, there wasn't anyone dancing (after all it was a Tuesday night and this wasn't exactly a dancing sort of bar) but there was something utterly enchanting about the way Daveed pull you in, settling his hands on your waist.

You begin to more or less sway to the 80s songs that didn't seem so bad anymore.

Dancing with Daveed was nice...more than nice actually. He was so tall and masculine, and the warmth that he naturally emitted made you lightheaded.

"Hey" You whisper

"What up?" He whispers back

"Take a selfie with me" You say

He breaks into a grin, "Who are you?"

"I'm [Y/N]" You reply, "and you're Daveed Diggs, broadway star extraordinaire, and you gonna take a selfie with me so this moment can forever be immortalized on instagram"

Daveed pauses to considers it for a moment

"And it will make our exes insanely jealous" You add

"You've convinced me" Daveed replies

You laugh and pull out your phone, you slip it into Daveed's hands, "You have longer arms than me"

He grins and opens the camera app, "What pose should we do? Duck face?"

You snort, "What are we? 8th grade girls?"

"I'll take that as a no" Daveed chuckles, "What do suggest then"

"Snapchat!" You exclaim excitedly, bouncing on your toes, "We can use the cute little dog filter!"

Daveed grins in slight exasperation before opening snapchat, he applied the filter to your faces and you giggle in delight, "We look so cute!"

Daveed rolls his eyes but smiles fondly and pulls you in, at this angle you are resting your head against his chest, a one-zillion watt smile tugging on your lips while Daveed has an arm wrapped snugly around your waist.

"Cheese!" You both say as Daveed takes the picture

"Wow" You say once Daveed hands your phone back, you look at the selfie with a drunken smile, "We are a catch, why would anyone dump us?"

Daveed shrugs, "Because we're too good for them obviously"

You laugh, "I'll drink to that!"

"No, no, no" Daveed shakes his head, "No more for you, you're already drunk as it is"

You pout and lean in, laying your palms flat against his chest (You are in slight awe of the hardness of his muscles beneath you fingertips) and say "Please Daveed"

. . .

"Please Daveed"

In three things that cross his mind:

1. This night that of innocent fun with [Y/N] had turned into something else entirely aka Daveed was doing the bad, bad thing by flirting with you.

2. The way you pressed against him, looking all too doable with your lips in an adorable pout and big doe eyes that were screaming "Kiss me Daveed!"

3. He had a hard on

Daveed looks down at you with hooded eyes and takes your hands in his, his thumb rubs small soothing circles against your knuckles, a wry smile teasing his lips.

"Baby girl, come home with me tonight"

. . .

Okay.

Holy fuck.

You consider options:

You could either come home a mess and watch the Notebook (Yes you were that cliché) on repeat while drowning yourself in copious amounts of double choco chunk ice cream.

You could home with a insanely attractive, insanely charming man with full kissable lips and dark eyes that screamed sex.

When was the last time you actually hooked up with a stranger?

Oh that's right.

Goddamn never.

But, You feel something akin to doubt stir within. No matter how much you actually enjoyed Daveed's company or found him unreasonably attractive, there was a part of you that feel insecure with the idea of sleeping with a stranger.

"Um" You look away, shoulders drawn tight with tension, "I have to go to t- the...the...bathroom"

The moment is all but lost.

A flicker of knowing disappointment shines in Daveed's dark eyes, he nods and forces a smile, "I'm going to grab a drink...or three"

You chuckle weakly before making a beeline for the bathroom, you lock the door behind you and place a hand on your forehead.

"I'm an idiot" You mutter, "Literally I am a walking trash can"

You stumble over to the mirror and steady yourself over the sink and look at your reflection and frown.

What are you scared of? You wonder aloud, You're not scared of Daveed nor of the thought of spending the night with him. So what was it?

You look down, focusing on the anything other than reflection in the mirror.

Or, your hands tighten against the smooth porcelain of the sink, maybe you were afraid of what would happen afterward.

You've never been brave enough to do the whole one night stand deal, no matter how many times your friends tried to hustle you into it.

You were afraid of waking up to a warm spot next to you, afraid of a lack of intimacy and vulnerability.

No, you shake your head, you shouldn't think like that. You deserve to have a night where you can lose any fears, any insecurities and just let go.

You primp your appearance, making sure a hair wasn't out of place and you makeup wasn't smeared.

You inhale deeply and point at the mirror, “[Y/N] you are a strong, independent, glowing goddess and you are going to go out there and go home with Daveed Diggs goddammit"

You nod at your reflection and straighten you shoulders and you walk out of the restroom. You see Daveed sitting at the bar, nursing his drink and looking like a defeated puppy and there is no way that you are not going home with him tonight.

