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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue have a good day together and bond. What was their relationship like before the qi deviation?

Boys - ao3

“Two paths, hmm?” Lao Nie said, squinting at the road markers in front of him. “Well, I don’t see why we can’t go down this one to the right –”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because little uncle asked me not to let you meet any new dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue said, looking as serious as ever – only his little hands, swinging to the side, revealed that he was just a ten-year-old. Still a child, no matter how mature he tried to act. “And a place called the Springtime Ghost Valley sounds like it probably has dangerous women.”

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”

“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”

That sounded like a recitation.

“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

In all honesty, Lao Nie had no idea how he’d ended up with a son as serious and sincere and earnest as Nie Mingjue – he himself hadn’t taken anything seriously in years. Probably it was his mother’s influence.

Now that was a woman.

Not that his foxy second wife hadn’t been woman enough to blow him away either…

Hmm.

Perhaps they had a point about his taste in women.

“How about men?” Lao Nie suggested. “If it really means so much to you, I could swear off of women entirely –”

“A-die.”

“Mm?”

“Leave Sect Leader Wen alone.”

Lao Nie cracked up.

Because Lao Nie was the father, however easy-going he might sometimes be, they ended up heading down the right-hand path regardless. They were supposed to be night-hunting, after all – it was the perfect bonding experience according to Jiwei, though Lao Nie suspected his saber of having selfish intentions there – and deliberately avoiding a place with ‘Ghost’ in the name was hardly appropriate for scions of a Great Sect like theirs.

Although the reference to springtime was admittedly a little worrisome.

If it turned out to be a brothel, with the ghost thing being just a clever if somewhat tonedeaf marketing ploy, Lao Nie was turning around and taking them both home at once. He wasn’t going to risk little Nie Mingjue turning out anything like that awful Jin Guangshan – or, nearly as bad, having to explain anything more about the joys of sex to those earnest little button eyes and dimpled cheeks with no time to prepare first. He still hadn’t recovered emotionally from the last few times Nie Mingjue had asked him a question like that.

When they finally reached the end of the path, turning a corner to behold a clearing that was probably completely ordinary during the daytime, Lao Nie found that he’d been both right and wrong.

“It’s a ghost brothel,” he marveled. He’d never seen anything like it in his life.

“Dangerous women,” Nie Mingjue reminded him.

“A-Jue! Let your father live a little!”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes.

Lao Nie virtuously ignored his slightly judgmental brat of a son. It wouldn’t do him that much harm to go visit for a while, with the risk of Jin Guangshan-ness being relatively minimal; they were ghosts, after all. It was the duty of every cultivator to fight against evil, wherever it lived, no matter its form –

“Fighting? Is that what it’s called?”

“Who taught you sarcasm?” Lao Nie asked, knowing perfectly well that the answer was himself. “I ought to smack them.”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at him. “Fine, it’s fighting, we’ll go fight them. Do you want me to start drawing ghost-repelling talismans?”

“Liberate first!” Lao Nie sang out. “Come on, let’s go see what they’re like – er, that is, I mean, see what grievances they have that are keeping them here, of course. There’s no harm in dangerous women. Just don’t let them eat your yang energy!”

“It’s not my yang energy that I’m worried about, a-die…”

The ghostly madame was an extraordinarily charming person and Lao Nie liked her at once.

Not liked her liked her – he’d fallen head over heels with both of his wives from the first word, and that hadn’t happened here – but still, conversing with her was an extraordinarily enjoyable way to spend time.

She was witty and clever, with a broad range of knowledge and a gift for keeping a conversation lively and exciting; she could meet every verbal riposte with ease, and looked utterly gorgeous and composed the entire time. Sure, she kept trying to lure Lao Nie into an orgy in which all of his yang energy would be slowly sucked out before his body was ripped to pieces and his bones cracked open so that the ghosts could consume the marrow within, but what a way to go, right?

Nie Mingjue spent his time making friends with the ghost prostitutes.

Lao Nie wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

Well, he supposed he’d been expected a range of things – anything from Nie Mingjue getting suckered in by one of the ghosts and needing to be rescued by his father to Nie Mingjue just pulling out his Baxia and trying to stab them because he felt offended by their existence. He wasn’texpecting his ghostly conversational partner to suddenly frown mid-sentence and say, “What is he talking to them about?”

Lao Nie turned his head slightly and started listening.

“– just because you’re a ghost doesn’t mean you have to work allthe time, surely,” Nie Mingjue was saying, completely serious and earnest in the way he so often was. Lao Nie’s son had in fact inherited his sense of humor, only it tended to be buried fairly deep down and make its way up to the surface in an understated way in the most unexpected times; the rest of the time, he was straightforward to a fault, treating everything sincerely. “The birds in the trees, the animals in the fields – even among prostitutes, even the street-walking ladies know they need to take time to rest! I can’t believe you really have to work every single night. How long has it been since you had a night off?”

The ghost prostitutes around him had contemplative looks on their faces.

“Isn’t the whole point of becoming a vengeful man-eating ghost that you have more power than regular humans? I don’t know, it kind of seems like a bad deal if you have even worse conditions after all that –”

“I’m sorry,” the ghostly madame said, looking irritated underneath all her carefully painted smiles. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

Lao Nie had to bite his hand to keep from laughing out loud.

“I think we’ve all learned a valuable life lesson today,” Lao Nie announced.

Nie Mingjue was pouting again.

“I don’t think we did,” he said, sounding profoundly skeptical. A filial child like Nie Mingjue shouldn’t sound so skeptical of his beloved father’s words of wisdom, really; if Lao Nie wasn’t so heartless, he might be offended. Of course, the skepticism might have originated from the heartlessness, so it was all six of one, half a dozen of the other in the end. “Those poor ghost ladies! They were still fighting each other by the time we left!”

“I’ve never seen a ghost pull another ghost’s hair before,” Lao Nie conceded. It had been brilliant. “One day, someone’s going to figure out a more reliable way to use ghosts to fight ghosts, mark my words.”

“Isn’t that demonic cultivation?”

“Oh, sure,” Lao Nie said, still cheerful. “If whoever it is does too much of it, eventually it’ll build up into a backlash that’ll kill them in some grossly horrific manner. Probably ripped into pieces by the backlash. And that’s not even counting how they’d be ostracized and hunted by the cultivation world first! But still, imagine how exciting it’d be in the meantime!”

“A-die…”

Lao Nie patted Nie Mingjue on the head again, earning another glare. “Immortality is a lie, A-Jue. We’re all here for a short time, each and every one of us, and only the length determined by fate and man. All that matters is what we do with the time that we have, and whether we’ve used it well.”

“To fight against evil wherever it lives, no matter its form?”

“To leave the world a better place than when we entered it, and to let our memories linger in the hearts of those that love us,” Lao Nie said. “Fighting evil is the best way to accomplish the former, and living a good life the latter. And you might as well have a good time doing it, if you can! Everything else is just extra.”

Nie Mingjue thought about that for a moment. “And a-die likes to have second helpings of extras?”

That was true. Lao Nie was a man of prodigious appetites of all sorts.

Despite that, he protested, “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I was being serious for once.” Seeing Nie Mingjue’s skeptical look, he made a face. “I can be serious, sometimes!”

“Can you?”

“It’s been known to happen! A date written on a wall will be right once a year.”

“Not if the wall gets painted over.”

“Ouch,” Lao Nie said. “I don’t even understand the metaphor you’re making, and I’m still going ouch.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Mingjue said, utterly unimpressed. “You know, if you wanted one of the ghost ladies to be Third Mother, you would’ve been better off with the one playing the qin, not the ghost madame. She was much more powerful.”

Lao Nie arched his eyebrows. “Was she?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “She had claws like a lizard.”

Lao Nie tried to remember which one of them had been the ghost girl playing the qin. He couldn’t quite remember at first – the women there were all surpassingly lovely, almost to the point of over-saturation – and then suddenly an image came into view, a beauty with a veil and sharp sword-like eyebrows, leaning over the qin with the shining pearl hanging in the center of her forehead dipping down.

And, yes, claws like a lizard.

“Hmm,” Lao Nie said. “That might have been a dragon, actually. You should be careful of those, they’re tricky.”

They’ll rip you and three dozen other cultivators besides into more pieces than can be picked up without blinking an eye, he meant, and you won’t even know what hit you. Avoid at all costs.

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, blinking. “Oops.”

“…what do you mean, oops?”

“Nothing bad! If I’m not supposed to interact with her, does that mean I should go and give back the gift she gave me?”

“She gave you a – give me that,” Lao Nie said. “This instant.”

“But a-die, you said there’s no harm in dangerous women –”

“For me, you foolish child!”

“I suppose it’s fine,” Lao Nie finally concluded, having inspected the dragon pearl from all angles several times over. “I don’t know how you do this, A-Jue.”

“Do what?”

Lao Nie thought about how his foxy second wife had cooed over his eldest son with a (slightly disturbing) fervor that she otherwise reserved only for eating snacks, and how viciously she’d dealt with anyone who’d even thought of interfering with Nie Mingjue in any way. He was fairly sure he himself had only survived his second marriage on account of having such a charming son.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, mostly because he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain – or if he even entirely understood. “Anyway, it’s nothing dangerous. Rather the contrary! Dragon pearls like this are given to baby dragons to protect them.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “What feeds on baby dragons?”

“…I think it’s mostly to protect them from themselves,” Lao Nie said, feeling a little uncertain about it himself. “And if it’s not, I don’t think I want to know, to be perfectly honest. There’s fighting evil, which is only right, and then there’s suicide, which is a waste – a wise man should know how to judge the difference between them. Anyway, that wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”

“It wasn’t?”

“It wasn’t, and you aren’t allowed to start worrying about the fate of theoretical baby dragons – I forbid it.” Nie Mingjue scowled. He’d probably started worrying already. “My point was actually that a pearl like this is a remarkably powerful protective tool for cultivators – one of those things that can only be found by chance and not made. Keep this on you, and you’ll never have to fear your opponent in battle.”

Nie Mingjue looked thoughtful.

“What do you want to do with that pearl, anyway?” Lao Nie asked after they’d gotten home and split up just long enough to take a nice long relaxing bath and gobble down dinner. “Do you want to put it in the treasury?”

Nie Mingjue blinked twice, which for him was practically the same as looking terribly shifty-eyed.

“You already did something with it,” Lao Nie deduced. “Something that isn’t using it as intended.”

“Oh, no,” Nie Mingjue said, looking shocked at the mere suggestion. “I’m definitely using it as intended.”

Lao Nie looked him up and down. “You’re not wearing it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t use it. Protection from your opponents in proper battle – that seems like cheating!”

Lao Nie felt a slight headache coming on. People who said they wanted a good boy for a son had no idea what they were getting themselves into, he reflected. Why couldn’t he have birthed a complete rascal instead?

“All right,” he said, instead of saying any of that because at the end of the day, bewildering as he might be, Nie Mingjue was his son and he loved him more than anything. “So what did you do with it?”

“I gave it to Huaisang.”

Lao Nie blinked. He supposed that really was using it for its intended purpose – protecting babies from themselves – although he suspected the dragon lady had been thinking of Nie Mingjue as the baby.

“Although…”

Lao Nie raised his eyebrows.

“…I think he may have swallowed it.”

My boys, Lao Nie thought, and had to sit down and hold his ribs because he otherwise feared he might split his sides from laughing so hard. Only my boys.

#mdzs #sect leader nie #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #boys

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lemonpeter · 3 years

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🧡Day 3: S*x Work🧡

Harry has my brain right now I’m sorry lol I’m trying to think about Tony instead. I hope y’all enjoy 🧡

Warnings: Tony/Peter main focus, established Harry/Peter relationship, starker nff, s*x worker!Peter, Peter is over 18

***

Tony knew what was going on as soon as he saw the young man.

It wasn’t unusual for a host of an event to show up with someone hired. It looked good to have something pretty on your arm, and a hire was an easy fix when there wasn’t a partner in their life.

Although it did shock him to see a man on the arm of one Harry Osborn.

It was practically Harry’s coronation, a prince taking the throne of CEO. And Tony expected that he’d continue to be sucking up to his father. Doing everything just as he expected.

The looks of disdain that Norman kept throwing the two young men told Tony that he had been mistaken.

Who knew.

No matter what, the man was gorgeous. And was really good at his job.

He laughed at just the right moments, he mingled with every stuck up guest surrounding them, he gave the younger Osborn looks that could have fooled anyone into believing that they were actually in love.

Anyone but Tony, of course. He knew how it all worked.

After a while he lost track of the couple. He did some mingling of his own with business partners and former clients until the few drinks he had told him that it was time to find a restroom.

The venue was unfamiliar, so he found himself wandering down the hall and looking for signs that would lead him in the right direction.

Eventually he found a door that seemed right and he opened it before slamming it shut again. “Sorry!”

The image of that gorgeous arm candy on his knees was burned into his memory, though.

“Fuck.” He heard Harry mumble through the door. “Get up, someone’s already looking for us, Pete.”

A heavy sigh. “We’ve barely done anything. We can keep going for a minute-“

Tony was frozen, listening to them.

The door opened a moment later and he came face to face with a very flushed Osborn.

“Oh, fuck. Of course it was you.”

“I was just looking for a bathroom,” Tony blurted out. “Not looking for you.”

Harry didn’t look convinced. “Please just- don’t tell anyone. Although I know you have no reason to do me any favors.”

“Tell anyone what? Kid, I’m pretty sure that’s his job. No one cares.”

The other man stepped out, still straightening himself out. “Contrary to popular opinion, I’m not here as an escort.”

“So you’re not-“ Tony didn’t buy it. Although maybe he was just hoping for his own sake.

Knowing that the angel in front of him was out of reach just might have broken his heart. He was that attracted to him. But he just couldn’t help it.

“I am. I mean, not an escort per se...” The young man crossed his arms. “But this isn’t a job.”

Harry groaned, covering his face. “I’m pretty sure this is making it worse, Pete.”

The other man - Pete? - just looked up at Tony, cocking his head to the side. “But it doesn’t matter. Harry, we’re out tonight, we’re out. Who cares what he says to anyone?”

Tony was stuck on the previous thing. “So you are a- well, whatever you want to call it?”

“Yes. I can give you my information if you want. And I don’t need a title, just call me Peter.”

He did want. He definitely did want that. But he was still confused. “If this isn’t a job then, what-“

“We’re together.”

That definitely wasn’t what he was expecting. He might have even staggered back a bit with how surprised he was. But maybe that was just his flair for the dramatic. It really was pretty shocking, though.

“O….Kay.” He’d ask later. For now, he was sticking with the information he had. And he had to find out how to get time with gorgeous Peter.

“How much for an hour?” Tony asked.

Peter didn’t miss a beat. “A grand.” At an annoyed sound from Harry he laughed. “But I’m not available for the next few hours.”

“I’ll pay ten if you’ll be with me right now.”

The couple exchanged a look. “Half an hour,” Harry countered.

“Sure, whatever you say.” Tony grinned. “Get back out to your party. Promise I’ll return him to you in one piece.”

Peter snorted, setting a timer on his phone. “Your thirty minutes starts now. What do you have in mind?”

Harry watched them warily. He kissed Peter’s cheek, sighing. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. It’ll be fast, don’t worry.”

Tony scoffed. “Was that an attack on my stamina? Because-“

“Thirty minutes isn’t long, Stark. That’s it.” Peter grinned. “So defensive.”

“You’re wasting my time, Osborn. Skedaddle.” Tony waved his hands.

Peter snorted, pulling him into the same room that they’d come out of.

Tony grinned at him. “Feisty. I like it.”

“Okay. Seriously, what do you want? Because we really don’t have that much time.” Peter was already reaching for Tony’s belt.

“First? I’m actually going to go find a bathroom. What I was trying to do before all this.” He felt a little bad about interrupting them, but figured that they could pick up where they left off later. And the thought that he once again pissed off an Osborn made him smile.

“K. Should I just wait here?” Peter moved his hands and leaned against the wall.

“Why would you follow me? Yes, stay here. Just a minute.” Tony opened the door again before pausing. “I still...don’t know where it is.”

“Maybe I should follow you.” Peter laughed under his breath. “You were, like, two doors off. To the left.”

“Thanks. Don’t go anywhere.”

Tony left and was back within a couple minutes, but he knew that he had very little time to waste. Half an hour wasn’t much at all.

Although he would definitely be getting Peter’s contact information for another time.

He was back in the small room where he left Peter, raising an eyebrow when he saw the younger man with his tie loose and shirt unbuttoned. “Eager?”

“Figured I wouldn’t just stand here while I waited. What, is this not what you wanted?” Peter teasingly moved his hands over his chest.

And how did he keep getting more and more perfect? The unbuttoned shirt revealed hard abs and a v that nearly made Tony drool. There needed to be statues of that body. He was halfway to thinking through the costs of such a thing when Peter’s laugh snapped him out of it.

“Down, boy.”

Tony snorted, a little surprised. “I’m not paying you to tell me to stop ogling. Remember, I’m way overpaying you for this.”

“It’s my personal time. I get to decide what’s overpaying.” Peter stepped forward, his fingers starting to unbutton Tony’s shirt. “Now. You have like…twenty three minutes left.”

“Half of what’s gone was because your boyfriend wouldn’t leave.”

“Mmm. You could have taken advantage of your time anyways. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen me with a client.”

Why was that so appealing to think about?

“Right. Well, first I actually want to talk. Is that okay?” Tony didn’t stop him from slowly unbuttoning his shirt anyway.

Peter nodded, confused. Everyone wanted to jump right into the good stuff, especially with such a short time. Although he never usually did less than two hours.

Maybe he was just curious as to what Tony had in mind.

“Alright. So you said you and Osborn are a thing, how long has that been going on?” He really had so many questions about that alone.

“Officially? Today’s our first time being out together. But we’re been a couple for a little over a year now. But we’ve known each other our whole lives. Grew up together and all that.” Peter made his way down Tony’s shirt as he talked, until it was hanging open.

“Huh. That’s interesting, I always assumed he was straight. Scandals with girls, yknow.” Tony slid his jacket and now-open shirt off.

The younger man nodded, hands on Tony’s hips. “Yeah, everyone assumed. But he hid it for a reason. His dad is pissed. And we knew he would be. So he just…tried to look one way. Threw everyone off.”

“Did a good job. I’ve never seen you before,” Tony commented. “I would have remembered.”

“That’s because I’m not associated with the company in any way. And the media isn’t interested in a random kid from Queens.” Peter shrugged, undoing Tony’s belt.

“Interesting.” The older man helped. “Well, I think that’s most of my questions. Can I touch you?”

Peter nodded, laughing a little. “You can. And happy to answer.” It was more than he would have answered with anyone else. He wasn’t really sure why he was so open with Stark. “What are you thinking you want me to do?”

“I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to get on your knees for me, honey.” Another thing popped into his head as he watched him get down. “So he’s okay with this? Being in a relationship while being in sex work?”

The younger man nodded, pulling Tony’s pants down his hips and thighs. “Yeah. I think sometimes he gets a little jealous but we work it out. We talk. I assure him that he’s the only one I actually love.”

Tony licked his bottom lip, nodding. “That makes sense. Alright, now I’m done. I don’t want to talk about him any more, I just want to think about you, gorgeous. Is that okay?”

“Perfectly okay.” Peter got his boxers down and let the man’s cock rest against his cheek. “Let’s really get started….”

***

They went over the half hour.

Not by much, only a couple minutes, but still. Tony noticed. And he mentioned it. But Peter only waved him off and finished getting him off.

They straightened themselves out when they were done and Tony pulled his phone out.

“I should have done this first, but do you have some kind of account I need to send the money to? Or-“

Peter shook his head quickly, taking his phone and adding himself as a contact. “Just think of this as a…test run. I’d feel bad charging you all that for one bj.”

Tony blinked, taking his phone back when it was pressed into his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now go away, I’ll come in in a minute. We don’t need to look like we’re coming in together.” Peter pulled his own phone out and winced when he saw how swollen his lips were.

“Okay. Thank you.”

The young man shot him a small smile. “No problem.”

Tony made his way back to the ballroom, still trying to make sense of everything that happened.

He made eye contact with Harry as he came in and gave him a small nod. He didn’t know what else to do, his mind still fogged by everything.

He’d definitely be calling Peter soon.

#starker #parksborn #starker nff #I’m fixated okay lol I warned you #peter parker #tony stark #harry osborn #my writing #bri’s kinktober 2021 #idk what all to even tag this lol #don’t come after me I’m just tagging things correctly #been there done that #block the tags you don’t like

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bittermuire · 3 years

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A (long) analysis of Azriel,

+ a bit of discussion about Gwynriel vs. Elriel at the end.

Lately I’ve seen much discussion surrounding Azriel, and there seems to be a lot of hazy gray area. We know he has a terrible past, carries a lot of trauma, is both mentally and physically scarred, and has disturbingly possessive habits. But why? That’s the question.

I think most of Azriel’s character can be filtered into three sections: his anger, his possessiveness, and his self-loathing. Altogether I believe these form his crippling sense of emotional immaturity, which ultimately shines through most every action he makes in the books.

So yes, I firmly believe Az is a child in the body of a 500 year old Fae. But is he treated as such? No. No, he is not. In fact, he’s treated as the exact opposite, and that can’t be doing wonders for his mental health (which is already in shambles. Off to a cheery start.)

Let’s take a look at his past. He was both mentally and physically abused for the majority of his childhood. Then he was thrown into an unforgiving culture that both mentally and physically abused him as well. Then he was essentially bullied by Cassian and Rhysand for quite a while... until they randomly decided to like him, which is a choice he didn’t seem to play a hand in. And then he became a professional torturer. All the while falling madly in love and becoming obsessed with a female who can’t love him back. Not to mention he’s been ostracized his entire life.

(One big thing though, that I’m going to reference frequently, is Azriel’s constant chase of “happiness.” Kind of like my friends with ADHD. We squeeze all the serotonin we can get out of one thing and then fall into a listless, depressed haze until we find another. I honestly think Azriel does the same thing with people--he latches onto them and lets his mood swings rely on how much attention they do or do not pay him, and whether it is positive or negative.)

So I’m going to go through his relationships with pivotal characters and try to explain what I think is really going on with Azriel.

Regarding Mor:

He was obsessed with her for most of his life. He was incredibly possessive of her and fell instantly in love upon seeing her. Do I think it was love? No. But does Azriel think it was love? Yes, and that is so important. It shows how desperate he was for human connection.

This “love” spiraled into centuries-long obsession that we’ve all seen play out throughout the series. But why is it obsession, and not love? Well, I’m going to go ahead and say that Azriel doesn’t know how to love. He’s never been shown genuine love and so he doesn’t know how to show it to others in the way he intends. He’s basically a baby.

But right after he falls head over heels, Mor sleeps with Cassian, and then Cassian plays the role of the buffer between the two of them all the way up until the events of ACOSF. This is where I think Azriel’s anger comes into play. He can’t get to Mor. His best friend, his brother, is blocking him from her. He can’t touch her, love her, feel her, and he’s so desperate to. But he literally has no way to communicate it because he doesn’t know how, and so he responds in the one way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. And intense protectiveness that eventually begins to translate as possessiveness.

Again, he lets his happiness rely on Mor because he can’t make himself happy, and so his lack of emotional maturity ends up revealing him as desperate and unable to communicate his feelings of inadequacy and frustration. I’m not trying to justify his behavior, not at all. But I think this could be a decent explanation.

Regarding Cassian and Rhysand:

I mean... I kind of hate the way these two have treated Azriel. They all have their fair share of trauma, but Cassian and Rhys also bullied him and ostracized him, and then basically said, “Oh, we like you now.” Which completely leaves Azriel in the dark as to where he stands with them, and strips him of awareness regarding how his friendships with them will operate.

And then he becomes the head of espionage for the Night Court, which involves lots and lots of torture. What kind of message does that send? You’ve seen dirty things, Az, so you don’t mind doing the rest of the dirty things for us, right? That’s the only real message I can get from this. Which then plants the message in Azriel’s head of: Not only do I do dirty things, I myself am a dirty, disgusting thing. Thus, furthering his already deep-seated sense of self-loathing.

Plus, the IC generally operates with a pack-like mindset. One person’s method of healing is everyone’s method of healing. It worked for one person, so it worked for everyone. It’s a very naive mindset, and very toxic as well, so it’s not surprising that literally everyone in the IC is colossally messed up despite preaching themselves as having overcome their demons.

So Azriel never really gets to understand himself and mature as a person. He’s stuck pretending to be perfectly fine underneath Rhysand’s oh-so-benevolent and compassionate hand. Rhysand and Cassian recognize Az as being a little... odd, by seeming to think things like “he’s the quiet one” and “he’s the serious, scary one.” But do they attempt to understand him? No. They leave him to his own devices and let him figure it out himself.

That’s the issue. He’s not ever going to figure it out himself, so long as he’s surrounded by the people who’ve been unwittingly suffocating him for most of his life.

Regarding Elain:

Azriel’s infatuation with Elain, in my opinion, comes as a direct result of his detachment from Mor. Just like one hyperfixation fades quickly from an all-consuming thing to a passing thought, Azriel has shifted from one obsession to the next, in order to keep his spirits on a high.

But I think his feelings for Elain reveal a lot of what Mor did not. Why does he view Elain as so holy compared to him? Why is he so hesitant to touch her? Why does he put her on such a pedestal? That’s his self-loathing coming through again. He hates himself so much that he has to place her above him.

He wants to touch her and love her, just as he did with Mor, but again he is unable. It's a repeating pattern that he can’t get himself out of.

Let’s also look at the way Elain and Azriel’s friendship/relationship began. He had to take care of her, and treat her with utmost respect. She looked at his scars or his siphons, both monstrous looking things, and called them beautiful. Let’s remember that he’s basically a child who’s rarely known genuine love. The minute he gets a glimpse of it, he’s going to grab it by the neck and crush it to his chest. Plus, the fact that she’s the last sister left unattached and he’s the last brother left unattached is probably even more convincing for him that he and Elain are meant for each other. When he’s denied this love that’s come nearly close enough to grab, he responds in the only way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. Just like he did with Mor.

But moving on, that glimpse of potential love comes from Elain. That’s why he’s able to let go of Mor; a relationship with Elain suddenly becomes possible. He’s terrified of ruining this potential love and is incredibly drawn to her all the same. Best of all? She wants him too.

BUT. Azriel knows how fragile Elain is, so he walks on glass around her, coddling her, putting her first like he’s put everyone else first since being a part of the IC. I think he wants to save her from becoming like him. He essentially plays the role of her white knight, entirely losing his sense of self-preservation (not that he ever had one), and thus loses any chance of letting Elain help him mature in return.

Regarding Gwyn:

Now, Gwyn is a different story.

We know Azriel likes her. Maybe not in a consciously romantic way, but he likes her. She makes him smile and laugh, and he finds her amusing. He doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around her.

The big thing, I think, is that he doesn’t have to take care of her. At least, I think that’s what makes him so comfortable around her. With Gwyn, he can relax, and he doesn’t have to watch every move he makes. She treats him like a regular person and he treats her similarly.

Now, is it a bad thing that he doesn’t put her on a saint-like pedestal like he does Elain? No. Definitely not. I think this ordinary friendship signals a much healthier relationship than his festering obsession with Elain. Gwyn simply being his friend and not someone that he feels he has to be perfect for is a good foundation for Azriel growing as a person.

Gwynriel vs. Elriel (the necklace):

Honestly, I’m scared for whatever SJM decides to do, because Azriel has a shitload of trauma to move past and years worth of emotional growth needed before he can be a steady partner in a relationship. Both Gwyn and Elain’s character arcs are definitely not finished and so I think that no matter which way his narrative goes, it’s going to be disappointing in some aspect or another, unfortunately. I don’t think that either one of the females’ arcs really fit well with Azriel’s.

But I’m going to take a closer look at the necklace, because I think it’s a telling narrative point.

For Azriel, the necklace for Elain and Gwyn herself, are both “thing[s] of secret, lovely beauty” to him.

By describing the necklace for Elain as such (instead of Elain herself), Azriel unconsciously reveals his more idealistic view of Elain rather than his love for Elain herself. I kind of get the sense of Azriel giving offerings to a goddess, or something like that. He seems to be more preoccupied with appeasing Elain than actually loving her.

Now, this probably comes from, again, his self-loathing and his emotional immaturity. I’m just repeating myself at this point. He doesn’t know how to love himself and he doesn’t know how to love anyone else.

But then he describes Gwyn as such. Gwyn, the person. In my opinion, this demonstrates a potentially much healthier relationship than what he has with Elain. Azriel, instead of wanting to be perfect for Gwyn and wanting to appease her, is simply made happy by the thought of her. It is Gwyn whom he is taken with, not the idea of Gwyn loving him. And so that takes off so much pressure for him, and introduces the hope that he might be able to mature as a person in a friendship or romantic relationship with Gwyn.

Closing thoughts:

Azriel is a blundering, hormonal child desperate for love with no idea of how to get it, in a 500 year old Fae’s body. He’s also surrounded by people who refuse to address his clear issues... his future’s pretty dim, and I think he realizes it. Which is why whoever SJM chooses to be his romantic interest is going to be very important.

In short, I’m scared for what’s to come. But fingers crossed that his incredibly complex character is done justice.

#azriel #acotar #character analysis #gwynriel #kind of anti elriel #but open to interpretation

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Text

i picture it, soft, and i ache

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to.

It doesn't take Janus very long to fall in love with Patton, when it comes down to it. It takes him far longer to accept it, and to allow it to grow.

Content Warning: brief, non-graphic depiction of a panic attack

(ao3 link)

(podfic by @titheinironside)

It’s unbelievable, how fast he falls.

He prides himself on his rationality, his pragmatism. He’s no Logan, of course, but it has been a very long time since he allowed his emotions to get in his way. Over the years, that has cost him so much-- his relationship with Virgil, his ability to trust and be trusted, any moral compass that he may once have possessed, among other things. But he has never regretted it, not once, because his primary directive is to help Thomas, and if he has to play the villain to do so, so be it. Lord knows none of the others see the world for what it is, are willing to do what it takes to ensure Thomas’ success.

But the scene is like this: time passes, Thomas begins to listen to him, and one day, Patton smiles. He doesn’t know at what, doesn’t know why, because he wasn’t paying attention until now, but Patton smiles, wide and bright, and in that moment, Janus would do anything for that smile to be directed at him.

In the next moment comes realization: oh.

In the next few days comes denial: no.

Because above all else, he knows himself, knows what he is built for and what he is not. He is not built for this love, all-encompassing and brilliant, not built for this depth of devotion. His very being is defined by his loyalty to Thomas and Thomas alone, his ability to use and discard the others at will as long as Thomas will benefit. He is a snake and a liar, cunning, selfish, cowardly, and he has spent his entire existence pushing away the possibility of anything else.

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to. Patton burns like the brightest star in the sky, moves like the gentlest breeze on the warmest summer day, laughs like the freest dancer on the greenest field, and Janus is caught in his orbit, hopelessly entranced, hanging off his every word. The first time Patton touches him skin to skin, a graze against his forearm, causally, in passing, he has to excuse himself and stand in the center of his room for hours to catch his breath. His heart races too fast, and his entire arm feels as though it has been set alight, and all he wants is for it to happen again.

He is in too deep, sinking too quickly. He is at the bottom of the ocean, and even as the pressure of the water overhead crushes him, even as the darkness swallows him whole, he cannot bring himself to fight for the surface. If this is drowning, then he will drown and be grateful.

He cannot love Patton. But it is far, far too late for that.

“Wow,” Remus says, impressed against all odds. “You are a gay disaster.”

He groans. “I don’t know why I expected you to help me,” he mutters, and Remus shrugs, entirely unapologetic.

“You know I don’t do the whole romance thing,” he says. “Not my department. Have you tried, uh--” He scrunches his nose, and Janus knows that whatever comes out of his mouth next will be truly ridiculous-- “telling him, maybe? With, um, roses? That’s romantic shit, right? But you gotta take all the thorns off so that he doesn’t prick his thumb and blood doesn’t go spurting everywhere--”

“Please stop,” he groans, and that is the end of that.

Tell Patton. Absurd.

And he cannot tell anyone else. Cannot ask for help. He can tell Remus because he trusts Remus, to the extent that he trusts him to be exactly what he is, no more and no less, and Remus trusts him in the same way. But in general, trust is a foreign concept to him, once known but long lost, like returning to an old favorite book and realizing that the words have faded beyond all recognition.

But that’s alright. He is used to being alone. He has been alone for so long that he barely remembers what honest companionship feels like, and that is part of the problem, isn’t it? He has built so many walls around himself, walls that only he is ever allowed to breach, but here is Patton, waiting outside the gates and asking to be let in. Not demanding, not threatening; he brings no battering ram, no armies. Just himself, and his smile, and flowers in his hair, and that has more effect than twenty armies could.

He wants to open the gates. But the chains are rusted, the keys long lost, and that does not even take into account the danger of it, the danger of allowing himself to love another. Thomas is his priority, but what happens to him when that changes? What does he become? And what does that say about the worth of every action he has taken to lead him to this point?

Can he love? Is he capable of that unique vulnerability? He doesn’t think so. Love and trust go hand in hand, and if he cannot manage one, the other will evade him. He’s dancing a waltz meant for two on an empty stage, stumbling over his own feet because he has no one to catch him.

“You need to stay away from Patton,” Virgil tells him, eyes dark and clouded over with years of betrayal.

“Oh?” he asks. “Why is that?”

Virgil snorts, kicking away from the wall he’s leaning on. He approaches him slowly, deliberately, and the threads that hold Janus in place are invisible, intangible, but there all the same. A spiderweb capable of holding a serpent fast.

“Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at him,” Virgil says, and fear lands heavily in his chest. “I know everyone’s all eager to accept you and have you around these days, but I know what you are. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

“Ah, yes,” he replies. “You know what I am, just as I know what you are, Virgil. I wouldn’t throw stones.” He pauses. The words fall from his lips bitter-sharp, and he doesn’t want to be saying them, not like this, but it’s a habit formed from years. There was a time when they were happy, once, but they spoiled each other, and nothing is left of that shared past but a handful of wilted promises and bridges burned beyond repair.

Virgil snorts and shoves past him.

“Out of curiosity,” he says, and Virgil stops, “how do I look at him?”

Virgil turns and stares. “What?” he demands, and Janus knows that it was a mistake.

“Nevermind,” he says, and moves to walk away, but Virgil grabs his arm, hard enough to bruise, and holds him in place. For a minute, he says nothing at all, and Janus is left to search his face, the anger in the tightness of his lips and bewilderment in the tilt of his head.

Then, realization dawns, and Janus wants to be anywhere but here.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Virgil says. “You… I can’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, tightly, coolly.

Virgil laughs, and it’s the sound of a predator pouncing. “Yeah?” he challenges. “I don’t give a damn what you feel, or what you think you feel. You’re a fucking liar, and a fucking liar is all you’ll ever be. You’re not capable of giving him what he deserves.”

They are standing so close to each other, a distance of inches, but he has never felt farther away from him. What they once had is lost, but in the space between breaths, he allows himself to mourn its death, hating himself for the weakness all the while.

“I know,” he says.

Virgil scowls, dire warning in the shadows on his face, and releases him, stomping away. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

A moment later, Patton pokes his head around the corner.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, eyes pinched with concern. “I thought I heard arguing.”

I want to kiss you, he doesn’t say. I want you to hold me and never let go, he doesn’t say. I want to love you, and I want you to love me, please, would you love me? he doesn’t say.

“It was nothing,” he says. “We’ve sorted it.”

Patton doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it be. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

No one ever told him that love would hurt. He supposes he should have guessed it. Nothing that is worth having ever comes easily, and even though his breath catches every time Patton walks into a room, even though his heart tries to burst from his chest every time Patton deigns to glance his way, he doesn’t think he would trade this for anything. He can barely remember a time before this, before this love crawled into his chest and took up residence.

He takes whatever Patton will give him, laps up the crumbs like a starving dog. He accepts every offer of dinner, every invitation to watch a movie or play a game, even though all the rest of them barely tolerate him at best and openly hate him at worst. He’ll endure Virgil’s scorn, Roman’s enmity, Logan’s dismissal, as long as it means he can stay by Patton’s side. And Patton, at least, seems to like that he’s there, and most of him screams that it can’t be trusted, that there must be an ulterior motive, because that is the way he has thought about other people for nearly three decades and it’s so hard to try to change that. But he also knows that Patton doesn’t work that way. No matter how foolish it may be, he is genuine and true. Everything that Janus is not.

He entices smiles from him, teases laughter, and rejoices in the fact that it is him that draws these responses. It is all he will ever have, all he will ever be brave enough to take, and it is more than enough, more than he ever expected he could receive.

He cannot love Patton. But he does.

Roman corners him one day, and he lets him, because he has no idea why Roman of all people would seek him out. Things are better between them, but not by much, and Roman himself is still fragile in an odd way, as if saying the wrong thing one more time will prompt a total collapse. Janus has wanted many things from Remus’ twin, but never that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Roman says, through gritted teeth. “But, you and Patton.”

He blinks, taken aback. He told Remus, but Remus wouldn’t tell Roman. Virgil figured him out, but even after everything, Virgil still knows him well enough to read him, so that is no shock. Roman, though, barely manages to make eye contact with him on a good day, so he couldn’t, shouldn’t know, unless he is being far more obvious than he thought he was. That thought alone is enough to send an icy tendril of fear down his spine.

“What about me and Patton?” he asks, and hopes that his voice doesn’t shake.

Roman sighs, and his next sentence comes out as if it takes him a great effort to say. “Look, you make him happy, alright?” he states. “I don’t get it, and mostly, I’m scared that you’re just manipulating him, but for some ungodly reason, he actually likes having you around. So what I’m here to say is that if you hurt him, if this all turns out to be for some kind of scheme of yours, I will stab you through the heart and leave you pinned to the ground for the crows to eat. Do you understand me?”

His mouth goes dry. “Perfectly,” he rasps.

Roman looks at him, and then nods. He walks away without a sound, and Janus tries in vain to steady his nerves.

What was that?

You make him happy.

You. Make him. Happy.

Happy happy happy.

His face feels odd. He brings a gloved hand up to feel his cheek, and he realizes he’s smiling, wide and unrestrained like he hasn’t in years.

He makes Patton happy. He makes Patton happy.

He makes Patton happy.

He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know what he does. He can coax out smiles with a bit of smooth talk, bring out laughter with a well-placed pun, but those are both momentary, fleeting things. The idea that he makes Patton happy implies something that goes far beyond moments, implies a lasting fondness and a desire for his company, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why, and that is a problem, because if he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know to keep doing it.

Eventually, he works up the courage to ask, and Patton stops in the middle of rolling out his cookie dough.

“Why do I like to hang out with you?” he repeats. His eyes are very blue behind his glasses, like the vastest sky. “It’s because you’re you, silly.” He grins, bubbly and vivacious, and dabs a bit of flour on Janus’ nose. He sticks out his tongue instinctively, and Patton coos at what he calls a ‘blep’ and what Janus calls ‘something that he will deny ever happening so please stop bringing it up.’

“Besides,” Patton adds, more thoughtfully, “we’ve spent so long not being friends, and that was mostly on me. Now that I know how great you are, I don’t want to waste any more time. You’ve been trying so hard all along, and I couldn’t see that.” He grabs Janus’ hand, and he has to stifle a gasp. He can feel the human side of his face heating up, and hopes against all hope that Patton will not notice what must be an obvious blush. “I want to know you better now.”

“Oh,” is all he can say, all he can squeak out between teeth that are too tightly clenched. Even through his glove, Patton’s hand is so very warm, and his hand is tingling at his touch. “Um, I suppose I want to know you better, too,” he adds, stumbling his way through sincerity, and it must be the right answer, because Patton beams.

It’s like standing in sunlight, squinting up at a cloudless sky, in a instant of warmth and light that will last forever. Night will never fall and rain will never come down, and the sun will burn bright until the end of time, and so will he.

That evening, he has a panic attack in Logan’s room.

It starts in the hallway and comes out of nowhere; one moment he is walking to his room, and the next, he is leaning on the wall for support, doubled over and gasping for breath for no reason that he can see. But he happens to be standing near Logan’s door, and he must be loud enough for him to take notice, to come out and lead him somewhere safer, less exposed. He would be more grateful, if his lungs would cooperate.

Logan counts and measures his own breaths, and eventually, he finds himself able to follow the rhythm. He is shaking and sweating and crying just a bit, but the panic eases little by little, leaving him pressed up against the wall, Logan sitting nearby but not touching. He is familiar with the motions; he walked through them for Virgil, once upon a time. He has never been on the receiving end.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Logan asks, when he no longer feels as though his lungs are being constricted by iron bands.

He contemplates what triggered it. He thinks it was nothing in particular, really, nothing but a sudden sensation of being overwhelmed by everything all at once, his feelings and the endless possibilities open before him, a looming, uncertain future. It is as though he is walking a tightrope over a precipice, and the slightest mistake will send him tumbling into darkness. The thought makes his chest clench up again, and he breathes out slowly and deliberately.

“Not particularly,” he manages, and Logan accepts the answer with a nod.

“Very well,” he says, standing and walking to his desk, where he sits down and opens his laptop. “You are welcome to remain here for as long as you would like.”

He considers the offer. It’s far more generous than he expected. He didn’t think that Logan liked him very much. And it’s a nice room. Calming. There are stars painted on the ceiling, an accurate representation of the night sky bathing the room in a soft white glow.

“Thank you,” he says, and for a long while, the two of them sit in silence, Logan typing at his laptop and Janus just breathing, existing. He appreciates it, this comfortable silence, carrying no demands or expectations.

Could Logan help him, he wonders? Perhaps not; Logan barely ever bothers to recognize his own emotions, much less those of someone else. But then, Logan is calm and rational and most importantly, capable of respecting privacy, and perhaps that is just what he needs.

He needs something, of that, he is certain. Panic attacks are a new development, and not one that he wants to continue.

“Logan,” he says, “may I ask you a question?”

Logan swivels in his chair to face him. “You just did,” he points out, “but yes, go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath.

“What is love? If you had to define it, that is.”

He tries to keep his voice level, to reveal none of the importance that the question holds. It is the most open he has been about the subject, besides ranting to Remus, and he trusts Remus in a way that he has not learned to apply to anyone else. But he needs to know, needs to understand, and Logan is his best option for a definition. He will answer, and he will not push. Emotions are not his department.

Logan frowns at him, eyes oddly piercing. “I may not be the best side to go to if you are experiencing difficulties with this matter,” he says. “However, scientifically speaking, love is the emotion produced when certain neurochemicals, such as oxytocin, are released in the brain. I do not generally concern myself with the intricacies of the topic. Emotions are hardly my area of expertise.”

Janus sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. It is just about the answer he was expecting. He’s not sure that it helps. He doesn’t think he can reduce his feelings to chemicals. Not when he thinks he would do anything to keep Patton happy, save putting Thomas at risk.

“Is… there anything else I can answer for you?” Logan asks, and Janus meets his gaze. He seems oddly hesitant, and Janus is certain that he has overplayed his hand, but he is too exhausted to regret the decision. Something needs to give, something needs to change.

“No, that’s all,” he says. He makes no move to leave, though, content enough to linger in a place that sets order amongst his disordered thoughts, realigns the nonsense into reason.

“I am no expert,” Logan says, “so you are certainly free to disregard this advice, but I have been informed that… discussing one’s emotions with their object tends to be helpful in alleviating stress, if nothing else.” He is floundering, grasping at straws, but the clumsy attempt at help is genuine, and rather than annoyed, Janus finds himself endeared.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And he does. Oh, how he does. Once considered, the possibility won’t leave him alone. He watches Patton, spends time with Patton, and wonders what would change if he let the words slip past his lips.

The trust that Patton has extended him is extraordinary. No one has ever looked at him like Patton does, like he cares about him because he is himself and not because of the function he provides. Patton uses his name so easily, like it means nothing, and he knows that names do not have the same significance to those in the light as they do to those in the dark, but he still feels a thrill every time he hears it, because Patton was the first to use it. Was the first to accept the hand that Janus offered, in desperation and the burning need to be heard for Thomas’ sake.

He threw himself off a cliff with only the impossible hope that someone would catch him. And Patton did. Janus can’t go back to the way things were before. He won’t risk losing all that he has gained. And if that is selfish, well. That much is expected of him.

“Do you wanna help me cook dinner tonight?” Patton asks.

He’s in the common room. It’s still a novelty, the ability to be here. Depending on who sees him, he garners the odd distrustful glance, but no one ever demands he leave. It’s refreshing, and more than a little delightful, not that he would ever admit it.

He shrugs. “Absolutely not,” he says, rising. “I despise cooking. Why would you even ask that?”

Weeks and months ago, that would cause Patton to withdraw, would send hurt flashing across his face.

Weeks and months ago, Patton wouldn’t have asked at all.

But now, Patton giggles. “Great,” he says, and from anyone else, Janus would take that to be sarcasm, but as always, Patton means it. He always means it, when he says these things.

Janus follows him into the kitchen, staring at his back and thinking about how different they are. How Patton is good and he… is not. It’s an oversimplification, of course; he knows that very well, better than anyone else, knows that morality is relative and painted in swatches of grey, but still. It never used to bother him.

Patton is making a stir fry, evidently, a new recipe, and sets Janus to preparing the rice as he chops vegetables. He chatters on about everything and nothing, about a dog that Thomas saw yesterday, about the cute barista that Thomas managed to hold a coherent conversation with, about how he managed to beat Logan in Scrabble the other day to everybody’s shock, how he thinks he’s almost got Roman convinced to take him on a quest in the Imagination. A lot of it, Janus already knows, but he is happy to listen to Patton talk, interjecting with dry comments at appropriate times to draw out a laugh or teasing scolding or an exaggerated gasp and a swat at his arm.

And all the time, Patton smiles. Brightly and genuinely.

He’s so caught up in it that he almost doesn’t catch the slip in time, almost doesn’t see Patton’s knife waver too close to his finger as he relates his adventures with a puppy that Roman conjured for him (“--and it almost peed on Logan but I stopped it before it could. Logan still wasn’t happy, though--”). But he does, and his hand darts out to grip Patton’s wrist, halting the knife’s motion before he can give himself a nasty cut.

“Careful,” he murmurs.

“Oh!” Patton says. “Thanks, Janus.” He laughs. “Guess I wasn’t being sharp enough.”

He smiles at the pun, and for a second, he lingers, feeling Patton’s wrist under his fingers. He’s wearing his gloves, but the warmth shoots up his arm regardless.

Then, he realizes that Patton’s face is red.

Ah. He’s made him uncomfortable.

“Apologies,” he says, and pulls back. He expects the incident to fade into the background, forgotten, expects them both to move on without comment.

He doesn’t expect Patton to drop the knife on the cutting board and take his hand in his.

Janus stares. Patton’s face is still red, red like a tomato, and he refuses to make eye contact. Janus feels like he’s frozen, feels like his heartbeat must be audible to the entire Mindscape and probably Thomas too, feels like he wants to run and feels like he never wants to let go.

What is happening?

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Patton says. He looks at him, finally, and his blue eyes are shining with an emotion that Janus dares not name.

He opens his mouth to reply, but his throat is dry. He clears it, several times, and he wants the ground to swallow him a bit, because surely his infatuation is obvious, is written all across his face. Surely, Patton will see it now, will release his hand and let him down gently, kindly, because that is the type of person that Patton is. Gentle, kind, someone that he loves helplessly and hopelessly and will continue to love until the stars go dark.

“I’ve been thinking,” Patton says softly. “Could I hug you?”

He is wordless, powerless, breathless. He nods. Patton releases his hand, but he only has a moment to mourn the loss of contact before Patton’s arms are wrapped around him, before he is tugged against Patton’s chest, held tight and safe and close, and it is as though every nerve has been lit on fire. He gasps, and his own arms latch onto Patton’s back and do not let go. It is an effort to keep it down to only one pair.

He is so warm. He doesn’t think he has ever been this warm. Even half a dozen heat lamps couldn’t compare to this, this heat and this pressure and this security.

He is trembling, too, and hopes that Patton doesn’t notice.

“I realized that I hadn’t ever done it,” Patton says. “I didn’t know if you would want me to, or if you would like it? But I wanted to see. Are you… you’re shaking, are you okay?”

He moves as if to pull away. Janus doesn’t let him.

“Please don’t let me go,” he rasps. It is too raw, too vulnerable, too honest, and it gives far too much away. And it’s selfish, too, wanting to take so much of his attention, his affections, when he cannot possibly feel the same way that Janus does.

But he doesn’t care.

“Oh,” Patton says, something new in his voice, something like surprise but not quite, and Janus can’t place it but he doesn’t care as long as Patton will keep holding him, because this is all he’s ever wanted, even if it can’t last. “Oh. Oh, honey, I won’t. I won’t, I promise. I won’t let you go.”

Janus buries his face in Patton’s shoulder. Patton rubs soothing circles into his back, and he thinks he could melt.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Patton murmurs.

He was never built for this love, never built to hold it. Against all odds, he has, though, has held it and nurtured it and allowed it to grow. And perhaps that means that he is not what he has spent so long thinking that he is, that perhaps he can be more. He has held this love and now it is spilling over, seeing the light for the first time, and perhaps the light will reveal it to be ugly and twisted and dark, but he will take the risk if it means he can touch the sun.

“I’m not meant for this,” he says softly, and Patton hums.

“Not meant for what?”

“Caring.”

His voice breaks. Patton makes a small, choked sound and steps back. Janus is forced to let him go, and already, his body is yearning for the contact again. There is only a foot or so between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

Is this where it ends? Has he broken their friendship?

God, he’s become so melodramatic.

But no, Patton reaches out, caresses his face, caresses the left side of his face, his hand cupping his scaled cheek as if it’s no different from human skin, and Janus feels as though the ground has dropped out from under him because no one, no one has ever touched him there, like this.

“You deserve all the care in the world,” Patton tells him fiercely, passionately, and… he meant it the other way around, meant that he’s not built for caring about others, but to see Patton like this, so determined to defend him even from himself…

Janus kisses him. His lips are as soft as he always imagined they would be.

He only gives himself a moment before drawing away. Patton is staring at him, face slack with shock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His lips are tingling, his body on fire, his emotions bared, and he can’t stand it.

He isn’t built for this, and surely, Patton can see that.

But then, Patton steps closer.

“You don’t need,” Patton says, “to apologize to me.”

And Patton kisses him. Gently, but insistently, asking for an answer but not demanding. And it takes a few seconds, a few long seconds in which he comprehends nothing and too much all at once, can barely wrap his head around the concept of Patton kissing him, but he answers. Answers, and answers, and answers. Answers, and pours everything he has, everything he is into the answering.

They pull back, eventually, and Janus opens his eyes. Patton’s lips are red and swollen, his eyes bright.

“Not unless you didn’t mean it,” Patton says, and it takes him a moment to figure out what he’s talking about.

“I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more in my life,” he replies, and swallows. “It terrifies me.”

The honesty is excruciating. Is this what love does?

He already knows the answer to that.

“Then let’s be scared together,” Patton says. He reaches out and takes Janus’ hands in his, intertwining their fingers. His yellow gloves stand out against Patton’s skin, and for the first time in a long time, he wants to remove them, to take them off and have skin to skin contact, regardless of the vulnerability that will bring. Not tonight, maybe, but soon?

Patton kissed him.

“That is,” Patton says, “if you want to.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is even lower, even softer than before. “I really, really like you, Janus.”

He looks at him. Really looks. Patton is nervous, fidgeting, unsure of his answer despite the fact that Janus kissed him first, despite the fact that Janus has been pining, has been burning so long that he has forgotten how not to. But his words ring clear with honesty, and Janus doesn’t think he has ever been this happy, nor this scared.

He can love Patton. All he has to do is say yes.

“Not at all,” he lies. “Why would I?”

And he tugs Patton back in. The kiss is tender, sweet, and Janus doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to allow another in, doesn’t know how to open up, to trust, to let himself love unabashedly and without restraint. For Patton, though, he is willing to do anything, anything at all. It’s a waltz meant for two, and perhaps the stage isn’t so empty after all.

Against his lips, Patton is smiling at him. So, he smiles back.

He can love Patton, and Patton can love him, and maybe, just maybe, he can believe that everything is going to be alright.

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wisteriashouse · 3 years

Text

goodnight.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: angst

word count: 1876

remarks: why do i do this why do i make myself suffer

In hindsight, you should have known the second you saw the site of the train wreck with your own eyes.

“Kyoujurou!” You call, doing your best to keep your breathing and emotions in check as your eyes sweep the place. You’ve been running desperately, following the railway tracks along the route that you know the Infinity Train to have taken — hoping, begging, that you wouldn’t find any casualties along the way.

Your kasugai crow, which you use more to keep in contact with Kyoujurou than anything else, had informed you of Upper Moon Three’s appearance when you’d just finished clearing a forest of demons, much to your horror. You know the Flame Pillar is strong, incredibly so, but to face an upper ranked demon right after dealing with Lower Moon One is an impossible task.

If anyone can do the impossible, though, it’s Kyoujurou. You have to believe in him.

The closer you get to the wreckage, your seasoned senses can already pick out smaller details of the battle from the night before — the acrid smell of burning ash that still lingers in the air, the dented metal of the toppled train carriages. Although your lungs burn from exertion, you push yourself onwards, frantic to confirm with your own eyes that Kyoujurou is still alright.

Nothing is going to happen to him, you chant to yourself in your mind, over and over. Kyoujurou is going to be alright. He has to be.

You barely spare the casualties at the side of the tracks a glance as you leap onto the wreckage of the carriages, eyes desperately scanning around you for a glimpse of that familiar flame emblazoned haori. Most of them seem to be only suffering from flesh wounds, which means that Kyoujurou and the three that joined him have been successful at keeping civilian losses to a minimum. You allow yourself to cling to hope for a brief moment. They’re alright, so Kyoujurou must be as well–

You see him.

Or rather, you see the back of him as he kneels on the ground next to the wreckage, a boy in a green checkered haori sobbing in front of him. Your breath hitches, and then you’re running, shouting his name.

“Kyoujurou!”

The boy glances up in shock at your voice, his eyes and cheeks wet with tears, but you hardly pay him any heed as you come to a stop in front of your best friend, nearly falling over from how fast you’re going. “Kyoujurou, the crow told me that you encountered Upper Moon Three, I couldn’t reach fast enough to provide backup, are you...” Your words die into a strangled sound in your throat. “...alright...”

Kyoujurou looks up at you and your panic only grows when you see the red staining his smile, the familiar one that is only reserved for you and Senjurou. His remaining eye fixes on you, slightly wavering, so gentle you want to cry in anguish.

“I didn’t think you’d run all the way here just because I haven’t replied your last letter.” He says, but his words are nothing but white noise in your ears, your gaze transfixed on the blood that just keeps seeping from the hole in his torso. His voice is so strained, so weak. “I was going to tell you that sweet potatoes were better than yam, but–”

His words are cut off into a pained gasp as you tear the haori off your shoulders and press it to the wound on his stomach, praying that he hasn’t lost enough blood to put him in the grave. “What are the lot of you doing standing around and crying for?” You bellow at the two junior demon slayers, who flinch back at the volume of your voice. “Earring boy, help me staunch the bleeding from the back with your haori! Or have you learnt nothing but swinging swords from your trainer?”

Kyoujurou’s bloodstained hand rests on your trembling ones as you apply pressure to the wound, while the other brushes tears that you didn’t even know were falling from your eyes. “It’s alright–”

Something in you snaps.

“Shut up!” You scream at him, so fiercely that Kyoujurou actually recoils, his expression one of shock. He’s never seen you lose your composure like this, not after hearing about the deaths of your comrades, not even after the passing of your father whose haori you’re currently pressing to his wound. “Shut up, Kyoujurou, just... shut up! You’re bleeding out in front of me! It’s alright? It’s alright? Are you fucking with me?”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“You’re asking me to watch you die!” You snarl, fingers tightening so hard in the fabric of your haori there’s the sound of ripping fabric. “It might be alright with you, but don’t you dare think that I’m going to be okay with you dying in front of me! Use total concentration breathing to slow your blood flow! Don’t make me watch you die!”

Kyoujurou blinks up at you slowly, watching as tears flow down your cheeks uncontrollably, the way your shoulders tremble with barely repressed emotion. He’s so exhausted, and his body is in so much pain that he just wants this to be over so that he can join his mother in rest, but you’re crying.

You’re crying, and it’s because of him.

And because it’s you, he parts his lips and forces himself to breathe.

Deep, measured breaths, just like he was teaching the Kamado boy a few moments ago. There are too many injuries to concentrate on, so he focuses on slowing his circulation so you won’t have to see his blood on your hands. Gritting his teeth, he takes one more deep breath to steel himself and forces the blood vessel to stop the bleeding.

Pain rips through him, clawing at his abdomen and a choked, soundless scream escapes Kyoujurou before he can swallow it. White flashes in his vision and he so damn badly wants to give up, but then your fingers are suddenly there, stroking his cheeks and begging him to stay with you. He clings to your voice even as waves of pain rock through him, as if you’re his lifeline and he’s a man drowning. You need him. He can’t go just yet.

When the blinding agony finally subsides just slightly, he finds himself lying on his back, tear tracks running down the sides of his face and his throat raw from screaming. You brush his tears away with the sleeve of your uniform, pressing your lips to his hairline. “You’re doing so well, Kyoujurou.” You tell him. His entire body feels sluggish, completely drained. There’s a light smack on his cheek. “Come on, talk to me. I’ve already called for a surgeon in the area, so you have to wait until he’s here. Don’t go to sleep just yet. You still haven’t told me why sweet potatoes are better than yam.”

Your voice is trembling.

“Sweet potatoes...” He forces his remaining eye to focus on your face, trying to remember your every feature. “I like the ones you and Senjurou make for me the most. The ones we make together on the first day of autumn. They’re always so warm and good.” The blood tastes like iron in his mouth, and suddenly he’s standing next to a pile of burning leaves in the yard of the Rengoku family home, poking at them with a long stick.

There’s a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see you standing there in a thick kimono decorated with russet and crimson maple leaves for autumn, Senjurou clinging to your sleeve. He tells you that you look beautiful and your cheeks turn a hint crimson, mumbling your thanks shyly. Senjurou chatters excitedly about the roasted sweet potatoes in the fire, while his own face warms at your response, heart throbbing in his chest.

We’ve been making roasted sweet potatoes since we were children, Kyoujurou. You still can’t tell when they’re cooked or not?

He never tells you that he doesn’t want to learn, so that he can keep inviting you to his home year after year to make them together.

The sweet potatoes the three of you shared always taste the best. No matter how simple they are, nothing can compare to them in the way they warm his heart.

“Mm, we used to make them so that you would give Kanroji a break from training.” You slap his cheek again, a little harder this time. Kyoujurou blinks blearily in realization that his eyes were slipping shut, instantly feeling guilty, but he’s just so tired. “Don’t sleep yet, Kyoujurou. Senjurou was telling me about how his broom broke yesterday, and he’s waiting for you to get back from this mission so that we can get a new one from the market together.”

“A new... broom? Ahh, I just fixed the old one before I left, it mustn’t have been enough.” Kyoujurou’s head spins, and his breathing comes out shallow. He tries to breathe right, he really does, but he’s losing strength with each passing second. “He was telling me about a new vendor in the market selling konpeito, so he wants to try making some. It’s simple, so Senjurou said I could try making some and giving it to you as a gift.”

“That sounds nice.” You hum, your voice trembling slightly, although Kyoujurou doesn’t know why. His entire body feels heavy, and his head rests in the softness of your lap. It’s warm and comforting and familiar. Kyoujurou used to do this after a long session of training, before the two of you had become Pillars with your own missions, your own paths taking you apart. Simpler, happier times, a long, long time ago. “When we go home, let’s make a fire and roast sweet potatoes together again, alright?”

“It’s not autumn yet, though... There won’t be enough fallen leaves.” Your hand finds Kyoujurou’s, and he squeezes it weakly. So warm. “I’m really tired... could I nap... for just a bit?”

Kyoujurou faintly hears a choked sob, feels your fingers stroking through his hair and your lips against his forehead. “Okay.” You finally whisper after a heartbeat, your voice cracking at the edges. “You’ve done wonderfully, Kyoujurou. I’m so, so proud of you.”

He feels the corners of his mouth lift in joy at your praise. “Will you still be here... when I wake up?”

“Of course.” You kiss his eyelid, the tip of his nose, then his cheek. “I’ll always be with you, Kyoujurou. We promised each other since we were kids, am I right?”

“Okay.” He murmurs. Relief settles deep into his weary bones, and he allows himself to stop fighting the exhaustion dragging him under. You’ll be there when he opens his eyes again. “When I wake up... I have something important... I wanted to tell you...”

You wait for him to continue, but Rengoku Kyoujurou falls silent and still – and stays that way. His warm smile remains on his face, and you fight back your tears to press a featherlight kiss against his brow, so that you don’t disturb his peaceful slumber.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, your voice hushed with unshed tears. Your hand, stained with his blood, cups his cheek gently. “Goodnight and sweet dreams, Kyoujurou.”

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #I KNOW I WROTE IT BUT SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME THE MAN ISNT DEAD

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peggyrose19 · 3 years

Text

Day 19: Soulmates

Jeez formatting this was a bitch. Advent for tonight is a little bit different, because the prompt was an accidental double. So, instead of being a sensible human being and just writing a different one-shot off it again, I decided I should get my O’Knutzy soulmate AU done instead, thinking it’d be fairly simple. Oh how wrong I was. Who knew writing an actual plot and developing a relationship was so hard? Me, but I started it anyway so really I did this to myself. So if it’s complete shit, I apologize in advance. Some day I will go back and edit and add to it. Characters by the always amazing @lumosinlove

Summary: Finn and Logan were soulmates, and had been since the moment they were born. Both had a journal filled with messages to each other, given to everyone once they turned 18. When Leo turned 18, he opened his journal to discover something rather peculiar. What did one do with two soulmates?