You stride over to him, determination clinging to your features. Daveed turns to face you, surprise lighting his face.

In one fluid motion, you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

Daveed instantly takes control of the kiss (hot) and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so that you were standing in between his legs. Daveed groans into your mouth, drawing your bottom lip in and sucking (super hot).

You separate after a moment, you heart running a mile a minute in your chest and you touch curious fingertips to your swollen lips and oh wow, you've never been kissed like that.

"Take me home" You find your voice as you run a thumb down Daveed's cheek, the hairs on his face tickling your skin.

He captures your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips to your knuckles to the hollow of your wrist, his cool breath sending shivers dancing down your spine. He looks up at you through sooty long lashes and you feel something twist and rise inside you, making you feel all gooey, "C'mon then"

. . .

You stand in the living room of Daveed's apartment and goddamn, he wasn't lying about being an broadway star (if the Grammy and Tony wasn't any indication, the niceness of his apartment was).

You immediate response was to peep around and look at all the pictures he had hanging on the wall and the vinyl he kept on display but you didn't want to seem rude.

"[Y/N]" You turn at the sound of your name to see Daveed approaching you, a grin teasing the corner of his lips, "You look suspicious just standing there like that"

"Oh" You toe the ground nervously, "Sorry"

Daveed grabs your hand, his eyes dark and he leads you into his bedroom. You swallow nervously, all bravery you felt at the bar vanished the moment you laid eyes on the bed.

"Daveed" You say suddenly, "I'm nervous"

You look down, preparing for him to be angry at you for being so hesitant but instead he tips your chin gently, forcing you to look up at him.

"Don't be scared" He replies softly, "If you feel uncomfortable or scared at anytime we can stop, I promise"

You nod silently, letting his gentle voice soothe your frazzled nerves. Daveed leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, then a kiss to your cheek, and the corner of your mouth.

He pulls away for a moment, eyes searching your face before leaning down to capture your lips. His mouth was searing hot and soft against yours, he presses against you until you back up against the wall. One of his hands weave in your hair, and he gently tugs your head to the side to reveal the smooth expanse of your neck.

Daveed trails a hot string of kisses down your neck, his teeth nipping and tugging against your skin and you nearly jump at the press of his tongue against your skin.

He pulls down the strap of you dress and kisses the newly exposed skin there before his fingers find the hem of your dress and pull experimentally, "Can I take this off?"

You nod in consent and he pulls your dress off in one fell swoop, leaving you pressed against him only dressed in your bra and undies--and thank god you were wearing your favorite set from Victoria's Secret.

"Goddamn" Daveed whispers, his voice throaty and so incredibly sexy against the shell of your ear, "You are so beautiful"

You flush at the compliment, red blossoming on your cheeks and ears. Daveed smiles at that and grabs you, lifting you onto his bed.

You land on your bed with a soft oof as Daveed hovers above you with smirk on his face. He leans down and presses a kiss to the center of your chest while his hand gently cups your breast.

You let out a whimper, slightly squirming before Daveed lifts ups and looks down at you with a grin, "My, my aren't you eager?"

"Shut up" You pout

Daveed chuckles darkly, "I love it when you talk dirty"

He unclasps you bra and tosses the undergarment to the side, he groans at the sight of your naked breasts before leaning down to capture a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the feel of wetness and moan as his tongue circles and sucks the rosy bud while he other hand gently kneads your other breast.

You lean your head back and moan as he trails a wet line from your chest, down your torso to the waistband of your panties.

You stomach coils in anticipation as he toys with the edge of your underwear, "God I want to taste you"

Your eyes grow wide and you whisper thickly, "N-no one has ever done that for me"

Daveed looks up, looking personally offended, "Excuse me?"

"No one has ever y'know, gone down on me" You say shyly

Daveed shakes his head and tsks, "I take personal offense to that [Y/N]"

He pulls down your panties, you're completely naked in front of his eyes now, "I'll take care of you now, baby girl"

Daveed spreads your legs and leans down to kiss to the juncture of your thigh, you bite down on your lip as he spreads your folds with inquisitive fingers and draws a line down your heated pink flesh with his tongue.

"O-oh my god" You cry out as his mouth finds you clit and fastens on your most sensitive area. Daveed slides two fingers into your slick entrance and works them in and out at a fast rhythm as he continues his sinful ministrations with his mouth.

Your fingers tangle in his thick curls, pressing him closer. Daveed moans hungrily against your sex as he teases your clit with his tongue, you feel your release stir and rise and rise and rise inside of you as he scissors his fingers in and out of you. He sucks on your clit one last time, burying his fingers inside of you and your body lifts as you come.

Daveed lifts up, chin wet and looking utterly and wholly pleased with himself. You place your hand against your chest and feel your racing heart.