Sorry the summary is shit, I suck at them :) Journal entries are in italics and text messages are in bold because tumblr won’t let me underline. Hope you guys enjoy, leave a comment and I’ll love you forever <3

Leo stared down at the paper in front of him. His mind had gone blank when he’d opened the book. His soulmate journal, given to him today, on his 18th birthday. He had imagined this going hundreds of different ways. It had consumed his every waking thought for the past six months at least, what he would say, how his soulmate would respond, the possibility of words waiting for him already. What he hadn’t imagined was the words from two distinct hands written on the pages.

He thumbed through the book as word after word flashed by. Conversations flowed between these two people, going back nearly three years, according to the dates on each page. The handwritings were different. One was messy, scrawled, and Leo caught a few words of French here and there. The other was neater, script-like, and the ink was dark and consistent.

Unsure what to do, Leo began reading some of the journal. He had never heard of this happening before; he wondered if the other two knew.

What’re you doing up, it’s nearly 3 am? was the first thing Leo’s eyes fell upon.

Can’t sleep. What’re you doing up?

Reading. But that’s irrelevant. Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake up.

Okay fine. Night, Fish.

Night.

Leo could feel the affection between the two, even just from those simple words. He kept reading, flipping back through conversations that felt too private for him to be reading. His eyes found the words “I love you” written in big stark letters, filling nearly half a page. He slammed the book shut.

What was happening? Why did these two already seem to have a life? Why were they in his soulmate journal? He pushed back the tears forming in his eyes and slowly opened it again. Words began appearing on the page.

Finn, you there?

A moment later, answering words appeared, Yeah, what’s up?

Shit day. Then, I miss you.

Leo wasn’t sure how to feel about all of this. He didn’t know who these people were, why they were in his journal, what to make of the clear connection they had. The best way, he supposed, to resolve this was to see who they were.

Hesitantly, Leo grabbed a pen and set it to a blank page.

Hello?

Umm… hi? one of them wrote back quickly, the messy one.

Who are you? the other, Finn, added.

I’m Leo, he wrote, unsure of what else to say. I just got my soulmate journal, he added.

There was no answer for a while. Leo had just about given up when words began appearing on the page.

This is our journal. We’ve had it for about four years now. I’m Logan, by the way, he added.

I’m Finn.

Uh, well it’s nice to meet you both.

Neither Finn nor Logan were sure what to make of the situation. Finn grabbed his phone, watching Leo’s words spread across the page, telling them about who he was and what he’d discovered when he’d opened his journal for the first time that morning.

Lo, is it even possible he’s also our soulmate? Is that even a thing? He sent the message to Logan, turning back to the journal.

Leo, where are you from? he asked curiously.

New Orleans, came the response. Born and raised. What about you both?

New York City, Finn responded right before his phone pinged.

He pulled up Logan’s response. I’m not sure, maybe? I’ve never heard of this happening before but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t.

Quebec, came Logan’s response in the journal a moment later. Leo answered, but Finn wasn’t paying attention.

He was focused on the message on his screen, mind running through all the soulmate stories and tales he’d heard over the years. He remembered his brother getting his, being ecstatic at the messages he’d received. His friends all getting theirs, writing excitedly to their soulmates from the first moment. Even his parents talked fondly about it, the two of them meeting after a year and already being in love. None of them had two soulmates.

But then, in the back of his mind, a memory surfaced. His grandmother, telling him a story, late one night when he couldn’t sleep, about her best friend from high school. She had had a girlfriend when they went off for college, her soulmate. When they connected some years later there had been a boy too. She had never questioned it. After all, this had been the 60s. People didn’t ask questions like that.

But maybe it was possible. Maybe this could explain the hole that still seemed to exist between him and Logan, no matter how much they loved each other.

As the months passed, Leo slowly made it through the journal. Finn and Logan had both given him permission to read it, although initially he had been surprised. He barely knew these people, why were they trusting him with their deepest secrets? But Finn said that’s what a soulmate journal was for and so Leo spent each night before bed reading a few pages, getting to know his apparent soulmates better and better with each word.

He learned that Finn was a year older than Logan, 23 now, and his birthday was in August. Logan’s was in December, four days before Christmas. He read page upon page about their siblings, Finn’s older brother and Logan’s three older sisters. He wondered briefly what it was like living with siblings.

They’d met before, in person, two years ago, Logan flying from Quebec, where he lived, to New York City for New Years. Leo’s heart ached when he read that. He wondered what the city had been like, what it had been like when they met.

He wished he could meet them.

He learned the small things about them, too. Logan had a terrible sweet-tooth. He was French-Canadian and could speak it fluently. (Canadian French was very different from New Orleans French). He couldn’t dance to save his life, despite his sisters trying. Finn knew how to figure skate, but had switched to hockey early on. He still kept up with it.The only food he could make without burning was hot chocolate the way his brother showed him. Finn liked to feel useful, to make people feel better. He liked to read. He liked to write letters to Logan while he slept. And Logan would scold him for staying up late, then absolutely melt at the words written on the page.

Leo wanted one of those letters.

By the time he reached the entry from his birthday, three months had passed. It was quickly becoming summer in New Orleans, despite it being only May. As he got to know his boys better, and they got to know him, Leo wished more and more that he could meet them, see them. He wished he’d known them four years ago when they first met. He wished they’d had that time together.

He wanted them to fall in love with him.

Hey Le! Logan wrote cheerfully late one afternoon. Leo sat outside in the shade of a nearby tree, flipping aimlessly through the journal. He felt conflicted. But the nickname sent flutters through his heart. What’re you up to?

Not much, he replied. Sitting in the garden. What’re you up to?

You have a garden?

Leo chuckled. Yeah. I can see the ocean from here actually.

You can see the ocean?? Jealous.

Yeah, it’s also 85 degrees.

Nope, I’m out.

That made him laugh again. That’s what I thought.

I just don’t know how you do it! It’s like a million fucking degrees there all the time. I would actually die.

And it’s always a million fucking degrees below freezing where you live.

….touché. Leo could sense his reluctance through the paper. He wished desperately to see Logan’s face in that moment, see the pout he undoubtedly was wearing right then. To kiss it away, maybe press him back against his bed…

No. He wouldn’t let himself think of that. Because if he started down that path there was no coming back. And he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Finn we need to talk

The text came one day as Finn was getting ready for bed. He paused in brushing his teeth, typing out a response.

FaceTime in 5?

Sounds good

If he was being honest with himself, Finn had expected this a while ago. He had known it was coming, knew it needed to happen. From that first message, Logan laughed at something Leo had written. Finn knew in that moment he was gone. They both were. The only problem now was how to say it.

The ringing of his phone shook him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Lo,” he answered as the call connected.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from your text.” Logan didn’t laugh, and that’s when Finn knew this was really bothering him.

“Logan, I know what this is about. It’s okay.” Logan’s eyes snapped to his face.

“What- how?”

“Babe, you’re not exactly subtle. And, well, neither am I. I know it’s about Leo. It’s okay.”

Logan sighed. “I just- I know he’s our soulmate, obviously. But it still feels like I’m betraying you? How can I love both of you? How does that even work?” Finn’s eyes widened at Logan’s words.

“You love us? Both of us?”

“Harzy, how could I not? You’re my soulmates. But it’s more than that. I love you for you, not just because of some match in the system. And I want us, all of us, to be together.”

Finn was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he said quietly, “That’s why we never made sense. Why there always seemed to be a, a hole. We need Leo to complete us.”

Logan smiled. “Exactly.”

Leo, you there? Finn wrote.

Yeah, came the reply a moment later.

We have something we want to tell you.

We?

Hi Nut, Logan added hurriedly. Finn smiled at him through the phone screen. He wished he was there in person. He wished both of them were.

Logan?

Yeah, it’s me. Fish and I talked. About this, us. We want-

“Don’t take my moment!” Finn scolded playfully. “Besides, no one can read your shitty writing, I would know.” Logan pouted, but let Finn continue.

Sorry about that. What we were trying to say is that we want you. If you’ll have us. I know all of this is new for you, it is for us too. But we need you. You’re the missing piece of our puzzle, and we don’t work if we don’t have you.

Leo read the words over and over. Silence buzzed in his ears. It didn’t seem real, that these two boys, who had been each other's for so long, now wanted him. His mind couldn’t make sense of it all, of the love he could feel even through the thin pages of his notebook.

Leo, you there?

I’m here, he managed. I just don’t know what to say.

Good or bad? Finn asked cautiously.

Good, he laughed. Of course I want you two, do you know how long I’ve wished for this to happen?

Oh yeah? Tell us.

“Logan!”

“Sorry.”

Okay, you don’t have to tell us. But please tell me you’ll come see us? I need to see your face.

Please? Finn added for good measure.

Leo could have jumped up and down in that moment. Of course I will come visit. Of course. Then, a moment later, heart in his throat, he added, I love you guys.

#o'knutzy #cubs #lumosinlove #coast to coast #soulmate au #how do i write relationships #plot? what's that #falling in love #remus john lupin #advent #december 19

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saanphoenix · 3 years

Text

“Why do so many old-school FFVII fans think that Cloud took Zack’s memories?”

Alright, so first things first. We gotta start from the beginning. We gotta start with Jenova.

Jenova is the name given to the alien entity known as the Calamity. “Heaven’s dark harbinger.” This being, assumed to be female because of the body she was in at the Crater, was basically godlike in her natural abilities. Historically, she was able to shapeshift. She was telepathic. She had a nigh indomitable will. And she used her abilities to infect the race of human(oid)s that happened upon her crash site--the Cetra.

Now, Ifalna, within the English translation of the OG, states that Jenova turned the Cetra into monsters, nearly wiping them all out, and that the wee few that remained basically had to be sacrificed to seal Jenova away before she could do anymore damage to all life on the planet. The notes Sephiroth finds within the Shinra Mansion seem to corroborate this version of events, as he tells Zack that the Cetra chose to fight the Calamity while the other humans “hid”, thus being spared Jenova’s shenanigans, allowing them to become the dominant race on the planet, but ultimately being cowards unworthy to be the shepherds of any star, to quote Emet-Selch from FFXIV. Stay with me now.

We also know that the notes Sephiroth reads within the Shinra Mansion do not, in any way, call Jenova the Calamity. They still refer to her as a Cetra. Meaning that those notes are outdated, before the discovery of a living Cetra, a Cetra who is 2000 years removed from her own people’s history. Right? So.

(’Ah, but what about Genesis point-blank telling Sephiroth the truth? He knew what was up!’ Yes, because Hollander and Hojo found out from Gast’s recordings, and Ifalna herself, what Jenova actually was, and then Hollander told Genesis, who then said some stupid ass shit to trigger Sephiroth into looking into the wrong information, and now Nibelheim is not Nibelheim anymore and Cloud is missing one more family member than he was when he joined Shinra. Also, fuck Genesis. Anyway.)

HOJO, yeah? Hojo, in two separate novels written by Nojima himself, states to Aerith and Tseng separately that Jenova 1) will inevitably infect all life on the planet with her “cells” because of the very nature of the Lifestream and 2) turned the Cetra against each other via subtle manipulation and illusions of their loved ones, dead or alive, conceived from their own memories. She didn’t show up looking like the Eldritch horror with the eyeball nipple, she showed up looking like a run-of-the-mill Cetra. And she would further disguise herself as people a Cetra knew in order to gain their trust. And then, after she had gained that trust, she would say shit like, “Hey. Your friend over there hates you,” or, “Hey. Your friend over there wants to kill you.” And thus the Cetra, at the very least morally but probably also physically, became monsters and tore themselves apart.

You ever wonder why everything the Cetra had was booby-trapped and hidden behind riddles and self-sacrificial bullshit like their Temple? My guess is because Jenova made it so they couldn’t trust anyone, even themselves.

“Why did I read all that? What does that have to do with Cloud voring Zack’s memories?”

Because we gotta understand the mechanics of this bitch first so that we know what to look out for.

Now, we have an alien in stasis--presumed dead but definitely not--and a buncha scientists who really want a coveted spot sucking President Shinra’s dick as head of the Science Dept. who all think that taking the genetic material of a Cetra and splicing it into a modern-day human’s DNA will give them a Geiger counter to the Promised Land. Which they want to use as fuel because only some of them really understand what mako is and the others are just fucking stupid. Anyway, my guess is that they archeology their way to Jenova’s still-kinda-alive corpse and do some DNA testing and go, “Ah! We’ve found a Cetra. It has to be one! She’s by the crater, after all, and that’s where some of them were nuked by a Meteor! :) We’re geniuses!” And Jenova, in the Lifestream, went, “GOTCHA, BITCH!”

And through the power of dino DNA, out pops a lot of nonviable lifeforms, some monsters, and, eventually, a relatively normal kid with a flare for the dramatic who will become wholly obsessed with apples and very boring literature that he will insist on repeating every five goddamn seconds. As he was no Geiger counter to the Promised Land, out pops another relatively normal kid who will grow up to have dreams, and honor, and steal food from his neighbors because he was so damn honorable that he just could not ask for a handout.

With Hollander and Gillian’s experiments not producing anything of note other than children that need love and support, Hojo and Lucrecia decide to take a slightly different sample of Jenova’s cells and just start sticking them everywhere. They’re in Lucrecia. They’re in Lucrecia’s fetus. And...something strange starts to happen.

Lucrecia starts to feel the effects of Jenova. Lucrecia’s mind and body start to kind of deteriorate. Not the way that Genesis’ and Angeal’s do later on, but she is plagued by shit like severe depression and fatigue. She falls out on the floor multiple times. Her bodyguard is a little late on pulling the trigger of the gun aimed at her husband and, instead of doing anything productive about her husband proving he’s an amoral murderous fuckhead, she just decides to play doll with her kinda undead bodyguard, get even sicker, and then, finally, pops out a very strange looking baby. In fact, he looks a little alien.

“No, seriously, what does this have to do with anything?”

Genetics. How Jenova cells work. Whatever clump of cells they injected into Lucrecia, clearly different from those used in Project G, seemed to focus more on the mental fuckery aspect of Jenova than the physical, shapeshifting aspect of Jenova. I would also argue that one of the reasons Lucrecia was so adversely affected by the cells and Gillian was not is their mental well-being. Gillian, even when we meet her, seems very upbeat and doing pretty okay despite her husband having died from exhaustion a coupla years back. Lucrecia was depressed and very subservient even before she married Hojo. Losing her mentor--Vincent’s father--probably exacerbated that. And, later in Advent Children, that sort of mentality--hopelessness and despair--is what Sephiroth’s Geostigma feeds off of. That and thoughts of death/dying. But that is more speculation than anything.

So, Sephiroth’s cells are different from Genesis’ and Angeal’s, and they were all three bred differently, but they’re all kinda chimeras of Jenova’s. And once Genesis learns about his origins, it’s like the lightbulb goes off. This guy’s creating clones by infecting his 2nd and 3rd Class SOLDIERs with his own cells. And when he does that, their physical appearance becomes his own. As does their will. Whatever Genesis wants, the clones also want. And then he just grows a wing for shits and giggles. Once he tells his BFF Angeal the sitch, behold! He’s got monster clones--maybe because he realizes how fucked up overwriting a human being with yourself is--and wings, too. ...Why?

The power to do all of this shit was always there. It was genetically always there. They just had to be made aware of it, to have the puzzle piece put into place. When Sephiroth dies, that puzzle piece is put into place. And then he starts fuckin’ with shit. And turns into monstrous angels. And then dies again. And then comes back and finally grows himself his own wing. He did it, fellas. He’s a big boy now.

But we’re not here to talk about Sephiroth--ignore how much I talked about Sephiroth and his mommies previously--we’re here to talk about ZACK and CLOUD.

“What’s up with Zack and Cloud?”

First, what we must realize is that even though Hojo says that both Zack and Cloud are failed clones because they 1) didn’t take on any physical characteristics of Sephiroth, 2) didn’t seem controlled by Jenova (or Sephiroth) and, 3) didn’t exhibit the other signs of a Reunion impulse like the other clones in Nibelheim that does not mean that Sephiroth’s cells, Jenova’s cells, are not working on them.

As we’ve observed in other 1sts, abilities do not always manifest immediately or even noticeably. Clearly, Sephiroth’s physical appearance is a bit of a hint, but Genesis and Angeal look pretty damn normal and, if it weren’t for their mako injections, they probably wouldn’t be showing that much of an increase in physical capabilities. Theoretically. Maybe 10-year-old Angeal had biceps the size of a man’s head. I mean. Pff.

Zack’s tolerance to Jenova was strong due to his previous exposure in the SOLDIER program. Cloud’s mind broke pretty early on. Neither of these results matter to the fact that they both now have Sephiroth’s cells within them--just as Genesis’ and Angeal’s clones had theirs--and that their very wills are now going to be affected by Sephiroth’s. But they are also going to be a little bit like him in terms of power.

Zack’s hair, when ingested by a Genesis clone, a clone of a Type-G SOLDIER, transforms that clone into a monster. Zack doesn’t even have to do anything. The Jenova/Sephiroth cells within his body can just Do That, cause that change in another life form, of their own accord. I’m honestly shocked that, whenever they gave Zack these S-cells, HE didn’t turn into a monster. But that’s neither here nor there. I wanna talk about Cloud.

Cloud has mako poisoning, which the Remake describes as his spirit/soul being stuck between his body and the Lifestream. Weird. Anyway, he’s not fully aware of his surroundings at all times, and he clearly can’t control his body that much. He somehow has the ability to kinda get his feet shuffling, and I’m going to go on a limb and say he can chew whatever food Zack gives him, but most of the time, he’s a puppet with cut strings.

But he is also still recovering from a mind break caused by Jenova cells. The same cells that are just chilling in his body, like they are in Zack’s. And all the months Zack is dragging his ass across a continent, an ocean, and another continent, they and Cloud are listening to whatever the fuck Zack is saying. Cloud is also constantly in physical contact with Zack.

In The Kids Are Alright: A Turks Side Story, Kadaj has the power to not only read surface thoughts and memories just by being near someone, but he can also read deeper ones by making physical contact with someone. Because Jenova. And Sephiroth, whose cells Cloud and Zack have, in the OG demonstrates that he, too, can glean thoughts and memories from others. Because Jenova.

If this power is a genetic trait, as it is with Genesis and Angeal, then, sitting pretty underneath their skin, Zack and Cloud have this ability. Dormant. Snoozing. Kinda like the 1st Class Trio’s wings.

But Zack has a high tolerance and a high ignorance to Jenova and just what he might be capable of. Cloud’s mind is floating in and out at best. He’s not in control of himself. And when you have a situation like that, it is very, very easy to come to the conclusion that Cloud’s Jenova cells are passively absorbing the memories of Zack’s time in Nibelheim. That they are knitting these memories together with what little remain in Cloud’s head. That when Tifa comes across Cloud at the train station and calls him by name and remembers who he is that Cloud’s Jenova cells latch onto those memories in Tifa--as Sephiroth tells them they did--and they knit those memories with Zack’s and Cloud’s and the end result is the man we get at the beginning of the OG.

Because Cloud has visual memory of shit he never saw. It’s not just a visual medium telling a visual story. You wanna know how I know that for a fact? Because, in the Remake, Cloud remembers Sephiroth walking up to Jenova’s tank in the reactor from Sephiroth’s perspective. He is looking through Sephiroth’s eyes, through his memory, up at “Mother.” In that moment in the Remake, Cloud is Sephiroth. He’s not Cloud anymore.

Cloud sees Sephiroth delivering the speech of being an Ancient. Cloud wasn’t there. Cloud didn’t see that. Zack did. That is Zack’s memory.

The man writing the Remake is the same man who’s been at the head of MOST FFVII writing. He was on the OG, he wrote Advent Children, he wrote the novels, he wrote Crisis Core, he’s writing the Remake. He knows what these cells can do because he’s crafted this world-building for decades.

Cloud didn’t take all of Zack’s memories. He didn’t need to. Kadaj, in the novel, doesn’t glean everything from someone right off the bat. Because he doesn’t need to. Only when he needs to learn something else does he go digging. The same is probably true for what Cloud’s cells most likely did to be able to know what he knows. Hell! Kadaj gets punched in the novel and he ACCIDENTALLY picks up the emotions and memories of the guy who punched him. He didn’t want ‘em but he got ‘em!”

There is evidence within the OG, and even more within the Compilation, that lend weight to the theory that Cloud unintentionally read Zack’s mind when it came to the events of Nibelheim.

For years, people have wondered, “How the hell does Cloud know that if he wasn’t there?” For years, people have wondered, “How can he use the Buster Sword if he was just a little grunt that used a gun all the time?” The logical answer is, “Because of his Jenova cells. They can just do that shit.”

#long post #ffvii #ffvii spoilers #zack fair #cloud strife #jenova #sephiroth #jesus christ i wrote a novel

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berryberryrad · 3 years

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𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩⚡️

shino aburame, sfw alphabet prompt

if this comes across as ooc, literally hit me pls. I’m usually kiba biased, but something about shino has just been hitting different recently.

warnings: blatant abuse of grammar and punctuation. cursing. i’m no writer, i just tell it like i see it. I wrote this on mobile and am not a tech guru so I wish I could do the fancy little, “keep reading,” bit but I’m

word count, 3983

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

we’ve all come to the generalized conclusion that the aburame clan aren’t handsy. shino falls in line with this, and pda or even private interactions that involve skin to skin contact aren’t going to be his forte. I can see him holding hands, or the aspect of interlocking pinkies with this boy while you’re both reading or walking throughout the woods just has me weak in my knees. a more common way shino would express himself by ways of affection would be listening; absorbing every word you have to give and then offering up the information he’s collected later to show that he does hang onto your every word. he does so subtly, remembering things that you mentioned favoring seemingly offhandedly but in reality he wants you to feel as seen as you make him feel. someone give him a kind smile right now

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

shino’s so quick to throw around the, “I’m not sure I have any friends,” card when kiba inuzuka literally exists— the audacity of this man. team 8? the bond the three of them have outdoes friendship. the loyalty. the camaraderie. the attitude. i get whiplash from their personalities interacting, and i love every minute of it. the bluntness of shino can come across as rude disposition, however it all comes a place of well intent. he speaks his mind, and he speaks the truth. all of it. having shino aburame as a friend would mean you could easily find calm grounds to stand upon. he’d offer words of harsh wisdom, whether you ask for them or not. he sees the best in people even behind his quiet demeanor, and has loyalty oozing out of him. good boy, 10/10 wanna be his best friend.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

can i be self-indulgent for .6 seconds: imagine how w a r m shino is. it had to be said.

anyways, aburame clan: not particularly touchy. we talked about this. however there would come times where shino would hold your hand. it was a practice you initiated, and he quickly caught onto. when you walk through the forest together, he’ll send his bugs out to take a quick peek around before interlocking your fingers silently. he’ll be nervous the first time, but eventually is confident enough to make the move without any plaguing hesitation.

I could go on and on about hand holding because I’m a simple girl, but we gotta get to the goods.

cuddling? with shino aburame? a prize that I want to win. you. bug boy. sitting side by side, chatting about slice of life oddities— you put your head on his shoulder. okay little baddie, we see you: he very carefully presses his head onto the top of yours. shoulder to shoulder, his cheek resting in your hair. you never stop talking about your day, and he never stops you. it feels so natural and easy. c o z y. I’m soft.

you don’t spoon, you want to see his face when he lights up with facts about entomology. when you reach that state in your relationship, you lay side by side and play with his fingers, or he draws lazy patterns on your wrist.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he’d love to settle down wtf. he’d want to keep a romantic partner close, but even platonically— shino’s in it for the long haul.

he may be bug boy, but he’s also a clean boy. right? like okay his hair may be a bit unkept, and his room is definitely littered with sketches of insects and books here and there. but they’re organized in a way that makes sense to him. he can immediately find whatever he needs whenever he needs it, and that doesn’t make him unclean. when it comes to his insects, he keeps them tucked away with precision. each is labeled and jarred away probably alphabetically, idk, that just feels right to me.

cooking is something that can be accomplished in theory. a recipe can be read and executed, but that’s as far as it goes with shino. don’t expect much creative flare, the aburames are known bug enthusiasts, not ramen curators. the most spontaneity you can hope for is perhaps a pinch of salt on your eggs in the morning. if it’s not in the recipe, it’s not happening. he’s a boy of many talents, cooking is barely one of them.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

i don’t even wanna entertain shino breaking my heart—

good thing he’s breaking yours

shino wouldn’t let a platonic relationship go far enough into a romantic status unless he was without a doubt that you were someone he could trust and hold close to his person. honestly I’d say you’d have to be the one to break up with him if you managed to get far enough in. but if he had to break up with you? he’d have the briefest moment of hurt before setting it out all on the table. once his mind is made up, it’s over. he’s not one to dance around the point. you probably won’t even have to ask why. he’ll tell you without prompting.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

oh shino has no problem committing his life to you, after you’ve been together for a very long time that is. marriage isn’t the forthcoming thought pressing into his conscious. it’d be something you had to mention in passing to him to let him know you were interested. to shino, he recognizes your relationship as it is: a relationship. your partners for better or worse, he doesn’t think a marriage certificate has any true significance in the way you share feelings for one another.

but you’d like a wedding? okay, no qualms. he’d want to wait a few years, and the atmosphere of the village would to have to fair calm, but he wouldn’t mind a small ceremony. when he tilts your head back and kisses you to seal the deal, kiba faints.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

sorry I was just checking the time, seems to me like it’s, “soft boy hours.”

I want you to know right now that shino aburame hangs onto every word you say with such fervor, it’s just darling okay? emotionally, when you’ve established that you plan on playing an active role in his life, he’s so doting. asks you short and simple questions about your day. offers advice on your woes. let’s you interact with his bugs— because he trusts you. and you better offer him the same love and respect back. I have this whole thing about him receiving cheek kisses. he eats that shit up okay, but silently with a blush crawling up his neck and wrapping around his ears. pinky holding— hullo. that’s the gentlest thing homies can do.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

maybe he hugs you first. that’s wild, but it keeps you on your toes. you held his hand first, yes, but that night when he accompanies you home you stand nearly toe to toe. you haven’t released hands yet, and he’s overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude to someone who has lent an ear to him with no ulterior motives other than quality time. it’s strangely second nature to him as he wraps a fast arm around your waist, crushing your held hands between your bodies. you’re taken aback, obviously, but before you can even share a proper moment in the same space he’s retreating back into his stoic persona and wishing you a good night.

shino hugs with his whole body, and my favorite version of this would be him wrapping his arms around your shoulders as your crushed into his shoulder. love it. he doesn’t hug often, cherish the ones he shares with you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

shino, ever the one to speak his mind, let’s you know he loves you immediately when it occurs to him. I’m not quite sure when this is, but you’ve been apart of his life for a long time without a doubt. you make him feel safe, seen, and he is sure he can trust you. you probably ask him a question about like the process through which butterflies migrate or whatever, I’m not clever enough to think of insect related questions, but after he gets done explaining and you’ve got this thoughtful expression on your face he just blatantly says it. it’s so matter of fact and without any doubt that you have to blink for a moment before sharing the sentiment. it’s not awkward. there’s not any fanfare or roses involved. it’s the truth, and you’re both quietly over the moon about it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

shino and jealousy don’t necessarily exist in the same realm. he’s not going to entertain someone he can’t trust, that’s just a given. and if he did have any doubt in his mind you were pursuing something romantic from another, he’d simply send one of his bugs to investigate the situation. if it proved to be true, he’d confront you on it. if he’s misunderstood the circumstances then he can admit it, but if he hasn’t then he’ll make it apparent to you very quickly he doesn’t appreciate what you’ve been doing.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

soft, goodnight.

okay so like forehead kisses, right? forehead kisses by shino>>>>

i will die on this hill, don’t test me.

shino kisses softly and with purpose, there is nothing he does without meaning. it’s a press of his lips to your forehead before leaving for a mission, it’s brushing your lips together in the moonlight, it’s pushing the pads of your fingers against his mouth when you’re upset. I’m a hopeless romantic and there’s only so many euphemism for kissing, so take what you’re given. shino isn’t experienced in tonsil surfing, so you’ll have to bear with him. it’s something that relies less on textbook skill and moreover on feeling and primal intuition, something he does have so he’s not completely clueless. like i said, forehead kisses are a go to and idk if I’ve mentioned you giving shino cheek kisses but for the love of god, please opt to. he eats that shit up, you gotta.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

kurenai herself made note of how well shino interacts with kids, and I have never known kurenai to be wrong so it’s been decided. shino? amazing with kids. the scene between him and mirai? shino giving a piggy back ride? goodnight y’all, imma clock out.

and he eventually becomes sensei badass okay, like he can handle himself amongst a child or two. as far as having his own children I think he’d do well with one. shibi and shino share the classic aburame relationship: mutual understanding and appreciation of one another’s existence, and i can see him sharing that with his own child and then some. he spent the better part of his own childhood in solitude. it was in tandem sought out and forced upon him. big boy perks. he’d want his child to not only embrace their aburame side, bugs and all— but also to feel confident and extroverted enough to branch out and make interpersonal relationships

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

imagine being a morning person. I mean shino doesn’t have to, but it couldn’t be me. shino’s up before dawn breaks, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pressing his glasses into his nose before he even opens his eyes. rise and shine. if you’ve been sleeping beside him, he’ll cast a long look you’re way, admiring your still figure before standing and beginning his day quietly so as not to wake you. he lets you sleep as long as you wish unless you instruct otherwise. sometimes you ask him to wake you when he wakes himself. you always regret it because why the fuck is he awake, the crickets are still outside doing god knows what. he thinks the ambiance of an early morning is peaceful, and it sets his person in ease.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

can we all just take a moment to appreciate the grand outdoors and how precious it would be to have shino watching you fondly ogle at fireflies in the middle of a field. like arms crossed with a gentle smile behind his collar as you open mouth grin and point because he absolutely asks them to do something impressive just to see you in awe.

nights are spent outside staring up at the sky. in a tree? on the ground? in the park? in the middle of the woods? who cares, time with shino is time well spent.

if it’s raining then that’s tough, I guess y’all will just have to have a night in. sometimes you play shogi, and you don’t complain when he lets you win despite you showing no true skill for the game. he doesn’t mind.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

oh shino won’t reveal anything haha. well not on purpose. see I know I’ve gone on and on about shino being so attuned to you and what you have to say, but you have to show him equal attention and devotion to get a good read of him. anything personal that can be taken from him is conveyed so subtly you’ll miss it if you’re not paying attention. he’ll answer any question you ask, however if you get too personal too fast he’ll slyly avoid the question

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

not easily angered, moreover easily annoyed. while shino may not be on shikamaru’s level of strategical advances, he does have a pretty good sense of how things should be completed. it’s usually the way that benefits the most people and accomplishes the goal with as little room for error as possible. when things stray off from the how he envisioned them, I see him getting a little irritated. I think the time he’s spent with kiba has aided in this conclusion, and he isn’t as easily moved to a pissy nature as he once was, but I think the sullen nature still translates across if things fail to go his way because in his mind, it’s the most logical path.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

broken record alert: he’s a good listener. it’s both a strategic move to manipulate situations because he’s become so good at reading people, and his own unique love language. it’s the juxtaposition of words of affirmation; he shows he cares by ways of empathy and action. it’s stoic empathy, but empathy nonetheless. he remembers everything you tell him, and everything you don’t. on missions when you two are parted, his thoughts are sometimes clouded with images of the way your mouth arches when you laugh, or the soft smell of you lingering on his coat after you hugged him goodbye.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

when you let him go on and on about his insects and you seem genuinely interested. so often do people put up with shino’s knack for bugs out of politeness or to just let him fill the silence— but you ask questions. you seem intrigued with any word that falls from his lips and you’re quick to quip back with facts you’ve dug up on your own. you’re curious about what shino is so attuned with, and he is so excited to have someone to educate who wants to learn. you’ll go on small adventures to locate bugs to breed or to simply watch, and it’s at these moments when you’re both silent and poised over a poisonous beetle with a respective jar and net that he remembers fondly when you’re both parted.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

well he’s already sworn to protect the village, so initially it’s on that basis. his duty is to do whatever he can to keep the residents of the hidden leaf secure, but with you he keeps a bit more of a watchful eye available. he isn’t paranoid or overly protective, however on days his mind is uneasy, shino has no qualms sending a beatle to hover your person. it’s just a security measure, nothing to write home about.

you keep shino protected from his inner turmoils. hinata and kiba can only reassure him so much, but shino has developed the habit of writing them off. they’re just his teammates, they have to put up with him. however you have no personal ties to him really. you stick around on your own accord, and this boosts his self esteem immensely. you put his mind at ease and make note to remind him daily that the members of team eight are an excellent unit and that he needs to give kiba and hinata more credit because they both care about him as well. akamaru too, woof woof dummy. accept the love.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

shino’s not a man of many words, and when he does spit fire, it’s calculated and can come across as blunt assertion. you’ll come to put up with it, but he can come to understand he can be a bit overbearing in this aspect. so as I’ve expressed, words of affirmation aren’t his love language (though don’t put it past him to whisper sweetness into your ear when you’re both alone: that would be lovely.)

he expresses himself through gifts, awe. shino won’t present you with precious jewels or money as means of affection. no, the gifts are moreover practical. a book you had been pining after, a scarf to keep you warm in the upcoming months, things of that nature. he also collects rocks, we can collectively agree on that as a community right? he’ll share them with you, encouraging you to begin your own arsenal of rocks that entertain no one but are a sweet gesture— thanks shino.

dates are long walks when he as spare time. he doesn’t mind if they’re silent or if you fill the space with your own daily narrative. you’ll both trade useless dialogue and he likes it. it’s a sense of normalcy for him.

he doesn’t try particularly hard in any sense, but he doesn’t need to. time spent with shino is delightfully casual in both of your lives, please don’t mind it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

what if shino picks his nails, awe.

he’s a wonderful, brilliant little creature: but he has a habit of writing off people who clearly care about him. you’ve gotta take a little energy into reassuring him from time to time. he won’t outwardly mope in this mentality, but sometimes he seems a little off and it will fall on your shoulders to assist him

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

mans only lets like 3% of his face be shown for the better part of the series and then decided that a visor and top knot were gonna be his debut look in boruto, he is n o t the one to look to for fashion advice, and this is coming from someone who simps so hard for shino aburame like he’s lowkey giving kiba a run for his money at this point but like come on

as far as his s/o goes i know the prompt didn’t ask but he doesn’t mind what his s/o particularly looks like. it’s a personality game baby, let’s go

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

shino’s written as a loner, and he doesn’t particularly mind that status but a friend every now and then is never unwelcome. he deserves to be appreciated, and while he may not outwardly show that he receives the appreciation in good spirits, you can rest assured he does. having a partner would be pleasant, no doubt, and he would love having someone by his side to call a best friend (and eventual partner) however shino’s existence isn’t completely codependent on another half. he can exist on his own with just the company of his bugs with no true remorse. he does feel lonely at times, but he’s got the squad of the hidden leaf backing him up. he’ll make it through

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

blush bug boy shino = a happy bee (‘s me, I’m bee)

the headcannons where stoic blunt hardass shino is an inexperienced nervous boy eat me alive. man’s is a shinobi who has faced peril and nearly suffocates when you hold his hand for the first time? imma head out, i love it

he’s also always early to things? yes please? early is on time, on time is late, and late means call an ambulance, something super not cool has gone down

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

if you don’t like bugs, you have to evacuate the dancefloor. I’m not saying you have to be the president of the, “insects are the superior race,” committee. to enjoy something and appreciate something from a distance both can weigh evenly on a scale in this instance. if you’re a bug enthusiast, kudos. he’ll love spending time showing off his collection to you with a slightest hint of pride coloring his tone. if you’re the type of person to be afraid of insects, he can deal with that as well. most people are, and he recognizes it comes from misunderstanding. if you are willing to give the bugs a chance and overcome your phobia, you’ve won him over.

wouldn’t like an over the top ditzy person. he needs you to have some sense of self preservation and common sense. shino does not put up with tom foolery and he would make that apparent to you very quickly.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

can I head cannon that he just becomes unhinged in his sleep? can we get behind that? like shino may begin the night tucked in with his hands clasped over his abdomen, but that is n o t how he finds himself in the morning. as a shinobi, he’s a light sleeper. fair play. but light sleepers toss and turn too, and I like to imagine him waking up discombobulated. face down, open pressed into his pillow, arms doing what they will, hair in disarray. magnificent. a pen drops and he wakes immediately, and is up before you can truly assess what you’ve just seen of the normally so put together aburame.

he knows he’s an active sleeper, ‘s why he gets up at 4am. that’s his business

#shino #shino aburame #shino x reader #shino headcanons #naruto headcanons #naruto #sfw #sfw alphabet #reader insert #naruto fandom #naruto shippuden

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

Text

Lockscreens (ch.10)

tw: insecurities, minor anger-driven violence

Word count: 3.85k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 10: All Caught Up (Present)

Present, the day after the game

“Bokuto-sehsu, that was a fantastic match last night! How are you feeling today?”

“Thank you so much Au-san! We worked really hard, and we’re so happy for a MSBY Jackal victory,” he beamed, crossing his legs and leaning forward slightly. “I’m feeling great.”

“How do you guys normally celebrate after a win?”

“Well, we’ll normally go out for a bite to eat or something.” He adjusted his sports jacket, hands fiddling with the zipper. “If we’d just flown in that night though, we’d normally head off to bed after eating something in the hotel restaurant.”

“You guys must be hungry after all that running and jumping!” She laughed. “You’re from Tokyo right? What’s the best place for a post-game meal?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes, I was actually the ace at Fukurodani Academy when I was in high-school. We normally go to Gyu-Kaku by the stadium after a hard-fought game, win or lose. I actually took the team there last night.”

“Gyu-Kaku? That’s actually one of my favourites!” They both laughed. “Now, obviously you’ve been involved with volleyball for a good majority of your life. I gotta ask, is there anything you regret about it?” Bokuto froze, his mind running this way and that.

He wasn’t sure why this question was always asked, and he swallowed the weight of the lies on his tongue as he repeated the same lies he had lived and breathed for the past four years. Bokuto forced a grin, “No, not at all. I love volleyball, it’s always been there for me. I’m so happy that I have a chance to continue with it as my career.”

“Speaking of love, any special lady in your life?”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he forced out a laugh, his heart shattering. Of course. Just another bachelor on the MSBY team. “Not at this time,” he acknowledged, knuckles whitening. Bokuto could almost feel the jagged edges of the pieces of his heart that he’d clumsily tried to reassemble. “It’s hard balancing all the travel and practice with a dating life.”

“Well hopefully you’ll find someone willing to do that for you.” Au smiled. “Well folks, that’s all the time we have today. Thank you for coming out!”

As Bokuto left the studio from his live interview, he let out an extensive sigh. It wasn’t often that interviewers asked him about his past, but he supposed it was expected considering he was local to Tokyo. He turned down the street, letting his music fade in the background as he remembered his past. Bokuto still couldn’t believe that he had run into (Name) yesterday, let alone that she was married to Kuroo for gods’ sake. He sighed, face darkening. Kuroo had been the one to introduce them after all.

“Hey Bokuto, I want you to meet someone. Come to Gym 3 later for extra practice!” A hand clapped onto his back, sending the wing-spiker lurching forward. Glancing up, he nodded at the other first-year male.

“Who else will be there?”

Kuroo shrugged, grinning. “You’ll just have to come and see, won’t you?”

After all the practices, Bokuto entered Gym 3 to find it empty. He picked a corner, placing his bag and stuff down before taking a sip from his water bottle. “You’re Bokuto right?” The spiker jumped, dropping his bottle. He cursed, bending down as he picked it up. A soft giggle had him looking up. “I’m (L.Name, Name),” she introduced, bending beside him as she began to towel up the split water. Bokuto stared at her, open-mouthed. “You were really good today!” She beamed, standing up with the soiled towels.

“Thank you,” he stammered, moving to stand beside her. “What school are you from?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, “Nekoma.”

“Oh! You must be Kuroo’s friend?”

(Name) laughed, eyes sparkling. “You can say that. We've been friends since grade school.”

Golden eyes widened. “He mentioned wanting to introduce me to someone. That must be you.”

“Funny, Kuroo said the same thing about you.” She bowed. “I’ll be in your care, Bokuto-san.” His cheeks glowed as he pulled her up from her bow.

Bokuto frowned, arriving at his temporary lodging. Under different circumstances, he would’ve asked to stay with (Name) after reconnecting, but the circumstances being what they were, he figured renting out a place for the month would be better. He sat on his couch, lips pursed. Bokuto’s phone vibrated against his thigh. “Hello?”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi!”

“I heard that you were back in Tokyo?”

Bokuto stood, his bitter expression lightening up just enough for a smile. He stood up, making his way to his kitchen. “Yes, I am! I’ll be here for a month.”

“How exciting,” Bokuto could hear the smile in Akaashi’s voice. “If you’re free, let’s meet up? I haven’t seen you in quite a while.” Bokuto filled up a glass of water, sipping it.

“I always have time for you, Akaashi!” Bokuto boomed, causing Akaashi to chuckle.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. I have to go now. I hope you’re doing well.”

“See you soon, Akaashi.”

Bokuto stood in the deafening silence of his kitchen. A heavy sigh left him, shoulders sagging. Akaashi’s calming presence had soothed some of his anxiety about being alone, but it was also a stark reminder that he was alone. Weary golden eyes scanned the kitchen.

“Kou! You’re making a mess,” she squealed, grabbing at his hands. He had been frantically whipping the bowl of cookie dough, causing it to splatter everywhere.

“No, I’m not!” He argued.

She pulled it away, wiping a bit of the splatter off of her cheek. “You sure about that?”

“Okay, maybe.” Bokuto sighed, grabbing a towel to try and wipe down the counter. He was startled when cold liquid landed on his cheek. “Huh?” He whirled around, wiping at his cheek to find a splatter of the dough on his cheeks. “Oh you’re gonna get it,” he grinned. A handful of flour went flying at her as she attempted to run around the island.

“Kou!” She shrieked, the flour landing all over her face. (Name) lunged for an egg, smashing it on top of his head. She froze, eyes widening at the silly sight. “Oh my god, you look ridiculous!”

“You’ve got three seconds.” Bokuto wiped the dripping egg whites off of his forehead.

She backed up, tripping over her own feet. “You wouldn’t do anything drastic, right Kou?” She cooed, panic rising in her voice.

“Of course not, love. I just wanna hug you!” With that, he lunged and cracked an egg down her shirt. Laughter filled the air as they chased each other around, their plan to make cookies long-forgotten.

He sighed. If only he could turn back time. Maybe he’d have this taste of domesticity for the rest of his life. A home instead of a temporary apartment. Someone who would come rushing to greet him once he came home instead of the void left in his heart and bed. Bokuto sighed just before his phone vibrated in his hand.

Future wifey: When did you want to meet?

****

The next day...

“So, Bokuto is back in town? And (Name) is meeting him right now?” Kenma had Hikori on his lap, showing him how to play Minecraft. Kuroo was lounging on the bean-bag, alternating between watching his son and staring at his phone.

“Pretty much.” Kuroo sighed.

“How are you feeling about it?” Kenma patted Hikori’s head, pointing at something on the screen.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be sitting there sulking.” Kenma eyed his best friend disdainfully. “Not that I’m complaining, you know I enjoy Hikori’s company.” His yellow eyes surveyed the screen. “You can mine those blocks, Hiki.”

“Ok, Ken-san!” Hikori’s pink tongue stuck out as he examined the keyboard to press the right buttons.

“Fine, you’re right. I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“What if she still wants Bokuto?” Kuroo hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. “I mean, they were together for almost four years.” Hazel eyes gazed with affection and a glimmer of resignation at his son. Turmoil overwhelmed him. Would Hikori prefer his biological father over him? Would she prefer Bokuto? No matter what, it had always felt that Bokuto was her first love, not him. “And they have something...permanently tying them together.”

“You’ve also been with her for the same amount of time.” Kenma cleared his throat, shifting his sharp gaze away from Kuroo. “I think that connection is more-so between you and her,” Kenma shrugged. “It’s not like he was involved other than genetically.”

“That wasn’t his fault though,” Kuroo argued. “If he hadn’t gotten the deal that day, he would’ve known and it would be him here instead of me.”

“But he did and it is you, not him.” Kenma looked down at his friend. “You’ve known each other for almost fifteen years. You’ve loved her for a majority of that time, whether you knew it or not.” He took control of the mouse, helping Hikori fight off a zombie. “She’s loved you for just as long. It doesn’t matter what they had together. You’ve already beat him in every possible way.” A smirk made its way onto his face as he watched Hikori play. “You’ve maxed your friendship levels. He’d have to start over at this point.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “You’re such a gamer.”

“A rich one.”

Kuroo’s face brightened as he cackled. “Thanks Kenma. You always know how to cheer me up.”

“Our friendship points are maxed out too, Kuro.”

“Ken-san!” Hikori pointed at the screen excitedly. “I just caught this!”

“Good job, Hiki.” Kenma patted the boy’s head affectionately.

****

A few days later...

“Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Can we meet up?”

“Of course. I’ll text you the address of a pearl drink place, okay?”

Akaashi hung up, sighing. It had been years since he heard Bokuto so...depressed. The wing-spiker had worked hard to overcome his “emo” modes from high school, and it no longer affected him during games, but apparently something brought it back and Akaashi had an idea of what that it might be…

“So you met (Name)?”

Bokuto nodded, chewing on the tapioca balls. “Yeah, we ran into each other at the game a few days ago.”

Akaashi hesitated. “How was that?”

“S’okay, I guess.” Bokuto shrugged, spinning in the raised chair. The two sat in bar-stools at Akaashi’s favorite pearl tea shop. Though, it was only his favorite since it was so close to his work-place. “We met up to talk the other day and caught up. I didn’t know she and Kuroo got married.”

The former setter hummed. “Yeah, they got married before Hikori was born.”

Bokuto threw his arms up. “That’s the thing! I didn’t even know they were talking together. Let alone that they were interested in each other like that.” Bokuto sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I can’t believe I came back to find my best friend having a baby with my ex-girlfriend.”

Akaashi tilted his head, twisting the straw wrapper. “I’m more surprised you didn’t come back sooner with all things considered.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Akaashi cleared his throat, “I figured you would visit more after finding out that Hikori is your son.”

Bokuto froze, short-circuiting. “He’s what?”

Akaashi paused, looking up from his pearl drink. “She didn’t tell you?” His eyebrows furrowed. “They promised that they would.”

“Congratulations, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi nodded at Kuroo and (Name). They were at (Name)’s house as she hosted Hikori’s ‘Sip and See’ party and Aya’s baby shower. The coworkers had become exceptionally close after being joined together by parenthood. The expecting mother was entertaining other guests in the living room while (Name) and Kuroo entertained their guests in the backyard.

“Do you want to hold him, Akaashi?” (Name) offered, arms cradling a bundle of blankets.

Akaashi smiled, bowing slightly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I trust you.” She giggled, gently placing Hikori into Akaashi’s arms.

“I’ll be back, love.” Kuroo kissed (Name)’s head, nodding at Akaashi before heading over to greet his coworkers.

Akaashi rocked Hikori slightly, a gentle smile on his face. “He has his eyes, y’know.” (Name) murmured, looking down at her son and carding through his soft locks.

“Does he now?” Akaashi hummed. Hikori yawned, opening up his eyes as he woke up from his nap. With wide golden eyes, Hikori reached for Akaashi’s face. Akaashi chuckled, bringing his finger to Hikori’s small chubby hands. The baby squealed with laughter as he grabbed onto Akaashi’s index finger. “Does Bokuto-san know?” Akaashi peeked up at (Name).

“Not yet.”

Kuroo returned, catching their conversation. Akaashi kept his attention on (Name). “Will you tell him?”

“Of course Akaashi.” Akaashi fixed her with a hard stare, raising an eyebrow. “I promise, we’ll tell him.”

“Akaashi.” Gunmetal eyes slid to look over at Kuroo who grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “We promise, Bokuto will know.”

“I have to go.”

“Good luck, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi called after him as Bokuto sprinted out of the store.

****

“Thanks for coming in! Be sure to keep doing those stretches at home, okay?” She instructed, waving her client out. She stepped out of the hall, leaving one of the dance studios.

“Hey (Name)?” The receptionist called urgently, waving at the female.

“Yes? Is everything okay?” (Name) walked forward. Rei approached her, bending to whisper into her ear.

“There’s someone here for you. He’s been pacing the lobby for quite some time now.”

“Who is it?” Her eyes widened, brows furrowing. She didn’t have any more clients that day. (Name) glanced at her watch, it was almost time to pick up Hikori from the on-site day-care center.

“He said his name was Bokuto?” (Name)’s jaw clenched, fingers twitching in agitation. “Oh, do you know him?” Rei asked, cocking her head. She could only nod, a million thoughts running through her mind.

“Yeah, thanks for telling me Rei. I’ll go see him right now.” She smoothed out her clothes, taking a deep breath before she stepped into the lobby. “Bokuto?” True to Rei’s words, Bokuto was anxiously pacing up and down the lobby, looking over his shoulder at the double doors every few steps. Bokuto looked like a mess. His hair was all-over the place, golden eyes red. At the sound of her voice, Bokuto whipped around. His lip was swollen and bruised, no doubt from apprehensive chewing.

“(Name)!” Bokuto sprinted towards her. “We need to talk.”

“It appears we do.” She looked around the lobby. “C’mon, let’s go to my office.”

Silence clung to them as they took the stairs up to her office, which had been moved to a different wing. As soon as she shut the door, Bokuto whirled on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That Hikori is my son!” He slammed his palm onto her desk, startling her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I...we...I was going to tell you,” she whispered. “When Hikori was older.”

Name let out a sigh of relief, tugging the blanket under Hikori’s chin. Muscular arms snaked around her waist as the couple stood staring down at their baby. “Let him sleep,” Kuroo whispered into her ear, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek and gently tugging her towards the door. Kuroo slipped out first while she paused to turn on some classical music. Her husband was bustling around the kitchen, pouring them mugs of warmed milk. “Is everything okay?” He asked, glancing up at her.

“Do you think we should tell Bokuto?”

Kuroo’s hands froze as he stopped mixing honey in, eyes focused on the mug with an unreadable expression. “Bokuto?”

She hummed in response. (Name) stepped in between his arms, wrapping her arms around his chest. “I mean, biologically that’s his child.” Kuroo hesitated as a hand reassuringly rubbed his back. “Hikori is still your son,” she clarified, “and he always will be.” (Name) pulled back, looking up at Kuroo, her lips brushing his cheek. ‘But I think he’d want to know. Heavens knows you would want to if the situation was reversed.” She shrugged as she bit her bottom lip. “Bokuto doesn’t need to know any time soon.”

Kuroo nodded reluctantly, resting his forehead on hers. “Why don’t we wait until Hikori is old enough to decide whether or not he wants to meet Bokuto?” he suggested, closing his eyes. “Introducing Bokuto too soon might cause confusion or unnecessary stress to Hiki.”

A puff of warm air blew across his face as she contemplated his offer. “That’s fair. He isn’t missing a father figure and he might get confused.” Her eyes glowed with determination. “Alright. Let’s hold off on telling him until he’s old enough to understand.” Kuroo pressed a kiss first to her forehead then her lips. “Thank you for being so understanding, love.”

Kuroo let out a soft laugh. “Anything for you, my love.”

“Don’t you think I had a right to know?” Bokuto was pacing around her office, aggravation evident in all of his movements. Fear locked her jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me when we met up the other day?” He snarled, running his hand through his hair again. The knock at her door shook her out of her reverie.

She cleared her throat, glancing at the door. “Yes?”

“(Nickname)? Are you ok?”

She swallowed, steadying her voice and steeling her nerves. “Yeah, Iwaizumi. I’m fine, just dropped something.”

“Alright then. I’m next door if you need anything!”

“Thank you!” She pinched her nose, taking more deep breaths. “Look, Bokuto. You left.” She hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Years ago. I didn’t hear from you until. This. Week.”

“That’s not my fault!” Bokuto argued, grabbing her wrist. “You told me to go!” He threw her hand away from him, golden eyes narrowed.

“I did.” She nodded, closing her eyes. Her nostrils flared as she took deep breaths. “I wanted you to be happy and to be the pro-player you always wanted to be.”

“Babe, guess what?” She looked up from the tea-cup that sat in front of her, over the pastries as (e/c) eyes made contact with gold. Her eyebrows quirked up as she took a sip. Bokuto could hardly contain his own excitement as he blurted out, “I just got scouted!”

Her eyes widened, choking slightly on the hot beverage. “Really? That’s great!”

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it’s a two-year contract for now. They want to send me to their training camp starting next week and I’ll be gone for the next six months. After that, I’m going to officially join the team and everything!” A soft pout made its way to his face as he played with his fingers. He didn’t want to leave her - not when she was so close to finishing up school. “That means I have to leave this weekend.”

Delicately placing the tea-cup down, a soft hand reached out for his. “Kou, it’s okay. This is the opportunity you’ve been looking for all of your life.” (Name) swallowed thickly, causing him to tilt his head at her. What was the matter? But his worries were quelled with her next words. “I’m not going to keep you here. Please, go live your life and you better be the best ace out there, okay?”

Apprehension bubbled in his stomach, something didn’t feel right. He grasped her hand harder, fixing her with a paralysing golden stare. “We can make this work! I’ll come home to visit, and we’ll call every day, I promise.” Silently, he promised to himself, ‘And when you’re finished with school, I will come back and bring you with me.’

The corner of her lips graced him with a timid smile. “I’m sure we can.”

“I love you.” Bokuto’s plush lips caressed her hand, squeezing it tightly once more. His heart felt warm knowing that he had her support. Knowing that he had a plan for their future now. Excitement filled him once more as he imagined it. Him, established in his professional volleyball career. Her, joining him in Osaka and building her own future as they joined their lives together as full-fledged adults.

She squeezed back, looking at their intertwined hands. “I love you too.”

His eyes widened, the memory hitting him out of nowhere sending a surge of fury through him. Bokuto lunged towards her, both hands now clasped onto her wrists. “Does Hikori know?” Bokuto demanded.

Her eyes widened. “Kou, that hurts,” she whimpered, trying to tug out of his grip.

“Does Hikori know?” Bokuto trembled like a leaf during the season's change.

“No, he doesn’t.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “We were going to wait until he was older so that he would understand.”

“So you hid it from both of us?” Bokuto scoffed. Hurt and anger crossed his expression. “Why would you lie?”

(Name) yanked her arms away, rage surging through her. Red marks were left on her arms and were rubbed furiously. “Bokuto, you left me. You ghosted me. You have absolutely no right to come in here demanding jack-shit from me after that.” She let out a deep laugh, eyes glinting dangerously. “Why would I tell my son that his father abandoned his mother especially when there was already someone else there to love and raise him?”

At her words, Bokuto deflated, anger dissipating completely. “I’m...I’m sorry, (Name). I didn’t…I.” Bokuto collapsed onto her patient table, face buried into his palms. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or to abandon you. It was just so hard, I didn’t want to hold you back.” Hot tears dripped down his face and splattered onto the ground. “Fuck, (Name). I was in so much pain when I left. I didn’t…I couldn’t…Not like this.” Bokuto’s body shook in sobs. Her anger faded as she watched him. Pity overwhelmed her, causing her throat to tighten.

She stepped closer, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his quivering form. Bokuto stiffened before burying his face into her shoulder. “It’s okay, Kou. I know,” she cooed softly.

His body trembled as he clung onto her, struggling to breath. “I know I don’t deserve it but I...I wanna try again. Can I just try to be a part of Hikori’s life? We don’t even need to get back together,” he rambled in sheer desperation, tears soaking into her shirt. How could they? He had been replaced long ago and he hadn’t even realised it. “He doesn’t need to know that I’m his dad. Not yet.” Another sob tore through his body as his grip tightened. “I just want to be a part of his life. Is that okay?”

(Name) bit her lip, glancing at the picture frame on her desk. Hikori and Kuroo stared back at her. Hikori was perched on Kuroo’s shoulders as they wandered the festival streets waiting for the firework show.

“Please.” He whispered hoarsely, pulling back to reveal golden eyes that glistened with pain. “I know I don’t deserve your kindness. But please.” Bokuto took a shaky breath only to break out into harsher sobs. “Please (Name).”

*****

Fun Facts

💟 “Au” means ‘meeting’

💟 Though he was used to answering the ‘regrets’ question, it never not easier for Bokuto

💟 Bokuto had planned on renting the apartment for only a week - enough time to meet up with (Name) and then ask to stay with her, but ultimately extended his reservation in order to recuperate

💟 Kuroo had never really gotten over his insecurities about Hikori’s birth

💟 Kenma loved showing Hikori how to play games, and they would often meet up monthly for game nights. (Name) refused to put Hikori in the spotlight though so Kenma wasn’t allowed to stream whenever Hikori was over

💟 Bokuto was overwhelmed with his own emotions and insecurities regarding Kuroo’s relationship with (Name) [more on this next chapter]

💟 Japanese people call milk-tea/boba/bubble tea drinks ‘tapoica juice’

💟 Akaashi never brought it up to Bokuto because he assumed that Bokuto would have mentioned it to him if he wanted to talk about it. Unfortunately, Akaashi was not surprised about how things ended up happening

💟 (Name) was surprised that Bokuto remembered where she worked. When they had met-up, Bokuto had seemed zoned out for a majority of it.

💟 (Name)’s office was moved closer to Iwaizumi’s office due to reasons

💟 (Name) isn’t the type to get angry. But when Bokuto started making demands while getting angry and violent, she couldn’t help but lash out. She had been suppressing her own rage at him for years

*****

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sdottkrames · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home My Boy (Welcome Home My Son)

✍🏼By: me, @sdottkrames

🎁For: @skeeter-110 for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

⭐️Rating: general audiences

💜Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, May Parker (au where she’s not Peter’s aunt)

Summary: Tony Stark’s life is missing something. Peter Parker is an orphan who wants a family. And Pepper Potts comes up with an idea that brings them together

Read on AO3: Here

“Do you have a family?”

“Yes. And I will see them when I leave here. You Stark?”

Tony’s mind flashed first to Pepper. Then Obadiah, Rhodey, Happy. But the memories exploded with the car crash that had killed his parents and faded along with the life in the eyes of Edwin Jarvis. He had no family. He’d kept it that way, distancing himself with booze and sunglasses and a falsely confident persona, all to protect himself from being hurt even more when he inevitably lost them, too.

“No.”

Ho Yinsen had changed Tony’s life in more ways than one, but perhaps the greatest change had been through that admittance he’d been forced to give.

Ever since that whispered “no,” there had been something stirring in Tony’s chest. He’d squashed it down vehemently when a black Tetris puzzle crawled across his chest and neck like some evil game. When he’d been freed of that, he’d found a little family in his best friend and his (now) girlfriend who hadn’t let themselves be pushed too far away by his fears and insecurities.

Then his family had unexpectedly and, at first, unwelcomingly, grown. But soon the five other superheroes had forced their way into his heart and home. He rearranged the tower to house the new avengers, and found himself participating in weekly team training exercises and helping Steve Rogers of all people cook for team dinners. Game nights and movie nights and pool parties became part of the norm and Tony found himself slowly working through the anxiety and fear that carrying a nuke through a wormhole and falling almost to his death left in its wake.

His life had never been more full of family. But something was still missing.

Then he’d had the dream.

***

Pepper was pregnant.

She came to him with tears in her eyes, excitement and joy warring with worry and fear on her face, and showed him the positive test.

“Tony,” she whispered, and he found himself speechless. The joy he felt spread all the way through his chest and stilled his tongue so he answered the only way he knew how: he swept his beautiful wife into his arms, shoulders shaking a little with a joyful sob that broke through.

“You are?” He finally choked out, and saw the fear and worry leave the battlefield of her eyes and she nodded.

“We- we gotta get a room together! A crib and, and paint. What color? Grey? You like grey? That’s neutral right? Then it doesn’t matter what they are- boy or girl or even if they decide to say eff off to gender norms.”

Pepper cut him off with an ecstatic kiss, and Tony felt that stirring for something different, something more, settle and dissipate.

He’d finally found what was missing.

***

Tony woke up in tears, mourning something he wanted with every fiber of his heart, but that he feared he would never be good enough for.

He mentioned it to Pepper, and she was the one that came up with the idea.

“Tony, I want you to listen to me, and get this into your head. We’ve both talked about how we aren’t ready for kids, but I need you to know that it isn’t because I don’t think you’ll be a wonderful dad. When we decide to have kids, you will be the best dad those kids could ask for. I believe that with all my heart.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath and letting himself hear her words and believe them.

“What if you volunteered at an orphanage or something?” she said. “Get around kids, fulfil that desire until we both feel ready for a family of our own?”

“That’s not a half bad idea.”

Pepper had left him to his thoughts then. Once he got that look on his face, she knew that he wouldn’t let it go.

Sure enough, Tony found an orphanage in severe disrepair and desperate need of some support. After a few meetings with his teammates to make sure they were okay with little kids coming to the tower for a bit (Natasha and Bruce had thought it sweet, Steve had smiled and got a look in his eye like he was already imagining hanging out with the little ones, and Clint and Rhodey had all agreed enthusiastically) and filing all the paperwork with the best lawyers he could find, he’d gone to the orphanage to offer his help.

May, the sweet but slightly frazzled orphanage caretaker, had burst into tears right there.

“I- I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless,” she said, chuckling through grateful sobs.

“No thanks needed. I’ll take the kiddos off your hands for a couple months while my guys fix this place up. You just tell them exactly how you want it and what you need. We’ll take care of everything.”

Three weeks, several panic attacks, and more trips to Toys “R” Us and Ikea than he wanted to admit to, Tony had one of the lower floors of the tower completely arranged to house seven small children and was preparing to welcome them into his home.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Tony,” Pepper whispered, hearing his breath hitch as the car he’d sent to pick up the kids pulled in.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Just fine. Let’s go meet our new roommates.”

***

Peter Parker could not believe his luck.

When his parents had died in a horrible car crash a year ago and he’d ended up in the orphanage, he’d been labeled as having bad luck. Every little trip they went on, something happened. He’d accidentally let the class snake out at school (May had told him about Harry Potter, and how he'd let a snake out, too, which made Peter feel better). And there was the time that he’d gotten left behind during an outing at Central park, and the time a bird had pooped on his ice cream while he was eating it outside with his best friend Ned, and the time that-

Well, you get the picture.