"Daveed" You breath, voice hoarse, "C'mere"

He wipes his mouth with the back of his palm (Seriously this man was too hot for his own good) and hovers over you. You swallow thickly and run curious fingers underneath his shirt, "Take this off" You say, eager to touch more skin.

Daveed complies with a easy smile and sheds the shirt of effortlessly, revealing his toned chest. You rake your nails up the length of his abdomen, stopping to tease his mocha brown nipples with your mouth. You smile at the sound of his delicious moan echoing through the air as you move your mouth to teasingly bite at the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

You fingers fumble with his belt and the button of his jeans, but after a short moment your able to undo his jean and slide them down to reveal his straining hardness.

Your hand dips down past the waistband of his boxers and your fingers wrap around his length. Daveed bites back a groan and leans into you, pressing his head against the crook of your neck as you pump his member.

"Wanna be inside you" He slurs against your skin and you nod

"How do you want me?" You ask, thumb teasing the tip of his cock.

"On your hands and knees" Daveed says, you move into position, arching your back as you feel his hands on your ass.

Daveed lines the head of his cock with your entrances and without a moment of hesitation he enters you.

You keen at the fullness you feel once Daveed enters you, your fingers twist in his sheets as he begins to slowly pump in and out of you, drawing himself languidly before entering you again with an achingly hot laziness.

He is either teasing you (asshole) or thinks you're too soft to take him at a fast pace (seriously what an asshole!)

"Harder" You growl, "Goddammit Daveed, faster"

He stops all together and pulls out, causing you to whimper at the loss. That was the exact opposite what you wanted.

You turn with a pout to see Daveed looking down at you with a nefarious smirk.

"Beg" He says

"What!" You exclaim in surprise

"Tell me what you want baby girl" Daveed says

"Bite me" You reply snottily

Daveed bends down to bite your shoulder, you gasp, "Not literally"

"I couldn't resist" Daveed smiles, "Everything about you is so...delicious"

"What's your ex boyfriend's name?" He asks suddenly, completely changing the subject

A foul taste invades your mouth as you think of you horrible, cougar chasing ex and why in the world is Daveed bringing him up at a time like this? "Peter"

"Hmm" Daveed says, his fingers finding the space in between your thighs and he grins at the wetness he finds there, "By the end of tonight, you won't even remember Peter's name"

You blink in shock as Daveed hooks your legs over his shoulders and enters you again in a slick motion. You nearly shriek at the sensation as he pounds into you, filling you to the core.

Incoherent noises fall from your lips as Daveed hits that one special spot, His brow furrows in concentration as his hand slips in between your heated bodies to work your clit.

You barrel head first into your second orgasm.

"Daveed" you pant, grasping at the sheets as he thrusts into you again and again and again in a delicious rhythm. He trails one hand up the length of your body and wraps it around your neck in a gentle but firm hold.

You moan helplessly, eyes screwing shut in pleasure as he continues to fuck you.

"I'm close" Daveed murmurs, his voice thick as his pace begins to become uncontrolled.

You lift your hips, meeting every thrust and you don't even have time to catch your breath before your third and last release sneaks up.

You see stars when you come.

A deep groan draws from Daveed's lips as he spills inside of you, his fingers tightening a fraction around your neck in a delicious hold and wow, he looks beautiful--mythic even when he comes undone.

He pulls out of you with a satisfied sigh, running a hand through the tangle of his thick hair. He lowers himself on top of you, a smile on his face as he captures your lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

"Hmm" You hum happily into the kiss, stretching out your legs and running your toes against his calves.

Daveed chuckles slightly, it was a deep throaty sound that vibrated in his chest and he falls next to you, stretching out on his bed like a fat lazy cat.

"Goddamn" He breathes out, "You...now you, wow [Y/N]. You were incredible"

You lean back, very smug and very happy, "They don't call me dick slayer for nothing"

Daveed sent you an incredulous look before erupting in a fit of laughter, "Please do not ever say that again"

You giggle with him, finding his laughter absolutely contagious. Daveed moves to his side and pulls your back against his sculpted chest.

"When I wake up in the morning..." Daveed says, toying with a lock of your hair, "You better be here"

You smile, "What's in it for me?"

"Morning sex and free coffee"

You laugh and pretend to consider your options, "I'll stay...but only for the coffee"

Daveed laughs and bites your shoulder playfully, "I'll make sure it's the best coffee you've ever had so you'll keep coming back"

You grin, pressing a kiss to the open palm next to you, "I don't think that will be a problem"

#daveed x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #thomas jefferson x reader #lafayette x reader #hamilton imagine #hamilton #all aboard this trash train whoo whoot

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