Joselyn called it “Parker Luck,” but she wasn’t trying to be mean. She just talked even more than Peter did, and tended to say exactly what she thought. She was one of Peter’s best friends at the orphanage, and besides, she wasn’t wrong. Peter did tend to have some not so great things happen to him.

But not today.

Today was the greatest day of his life, because today was the day that all the kids were moving into the Stark Tower.

Three weeks ago, Tony Stark himself had come to the orphanage. Peter remembered May crying and he hadn’t known why. He’d drawn her a picture to make her happy, but she explained that they were good tears, and had told him and all the kids that they would be leaving for a few months to live at Stark Towers.

Peter had nearly peed his pants in excitement, and he was quivering with it again as the car pulled up and he could see both Tony Stark and Pepper Potts through the glass door.

One by one, each kid got out of the car while a small swarm of workers gathered their things to take up for them.

“Hello, everyone,” Pepper greeted them with a smile, and Peter felt his cheeks heat up. Tony was his hero, but he also knew how smart and wonderful Pepper Potts was.

“Welcome,” Tony said, grinning.

As soon as the man spoke, Peter couldn’t help the way his eyes went wide and his mouth popped open with a gasp. He was everything the boy had imagined, standing confidently in a sharp black suit with those signature sunglasses on his face.

The two adults began to explain the rules of the tower as they took the children on a small tour. They introduced the security guards, explained who to ask for help if they got lost or hurt, where they were allowed to go and what areas were off limits, and how they would be getting to school. Peter didn’t pay too much attention though. He was too excited, taking in the sight of the tower, his hero, and thinking about how cool it was that this would be his home for a little while. He was certain nobody was luckier.

“Mr. Stark?” one of the other boy’s- Mikey- asked when they passed one of the labs they were being shown on their little tour.

“Yes?”

“Where’s your Iron Man suit?”

Tony chuckled. “It’s in my private lab, away from anybody’s hands that aren’t mine. Don’t want anything breaking them.”

“Not the Mark 50,” Peter asked softly before he could stop himself.

“Huh?” Tony’s piercing gaze was turned to him.

Squirming under the sudden attention, he tugged on his shirt. “W-well, the nanite suit, sir. Unless a person broke the actual nanite robot, the suit could just be reformed.”

“You know about nanites?”

Chocolate curls flying, the boy nodded enthusiastically. He couldn’t help himself once someone got him talking about the things he loved. “Yeah! I did a report on them a month ago. I read all your papers on them, and I even started trying to make my own so that I could-” Blushing furiously under his hero’s appraisal, Peter cut himself off and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

But Tony Stark didn’t look angry. “I’m gonna give you a piece of advice, kid: never apologize for being the smartest in the room.” He winked. “You really read my work on nanotechnology?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m impressed.”

And Peter was grateful that his legs didn’t give out right then. He could hardly believe the compliment. He was dazed for the rest of the tour, soaking the praise in with a huge grin.

Eventually, they arrived at their floor. It was a large one, and after the Battle of New York, it had stood mostly empty. There was a spacious living area and a small kitchen, and then a hallway with three bedrooms and en-suite bathrooms.

“Now, you’re going to have to share,” Tony explained. “We don’t have seven rooms on this floor, but each room has a bed and desk for you.”

“You three girls will share a room while the boys will split up in twos,” Pepper added. She gestured to one of the rooms. “This one’s yours, girls. It’s a little bigger and we’ve put three beds in it. Boys, you can decide which of the other rooms you want and who you want to share it with.”

Joselyn, along with the other two girls Kaylie and Hazel, dragged their suitcases and chatted excitedly as they entered their room. If it had been possible, Peter would have roomed with Joselyn...or Ned. But those two not being an option, he looked to the boys.

He was the oldest out of all of them. There was the four year old Greyson and the six year old twins Mikey and David. It was fairly obvious that the twins would stick together, so Peter took Grey’s hand.

“Can I be your roommate, buddy?” The little boy nodded enthusiastically. “It looks like the twins took the middle room, so we get this one!”

The boy genius led his new roommate through the door and for the second time that day felt his jaw drop.

The room was huge, and the beds looked like they were clouds, piled high with pillows Peter was almost certain were the most comfortable things on the planet. Grey seemed equally as overwhelmed, walking over to inspect the bed.

“Can you help me put my clothes away?” he asked, turning to the older boy.

“Sure.”

And slowly they got settled into this new chapter of their lives.

***

Tony was about ready to throw something at the wall, which meant that he needed to get out and move around, distract himself from the problem before he actually did break something. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he didn’t want a repeat of the great Potts meltdown of ‘09.

Sighing, he stood up and stretched, letting a loud yawn out as he did before wandering out of the lab.

It had been nearly a week with the little kiddos staying at the tower, and Tony had enjoyed having them so far. He even invited them up for dinner and a movie the other day. Most of them had been totally starstruck and it had made him smile. He figured they might provide a decent distraction, so he wandered down to the “baby floor,” as he called it.

He was delighted when the first face he saw was Peter Parker’s.

The boy was shy, but also unfailingly kind. Tony had seen him take the hand of the smallest boy when the two twin boys ran into their room, making the little one feel welcome and loved; had watched as the kid listened to his friend Joselyn, who tended to ramble, with a patient and kind smile, never seeming annoyed by how verbose she was; and had smiled as the kid let one of the other girls hold his hand during a part in Snow White that scared her.

He was exactly the sort of distraction that Tony needed.

“Hey, Pete. How’re you doing?” he greeted, smiling a little as the boy’s cheeks turned pink and his lips lifted in a small, excited grin when he was called by name.

“G-good, Mr. Stark. How are you?”

“I’m doing good. A little frustrated with a project I’m working on, so I figured I’d take a break and come see you kiddos. How was school? Learn anything good?”

Peter’s eyes lit up as they had the first day the older genius had met the kid and they bonded over nanotechnology. Tony smiled as the chatter about 2nd grade science (they were learning about cells) and math (how was an 8 year old already doing functions?!) swept his frustration right out the door with its soothing familiarity. He didn’t have to figure anything out or meet any deadline. All the kid wanted was someone to listen.

So Tony did, oohing and mmhmming in all the right places, until the kid asked: “So what project were you working on before? Maybe I can help so you’re not so frustrated? can I?”

He’d known how sweet Peter was, but Tony was still taken aback by the kindness. “Well, if you want to-“

“Sure!” The little eager beaver said quickly. “What’s the project?”

Hesitating only for a second, Tony explained how Clint’s explosive arrows weren’t working properly, detonating too soon because of an unstable chemical inside them.

With a few graphs and a little breaking down of some more technical terms, Peter understood the problem.

“Let me think a little bit, okay?”

“Sure, buddy,” Tony chuckled. “However long you need.”

And he let the kid think while he checked some emails and wandered into the kitchen to grab him and his mini genius a granola bar.

He stopped for a moment before joining Peter at the table, his steps halted by the adorable crease in the boy’s brow and the way his tongue poked through his teeth as he drew some diagram.

When Tony finally pulled himself together to sit down against and offer Peter the snack, the kid announced: “I got it!”

Surprised, Tony raised an eyebrow and motioned for Peter to continue.

“What if you use your nanites? You could engineer them in a way that they wouldn’t jostle or affect the catalyst. Clint could control when they fell away, which would cause the explosion to happen.”

He pushed the little picture he’d drawn to illustrate, compete with a stick figure Clint Barton in purple (Hawkeye’s theme color), and Tony let his jaw go slack.

“Kid, honestly, I’m impressed. That’s genius. How in the world did you think of that?”

Peter flushed under the praise, and explained the process to Tony, the latter encouraging him whenever he seemed self conscious about his rambling.

“You, my friend, are one of the smartest kids I know. Would you like to help me build these arrows?”

Peter’s eyes widened to the size of a dinner plate. “What?”

Tony chucked. “They’re your idea, kiddo. It’s only right that you should help me make them. I’ll handle all the explosive parts, but I think you should help engineer the nanites.”

“I would love to!” The boy choked out.

“Great. After school tomorrow, come to my lab. Jarvis will know where to take you.”

“Okay!”

Tony stayed a little while longer, enjoying talking science with Peter, before being called to other projects. He was grateful for the distraction though, because he couldn’t wait to see the look on the kid’s face when he saw the lab.

And, boy, Peter did not disappoint.

When Jarvis opened the door, Peter’s jaw dropped and he practically flew to one of the Ironman suits. Talking a mile a minute, he inspected every inch of the lab.

“Oh my gosh, what’s this?! Wait, no way, is that- it is! Mr. Stark this is amazing! And woah look at that!”

Tony just chuckled at the kid’s enthusiasm, and pulled his attention to the reason for their working together after a few more minutes’ exploration.

The two spent hours in the lab together. Tony hadn't ever thought he would enjoy sharing his lab with anybody, let alone an 8-year-old child, but Peter was different. He found himself wanting Peter to come help him more often.

This is only temporary. A cynical voice inside him said.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe I can give him a real internship and a real job? Said the more hopeful part of his brain.

A seven year old with a job. Yeah, that’s a great idea.

Tony shook his head to clear off the thoughts. He would enjoy the lab time he did get with this kid that had somehow wormed into his iron heart. He’d just have to baby proof the lab first.

***

Peter fought back the tears, trying hard not to let Flash’s taunting get to him. He kept walking, ignoring his classmate’s teasing behind his back as he nearly ran out the front door.

“Hi, Mr. Happy,” he greeted, trying to keep the sniffling out of his voice. The man Mr. Stark had assigned to drive him to and from school didn’t like little kids. (At least, Peter thought he didn’t. He wasn’t mean, but he seemed to grunt and growl more than use really words.)

“Hey,” Happy grunted, as was his usual greeting, and Peter didn’t notice the concern in the man’s eyes when he didn’t answer right away as he blinked back tears.

The drive to the tower was quiet except for the occasional snuffle from Peter, who was trying to his sadness. He hated when Flash was mean, especially about his parents. He missed his parents and his Aunt and Uncle. It was right of Flash to bring them up, but there wasn’t much Peter could do about it.

When he came into the tower, he was surprised to see Mr. Stark there, waiting for him in the living room. Usually the man had him come straight to the lab, but they hadn’t been scheduled to work together that day.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted.

“H-hi. Are we having a Lab day today?” Peter tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Tinkering around the lab with his hero was exactly what he needed to cheer him up.

“I was thinking we might spend some time in the lab, yeah. If you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, i'd love a lab day, sir!” Peter said, smiling his first genuine smile since Flash had said the word “orphan” at lunch.

“Yeah? Let’s go, young padawan.”

Peter gave a small smile at the Star Wars reference. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have known that reference if Peter hadn’t rambled about the franchise one of their last Lab days, which then led to the man insisting they watch the movies together so Peter could “make sure he understood what was happening.” He was pleased Tony seemed to have enjoyed the endeavor! The pleasant feeling followed him as they went to the lab and began working on the housing unit for the nanites in Clint’s arrows.

Tony, however, kept a watchful eye on his little friend.

Happy had texted saying that something was off with the kid, and while Tony had no experience with children prior to the last few weeks, he did have experience with being a genius and an orphan. He figured tinkering would be a good distraction, and he’d wager he was correct after seeing the look of relief and excitement on Peter’s face when he was invited to the lab.

It wasn’t until they had the housing unit almost complete that Tony decided to actually broach the subject.

Though working with his hands seemed to have stemmed the tears Happy reported seeing in the car, the boy was definitely off. He sniffled more than once, and didn’t seem as talkative or enthusiastic as he normally did. There wasn’t a single excited ramble about his friends Ned or Jocelyn, or whatever the last thing they learned in science was.

“So, Peter. How was your day. You haven’t said much.”

Tony didn’t miss the tears that misted the boys eyes slightly

“It was fine,” he said, turning back to his project with a barely concealed sniffle.

Tony felt slightly awkward and unsure. He’d never had a conversation like this with a little kid before. Heck, he was barely getting to the point of speaking openly to his girlfriend and best friend about some things. But if he wanted to someday have kids, he figured he’d need to start getting used to stuff like this. With a deep breath, he took the plunge.

“Buddy, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay. But, uh, if you do want to talk about whatever is bothering you, you can. I mean, I’m all ears or whatever. I can blast or make fun of or drown in ice cream nearly any problem you have.”

Peter hesitantly turned towards him. “I-it’s really nothing. I’m f-fine.”

“I’m real sure, kid,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, is everything okay?” The hesitation in the boy’s eyes warred with the desire to tell what had happened. “C’mon. Out with it! The sooner I know who or what I need to blast, make fun of, or drown in ice cream, the better we’ll both feel.”

“W-well It’s this kid n-named Flash.” Peter began twisting his shirt into knots as he finally gave in. “He was just making fun of me for not having parents and he just b-bothered me more today, I guess.”

Tony’s heart squeezed in sympathy. He had plenty experience of his own being an orphan and dealing with bullies.

“Since I can’t blast a kid with my repulsars, although he maybe deserves it for being such a jerk,” he finally answered, “and I don’t feel right making fun of him, either, I’m going to settle with drowning it in ice cream. I know a great place just up the street, whaddya say?”

There was a small smile, which Tony saw as an absolute win, and then a shy nod, and Tony whisked the boy away for ice cream.

“Ya know, kid, none of what this Flash kid says is true,” he said as he licked his mint chip cone. “You’re not unlovable, or unworthy of parents. You didn’t do anything wrong the day they died. You couldn’t have been a better son. Trust me. All those things are utter nonsense.”

Peter stared at him dumbfounded. “H-how did you know?” He whispered.

“I’m an orphan too, ya know. I lost my parents many years ago, but I definitely know a little of what you’re feeling and dealing with.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Anytime, kid. Anytime,” Tony said. “Now, are you drowning enough in ice cream? Do you need more chocolate sauce? You look like you need more chocolate sauce.”

Peter giggled, and Tony couldn’t help the slow smile that stole across his face as he went to go get more chocolate sauce, determined to keep that little boy smiling as long as possible.

***

“Um, can you find it in an aquarium?”

The science genius duo was enjoying their usual time in the lab and Tony had begun a session of “I’m thinking of an animal.” His animal was a hippo, which he’d felt fairly confident about until this last question.

“I don’t know, kiddo, I’ve never been to an aquarium!”

Dropping his jaw and his screwdriver, Peter spluttered out an incredulous, “what?”

“I’ve never been to an aquarium.” Tony shrugged.

“Oh, man. You don’t know what your missing, Mr. Stark! There’s fish and turtles and sometimes even hippos and alligators. My favorite are the turtles.” Peter's Big brown eyes widened and Tony grinned in anticipation of the child-like excitement that was sure to follow in whatever story the kid was going to tell next. “One time, there was this huge sea turtle and it came and swam next to the glass right where I was sitting for literally five minutes. My mom took tons of pictures. It was so cool!”

Tony chuckled. “That sounds really cool, bud.”

“It was! Did you know that some turtles only lay eggs every four years?”

They continued working and sharing weird animal facts and Tony was again startled by the desire to make this little kid smile.

“Jarvis, buddy, can you look up the nearest aquarium?” He asked when Peter had left to go to bed.

“That would be the New York Aquarium.”

“Does it have turtles?”

“It does.”

“Hippos?”

“No, sir. But the Philadelphia Aquarium does.”

“Get two tickets to the New York one for this Saturday. And clear my schedule for that day.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

A few days later, Tony was nearly bouncing with excitement as he waited for Jarvis to bring Peter up to the penthouse for them to go to the aquarium.

“Mr. Stark, is everything okay?” The boy asked as he exited the elevator.

“Yeah, kiddo. Everything’s just fine. We’re going on a little field trip, though.”

“We are?” Peter’s eyes lit up. “Where to?”

“That’s a surprise!” Peter’s grin widened to match Tony’s. “My schedule’s all clear. You good to go?”

With a floppy-haired nod, they were off.

The little boy had no clue where they were going, and Tony indulged 20 questions, but by the time they arrived, Peter was no closer to figuring it out.

“Wait...an aquarium?” He gasped when he got out and took in the building.

“They don’t have hippos or alligators, but they just got a couple turtles. I figured after hearing about how wonderful aquariums are, I should try and go to one, and I thought you could show me around.”

Peter didn’t hesitate one moment, unabashedly grabbing Tony’s hand and pulling him into the aquarium. They presented their tickets and the younger genius continued to drag the older genius around from exhibit to exhibit with huge smiles on both their faces. Like Peter, Tony’s favorite part were the turtles. The way they gravefully swam through the water and their kind faces made him feel peaceful and warm and fuzzy. And Peter’s little hand in his while he spouted off lots of facts about turtles made him feel even more so.

But the kids were leaving within the next couple weeks, and those pesky thoughts were back, marring the joy a little. Tony dutifully beat them back, aided by the peaceful feeling of being with Peter and the kid’s head modded off onto his shoulder on the way back to the tower.

***

Peter had nightmares more than he wanted to admit.

They woke him up shaking with his heart beating so fast and hard he could hear it in his ears. The worst part about them, though, was how they would linger, seared into his eyelids. Scary images of his parents and aunt and uncle as their plane went down in flames replayed themselves over and over.

Sniffling back tears, Peter decided to quietly sneak out of the room. He didn’t want to wake his little roommate.

“Hello, Peter,” Jarvis greeted, making him jump even though he knew the AI well. (Tony had even started helping Peter code his own when the boy showed interest.)

“H-Hey, Jarvis.”

“It is quite late for you to be up. Or early, depending how you look at it. Are you well?”

“Just can’t sleep. I’m heading for a snack, that’s all.”

“I think I have something that might help, if you’ll follow me, sir.”

The AI lit up a pathway and Peter shrugged before following it. He thought Jarvis would lead him to the kitchen, but instead he found himself staring at a door that definitely wasn’t for a kitchen. He’d never been to this part of the tower.

“Uh, where am I?”

“You’re outside Mr. Stark’s bedroom.”

His stomach flipped like a monkey after a banana, and Peter stumbled backwards.

“Jarvis,” he hissed. “I can’t wake Iron Man up! Why’d you take me here. I thought you were bringing me to the kitchen for a snack!”

“I did not say that I was, only that I had something I thought would help.”

“No, I’m not going in there. I’ll find the kitchen myself,” he said, backing away as quickly as he could.

But it was too late.

A light flicked on and before Peter could turn around, the door opened to reveal a sweatpants-clad Tony Stark.

“Peter? What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice was shaking and tear were burning his eyes. He’d gotten closer to the man the last month and a half they’d been together, but this was beyond embarrassing. He couldn’t ask Iron man to help him with his nightmares. “I couldn’t sleep and thought Jarvis was leading me to a kitchen for a snack.”

“No worries kid. C’mon. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Y-You really don’t have to do that, Mr. Stark. I’m okay, I swear.”

Tony rolled his eyes, ruffling Peter’s curls and throwing an arm around the kid’s shoulders to lead him down the hallway. “It’s not a problem, buddy. I don’t mind cooking.”

So Peter was lead to the kitchen, and he was surprised how much better he was feeling not being alone. This was the second time Mr. Stark had saved him from being alone like this, and it felt really nice. He would miss it when he went back to living at the orphanage in a few weeks when the renovations were done. Sometimes, he would imagine what it would be like if Mr. Stark was his real dad, or adopted him, but he knew that would never happen. He usually tried to stop those daydreams fast.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. That looks really good,” Peter said, breaking out of his thoughts to take the toast with butter and jelly that he was offered.

It was quiet as Peter ate, Tony sitting next to him in companionable silence. Once the plate was empty, the bolder genius spoke up. “Again, kiddo, you do not need to explain, but if you want to talk about what’s got you up at nearly 2 in the morning, I’m all ears.”

Peter felt tears well up in his eyes. He had done so well not crying in front of his hero and he didn’t want to start now. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists to keep the tears from falling, but he was grateful to talk to someone.

“Um, I keep having dreams about- about my parents. The, uh, the day they went on the plane that crashed? And they just make me sad.” He shrugged. “S-Sometimes it’s hard to go back to sleep after I have one.”

“I have dreams like that, too,” Tony whispered.

Just like when the man had practically read his mind, saying exactly what Peter had needed to hear when Flash made fun of him the last week, a shock went up Peter’s spine. “Really?”

Tony sighed. “Yeah, I do. I lost my parents, too. Car accident. I also have dreams about being stuck in Afghanistan, in that cave, or in the wormhole. They’regetting better, though.”

“That must be really scary, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, patting the man’s arms.

“Heh. I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, kiddo.”

“Well, we all need comfort sometimes.”

“Thank you, buddy. How are you feeling?”

Peter looked up shyly. “Better. Thanks for the food.”

“No problem. Wanna watch something? That usually helps me fall back asleep.”

“Okay!”

They chose Iron Giant, and Peter felt so comfortable as Tony threw a blanket over him and pulled him under his arm. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed.

Tony watched as the little boy fell asleep, his heart melting and wrapping around his finger even more. After a few minutes to make sure the tyke would stay asleep if moved, he slipped his arms around the little body and carried him up to bed.

As he closed the door and saw Peter’s chocolate curls poking over the blanket, his tears prickled with tears at the realization he would lose this in a couple days.

Shut up he vehemently told that pesky little voice, and went back to bed, but didn’t get much sleep.

***

There were tears in everyone’s eyes, but Tony was going to blame it on May, who greeted him with tears of gratitude. All the kids gave her hugs before running off to explore the new building, chatting excitedly as they ran to the new beds and play area.

“Mr. Stark-“

“Tony, please, May.”

She smiled. “Tony. Seriously, though, I cannot thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to us. How much this means to me.”

See, this is why he was blaming May for the misty eyes. “Not a problem. The pleasure was all mine. It’s a special group of kiddos you got there.”

“They really are. And thanks to your help, the orphanage got some media attention, and now I’ve got people interested in the twins and a couple of the girls! I hope they all find good homes.”

“That’s amazing, May!” Tony said, and he meant it. Every single one of the kids had found a way into his heart, but none more than Peter. And the thought of that little boy going to another home caused another round of tears to come, though he quickly blinked them away.

“Mr. Stark!” As if called by Tony’s thoughts, Peter came bounding up, throwing a hug around the man’s waist. “This is amazing. Not as amazing as the tower, obviously, but this is a close second. Thank you so much!”

Tony hugged the boy back and assured him that he was happy to help, all the while trying to pretend his heart wasn’t breaking.

***

“Tony, this is ridiculous,” Pepper said, marching into his lab after the fourth day in a row of him being there.

“What is, dear?” He asked, deflecting as usual.

Pepper raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her crisp blue suit. Even under her scrutinous glare, Tony had to admit she was gorgeous.

“You know what, dear. Peter’s gone and you’re back to moping in the lab.”

Acid curled his stomach, and he had to look away. “Well, what do you want me to do. Yeah, I miss the kid, and I’m trying to work through it. Just...just give me few more days.”

“You won’t survive another few days, Tony. You’re not invincible, you know.” She came over and ran a comforting hand through his hair, and his eyes closed of their own accord, trying to hide the tears. “Tony, what if...what if we adopt Peter?”

His eyes shot open. “What?”

“What if we adopt Peter?” She repeated. “You clearly love him, and I’ve watched him with you. He loves you, too. And I...I don’t know him as well as you do, but he’s so sweet and it’s impossible not to love him.”

“You’re serious?”

Pepper smiled. “100%. Tony, you’re ready. We’re ready. Let’s start a family.”

And just like in his dream, Tony couldn’t say or anything except pick his girlfriend up and spin her around.

“Thank you,” he said, tears in his eyes again. “I love you.”

***

Peter loved the new orphanage. He really did. The beds were as comfortable as the tower’s, and there were lots of cool toys and a new playground.

But Mr. Stark wasn’t there.

Peter tried to deny how much he missed him. How much he missed his own dad and how Mr. Stark helped fill that void a little with lab days and movie nights. He’d even helped Peter when Flash was mean and he’d had a nightmare.

And he missed him.

It also didn’t help that Jocelyn and Greyson got adopted, and the twins might be as well. People had been buzzing at the orphanage ever since the renovations. The media had run a few stories on how the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had taken in the group of orphans and funded the renovations of the building. People had been coming ever since, but none of them really connected with Peter.

He hated to admit it, but he compared all of them to Mr. Stark, and none of the fit. Besides, they all wanted the younger kids.

“Peter!” May called, interrupting his moping. “Come here, sweetie.”

“Coming, May!”

He jumped off the swing set, running towards the orphanage, but screeched to a halt as he saw a familiar face. Two familiar faces.

“M-Mr. S-Stark? Mrs. Potts?” He stammered out. “W-what’re you doing here?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony greeted. He looked nervous- a hand running over his carefully defined goatee, feet shifting back and forth, fingers clasped with Pepper’s.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, buddy, everything’s fine. We, uh, we were wondering if,” he hesitated and Pepper squeezed his hand. “We would like to adopt you, Peter. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Shocked, Peter couldn’t say anything, which was a rare thing for him. Or so his parents used to say.

“Really?” He finally choked out.

“Yeah, sweetie,” pepper said, smiling kindly. Peter was surprised. He’d gotten close with Tony, but not as much with her.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Tony grinned at him. “Well, say yes, buddy! We got a room all ready for you and a team of the best lawyers to make it official if you want.”

“Yes!” Peter said, throwing himself into their arms. “Yes, I want to!”

Again, everybody was crying (happy tears) and once all the paperwork was filled out, Tony took Peter’s hand.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his heart at peace finally, the nagging sensation of something missing finally filled by the little boy who was now his little boy.

“Home,” Peter repeated, smiling. His new favorite word.

#mine #the friendly neighborhood exchange #I hope you enjoy this friend!

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

The Fight - ep. 05 - JJ Maybank

Summary: John B shares some insight into the drama and Topper is just genuinely a good friend.

A/N: Sorry it’s been so long.

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

☼☼☼☼

Sarah was back in the morning to talk to Kiara. You saw her at the back door as you were getting coffee, standing on the other side of the glass. When she saw you she looked away and then moved to one of the loungers, sitting down and keeping her eyes on the concrete patio. You knew you should just get your coffee and go, wake up JJ, maybe get a shower. But not go outside, do anything but go outside. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“I don’t get you,” was the first thing you said as you stepped out onto the patio, walking over to her, “you have this great boyfriend who loves you, who literally gave up hanging out with his friends all summer to spend time with you. Why do you want JJ too?” 

“It just...felt special with him. You wouldn’t understand.” Sarah replied, keeping her eyes on the ground.

You frowned at the vague answer but continued, “I understand, trust me. But he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Yeah, because you weaseled your way in there, just like always. Hanging out with Pope and Kiara, dating JJ, must be nice to have everyone’s attention.”

“You invited your friends to my house Sarah, what was I supposed to do?”

“Not steal my friends!” She snapped.  

“I’m not stealing anyone.” You replied defensively. You had been more excited than you let on when she asked if she could come down for the summer with her friends. You liked Kiara and you had looked forward to the opportunity to actually hang out with people that didn’t know your whole past with Rafe.

“That’s bullshit. We’ve been friends long enough. I know exactly how you work.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“How about suddenly dating Rafe when you’re supposed to be my best friend.” She accused, “how do you think I felt finding out that you were sneaking around with my brother behind my back! Or edging your way into being friends with Topper-“

“You didn’t even like Topper.”

“He was mine!”

“People aren’t property Sarah. I’m sorry okay, about Rafe. I’m sorry. If I could go back then fucking believe me I would.” You said honestly, knowing that you would do anything to stop yourself from ever getting involved with the oldest Cameron. “I didn’t know it was JJ...but I told you I liked him. You knew I liked him when you asked me if they could come down for the summer...so why did you ask?” 

“I didn’t think he’d go for you.” She replied honestly, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t think you guys would even get along and then all the sudden you’re going off together on the beach and disappearing at a party with him and a million other things. Flirting with him constantly!”

“You have a boyfriend. Look I’m sincerely sorry about Rafe but I’m not apologizing to you that someone actually gives a shit about me and treats me well and that I’m happy.” 

“It’s been a week.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, annoyed with your ‘JJ treats me well’ narrative.

“I stuck it out with Rafe for three and a half years so I think I know the difference between someone treating me well or not.” You replied. “Not everyone always has to like you.”

“Says you.”

“Whatever Sarah, I don’t even know why I came out here.” You said, backing away. You heard the door slide open behind you and glanced back to see Kiara step out onto the patio. “We used to be best friends, which you obviously don’t give a shit about-“

“How presumptuous of you to assume how I feel.”

“Screw you.” 

You made it all the way to the door before Kiara grabbed your arm and stopped you in your tracks. She looked apologetic and you weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or Sarah’s. “Hey-“

“No; I tried, I’m not wasting my time begging for her forgiveness for what? Liking a guy that doesn’t have feelings for her in the first place?” You replied, raising your voice so that she could hear you.

Kiara frowned, “I’ve been on the receiving end of Sarah’s drama before...she’s not the worst person she just gets in her head.” 

“Yeah I know.” You rolled your eyes. You didn’t need Kiara to tell you how your best friend operated. “I’ve stuck it out before, trust me. When she wants to talk, I’m here,” you admitted.

You looked passed Kiara to see John B standing in the entry way of the kitchen. His eyes met yours and he shifted them to look toward the front door, nodding his head subtly. You nodded as inconspicuously as you could and watched him walk out the door. 

“I just wanna clear my head.” You said, moving to walk passed Kiara. 

“I’ll try to talk to her.” Kiara promised, heading toward the pool to talk to Sarah. 

John B was waiting outside for you, hands in his pockets to hide how sweaty they were. He needed to talk to you about last night. It was all he could think about after you went up to bed. He’d been replaying every scene from the night before in his head, trying to figure out what it all meant and what had happened. He knew now that the only way to fully talk out what had happened was to talk to you.

You had already talked about last night, just not with him. When you’d gone up to your room JJ was sitting on the bed watching Parks & Rec on your laptop and you’d shut the door behind you, leaning against it and meeting his eyes over the monitor, “John B kissed me.”

“What?” He practically smashed his hand against the top of the laptop as he slammed it such, eyes wide.

“I went down to get snacks and he was down there...I didn’t wanna not say anything so I was like ‘sorry’ and then he kissed me.” You explained, trying to make it sound as mundane as it was. You knew he didn’t mean it to be anything other than a confused, heat of the moment, incident. John B didn’t like you and you didn’t like him, but he was hurting and confused and you felt that. You were right there with him.

JJ nearly tripped as he climbed onto his knees and then stumbled off the bed. You stopped him before he could reach the door, hands pressing against the skin of his stomach, abs tensing beneath your touch as his eyes met yours. 

“Can we not have anymore drama?” You pleaded, pushing against him. 

“He kissed you!” JJ protested, still trying to get passed you.

“He didn’t mean it JJ, calm down!” 

“I don’t give a shit what his lousy excuse is! He’s always pulling shit like this-“ 

“Can you put aside your weird competitive streak with John B for five seconds and listen to me!” You insisted. You moved your hands to his face, getting him to look at you and not the door. “His girlfriend hightailed it out of here to go stay with her ex after I told the room that she was basically setting up s’week to cheat on him with his best friend. Cut him some slack JJ, I think he’s been through it.” 

“Yeah well, whatever he’s ‘been through’ doesn’t mean he gets to try something with you.” 

“Down boy.” You teased, “I’m back here telling you aren’t I?” 

“Fine.” JJ deflated slightly, leaning into you, forehead against yours.

You met his eyes briefly before leaning your head back just enough to kiss him, feeling his hands move to your hips immediately, gripping through the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing.

“Full disclosure, JJ knows.” You said, stepping down off the front porch and sitting on the curb beside John B. He looked over at you, eyes wide for a split second as he registered the information you’d told him. 

“You told him?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. 

There was a long silence, the two of you just sitting together on the curb. John B rubbed his calves, shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out to fiddle with his hoodie, brushed his hair back, rubbed his calves again and the cycle continued. Nervous tics to alleviate the feelings he was wrestling with. Hurt and anger at both JJ and Sarah. 

“I didn’t mean to kiss you...I was just, pissed at JJ. I just wanted to, I don’t know, take something of his.” John B shrugged.

“Well steal his necklace or something next time cause I’m not ‘his’, John B. No wonder you and Sarah get along...people don’t belong to you, you can’t collect them.” You said, pushing gravel with your foot. “I think you should talk to JJ. And Sarah for that matter.”

“Not really in the mood to talk to anyone.”

“You’re doing an okay job so far.” You mentioned. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to tear your head off. I mean, my best friend. She’s been crushing on my best friend this whole time. Every time I’ve been with her. Every time she said ‘I love you’ it was just a lie, she wanted it to be someone else.” John B said, “and he never told me. JJ tells me everything...sometimes to the point of over sharing. But he didn’t tell me he hooked up with Sarah Cameron. That’s big fucking news.” 

“I don’t know anything about it...JJ didn’t really say.” You replied. He hadn’t mentioned anything to you really about him or Sarah. You only knew what had been said in the kitchen over pizza.

“You didn’t ask him?” John B seemed surprised.

“No.” 

“I don’t think it was before we started dating.” John B confesses suddenly. 

“JB-“

“Listen. I’m not trying to screw with you and JJ,” he promised, “but he didn’t tell you either...no explanation. Just went hooked up one time and now she’s tried to derail a two year relationship and ruin vacation? That make sense to you?”

“I don’t-“ You frowned.

“You’ve known Sarah since grade school?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“She used to cheat on Topper...she’d text me sometimes and say that, if he asked, she was with me.” You replied, “but that was a while ago...I mean, that was two years ago.” 

“I think they were hooking up while we were together. This year. Maybe last...maybe the whole time.” John B admitted. He’d been trying to connect the dots in his head all night and he was starting to think that he was losing his mind.

“So you think-“ 

“I know JJ. And I know Sarah. They were pissed at each other that whole week before we came down here...I think she wanted to break up with me. I know I sound crazy but-“

“You think JJ didn’t want to?” You asked, turning more toward John B. Maybe it was crazy but suddenly it all felt like it made sense to you.

“Yeah.”

“I‘m gonna, I need to clear my head, I’m gonna take a walk.” You said, standing up and taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you.” John B insisted, standing up after you.

“No it’s not you. I just...” you shrugged, wiping at tears that hadn’t yet fallen, “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.” 

You left John B there in the driveway, walking down the road and away from your house as quickly as possible. You wanted to rewind but you weren’t sure how far. To yesterday? When you asked JJ to stay an extra week and told him this wasn’t casual. When he swore it wasn’t casual either? Or before that? All the way to the beginning of the week when you took him to that beach party?

Whatever you wanted it wasn’t this. It wasn’t heartache before the relationship had even really started. You didn’t walk far. You hoped that Sarah was still at your house because you were standing on the front porch of the house that Topper was renting for the week, texting him that you were outside and that you needed to talk to him.

Just as you sent it a text from JJ came in, asking where you were. When you’d gone down stairs he had been sleeping but he was obviously awake and aware now. And no doubt wondering why you’d ditched him and disappeared without any hint to where you might be. Though you knew if Sarah was still out on the patio with Kiara it was only a matter of time before he figured out where you were.

“You always come running back.” Rafe boasted, walking into the kitchen where you were sitting on the counter. 

Topper was standing in front of you and he turned at the sound of Rafe’s voice, frowning at him, “Dude lay off, she’s upset. She’s not here for you.” 

“What happened? That pogue do something to you?” Rafe asked. 

“You’re fucking hilarious you know that?” 

“Hey! I apologized for that shit-“ He started to say but you cut him off. 

“Oh yeah? And was that before or after you threatened me at my party?” 

“Hey!” Topper put his hand on your knee to stop you when you leaned forward before looking over at Rafe, “hey, man, come on, just leave her alone. She’s upset as it is.” 

“Whatever, fuck you.”

“Fuck you too Cameron.” You called after him.

Topper sighed, giving you his undivided attention now that Rafe was gone, unwilling to put up a fight for now. “So you want to tell me what’s going on? First Sarah last night and now you? Showing up here crying.”

“It’s just dumb drama.” You sighed, raking a hand through your hair and leaning back against the cabinet.

“Can’t be that dumb if you’re upset.” He pointed out. Topper was the last person to root for you being with one of the pogues but if you were happy with JJ, and you sounded like it from the texts you’d sent him the last time you talked, he was almost hoping the drama that you mentioned didn’t involve you getting hurt again.

“Sarah and JJ hooked up. He told John B that it happened before they started dating but-“

“But they lied?” Topper asked, unsurprised by the information. He’d dated the middle Cameron for a whole summer, he knew what her tendencies were.

“John B thinks they’ve been hooking up since he and Sarah got together.” You sighed, “I mean, I shouldn’t be upset right? Like it was before JJ was even anything other than some unattainable crush to me. But like...she never said anything to me and then JJ never said anything last night. He could’ve told me. It just makes me think that, maybe they do have feelings for each other.” You explained, voicing your fears better this time around.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this but, have you talked to JJ? I mean...if you think he’s been fucking her this whole time maybe it’s worth getting his side of the story.”

“I don’t want it to be more than a one-off.” You admitted. “I don’t want John B to be right.”

“I think you need to talk to JJ.” 

“I don’t want to be a rebound Top. I want someone to like me because of me not because I’m a kook or because they’re trying to get over someone else or because they think they can control me.” You wiped at your eyes, biting your lip to stop from crying, “it’s stupid.”

“It’s not, hey, hey, no. It’s not stupid.” Topper said, pulling you off the counter and into a hug. “It’s not stupid to want someone to like you.”

“This is the fucking worst week ever.” You mumbled against his shirt.

“Don’t write it off yet.” Topper said. “I’d offer you a room here but Sarah’s all moved into Scarlett’s room with her and I doubt you really wanna be-”

“Under the same roof as Sarah? No thanks.” You replied, “I should leave before she comes back.”

“You just got here.”

You were about to reply when your phone buzzed. There was a text from John B asking if you were okay. You texted him back, telling him you would be fine and suggesting that the two of you hang out later. You felt guilty just leaving him there at the house when things were such a mess and he was in his head about Sarah and JJ.

“Everything okay?” Topper asked.

“Fine...is it too early to drink?” You asked, stashing your phone and looking passed Topper to the counter of alcohol they had in the kitchen.

“I think you might want to lay off. At least for now.”

There was banging on the front door and you shared a confused look with Topper before you both headed into the hallway to see what was going on. You couldn’t imagine that Sarah would bang on the door like that and anyone else had a key. You were the only person in the house who wasn’t currently staying there overnight.

Your phone buzzed again, John B. -Sarah told Kie you might be with Topper-

As you read the message Topper opened the door, immediately stumbling back as JJ practically swung the door back in his face. Pope was right behind him though looking more distressed than pissed.

“What the fuck!”

“Oh my god! Topper, JJ, what the hell?” You ran to your best friend, moving forward to block him so JJ didn’t try anything.

“What’s going on?” Kelce’s voice came from the balcony and then his footsteps, coupled with Rafe’s were coming down the stairs into the entryway.

“Shit.” Pope muttered.

JJ was only watching you, seemingly unconcerned with the others. “ ‘What the hell’ is right! I woke up and you had just left the house? Kie said you were here. Of all fucking places!”

“I came to see Topper!” You snapped. “You know that things between me and Rafe are over, I told you that last night.”

“I wouldn’t say-“

“Shut up Rafe.” Topper groaned, shoving his friend away when he got to the bottom of the stairs.

“And yet you’re here.”

“I’m not the one lying to people.” You said. From the open door you could see Kiara and Sarah, standing on the porch steps waiting to see what happened. You could imagine how thrilled Sarah would be if this whole thing got derailed. “John B-“

“Oh good, we’re on John B again.” JJ snapped.

“What’s a matter, she screw him too? Just like my sister?” Rafe taunted and you realized you might be the last person who really knew what was going on. “Guess no one wants to be seen with a filthy pogue like you-“

“Shut the fuck up!”

Topper grabbed you when you fell backward from the force of JJ surging forward and tackling Rafe to the stairs. Pope tried to grab him but he lost his grip at the last second and stumbled a little himself. Sarah and Kiara came into the house, Sarah shouting for JJ to calm down and get off her brother.

“Don’t man,” Topper called when Kelce looked ready to join the fight. Their eyes met over the mess of teenage boys trying to land punches on each other, Topper shaking his head. He was still holding your upper arms from where he grabbed you but you pulled away as JJ got a hit in, right between the eyes.

“Stop!” You grabbed at the back of his shirt and the collar pressing into his neck seemed to wake him up enough that he stumbled backwards, hands flying up to stop himself from choking. Kelce grabbed Rafe, helping him up and Topper moved in front of him, a human barrier between him and JJ. “Just stop!”

“Hey-“ Kiara started to speak but you cut her off.

“I want all of you out of my house by the time I get back.” You pushed passed them, heading for the door. JJ was the first to follow you, feet pounding against the porch steps as he called your name. You stopped just shy of the road, turning but not giving him a moment to get a word in. “You said so much shit to me this week but I was just a rebound from Sarah wasn’t I? You and her were cheating this whole time.”

“It’s not like that-“

“Save it. I’m done.”

You walked until you hit your house, going around back and walking down to the beach. Families were set the closer you got to the shoreline, all unaware of just how shitty you were feeling right now, like you could sink into the sand or walk straight into the ocean and be perfectly fine. You spotted a familiar Hawaiian shirt at the beginning of the tide and smiled subconsciously, if anyone knew what you were feeling right now.

“Of all the beaches in all the worlds.” You teased, coming up beside John B.

“Hey, there you are. I heard everyone take off, I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

“Oh you know…I told everyone to clear out.”

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mdelpin · 3 years

Text

Male Order Bride - Chapter 2

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next: Ch 3

Chapter 2

Gray examined the crowd of people, attempting to figure out what they were doing there. There were a lot of young couples in attendance, which seemed strange for an old building away from the town center. Several recognized him and offered a friendly wave.

It appeared Lyon hadn’t caught the guy yet, as he observed some of his father’s hirdmen walking around the room and studying the faces of those assembled. Gray was further impressed by the fire mage, although considering his outlandish appearance, it probably wouldn’t be long before they found him. He kept an eye out, hoping to catch sight of him again.

Gray continued to explore the large room, careful to avoid any attempts at conversation. He noticed a platform at the back decorated in silver and blue, the colors of Isvan, while a colorful sign welcomed everyone to the Isvan Employment Auction.

Employment Auction? He’d never heard of that before.

“What are you doing here? I thought I heard Erza say you went home.”

Gray recognized Lyon’s voice behind him and turned to smirk at his friend. “Never thought I’d see the day someone else would put you in your place.”

“It’s just a matter of time. He’s in here somewhere.”

Lyon didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, instead looking around the room with an odd smile. “This place takes me back.”

“Huh? Back to what?”

“Don’t you remember? This is where your Dad found Ur and hired her to take care of your sorry ass.”

“Here?”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot we met later.” Lyon pointed to the platform, “Right up there. The organizers had demanded I wait in some back room, but Ur wouldn’t have it. Your dad came to see what the commotion was. That’s how they met.”

“What is this place?”

“Well, most of the time it serves as a storage building for merchant cargo, with the occasional dock worker meeting thrown in. But twice a year it hosts this employment thing for women. They can get hired as governesses, teachers, housekeepers, nannies, you name it. Ur had heard about it when we were in Brago. It’s what brought us here, actually. She’d wanted us to start a new life. You know, after everything.”

Back then, Gray hadn’t cared about where Ur and Lyon had come from, but he struggled to accept that Ur’s introduction into his life had stemmed from anywhere so ordinary.

He’d resented her at first, convinced she was trying to replace his mother. But once her magic lessons began, he’d cast all those feelings aside. Ur was strong. Stronger than any other ice mage he’d ever met. He’d figured if he worked hard and learned everything he could from her, he’d soon be able to avenge his mother and grandfather, and the countless others who had died at the hands of that foul demon. Lyon had been the perfect training partner, equally determined to push through all their limits.

Why had he never thought to ask him why? He’d always known Ur wasn’t Lyon’s mother, but it startled him to realize that even after all these years, he had no clue how they’d ended up together. Lyon was the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother, and it disheartened him to realize how little he truly knew about him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance as a man he recognized as Invel Yura, one of his father’s advisors, stepped onto the platform and commanded everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to welcome you to this year’s Winter Employment Auction.”

The participants crowded around the platform eagerly, applauding the announcement.

“As many of you might know, our late Chief, Sterling Fullbuster, founded the Employment Auction over twenty-five years ago.” Invel peered at the audience, smiling when he recognized Gray.

“An ardent supporter of women’s rights, Chief Sterling sought to create a safe environment for women to find employment in our great town. Over the years, we have helped place hundreds of women, and as word of our experiment has reached other towns, we have seen increased participation. We are proud to continue this tradition, and we hope that our future Chief, who is with us today, will see fit to continue it for many years to come.”

Gray groaned internally, even as he smiled and waved at those who acknowledged him, realizing he now had no choice but to stay until the conclusion of the event. He attempted but failed to ignore Lyon’s laughter at his predicament. With a parting clap on the shoulder, Lyon informed him he was returning to his search, promising to check in with him later.

He listened as Invel followed his introduction with an explanation of how the auction worked. It seemed to be divided into three phases. In the first phase, employers received a clipboard with several bid forms and were allotted two hours to interview candidates. Each candidate wore a pin on her right shoulder that showed her identification number.

Once time was up, the second phase began. Employers submitted their bids at the platform, placing them into envelopes marked with the candidate’s identification number. Each bid needed to describe the job duties and pay offered clearly.

During the third phase, all candidates would receive their envelopes. They would then evaluate the enclosed offers and pick out the job situation that most appealed to them. Should any issues arise, Invel would mediate them. Seemed simple enough.

With the explanation now at an end, Invel announced the candidates’ entrance and ceded the platform.

Gray was curious to see how many women were taking part, considering the number of people present, but Invel’s approach blocked his view.

Invel bowed his head briefly, and then immediately launched into a scolding. “This is most unusual, Master Gray. All prospective employers must pass a thorough investigation before being allowed to take part. It is one of the safety measures we’ve set in place. Given your position, however, I will allow it this one time. In the future, see that you submit a request in advance.”

Invel thought he was here to hire someone? For what, court jester? Lyon already filled that role nicely. Still, it was easier to play along than attempt to explain how he’d gotten there.

“I apologize, I wasn’t thinking. Thank you for your understanding.”

He accepted the clipboard Invel offered him with a polite smile.

“Of course,” Invel said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see someone trying to get my attention. Good luck.”

Gray killed time by walking around the room and trying to blend in, half-listening to conversations around him while keeping an eye out for his mystery man. He still found it hard to believe Ur had been a part of one of these. None of the participants seemed remotely like her. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he recognized one candidate.

Shit! What in Hel’s name was Lucy Heartfilia doing here? She’d been the last girl he’d sent home before Juvia. Was she here because of that? Should he go talk to her?

Just as he was deciding it would be best for him to avoid her, another girl joined her. One that immediately drew his interest. Her steps were awkward, and she seemed ill at ease in the formal clothes. Her walk reminded him of a young Erza proudly showing off her first pair of heels, even though she could barely walk in them.

Her pink hair came down to her shoulders in loose waves, while the blue gown she wore contrasted nicely against her tanned skin. At first glance, Gray merely thought her a beautiful girl, until he got a good glimpse at her face.

His eyes widened as he recognized the features. He forgot all about avoiding Lucy, compelled by the need to know if he was right.

“Hi Lucy.”

“Gray.”

Her tone was not welcoming in the slightest, but he ignored it, smiling at her as if they were old friends. His gaze soon shifted to her companion, hoping to force her to speak. If he was right about who she was, she’d try to avoid it.

“Hello, I’m Gray Fullbuster, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Gray offered his hand in greeting. The girl had been about to shake it when Lucy noticed.

“Natsu!”

The girl’s hand stopped in midair, and she peered at Lucy in confusion. Gray smirked, that was one point for him.

“Natsu, that’s a lovely name, and something we could certainly use a lot more of in Isvan.”

She tilted her head, frowning cutely at him.

“It means summer, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, it does,” Natsu replied in a silken voice, which was not at all what Gray had been expecting. Could he be wrong? Was she just a small-town girl who’d come to Isvan in search of a job and was understandably nervous?

“What sorts of jobs are you interested in?”

“We’re looking to be nannies, or governesses. Something I know you’re not in any need of, so if you’ll just excuse us,” Lucy grabbed Natsu’s hand and yanked her away towards a young couple.

Natsu tried to keep up, but ended up losing her balance. Gray was quick to catch her, and as he did, he felt her magic flare, materializing into a thin layer of flames that traveled across her arms.

“Let go of me!”

She struggled in his arms; the flames spreading as she did so, skirting ever closer to the fabric of her dress. Gray’s eyes darted up to follow their path, noting absently that her pin had the number seven emblazoned on it. “I don’t want to hur-.”

“Steady there,” Gray interrupted, smiling down at her as he called on his magic, coating her arms in an icy mist that quickly put out the flames before they could blaze out of control.

Natsu’s jaw dropped as Gray dispelled his flames, “How did you do that?”

Gray wasn’t able to respond right away, for after the initial satisfaction at having succeeded, he’d peered into Natsu’s eyes and now found himself utterly lost in them. He’d never seen any more beautiful. Bursts of green converged on a gold-rimmed pupil, reminding him of the early morning nature walks he’d once taken with his mother in the summers. And when those eyes met his, Gray couldn’t help but recognize the fear and desperation that lurked in their depths.

Pink hair, tanned skin, fire magic, fear - not to mention the awkward way she carried herself. Everything pointed to this being the guy Lyon was after but made up to look and sound like a strikingly beautiful woman. Hell, he’d done such a good job it would even convince Silver.

Natsu must have gotten help from someone here. No, not someone. Gray knew exactly who.

Lucy Heartfilia.

What was her magic? He wracked his brain but couldn’t remember, and that more than anything forced him to acknowledge he'd barely paid any attention to her during their meeting, or to any of the others. But none of that mattered right now because he had a choice to make.

“I just used my magic to push yours back,” Gray finally replied, struggling to keep his voice level so as not to give away that he knew Natsu’s identity.

Natsu gazed at him, his mouth suddenly breaking into a lopsided grin that elicited a strange fluttering in Gray’s chest and complicated his thoughts further.

“Let’s gooo, Natsu,” Lucy urged, and while Natsu had seemed ready to protest, she spun around and followed.

Gray turned to see what had spooked her and spotted Lyon walking swiftly towards them. He could tell from his friend’s expression that he’d already reached the same conclusion.

What should he do, which side should he take?

Gray was the future Chief of Isvan. He knew well that his thoughts should be on the danger this man could pose to his people. But that brief interaction had shown him his instincts had been correct. Natsu didn’t appear to have control over his magic, and Gray had sensed no malice coming from him. In fact, it had been just the opposite. He'd acted terrified when his magic had flared. It just didn’t add up.

Still, Lyon was his best friend, his foster brother, and he didn’t want to get him in trouble either.

Then Gray thought about how his heart had felt at the sight of that grin and how he’d considered Natsu’s appearance could fool even Silver, and a plan formed in his mind.

Confident that Natsu didn’t pose a danger to Isvan, Gray considered pursuing a different choice. One that could both help him and protect Natsu from the hird until he could learn control of his magic.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced Gray became it was the only way to get out of this wedding mess. If he could persuade Natsu to pretend to be his fiancee, he wouldn’t have to marry Juvia and it would give him time to see if something could blossom between them.

He grabbed Lyon by the arm, ignoring his protests as he searched for a place where they could speak privately.

“We need to talk.”

0-0

Gray found a small office near the building’s entrance and shoved Lyon inside. He closed the door behind them and launched into a swift explanation of his plan, but Lyon wouldn’t even let him finish.

“Absolutely not!”

“You’re being unreasonable. Erza said no one was hurt in any of the fires. You must have felt his magic signature. If that were his intent, why only target abandoned buildings?”

“To gauge our response for when he launches his actual attack.”

Gray groaned as he recognized Lyon’s stubborn streak kicking in. He didn’t have time to argue. For his plan to work, he’d need to put a bid in soon.

“What did you expect me to say?” Lyon crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t know the first thing about this guy, and what little you know points to him being a criminal.”

“He’s terrified. I could see it in his eyes when he lost control a few moments ago. You didn’t see his face when I pushed his fire back. He was relieved.”

“He lost control here?! That’s even more reason to keep him away from our house. He could hurt everyone we care about.”

Lyon had that I know better than you expression on his face that Gray hated with every fiber of his being.

“While surrounded by ice mages?” he snapped, struggling to keep his temper in check despite Lyon’s attitude. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he’d hoped Lyon would be more willing to see his side. Screw it, if logic wouldn’t work then he’d go for pity. It’s not like he wasn’t desperate.

“When I talked with him earlier, I felt something.”

“You just met him, Gray.”

“I know that, but feeling something is already more than the nothing I feel for Juvia. And if I don’t find someone soon, I’ll have no choice but to marry her on my birthday. Fader said so after you left.”

“He said that?”

Lyon looked away, the first outward sign that he was weakening.

“Time’s up, please enter your bids now,” Invel’s voice echoed through the building’s speaker lacrima, injecting an air of urgency to their conversation.

Lyon had shifted his gaze back to him, his eyes boring into him for what seemed like a lifetime. Gray held his breath, worried the slightest gesture from him might work against him.

“I won’t pretend to understand the attraction you feel toward guys, but I can’t imagine how I’d feel if Ur forced me into a marriage.” He remained silent for a few more moments before announcing, “I’m so going to regret this.”

It took Gray a full minute for the meaning to seep into his brain, but once it did, he beamed with excitement. “I knew I could count on you!”

Lyon grinned, “You mean you knew you could con me.”

Gray didn’t have time to refute the charge as Lyon swiftly turned serious, “Just promise me you’ll be careful,”

“I will.”

And he meant it. He understood the trust Lyon was placing in him, and he would do his best to be worthy of it.

“I gotta go put in my bid,” Gray reached for the doorknob, but Lyon grabbed his arm.

“Hold on there, Romeo. You’re going to have to hire someone for real.”

“What? Why?”

“Invel saw you, dumbass. I’m sure he’ll mention it to Silver. If you only show up with your dream girl, Silver will know something’s up.”

“Oh.”

Gray hadn’t considered that, but had to admit it made sense. Who could he hire and for what? The only other person he’d talked to was Lucy, and he was pretty sure she hated his guts.

But if she’d helped Natsu, he should probably monitor her too, just in case he was wrong about all this.

“Oh, and Gray?” Lyon said as Gray opened the door.

Gray turned his head impatiently, waiting to hear what Lyon had to say, even though he was pretty sure he already knew.

“If he refuses your offer, I will arrest him.”

Gray scowled at the words but nodded his understanding. He’d just have to make sure that didn’t happen.

As Lyon issued new orders to his men through his communication lacrima, Gray offered a silent prayer to his favorite deity.

He had a feeling Loki would understand where he was coming from..

0-0

“I can’t wait to see how many bids I got!” Lucy said as they stood with the other candidates, waiting for the organizer to arrive with their envelopes.

“I just want to get out of here.”

The last two hours had been incredibly stressful for Natsu. He’d felt ill at ease with all the stares and attempts at conversation, not to mention the uncomfortable clothes Lucy had forced him to wear. It had taken all of his self-control not to run out of there. When that light blue-haired hirdman had walked towards them, he’d thought he’d get arrested for sure.

The organizer finally got to them, checking the numbers on their pins against the large envelopes he was carrying and handing them each one. They both thanked him.

“I bet you I got a bunch,” Lucy said while opening her envelope, “I was killing it out there!”

Natsu held on to his envelope but didn’t bother opening it, assuming it was empty. Instead, he watched the expressions of the other women with interest. There were a lot of happy tears, and it made him feel good that things had gone well for them.

“One?! I got one stinking offer? Don’t these people know who I am?”

Natsu turned his attention back to Lucy, alarmed by the loudness of her voice. “Hey Lucy, can you keep it down? We’re trying to avoid attention, remember?”

“Right,” Lucy said, her voice coming back down to normal levels. “I’m sorry, it’s just when I stuck around here for this I thought I’d have lots of choices, you know?”

“Well, but one is better than none, right?”

“I suppose.”

“What’s it for, anyway? Is it from that guy that kept staring at your boobs?” Natsu nudged her with his shoulder, trying to get her out of her foul mood.

“Ew, I hope not,” Lucy giggled, “You’re right though, I bet it’s gonna be something great, and at least I won’t have to go back home.”

He should have realized her sudden silence wasn’t a good sign, but he was too busy thinking about how he couldn’t wait to get back into his clothes to notice. His thoughts wandered back to that ice mage, wishing he’d been able to talk to him longer and ask him for help with his problem. He’d seemed like an okay guy.

“That sonofabitch! Does he think he’s funny? Is that it? Is he trying to ruin my life?”

Lucy continued to rant, getting progressively louder. All the other candidates had moved away from them and the man who had handed them their envelopes was making his way towards them, his features set in a scowl. Natsu wanted nothing more than to leave his friend there and make a run for it, ridiculous shoes and all. He could feel his magic surging and his panic mounted.

“Shh, Lucy, please!”

Natsu closed his eyes, resigned to his imminent arrest, this time for disturbing the peace.

“Invel, you may return to your duties, I’ll handle this.”

“Of course, Master Gray, I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

“You!”

The venom in Lucy’s voice surprised Natsu but not as much as recognizing the other voice. It belonged to the guy who had caught him earlier, who, now that he thought about it, had acted as if he knew Lucy. His pulse sped up as he realized there was still a chance to ask him for help.

“So, you finally found someone who wasn’t quite so... what was it you said? Oh yes, perky,” Lucy seethed, “and now you want me to be your nanny? Do you even know what your little stunt cost me?”

“Look, I’m sorry about the whole turning you down thing,” Gray said, “It was nothing personal, okay? I’m sure you’re perfect.”

“Damn right I am!”

Natsu looked from one to the other, completely lost to what was going on.

“Could you keep your voice down?” Gray hissed, “I just want a minute to plead my case before you decide.”

“She only got the one offer,” Natsu revealed without thinking.

“Seriously?” Gray laughed, “Must be her charming personality.”

Natsu wanted to laugh at the retort, but he knew better than to provoke Lucy when she was seriously pissed. “Dude, you are so not helping your case.”

He frowned, hating how strange his voice sounded.

“Oh, right.” Gray ran his fingers through his hair, and flashed a sheepish grin that, while oddly distracting to Natsu, did nothing to placate Lucy.

“Well, you can take your job offer and shove it where the sun doesn't shine.”

Gray’s shoulders slumped at her words, “I already said I was sorry, didn’t I? Besides, I only wrote nanny cause it was something you were considering. You can do whatever you want. If you’d bothered to look at the actual offer, you’d see the pay is more than fair.”

Lucy examined the paper, her eyes widening as she read the offer over, finally looking up at Gray with a guarded expression. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll be happy to explain, but not here. I’ll need both of you for what I have in mind. Well, to be honest, it’s up to Natsu. If she doesn’t agree, then the offer is off,” Gray said, turning to Natsu.

“You want my help?”

“Yeah, didn’t you see my offer?”

“There’s something in here?” Natsu opened his envelope, saw there were several pieces of paper inside, and snapped it shut quickly.

“Well? Let’s see it,” Lucy gave him a curious glance, “What did he put down on yours?”

“Um, it doesn’t matter. He can just tell me.”

“Honestly, I’d rather you read it, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It, uh, doesn’t matter what it is,” Natsu said, hiding the envelope behind his back, “I’m happy to do it as long you promise to help me with my magic.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that.”

Gray looked relieved and Natsu wondered what he’d just gotten himself into, but it didn’t really matter. Lucy had saved him from the hirdmen, and it seemed as if she wouldn’t have a job if he didn’t accept. Plus, he wasn’t afraid of hard work, and getting help in controlling his increasingly erratic magic would make it worth his while.

“Alright, then you have yourself a deal,” Natsu offered his hand to seal the deal, not knowing how to respond when Gray pulled it up to his mouth for a kiss instead of shaking it.

It was then he understood two things. First, why Lucy had yelled at him earlier. It hadn’t occurred to him that girls rarely shook hands. Second, and by far the most important, Gray thought he was a girl.

He was about to clear that up when a more pressing issue presented itself. The hirdman who’d been chasing him earlier walked up to them, and although Natsu desperately wanted to run away, he knew he couldn’t do that without giving himself away. He only hoped that the guy would leave quickly and not look at him too closely.

“Everything okay over here, Gray?”

“Everything’s fine!” Gray smiled, “I’d like you to meet Natsu. And you remember Lucy?”

“Yes, of course, lovely to see you again, Lucy,” The hirdman bowed slightly to both of them, gazing at Natsu with open curiosity.

“Natsu love, I’d like you to meet Lyon, my foster brother.”

That guy was Gray’s foster brother?!

That complicated everything! How could he tell Gray the truth about who he was now?

He couldn’t and he didn’t like what that implied. The more agitated he became, the more his magic roared, itching to get out. Natsu had almost given up on containing it when Gray placed his hand on the small of his back, reining in the fire that churned inside him with one simple gesture.

Natsu didn't understand the how or why of it, but it made him realize that the safest place for him right now was by Gray’s side, at least until he could regain control of his magic. So he met Lyon’s gaze and flashed him his most disarming smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

#fairy tail #gratsu #update #fic #gray x natsu #male order bride #mob #ch 2

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cheri-translates · 4 years

Text

[CN] Kiro’s Original Intention Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date (and Season 2) which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Knowing the basics of Season 2 is necessary to understand what’s going on in this date. Do read this post if you don’t know anything about it!

Parallel World Dates Collection: Gavin // Shaw // Victor

Check out @skyholders‘ translation of Lucien’s date here!

“When popular star Kiro returned to the country yesterday, there were hints of a new collaboration?”

The name “Kiro” has taken over several hot topics. Kiro received a short and sudden interview at the airport, attracting countless discussions and guesses.

Reporter: I heard you signed a contract with a well-known music company in the period before this. Is your return to the country due to any special plans?

Kiro: There’s nothing special. I could be returning just to take my guitar?

Reporter: ...we know you’ve taken on the role of a lead singer and are about to embark on a world tour. There must be some special reason for you to return to the country, right?

Kiro: For this, it’s better to ask my agent.

Kiro smiles and pushes a bespectacled uncle in front of the camera. He playfully sticks out his head from behind the uncle, and pats his shoulder.

Kiro: I’m leaving it to you.

Once the words are out of his mouth, he runs off.

My phone screen displays a photo of Kiro’s smiling face as he turns back. His golden hair plates his entire body in a generously brilliant and blazing splendour.

I brush his face gently with my fingertips, my heart feeling heavy.

Like a raging wave, unspeakable longing and sadness knead together, fiercely slapping onto the shore.

Kiro has returned to Loveland City.

However, this meeting doesn’t give me much time to feel low.

Dad is standing in front of the projector in the conference room, orderly explaining the upcoming work arrangement for the company.

Dad: ...these are all the materials on Kiro. Everyone, please confirm the content on hand, and ensure that we are all on the same page. We’ve recently signed a contract with Kiro’s company. Kiro has received his Admission Letter and will continue pursuing his studies in the music academy. After he finishes his world tour, he will officially sign the contract to return to the country and develop. The contract this time is the very beginning of the collaboration, to work with Kiro’s upcoming tour. All departments have to make preparations. That’s all.

After the meeting is dismissed, Dad sits at my side.

Dad: Suddenly calling you back from school - am I giving you too much stress?

MC: I’m just a little surprised. I never thought the company... that Dad would make such an arrangement.

Dad: This isn’t just Dad’s arrangement. You’ll know the specifics next time.

Dad pauses. When he speaks again, his tone seems to have a certain depth to it. I blink, making secret guesses in my heart.

This means... it could be Black Swan’s arrangement.

Dad: You once told Dad you wanted to be an outstanding producer. Of course, I’ll support my daughter in doing what she wants. This time, I’m just letting you get used to the tasks. Don’t be too nervous. Dad can’t bear to let you to dive into work so quickly!

MC: Hahaha, thank you Dad! I’ll learn seriously! I definitely wouldn’t cause trouble for everyone.

Dad: The contract for the collaboration will happen three days later, so we can do some preparations before that.

After greeting my father, I walk out of the building and turn back to look at it. With complex emotions, I head towards the convenience store.

The world proceeds forward slowly, but there are some differences from back then.

In my memory, Black Swan used B.S. Entertainment to lead public opinion. In an accident arising from multiple causes, it was replaced by my company.

As a similar media body, Dad has been expanding the company’s scope of influence since several years ago.

In a way, we’ve already met Black Swan’s requirements and purposes.

From some imperceptible moment, the entire world has moved towards a familiar yet unknown future.

However, there are coincidences that are either heaven’s tricks, or destiny.

This time, my father’s sufficiently powerful company has replaced B.S. Entertainment, and has become Kiro’s future home.

Without realising it, I’ve walked into that small convenience store.

I stand in front of the shelves, staring dazedly at the final bag of chips.

I think about that person’s “warning” --

“Your unintentional actions may lead to irretrievable consequences.”

As though I’m deep in a black swamp, I’m trapped in place. My lips are sealed, and I sink into the darkness.

After a long time, I pat my face fiercely with both hands, letting out a hard breath.

MC: This time, I’ll be the one searching for you...

When I reach out for the bag of chips, a beautiful and slender hand appears in front of me - we’ve grabbed the same bag of potato chips.

I turn my head, and the person beside me turns to look at me as well.

He is standing against the light, and a smile brims in his eyes. He gives the bag of chips a gentle tug, pulling me a step closer to him in the process.

It’s as though he’s pulling me, who’s continuously sinking.

A heavy feeling rising up from my chest and up my throat. I blink hard and clench my teeth. Even then, I can’t stop the redness in my eyes.

MC: Kiiii... mmph!

Kiro suddenly covers my mouth with his hand and glances around.

His smiling eyes tell me that he’s not angry at all about my rudeness.

Kiro: Shhh... I don’t want to get noticed.

I nod.

Our little scene seems to have drawn attention, so we squat down in hiding.

We crouch together next to the shelf, shoulders nearly touching. Looking at the bag of chips in my hands, I suddenly laugh.

Kiro: You’ve smiled.

MC: Hm?

Kiro: You looked like you were going to cry just now. I even thought I frightened you!

MC: How can that be? I... I was just too excited. I didn’t think the big celebrity I saw on the screen would appear in front of me. Now, we’re squatting here like little kids in kindergarten.

Everything is too similar to how we once met. The words involuntarily leave my lips. It’s as though in front of him, no matter how many times the scene repeats, I’m still the me of back then.

Kiro: If I were still in kindergarten, I definitely wouldn’t let you have the last bag of chips.

I turn around and find Kiro looking at the chips in my hand, seemingly not willing to give up.

A breeze enters the convenience store, lifting strands of his golden hair. Eighteen-year-old Kiro is beside me, looking as though he’s emitting light.

MC: The Kiro now is already a mature Kiro!

Kiro: You’re right.

Even though I said that, Kiro still looks unwilling. His eyes are crinkled, and his mouth slants to a side.

I look at him and think of a time long ago. Making a silent prayer that this bag of chips contains the Batman AR card, I tear the bag open slowly.

MC: It’s a Batman AR card!!

Kiro: Eh, how are you even more excited than I am.

MC: Haha.

There’s a twinge in my heart, and I'm unsure if it’s longing or sadness. I try to shoot Kiro a smile, though it probably doesn't look good.

MC: This is for you.

Kiro takes the card and smiles, his eyes becoming even brighter.

Kiro: How did you know that I'm collecting these?

MC: ...I-I guessed it! Because...

Kiro: Because I look like the type who would collect these?

MC: Yes yes yes, that’s it.

Kiro: And I also look like I’m just missing this card?

MC: ...y-yes, I guess?

Kiro: Mm! I think so too!

Those blue eyes are filled with smiles, not containing a shred of impurity or suspicion. I release a relieved sigh in my heart.

Kiro: But... I think we’ve forgotten to pay.

MC: Ah, you’re right. So sorry, ma’am. I’ll buy ten bags later! Sorry!

Kiro: Sorry!

We look at each other and burst out laughing.

This time, our eighteen-year-old selves still share this tiny secret.

After walking out of the convenience store, I suddenly wonder why Kiro has appeared here and at this point of time.

Kiro looks towards my father’s company and starts whistling playfully.

Kiro: So this is [-MC’s company name-].

His tone is light, not carrying the same anticipation he has on his face.

Kiro: Are you an employee of this company too?

MC: ...

The light of spring is in his bright eyes. Kiro looks at me quietly. This simple question seems to have a meaning behind it.

MC: I am. I just learnt that you’d be coming to the company after three days to sign the contract. But I came here to buy some things for myself...

Kiro: I see.

His eyes crinkle, as though accepting my explanation.

MC: You’re here to take a look beforehand?

Kiro: Actually...

Just as Kiro starts speaking, my phone suddenly rings. Kiro smiles and signals for me to answer the phone first, then takes a few steps away.

MC: Hello? Dad?

Dad: It’s a little sudden, but come to the conference room in 15 minutes to prepare. The collaboration contract with Kiro has been brought forward to today.

On the other end of the line, I can hear faint sounds of various departments busily preparing for the various contract-related issues.

Their conversations reveal the importance of the contract which is about to commence.

Once this collaboration succeeds, it will herald a new phase of the company’s future development in the aspect of acting.

??: Kiro hasn’t reached the office...

Father: Savin, don’t worry. MC, I’ll hang up now. Hurry back soon.

MC: All right.

MC: [to Kiro] You brought the contract signing forward to today?

Seeing that I’ve put down the phone, Kiro stuffs both hands into his pocket and bounces over to me.

Kiro: Something cropped up, so I communicated it to the company. I hope I didn’t cause trouble for everyone.

He retrieves a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, putting them on confidently.

Thinking about something, he tugs his sunglasses downwards lightly, revealing his smiling blue eyes.

Kiro: I tend to get lost easily. Could you show me the way?

MC: Isn’t it just in front?!

Kiro: A person who lacks a sense of direction wouldn’t be able to find the entrance even if the building is right in front of him.

He squints. Tickled by his odd logic, I burst into laughter, then give him a mock bow.

MC: Follow me then, big celebrity.

Kiro puts his sunglasses on properly, then does a thumbs-up gesture contentedly.

They reach the office, and Kiro apologises for the trouble caused

He looks over the contract meticulously and voices his opinions on certain terms, providing suggestions on how they can be mutually beneficial

He signs the contract and the employees leave the conference room

MC is surprised at how anti-climatic the whole thing was, and in her distracted state, forgets to change the settings on the photocopier (which is set to printing small cards)

As a result, the photocopying machine only prints Kiro’s signature on an A4 sheet

Kiro: Is that gentleman your father?

MC: Mm.

Kiro: I see... doesn’t that make you my future boss?

MC: Eh?!

I’m momentarily startled by his words, my brain slowing down and my eyes blinking continuously.

Tickled by my expression, Kiro smiles and crinkles his eyes.

Kiro: Am I wrong?

His tone is sincere, and embeds within it a sort of curiosity and probing.

I lower my head, looking at that sheet of invalid A4 paper, and lift my head with a deep sigh.

MC: You’re not wrong. It’s just that... I’m still very lacking right now. I’m not outstanding enough, and there are many things I can’t do. But I won’t stop here. I’ll make you believe that joining this company is something to be proud of.

I’ll continue running along this path that you’re shining on, and be like you, to become the light.

Kiro’s eyes slowly grow darker. I instinctively tighten my grip on my pen, but am unable to avert my eyes from his.

These seconds of silence feel like I’m being examined. Gradually, he lifts the corners of his lips.

Kiro: Will you be participating in my upcoming world tour?

MC: Probably not... I’m a newbie, so Savin should be going with you.

Kiro: Shall we practice then?

MC: Practice?

Saying this, Kiro leans forward. With a blink, he places his hand on the back of mine.

Kiro: Practice for when you become my future boss.

The sweet scent of the young man brushes the tip of my nose, reminiscent of a person secretly pouring melted hot chocolate into the cup of someone he likes.

He grins and tightens his grip on my hand. On the right side of the invalid A4 sheet, he writes his name crookedly.

Kiro: Your turn.

MC: ...I can really do that?

Kiro: I already said that this is a rehearsal for our future.

MC: But your hand...

Kiro: Hm?

My ears feel warm. Kiro’s eyes flash with the light of a prankster, waiting for me to finish.

His hand remains on the back of mine. He doesn’t exert any force. It feels like a catkin fluttering gently in my heart - ticklish, and can be flicked away with a light touch.

But I can’t bear to.

MC: Nothing!

My face is flushed. With his hand over mine, I leave a crooked “MC” on the left side.

These two names are left on the invalid A4 paper - like a starting point of a certain dream.

Kiro takes up the A4 sheet. Turning his palm, he entwines my fingers with his.

Kiro: We’ve made an agreement. I’ll definitely stand on a higher platform, and let even more people see Kiro, and hear Kiro’s songs. I’ll make the name “Kiro” appear in every corner of the world.

Gorgeous spots of light appear behind the young man, like the most brilliant and pure parts of youth. Still, they can’t compare to the brilliant light in his eyes.

My heart is beating rapidly, and it feels as though a piping heat is coursing through my bloodstream. A faint heat grows where our fingertips meet.

MC: Mm, we have an agreement. I’ll also keep learn learning, and will use my strength and abilities to better develop this company. In the future, this company will be one that’s worthy to collaborate with the “International Superstar” Kiro.

Kiro: Can I do it?

Kiro tilts his head, the glinting light in his eyes wavering slightly. It’s as though a tiny bit of doubt has appeared from its depths.

MC: Do you think I can do it?

Kiro: I think you can.

MC: Then you’ll naturally have no problem either!

I feel his shallow breaths on my fingertips. He leans his head lightly on our entwined hands.

Kiro: Our agreement is complete. If one of us doesn’t reach our goal, there’ll be a punishment.

MC: I won’t give you that chance!

Light soaks in through the window and covers our fingers. Kiro hops down from the table and gently lifts me to my feet, pulling me into the sunlit area.

Just as he did countless times before.

Kiro: Before the future arrives, please guide me. Miss Chips.

While MC is driving Kiro home, he suddenly asks:

Kiro: Is Miss Chips also from Black Swan?

Kiro pipes up, his eyes not leaving the screen of his laptop. There is a smile on his lips, but it looks like a natural-looking mask.

His casual-sounding question startles me. Although it’s a surprise that he would be so upfront about this, my fingers on the steering wheel tighten.

The green light makes its countdown, and I slow down, stopping before the zebra crossing.

MC: I’m not. Although... I might be in the future. I don’t want to lie to you.

Kiro: Is that so.

His tone is light, as though he isn’t paying attention. As though it could be swallowed up by a flower blowing in the spring breeze.

MC: Also, do you... remember what happened when you were young?

Kiro: Bits and pieces. I don’t remember much.

My heart grows heavy. Does Kiro not remember what happened in the orphanage?

MC: I... have something that I definitely have to do. No matter how difficult it is, I have to accomplish it. There’s also someone I want to meet. I’ve waited a very, very long time. It’s been so long that I’m about to give up. But once I think about how he’s working hard in some corner of the world, I’m filled with motivation.

I turn my head and meet Kiro’s eyes. His eyes are filled with an incomprehensible emotion.

MC: I want to protect him, and want... to meet him again. No matter what misunderstandings this path would bring, I’ll continue walking bravely.

Kiro blinks his eyes slowly, and finally reveals an unobstructed smile.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you’ll definitely have no problem.

After Kiro returns home, the smile he kept up in front of the girl finally collapses in a second.

In the pitch black living room, the sunlight outside the window has been kept outside by a thick and heavy curtain.

He clenches his teeth and sits in front of the laptop, the continuously dancing search results on the screen making him cast his eyes downwards.

Kiro: ...still no results.

In the end, he drags himself to the sofa, his pale face almost transparent under the glow of the screen.

A stubbornness appears on his lips, and dots of sweat appear on his forehead, as though he’s enduring a great agony.

Kiro: At least... it’s only acting up now.

At this moment, a call from a foreign number appears on his phone.

Kiro: It’s me.

??: You finally picked up.

Kiro: Tell me the results directly.

??: The test results and your predictions are almost the same.

Kiro: Mm.

Darkness has swallowed his face, but his eyes are flashing with light. Even though the world has plunged into a deep darkness, there’s still a scorching, blooming light.

Kiro: Let’s meet then.

He throws his phone aside, a look of self-deprecation on his face. Even though he’s curled up, he can’t suppress his trembling. The colour of an abyss is in his eyes.

Kiro: [groaning]

The young man’s painful groans resound in the dark, and black markings appear on his arm.

The hands supporting the young man’s body allow him to look at the other corner, into the mirror in the darkness.

The hair of the person in the mirror has gradually faded into a silvery grey, and there is a dazzling golden light in his originally blue eyes--

Overlapping with the image in his mind.

Kiro: ...I, command you--

The young man’s soft voice lingers in the dark.

🌸 MOMENTS 🌸

Kiro’s Post: Now that I think about it, did I sign an unfair contract back then?

MC: Is it the fastest contract you’ve signed in your life?

Kiro: It’s also the most important contract in my life ^_^

Kiro’s Post: Now that I think about it, did I sign an unfair contract back then?

MC: Written in black and white - behave and call me boss~

Kiro: As compared to “boss”, I’ve always preferred “Miss Chips” as a form of address.

Kiro’s Post: Now that I think about it, did I sign an unfair contract back then?

MC: Did I treat you badly?!

Kiro: Does this mean you’re going to treat me to potato chips next time?

Phone call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years

Text

7 Secrets <pt. 3>

GENRE: Soulmate!au BTS!

WARNINGS: It’s a bit emotional, but not too bad. So don’t cry, ok?

WORD COUNT: 2,143

Part 3 here we go! Like I mentioned before, I want to make this story as realistic as possible, while still allowing for fun elements. Obviously that implies some emotional moments, but I feel like this will hopefully allow us to see Beth (and the other characters) is a familiar light. I’ve fallen in love with these characters much faster than I even anticipated, so I hope you enjoy! Part 4 will be up soon!

A hushed conversation is what eventually pulls me out of my slumber, although I try my best to ignore them.

“I just feel bad waking her up, she must be exhausted.”

“Yeah, but she won’t be able to sleep tonight if she sleeps much longer.”

“True. Ah, do you think she’ll notice if I steal her photo from Jeju Island?”

At this I finally drag myself to consciousness, ferociously protective of my photo. “You touch it and you die,” my threat comes out sounding not quite as threatening as I had hoped, and the fact that my exhausted brain only managed to get the threat out in English doesn’t help.

I turn to see Minsuh and Aera standing guiltily in the doorway, the former with an embarrassed smile.

“Did you just threaten us?” Minsuh asks tauntingly, knowing that it always takes me a few minutes after I wake up to completely switch into Korean mode. I simply nod as angrily as possible.

“Of course,” Aera snorts at my predicament. “It was easy to tell from your tone of voice. You know, for being the youngest, you aren’t very respectful of your elders.”

I completely ignore her, this being a common point of teasing between us all. Although I am the youngest, and the last out of the seven of us to find out about this whole soulmate mess, they still tend to look to me when it comes to making leadership decisions. I’ve never questioned it much, having always felt most comfortable leading, but I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with who my soulmate is.

I check my phone to see that it’s already nearly 9 pm, and I shoot them a glare at the same time my stomach growls. They simply skip out of my room, but not before Aera peeks back in to tell me to freshen up.

“We’ll go out to eat in fifteen minutes! Are you sure you don’t want takeout instead? It’s been a long day for you.” Aera takes all of my possible needs into consideration, a trait that I’ve always admired. It’s also the reason why we’ve often had to tell her to slow down, breathe, and focus on taking care of herself. I hope Jimin will understand that too.

Long story short, I have a lot of hopes for my fellow soul-sisters and their soulmates and very, very little for myself.

“No, I want to go out. It’s been so long since we’ve all gone out together. What are we getting?”

Aera smiles at me, pleased with my decision. She’s one of the most social, always aching to get out and go do something.

“Ichika was going on about getting some udon noodles, does that sound alright?”

My stomach rumbles at the mere mention of the Japanese noodles, and we both take that as a yes.

↔

When Bang Si-hyuk decided that it would be best if the seven of us had an apartment together in Seoul, our only condition was that it be close to good food. He might have thought it strange or immature, but I’m still grateful for our foresight back then.

I currently wander beside Himari, our arms slung around each other's shoulders. Ichika leads the way with Kyung-Soon, the two of them rubbing their bellies as we all talk about the good food we just devoured.

If I try hard enough, the cameras that are capturing our every move fade away into the blackness of the night.

Minsuh, Aera, and Seohyun bring up the rear, singing “Mic Drop” at the top of their lungs.

“Himari! Himari!” Seohyun giggles like a maniac. It’s no secret she’s a sucker for Mic Drop. I’ve heard her sing it more than I’ve heard the actual song at this point. “C’mon, help me with the ‘mic mic bungee’ transition, from j-hope to Suga.”

Himari wastes no time in jumping back there, the two of them looking absolutely insane as they go all out. It leaves the rest of us with tears running from our eyes at the sight.

“You look drunk,” Kyung-Soon points out, trying and failing to look serious. “Did you drink?”

Both girls giggle in response, still trying to perfect the transition. “No, of course not. We’re drunk on life, Soon-ah!” Seohyun blurts out, and we all groan in response.

“You know how we get when we’re all together,” Aera interjects. I note that Minsuh has taken her phone out of her pocket and is filming the show. I have no doubt that she’ll find a way to use the footage against them in the future.

“It’s been sooo long,” Ichika adds, smiling warmly at me.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry that I had to leave for so long. I know you all missed me.” I smirk at them, and they roll their eyes at me. Nobody denies it though, I have hundreds of text messages stating how much they missed me to prove it. I swear I received at least one every day.

Kyung-Soon links her arm in mine, and we continue walking. “We’ll see you weirdos at the house,” she calls over her shoulder. One camera breaks off to follow us from a distance, the other staying behind to watch the show play out. Sure enough, Seohyun and Himari hardly even notice our absence, they’re too busy trying to remember choreography.

With only a couple of blocks left to go before we make it back to our apartment, Soon and I fall into a companionable silence. It’s a while before she breaks it.

“How’s everything going with your book?”

I smile at her, touched that she thought to even ask. She’s always been good at that, though. “It’s...going.” I shrug, and she gives me a knowing laugh.

“You’ve said that about every book. Is this one no different?”

Kyung-Soon is one of the quieter ones, but she’s also one of the people I trust the most. We’ve spent countless nights over the past three years talking late into the night, bouncing book ideas off of each other as well as discussing our deepest fears.

“Well, it was going great for a while. Right now I’m struggling with a bit of writer’s block. Or it’s not even writer’s block. I’m just…” I sigh, craning my neck to look up at the stars far above me. “I’m just tired.”

Kyung-Soon hums in acknowledgement. That’s another thing that I admire. She rarely jumps in with a solution. If she asks a question, it’s because she wants to listen to the answer, not because she’s waiting with a counter-attack.

I wonder for a brief moment if Jin, her soulmate, does the same thing. I entertain the thought for all of two seconds before shaking it off.

Our apartment can be seen at the end of the street, the balcony light still flipped on from earlier.

“Why do you think you’re tired?”

I look at Kyung-Soon, my oldest soul-sister also looking at the balcony light with a small smile on her face. With that expression on her face, I release a shaky breath. The exhaustion from my flight, the pressure of my book deadlines as well as current Webtoon updates and meetings that I have coming up all settle in.

“Soon-ah,” I whisper, and I lower my gaze until it falls on the microphone clipped to my shirt. “Am I doing the right thing?”

She waits patiently for me to continue, even as she gestures something to the cameraman. He mumbles a quiet “goodnight” before retreating into the shadows to set up his camera in a new position.

Kyung-Soon unlocks the door, quietly ushering me inside as I take deep breaths. It doesn’t take long before I’m led out onto the balcony, and I realize that she must have told the cameraman that we would be up there, thus allowing him to capture more footage without having him impose on our conversation inside. I’m grateful for her kind thought, I usually hate when the cameras have to follow us inside.

“It’s just, everytime I come back to Seoul, I start questioning myself all over again.” I wrap myself up in a spare blanket, offering another to Kyung-Soon which she accepts. “There’s just so much uncertainty. Not just in my job. I’m kind of used to that by now, everything can change in a rewrite or an editorial meeting and turn my whole book upside down in a matter of seconds. It’s frustrating, but I can handle that.”

Soon sits quietly, looking up at the night sky. I mirror her movement, hoping it masks the tears that are threatening to spill over at any minute now.

“What’s the other uncertainty?”

We both already know what it is, although I rarely speak about it. I’ve never really even known how to open up and talk about how even though I should be the most happy girl in the world knowing that Kim Namjoon is my soulmate, I have to stop myself from fleeing to Antarctica at the mere thought of actually having to face him.

“I can’t-” I start, but Soon cuts me off.

“You have to.” I look over at her face, which is now completely serious. “Beth, please don’t lock us out and keep all of these feelings to yourself. You don’t have to tell us every little thing, but you need to talk about it. Just because you don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean that you won’t feel scared or worried anymore.”

Sometime during her little speech, the tears started falling. I fall into Soon’s embrace, neither one of us acknowledging the fact that this is the first time I’ve openly cried about my soulmate since that first weekend in Jeju Island. And, if I remember correctly, all of us cried a bit that weekend.

We stay there for a few minutes, and I close my eyes tight because every time I open them they stray to where the cameraman sits in the shadows, eating up the sentimental moment.

“Please tell me,” Soon whispers, and I nod even as a broken hiccup leaves me. I chuckle at the random hiccup, and it helps me to breathe easier as the load I’m bearing is already starting to feel lighter.

“I look at our boys,” I begin, clinging tightly to my blanket and looking up at the stars for the strength I need to say what I need to say. “And I feel like they’re already complete. They have each other, they have ARMY, they’re complete. They have no idea that soulmates are even a thing, let alone that they have soulmates. There’s a part of me that’s mad about that. Mad that for the last three years I’ve been waiting for a man that is already happy without me, that is already more loved that he can even fathom. Mad at freaking Mr. Bang,” Soon chuckles, knowing how much I love and hate the man, “because he refuses to tell them until the ‘time is right’. It’s been three years! And I’ve picked myself back up and tried my hardest to continue on in my career, and it’s fulfilling. I have the most amazing friends in the world, my family is so loving and supportive, and I love my job.”

I stop, nearly panting as my anger fades into something sharper, jabbing at my heart as hot tears spill out onto my cheeks. Soon squeezes my shoulder, bringing me back to the present.

“So why do I feel so lonely?”

I lose the ability to go on speaking, the words too heavy to push out anymore. Instead I simply stare down at my knuckles that clutch the blanket so hard they’re white.

“Oh, Beth. I’m so sorry. Here I was, thinking that it was physically impossible for you to miss Namjoon. Turns out you’re just like me!” Kyung-Soon chuckles even as she wipes the tears from my eyes. “And I know what you’re thinking. How can I miss someone I’ve never met? Easy.” She holds a hand to her heart, and for a moment I can see through my tears enough to see the faraway look in her eyes, mingled with pain and adoration. “Jin has my heart. The idiot doesn’t even realize it, but he’s got it. So I just hope that he returns it to me soon, and in person. That way I can give him a taste of his own medicine and steal his heart. See how he likes it.”

I can’t help but laugh at the evil wink Soon sends me.

“He’ll probably fall in love with you the second he sees you, Soon-ah.”

“What’s that word you taught me again? When I want to say the same thing back?

Another chuckle falls from my lips. “Ditto?”

“Yeah, that. Ditto, Beth. Namjoon won’t know what hit him.”

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butchlilith · 3 years

Text

try again (and again and again); a niles/daphne fic

summary: niles has chance after chance to tell daphne how he feels, and he doesn’t keep his mouth shut. at least, not in every sense. three confessions that didn’t happen and probably shouldn’t have.

words: 7.5k

rating + warnings: pg-13. one of these is the obligatory “daphne hates sherry” alternate ending, so some discussion of sex is present.

notes: old draft of some experimentation with voice, c.a. early-mid 2019, cleaned up a little bit for publishing. possibly my first and only str*ight frasier fic? by which i mean "i don't actually know how straight people do anything, but niles is ostensibly a man in this one." also available (with better page breaks) on ao3.

part one. how it ends.

scenario 117. She leaves the next morning more shamefully than any fling’s apartment, leaves after breakfast and a real apology. Dr. Crane’s brother is a bit too eager to act as reference, and Daphne never does find out what he says that gets her placed as fast as she is. It’s not a live-in position, but the pay’s a bit better, and the patient’s wife gives Daphne a discount when she visits her shop, so she doesn’t mind. She finds an apartment on the Hill with a lenient policy on pets and swears off men for just over three years.

scenario 406. Niles doesn’t ask again, even after the divorce. He spends more time with Daphne than he’d ever hoped—he even joins her on a trip to some kind of outlet mall one day—and gets further from telling her with each hour. When he notices what they are now, Dad will give him too much sympathy, and Niles will insist that he prefers it this way, and Frasier will analyze all of it to death. There’s never a proper ending, not one that either of them can point to, but they know that something is over. They only half know what it is.

scenario 421. They’re horrible secret-keepers, and the secrecy was much of the appeal of their arrangement, whatever that arrangement was. Without it, they are Frasier’s pet project and the butt of their friends’—that is, Niles’s friends (few) and Daphne’s friends (many), separate entities, for they have no real friends in common—jokes. They last longer than the heat does, but they break just as suddenly. Eventually, they will confess to feeling the same relief, too.

part two. the “it” in question.

scenario 117. For the longest time, everything is comfortably quiet. Just the drum of the rain, the occasional crack of the fire. Dr. Crane running his fingertips along her arm. Dr. Crane kissing her. Dr. Crane kissing her more gently than she’s ever been kissed. And it’s strange, if not entirely unexpected, but it’s nice, too, in its way. Nice in the way he’s always been nice, sometimes maybe a bit too eager, and other times maybe a bit too reserved, but so impossibly aware that she can’t help but think there’s a kindness to it. But it’s really that—the awareness—before anything else. Daphne’s sure of it: She knows because he’s mirroring her. And he’s able to mirror her because she’s kissing him. And she’s kissing him because she likes it and probably because she’s a bit on the rebound at the moment but mostly that first one because Eric certainly didn’t ever do what he’s doing now, and it’s hard to call something a rebound when it’s that much better than the real thing. Hard to call something a rebound when you can hardly picture yourself wanting to stop getting closer to him. When your hands are doing everything they can to keep that from happening.

And that’s how she realizes: “This isn’t right.”

“Oh,” he says, and Daphne comes close to forgetting her morals because he’s moving his hand back to hers, as if she hadn’t appreciated (more than appreciated) what he’d chosen to do with his just before. “I can— I suppose I’m so used to—” He stops himself. He’s realized it, too. “Oh, that’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Of course,” he says.“It was foolish of me to think…”

Daphne assumes, at least at first, that he plans on finishing this thought, but he stays quiet, well after the time it could take anyone to supply the right word. So, he’s staying quiet, and Daphne has just learned what becomes of the quiet between them. She knows that it can’t happen again. “Me too,” she says.

“You?” he asks. They’re not touching at all anymore. His choice this time, not Daphne’s. She wishes she weren’t keeping track.

“Yes,” she says, and her voice is certain even as he goes on over it, because if she doesn’t admit it, there’s really no way she can go on respecting herself.

“How were you—?”

“Well, thought you might’ve noticed in the moment, but I wasn’t exactly stopping you, was I?”

“Of course not,” he says, and it’s like she’s made it worse. “How could you have? You were in my home, in my— In her— And distraught and shocked and I—”

“You were, too,” she says because he was. Those last two, that is. More than she was, even. “Didn’t stop either of us.”

“But I—”

Daphne isn’t listening. She says, “Look at me.”

He doesn’t, but he tells her, “I have been.” And then, like it’s not the fault Daphne’s third-worst decision about an outfit to date, he adds, “If I hadn’t, we would never have had this problem.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she says. “I come into your house, and you’re a perfect gentleman to me, and when your wife’s clothes are too small for me, I find this. What else could you have thought?”

“Well, Maris has a very delicate build,” he says. This is a bit on the generous side to all three of them. Daphne can picture them laughing about it, if all of this were different.

“I could have borrowed something of yours if it were such a problem,” she says, already resenting the fact that she’s making excuses like this. “Nothing sexy about that, swimming in a man’s trousers, but I decided to try this on and—”

“No, no, I should have known—” He nearly touches her again when he says this, and Daphne nearly indulges herself in letting him, but he seems to remember what brought them to this point because he draws his hand away at the last possible moment.

“But you couldn’t have,” Daphne says. It’s too quiet. She’s supposed to be angry. At someone. Preferably Dr. Crane. “I didn’t even know until it happened, and it felt… I thought—” She sighs, and the anger’s here at last. “Well, I didn’t think, did I? I just put my—”

Daphne’s put a few too many things a few too many places, but Dr. Crane isn’t listening, so it hardly matters if she says hands or tongue or dignity because he just says, “I’m a psychiatrist,” before she can even decide which the worst of them is.

“Did you know, then?” Daphne asks.

And then he says, “I should have.”

“No, I mean…” It’s embarrassing now, knowing that he’s convinced that she’s the vulnerable one in all this, but she does need that answer. For some reason. A reason that is definitely rational. “Did you know that we…?”

“Oh, I…” He hums like he’s searching for a diplomatic answer to the question. “Only when you… and I…”

“So it was my fault.”

“Not at all. I was—”

“Didn’t think you were the type of man to… Then, suppose I did think, or I wouldn’t’ve…” She tilts her head back, resting it on the seat of the chair behind her, partly from exhaustion and partly from a fear of what would happen if she looked him in the eye.

“And now?” he asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“Of course.” He’s being too kind, maybe because he’s a gentleman or maybe (most likely, Daphne decides on the basis recent events) because he thinks she’s not as smart as he is, but he’s being kind, and Daphne wishes more than anything that he’d stop.

She says, “We really didn’t do anything.” Vaguely, Daphne recognizes his interruption (“Daphne, I—”), then goes on anyway. “You know, a kiss between friends. Bit more involved than I’m used to, but what else? Hands may’ve gotten a bit off track, but whose haven’t?”

“Mine haven’t.”

“Don’t know if you’d still want to say that, Dr. Crane.”

“Of course,” he says again. “They hadn’t. Past tense. And now they have, and my marriage is in shambles, and I certainly can’t tell Frasier or Dad or— I won’t be able to come to his apartment. How do I explain that? You spend one night in my home and suddenly— They’ll know in an instant.”

Daphne can’t help but look up. “This a pattern for you?” she asks, and she’s almost hoping the answer is yes. No, scratch almost. She’s really hoping the answer is yes. Because she can’t be interested in a man with a wandering eye. Not a wandering eye with a passport filled up faster than Mrs. Crane’s, anyhow. And she doesn’t want to be interested in Dr. Crane, no matter how much she liked kissing him.

“No, no, oh, God, no,” he says, because tonight clearly isn’t Daphne’s night. He seems ready to say more, which Daphne hopes will be something unforgivable. But tonight, again, is not Daphne’s night. He looks outside and takes off his jacket. “Would you wear this?” he asks, bringing up a number of unfortunate realities.

“And didn’t I say—”

“No, no, I didn’t—” Dr. Crane seems to regret this choice of words. “It’s cold here,” he revises, “in the house, um, particularly when it rains, and with you in so little...”

“Seems a bit like you’re implying something.”

“Oh. No, I— That was—”

“Just having some fun,” Daphne says, not entirely sure that she is. “Too fresh?”

“No, ah—Hm.” He pauses, and Daphne is forced to spend the intervening seconds guessing whether he’ll actually keep talking this time. He does: “No, I think we’ve passed the point of forwardness.”

“Soon, I mean.”

“Even better. Ten minutes?” A weak laugh. Hideously weak. “Lifetimes away.”

“All right, then,” she says. He hesitates. Daphne nods. And just like this, they are near each other again. He could lay the jacket over her shoulders. Could even hold it out for her, the way he’s done before, so that she could slip her arms inside. He doesn’t. Not this time. Daphne takes it by the collar and puts it on herself. Dr. Crane folds his hands.

It’s quiet, the way it was before, and Daphne refuses to be surprised again. She says, “I don’t have to keep working for your father.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Well, you may remember where you—”

“I remember. I mean—“ He frowns. “No, that is what I mean. You know, you really should—”

And there’s plenty that Daphne knows she should do, but she doesn’t care to be reminded, so she says, “I suppose you’re right. But that’s just the point, isn’t it? I’m going to be walking around your brother’s place, and you’ll stop by, and we’ll say hello and all that, but then what? I—” She considers redirecting the thought, then decides against it. “I don’t mean to imply anything by this, Dr. Crane, but I was getting to appreciate your company.”

“Were you?”

“Wouldn’t have come here tonight if I wasn’t,” she says. Whispers, really, if she’s honest with herself, but she’d really rather not be because, being honest, she has to admit that it’s hard to take something like that platonically.

“Ah,” he says, and Daphne swears he heard it too, because he’s nearly smiling now. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“I just don’t think it would be wise to hang about where you’re likely to drop in, after something so…” There isn't a word she can use here that doesn't mean admitting that she knew what she was doing. She doesn't use any.

“Yes?” he asks, which feels a bit hypocritical given his history. She hadn’t asked him what he’d meant after all, and not for lack of wanting.

“It doesn’t matter. I just— You know I would never mean any offense, but you can be a bit sensitive sometimes.”

For a moment, he sounds like himself again, which means that he sounds like his brother, and Daphne thinks it's over. “I’d hardly—” he says, but he doesn't continue. “No, no, you’re right, of course. I can. But to think of you... giving up your life over one indiscretion…”

“I’d say it was more than one.”

“Of course, yes, I…” He hums again, and Daphne’s back to waiting for him to say something, even if it’s not honest. Maybe especially. He doesn’t.

She says, “You think I should keep working with your father, then?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“It sounded like you were trying to convince me—”

“Daphne?”

“What?”

“Do you plan on staying?”

“Tonight?” she asks, not sure if this is the question she’d like it to be. “I haven’t got much of a choice, have I?”

“No, no, I mean…”

“Forever,” Daphne suggests.

Dr. Crane presses his lips together. He looks painfully like himself like this. Then, he’s been himself the whole night, and Daphne knows that, she really knows that, but it’s harder like this. No way to maintain the illusion now. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t see how I could.”

“It would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not that I… I just think— With you…”

“With me, yes. Could I—?” He adjusts his posture so that it almost looks relaxed, except for the way it happens—almost spasmodically. “There’s been something on my mind recently.”

“Yes?”

“When I— When you came here, tonight, and you…” He frowns, like he doesn’t quite know what to say. “Daphne,” he decides. “You have a lovely name. Do you hear that often? Daphne. A naiad, wasn’t she? Daphne. Then, maybe I’ve been a bit on the Dionysian side tonight.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s the first time either of them have said it since. Daphne doesn’t know what it means. Doesn’t know if he’s apologizing for more than a misunderstanding. “I’m avoiding the point,” he says and runs a hand through his hair. The gesture lends a sort of exhaustion to his appearance, so that his exhale feels heavier than it is.”You really don’t suppose we’ll be able to forget this?” he asks.

“It’d be easier if we didn’t see each other as much, but…”

“You said, before I… Before we… This… You said that you wanted—” And, God, she finally knows where this is going, and she hates every bit of it, because she still feels so terribly close to him. Still wants someone to love her the way she thought he loved Mrs. Crane but can’t possibly love Mrs. Crane because if he did he wouldn’t have done what they’ve done, wouldn’t be saying what he’s saying. And the part of her that’s still crashing from the breakup believes him. Believes that it could be him. Wants it to be, even.

But Daphne isn’t stupid and certainly not as stupid as he must think she is, so she says, “You shouldn’t.”

“I know that, but I—” and she can feel him saying it now, and she can feel herself believing him even though she shouldn’t. And it’s not just the part of her that’s been broken up with, or the part of her that hasn’t had decent sex in six months, or the part of her that’s stuck in some childish romantic daydream. It’s just Daphne. Wanting him to tell her what he can’t possibly mean. He stops himself. He looks at her for too long, with the eyes she never noticed until tonight. He sighs. “You know,” he says, and Daphne knows the moment has passed, “you’re right. I shouldn’t. It’s late, and I’ve embarrassed myself quite enough, so… Our rooms aren’t the most comfortably furnished, I’m afraid, and, under present circumstance, I can hardly imagine… Where would you like to sleep?”

Daphne doesn’t let herself answer foolishly.

scenario 406. Here is everything that goes better than Niles predicted: Daphne is not horrified. She does not immediately flee the scene, does not reach for the phone to book the next flight back to Manchester, does not so much as flinch when he asks her. She just looks at him with the eyes about which Niles has sworn to himself he will no longer wax poetic, presses together the lips about which Niles has sworn to himself he will no longer fantasize, and nods. It could almost pass for assent.

And then she says, “You’re married.”

And this is technically true, but he says, “Separated,” because there isn’t much else he can say with the potential to right this minor detail.

“Still married,” she says, and, really, she’s right, but, really, there is very little Niles can do about this at the moment, and he doubts Daphne will still be available the next.

So he says,“I suppose I am, aren’t I?” and waits for what is probably not entirely enough time before continuing. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“You are.” She exhales in a way that almost sounds like a laugh.

“I know. I meant the other question.”

“I thought I did,” she says. There’s no way for Niles to convince himself that she’s laughing this time.

But he’s committed to his optimistic streak, even as he watches her settle onto the arm of the couch, back toward him, so he says, “Oh?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. Her voice is clear even though he can’t see her face. Insistent. “You’re married.”

“Separated,” he corrects.

“And married.”

“And married, yes But, if, hypothetically, I were no longer married—“

Daphne turns back to face him. “You’re going to divorce your wife?”

“It’s a possibility. That’s why we’re speaking hypothetically.”

“Right,” she says. She’s facing the kitchen again, meaning Dad’s chair is the logical place to sit if he hopes to conduct anything resembling a normal human conversation. He sits instead on the cushion nearest her, functionally eliminating the possibility, and Daphne says, “Well, you’d be divorced.”

“Yes, that’s typically how it works.”

“You think I’d date a man right after his divorce?”

“Well, perhaps if he—”

“He needs time,” she says, and this really is better than Niles predicted—not because it’s not a no, and not because it suggests that there is maybe, someday the possibility of a yes, but because she means that she loves him.

But Niles cannot say, “I love you, too,” because she hasn’t actually said that she loves him, and, even if she had, that may be moving at something of a brisk pace given circumstance. So he says, “Yes, I suppose he does,” because this is the nearest he can get. Daphne, evidently, appreciates the gesture, because she shifts properly this time, a full ninety degrees, so that neither of them has to contort to see the other.

“So,” Niles says, “and this is still hypothetical, of course—if we suppose that I—that he—were divorced, and he’d been divorced for some time, and he’s completely over Maris—his wife, I mean… Would you…?”

Daphne grins and it is, for a moment, as if nothing has changed between them. As if they’re still dancing, or talking about her brothers, or watching the last half The Shop Around the Corner. “You’re asking if I’d ever date a man who’s been married before?”

“Yes.”

“Any man?” she asks. In another, better world, the first half of their conversation has not happened at all, and Daphne is asking this hopefully, longing for Niles to at last say how he feels. But in this world, which naturally is worse, Niles has already said it, and Daphne has already declined. No, not declined. Something softer, enough to make Niles go on.

“Well,” he says, “hypothetically, say it were me.”

Daphne smiles again. “In this hypothetical,” she says, “did this man—did you—did you ask me, while you were married? Say, three hours after I’ve been dumped?”

“Yes,” Niles says, finally as ashamed as expected to be the moment he spoke. “He’s exactly the same person. Purely for the purposes of the hypothetical, of course.”

“Right.” There are roughly forty-three ways the old Niles could describe Daphne’s eyes in this moment before devolving to the shameful-if-accurate “sparkle” and its kind, but he remains set on avoiding this pattern. In any case, it doesn’t keep him from noticing.

“You can say no,” he says, pretending it does.

“I know.”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve been rejected,” he adds.

“I know.”

“I suppose I was asking for that, wasn’t I?”

“A bit,” Daphne says. Then, just as quickly, “You’re in my spot, you know.”

“Your…?”

“I always sit where you’re at now,” she says. “Then you’re the one over. Every time you’re here. Even half an hour ago. Right where you are.”

“You sat down first.”

“Well, I thought you’d be heading out soon. Getting late and all. Wasn’t going to settle back in just for you to leave, was I?”

“Oh, um…” Niles feels suddenly aware of how this all seems, suddenly aware of how out of practice he is. He’s in her home, after all. Looking at it most simply, he has her trapped here. The realization is less than romantic. “Should I?” he asks.

“Depends on whether you’ll be staying where you’re at,” she says, apparently unaware of the gravity of the question.

“You’re kidding.”

Daphne takes on a mock-serious expression. When she speaks, there seems to be a trace of Niles’s own voice in it: “You’re not telling me you’re unschooled in the high-stakes art of couch politics.”

“Couch politics?”

“Come on. You have a brother. You’re telling me you spent all those years in the same house and you didn’t have a spot on the couch?”

Niles considers this. He didn’t. “I had a nook,” he offers.

“A nook?”

“A nook,” he says. “I was never much of a couch child.”

“Oh. Suppose that adds up, really.” She waits—for what Niles is unclear—then seems to hit upon something. “Well, you’ve got a side of the bed, at least.”

“Have I?”

“Had one, then,” Daphne corrects—an insufficient amendment given the nature of Niles’s marriage. “Scoot.”

Niles complies, shifting so that he sits exactly at the center of the cushion. Daphne sits beside him, closer to him than strictly necessary. Niles attempts to dismiss this fact. He says, “We slept apart.”

“Come on,” she says. Her right shoulder bumps up against his left. The action itself is entirely dismissible. Becoming swept up in it is entirely inevitable. “I’m not married, but I’ve got a side.”

“Have you ever considered that you’re simply a particularly territorial person?” he asks.

Daphne laughs. “Coming from the man who’s got a whole separate bedroom from his wife,” she says, and Niles resolves to take the opportunity he’s been given to redirect. “That’s rich.”

“So, ah, if I didn’t have a wife,” he says, “and I hadn’t for some time, and I happened to ask you on a date…”

“Oh.” Her voice sounds as if she has genuinely forgotten. Niles isn’t sure what to make of this, whether there is perhaps some distant possibility of normalcy between them after all. “Right.”

“You could say no,” Niles says, casually if not for the slowness of it, as if it’s the first time he’s saying it.

“Right.”

“So,” he says, decidedly less casually.

“I could say no.”

It isn’t a question, but Niles answers it like one: “Easily.”

“Long time to wait for a rejection, though, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure he’s waited longer.” And then, because the possibility is so strangely beguiling, to think that this could be over—to think that perhaps everything could return to the way it was—he says, “But it would be a no?”

“It could be,” she says, which is consuming in another way.

“But not necessarily?”

Niles watches Daphne study him, withdraws into that world of imagining himself in her place. By the time she answers, she’s directed her gaze toward the television, the pair of them reflected in its black screen, where Margaret Sullavan and James Stewart had stood just before them. “I’d have to think.”

Niles says, “Of course.”

“I’ve known him for years,” she says. Her eyes are still on the television, unfocused now. “What would it be by then? Five?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Daphne hums. The sound of it is excruciatingly mellifluous. “You know,” she says, and this is all it takes to know that what follows will be worse still, “hypothetically, don’t think it’d be a bad idea for him to get divorced.”

“Oh?”

“You know,” she says again, and this time he knows nothing at all. “Deserves someone who cares about him.”

“Ah. And that’s why you wouldn’t…?”

“I might,” she says.

“Of course,” he says.

“If it felt right.”

“That is everything, isn’t it? Feeling right,” he says and, for the first time in recent memory, keeps himself from revising the thought. “The strangest thing. For years, I thought that meant feeling comfortable.”

Daphne finally looks back to him. “You’re still comfortable with her?”

“I would be,” he says, “if this all ended, and we were still married.”

“But you don’t want that.” Her tone is indecipherable, or else Niles is resisting his need to decipher it. He resists his need to decipher the disjunctive.

“Maris doesn’t.”

“Then you do,” she says.

“Maris doesn’t.”

“Well, then it’s like I said,” Daphne tells him. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

“I suppose I should say, ‘Maris doesn’t,’” he says.

Daphne shrugs. “Be a nice symmetry.”

“It would. I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Dr. Crane”—this is a blow all its own, but Niles supposes he can hardly expect better—“I don’t mean to be rude, but, when you say all this, you have to understand why I said what I did.”

“Of course,” he says, and he does, though he’d easily prefer the alternative. “It would be foolish of us, wouldn’t it?”

“A bit. Doesn’t mean you can’t date other women, though.” And then, with a wink, “Or something other than date, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Oh, well, I suppose so,” he says before realizing that this, perhaps, is not the best of times to ignore a gesture’s possible implications. “Of course, not— That wasn’t why I was asking—“

“You asked me on a date because you didn’t want to have sex with me?” This is fair if unanticipated, and Niles wonders just how visibly warm he’s become. Too visibly, surely.

“Ah, I, well, not— I don’t mean to—“

“Oh, I understand,” Daphne says. “Just having fun. And, speaking of, there’s this bar Roz told me about, just off Pike. She said she’d go with me, but…”

“I wouldn’t want you to cancel your plans.”

Daphne waves away the thought. “Oh, no.” She takes up an exaggerated new expression. ”’Strangest thing,’” she says, now miming the presence of a phone in her hand, as if the point couldn’t have been made without it, “‘but before I even got the chance, someone’s already gone and asked me on a date. Oh, yes, he’s gorgeous.’” (Niles makes the gallant effort to take this for the joke that it is.) “‘Anyway, I told him I was free tomorrow night…’”

scenario 421. Like this, Niles finally has sex with Daphne. And it isn’t particularly good. It isn’t bad, because it couldn’t be bad, but it isn’t good because... Well, it’s Daphne, of course, but it’s also Daphne, and the Daphne that occupies Niles’s fantasies is not quite the Daphne that he knows, and he knew this already, because he willed it to be so, but this means that, for all the years of dreaming of a woman who was nearly her, Niles is entirely unprepared for the real thing.

Of course, the Daphne-who-was-not-Daphne never was quite the same even as herself. One evening, nervous and softer than anything. The next, certain and stopping for nothing. Most recently, for the third time in eight months, speaking to him. Telling him everything he was too afraid to tell her. Everything. So that when they finally did have sex (because that was, admittedly, always the reason for this not-quite-Daphne’s appearance), it was nearly an afterthought. A pleasant afterthought—an exceedingly pleasant afterthought—but an afterthought nonetheless.

Even in all of this, it was never quite so awkward. They were never unused to each other in the fantasies, never hesitated after each first touch (before, perhaps, but never after), never seemed to be three seconds out of sync. And Daphne never kissed him like the real Daphne does. It isn’t bad, necessarily, not first-kiss bad, or even two-too-many-drinks bad (though it is nearly as messy), or, really, bad at all, except that it is, just a bit, if Niles is completely honest with himself. But mostly, and this is really about ninety-five percent of it, it’s surprising. New.

“Daphne?” he asks, and saying her name is enough to convince him that the sex was not bad or mediocre or even merely good. It was, Niles is now certain, easily the best sex two people have ever had. Not two. Any number. The best sex ever had, period.

But Daphne isn’t looking at him. She isn’t touching him. (How strange for that to be noteworthy!) She seems entirely set on forgetting everything they’ve done—already back in that borrowed dressing gown, half-sitting in his bed since returning to it, head tilted toward the ceiling. She replies anyhow: “Yes?”

“How are you?” This is not necessarily the question Niles had intended to ask, is not necessarily suave or charming—is not necessarily much of anything but strangely melodic, which is not quite the impression Niles had had in mind. But he says it, in the spirit of the day, because he can’t help but to say it with Daphne there, in his bed, looking as she does. More directly, which is to say more honestly, he says it on an impulse.

“All right,” she says. Polite. Noncommittal. “And you?”

“Similarly,” he says. “But I’d really—“

“We’ve really made a choice with this one, haven’t we?” She laughs at this, just barely, and he does, too, allowing them both the diversion.

“Yes, it seems we have.”

“Have to admit I never really thought…” Daphne sighs, and this calls to mind several events Niles expects to sustain him for at least the next decade. “You know. Us.”

“And now that we have…”

“Bit funny, isn’t it?” she says.

Niles considers this. Of all the words he has prepared for this occasion, funny was never among them. Still, it’s preferable to many of the alternatives, particularly given how readily mistake springs to mind. “Yes.”

“Never thought you’d be—” Daphne wrinkles her nose, conveying an emotion Niles can’t quite interpret. “Well, I suppose that means I must’ve thought about how you’d actually be, but… What about you?”

“You’re asking me if I ever thought about—?”

At this, Daphne relaxes slightly and turns to her side, resting her head in her right hand. Relief at her apparent lack of repulsion aside, Niles wishes Daphne would have waited, this being quite easily the moment at which he would least like to face her. Nearly smiling now, she says, “Sex. With me.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, come on,” she says, still painfully buoyant. (Niles thinks she will touch him again, but her arm stops short of his.) “No reason to be embarrassed now, if you have.”

“Isn’t there?” he asks, for he has come up with fifteen in the time since her asking.

“So you have?”

“Well,” Niles starts, but it’s obviously futile. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. Yes. I have.”

“You always have been a flatterer,” she says. “So, did I measure up?”

And he says, “Oh.”

Daphne echoes him, dropping her voice: “‘Oh.’” She laughs. “Suppose I spoke a bit soon there.”

The answer, most honestly, the thrill of saying her name aside, is no because four years of trying to substitute fantasies of someone for an actual sex life makes for somewhat unrealistic expectations. The answer, somewhat honestly, is that, yes, in terms of his actual sex life with actual women who existed for longer than thirty minutes at a time, Daphne was... Daphne was... “Oh, well, I—”

“It’s all right if I didn’t,” she says before he has the chance to further embarrass them both. “I mean, wouldn’t be the kindest thing for you to say to me after… Do you have any more of that pineapple?”

“Oh, um, let me— Did we finish it?”

“I’m not sure. Got a bit swept up in the moment, I suppose.”

“Right,” he says, but any grasp he had once had on his composure has vanished. “I’ll— Actually, I don’t know that it would still be particularly— You know, sitting out. I could make you something?”

Daphne laughs until it fades into a sigh. “With all due respect,” she says, “I’ve seen the kind of dinner you serve your dates.”

Because now seems an inappropriate time to confess that, in fact, he had never had any intention of inviting anyone else for dinner that night, Niles says nothing, and Daphne accepts the invitation to continue.

“It’s for the best, really. Can’t imagine sitting in this heat with an oven going as well.”

“It doesn’t have to be—“

Daphne stands. “I’m going to take a look,” she says.

“For what?”

“See whether we’ve left any pineapple. Is it all right if I bring it back here?”

Since his separation, Niles has adopted a stricter policy with regard to eating in the bedroom, figuring that, when living alone, such an allowance could only lead to his regression into the worst sort of bachelor. Also, he no longer pays someone to wash his sheets. Both of these points, however, feel increasingly trivial in the context of recent events. “Certainly.”

And with this, Daphne is past the doorway, and Niles is alone, and he supposes he’ll have to get used to that feeling again, once the awkwardness of their own situation outweighs the abrasiveness of the other. And just as quickly, she’s back, and Niles makes an effort to indulge in this more pleasant reality while it lasts.

“Anyway,” she says, settling into the bed with the platter a bit more precariously than Niles had hoped, “back to what I was saying. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t…”

“Oh.” This is an unfortunate redevelopment, as Niles had hoped that her own diversion had been sufficient in turning the topic of conversation elsewhere. “Are you still—?” he asks.

“Well, when you’re working that hard to keep from answering, can’t help wondering—“

Niles attempts a redirection of his own. “Drawing comparisons is…”

Daphne takes a bite of pineapple, and the silence between this moment and her reply does nothing to conceal the flaccidity of this attempt. “You did, anyway. More than.”

“Oh,” Niles says, deciding to overlook the less-than-complimentary implications of this formulation. This afternoon’s developments aside, he is not a man terribly accustomed to such good fortune; no other reactions are in his repertoire.

“It is all right if I say that, isn’t it?”

“Of course. I— Does that mean you—?” he asks. He means, Does that mean you intend to do this again? but saying it aloud seems to be crossing one too many a boundary, so he refrains.

“Do you?” she asks, presumably meaning the same.

“Well, we’d have to be more—” Careful, he thinks, but they were careful. Particularly him. Particularly in a way he would really rather he hadn’t been. “Today, we were—” Reckless, he thinks, but they weren’t reckless. They progressed in the smallest of steps, and they both knew it, well before it happened, and the real risk of recklessness is whatever he’s about to say knowing that he wants it to happen again. “We shouldn’t—” He reaches for a strawberry.

“But you’d like to,” Daphne says.

Thinking this is dangerous and saying it worse, but Niles does think it. He does want it, and more desperately than before, but more desperately still, he does not want to lose whatever they had that made her want to stay with him. “Only if you would.”

“You can say you’d like to without qualifying it, you know. If you would, that is.”

“I wouldn’t want to overstep,” Niles says, as if he could have reached this point by any other stride. (The strawberry in his hand is still uneaten. There are several versions of Niles that would choose to weave this into a less-than-artful metaphor.)

“All right,” Daphne says. Niles, at this moment, finally takes a bite from the strawberry, and he feels her eyes on her as he does. He hears the way her voice drops when she says, “I think I would.”

“You would?”

She laughs. “What, just being polite?”

“God, no.” This is too much. Niles knows it before he’s finished saying it, but the afternoon has already rewarded his imprudence; he has a streak going. “I— No. I— So… Hm. What would you like? From… this, I mean.”

“Oh, I’m an adult, I can handle—“

“I wouldn’t ask you to handle—”

“All right,” Daphne says. “Usually go on a few dates before sleeping with someone, but I suppose we’re past that, so the next best—“

Niles has imagined a few hundred too many ways of formulating the question to be beaten to asking it. He says, “Would you like to go on a date?”

“I wasn’t asking for that.“

“What were you asking?”

“I wasn’t asking anything.”

“What would you like?”

“Well, I’ve already told you, haven’t I?”

“Would you remind me?”

“I’d like you to stop asking me what I’d like,” she says, and Niles remembers suddenly that it was an argument that brought her here. “I’d like you to tell me what you’d like.”

“Well, if it isn’t overstepping…”

Daphne sounds almost annoyed, replying too soon and too briefly: “It isn’t.”

“I’m afraid my motivations today haven’t been entirely pure.”

“I noticed that when—”

“No, no, after that. I— This isn’t entirely how I planned to tell you…”

Daphne’s face softens. She speaks more slowly than she has in months: “You’ve been wanting to tell me something?”

“Yes. For some time. I just can’t seem to say it.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been a wonderful friend to me lately.”

“If I was really that bad, you could just tell me.”

“No,” Niles says, the inappropriateness of his long-practiced admission only now occurring to him. “No. It’s— It isn’t that. I couldn’t say it, before, because you had been such a good friend, but we…”

“You can say that we’ve ruined it,” she says.

“We’ve taken a risk.”

“We don’t have to keep doing this.”

“I— Of course not, no. I was— I’d like to go on a date. With you.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“I’m not—“

“You know, you’ve always been such a gentleman to me.” Daphne licks the pineapple juice from her fingers, and Niles can imagine nothing further from the truth. Then, his imagination is otherwise occupied. “Even today. Especially, really. But it’s not the same, something like this. Don’t have to ask me just because we’ve had sex.”

“I’m not.”

“Dr. Crane—“

“Please, call me—“

Daphne doesn’t acknowledge his interruption. “I’ve seen the kind of women you date.”

“Who are you—?” Niles tries without success to work through the steps that led her here. “There’s Maris, Adelle…”

“That’s just what I mean, though.” She offers a wry smile and another strawberry. Niles accepts. “No one like me there, is there?”

“That’s certainly true.”

“So, you’re expecting me to believe that, after all that, you’re going to start dating me?”

“Not dating, necessarily,” Niles says, reasoning that it would be in bad taste to detail just why such a departure might be welcome. “We could start with one. You— I seem to remember you having a fondness for first dates.”

“I do,” she says. “You don’t.”

“I don’t. I was hoping that this one might be different.”

“And if it is?”

“A second, maybe.” With an intention that embarrasses him the moment he does it, Niles takes another strawberry as he continues. “A third. Fourth. Fifth…”

“Sounds like we’d be dating.”

“We could,” he says. “Eventually.”

“And until then, what?”

Cautiously (and probably too optimistically), Niles says, “We could keep…”

“We could.”

“Is that—?”

“Yes.”

“Are you—?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” At Daphne’s grin, Niles rushes to amend this. “I don’t usually say— Not that I’m frequently— Being recently separated— But you… I— I’m sorry.”

“I like that,” Daphne says. “’Thank you.’ It’s sweet.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“Second one’s not quite the same.”

“Ah. I don’t suppose it ever is.”

“Could always get it out of the way now.”

“Oh.” Niles knows he must say more than this, knows that Daphne is already rounding the corners of her mouth to imitate him if he doesn’t. He says the only thing he can both think and bear to say: “You called me Dr. Crane earlier.”

“I’m not doing that while we’re having sex,” Daphne says. “Last time I— Oh, well, never mind that, but—”

“I don’t want you to do that.”

“Too ethical for a bit of roleplay?” This feels like something of a turn, but Niles is still too dazed by Daphne’s earlier suggestion to voice it.

“As it happens,” Niles says instead, then considers this, too. Realistically, he concludes, this is a far more generous interpretation of the request than he deserves and certainly less pathetic than the reality. “Something like that, yes.”

“Well, don’t worry. It’s nothing I’m after.” When Daphne speaks again, her voice has lost its firmness: “Why’d you bring it up, anyway?”

“I— We’re— This isn’t just sex?”

“I think ‘just’ is a bit unfair.”

“No, I mean… No, it doesn’t… Would you call me Niles?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“I’m sorry?” Niles says.

“I mean, when we’re alone, that’s one thing, but if I start doing it then, I’m liable to start slipping it in other places, and, before you know it, it’ll be in front of your father. And how’d I explain that? I know we’ve been a bit friendlier as of late—”

“I think we may have passed by friendly sometime this afternoon.”

“Well, that’s just my point, isn’t it?” she says. “I spend a few evenings alone with you in four years, and all of a sudden I’m calling you by your first name.”

“And you don’t want to tell them?” Niles asks.

“Tell my boss I’ve been sleeping with his brother?”

“Ah,” Niles says, the general configuration of their relationship at last settling in. “I suppose not. Then, I believe your use of the present perfect continuous would imply something of a more extended arrangement, at which point it may be appropriate to use the word ‘dating.’”

“You know, I really don’t know that I’m sure about that.”

“Oh. Of course.” (And it really is what he had expected all along.) “I certainly wouldn’t want to rush— Of course, to some extent we already have, but—”

“It’s just—“ Daphne pauses. Niles watches the movement of her eyes until they meet his. She continues: “It all seems a bit strange, doesn’t it? The two of us. Dating, I mean. Not that I’d planned on this happening either, but I can’t even imagine where we’d go.”

“Where would you like to go?”

part three. how it starts.

scenario 117. Daphne puts on Mrs. Crane’s negligee because it fits and she’s never touched anything so soft and possibly also because she really needs the reminder that she’s worth something. Beside Dr. Crane, she feels it. Every time he speaks, she feels it more and she likes him more and she comes closer and closer to doing something reckless. He does it first.

scenario 406. It’s just them in the living room again, in spite of Frasier’s best efforts. Daphne had surprised them all, earlier in the evening, and asked if, so long as it’s not too much trouble, Niles might want to stay and chat a bit, and Niles had said no, of course not, it couldn’t possibly be any trouble at all. By the time Niles gets the courage, they are dancing again, the way they haven’t since last winter, not-quite-there but not-quite-drunk on Frasier’s most mediocre wine. Before he speaks, before Daphne can feel his hands shaking, Niles pulls them apart.

scenario 421. The heat wraps them up, and Niles is trying to remember that old letter about summer and lethargy and something else, trying to forget each look that Daphne gives him, but he can’t do either. It’s too much, with the two of them so close, her smelling of his soap, wearing his dressing gown. It’s inevitable. She’s the one who acts first, in the end, the one who finally says it. She says it like it’s something rational, like she’s the one who has to worry about being rejected: “You know, Dr. Crane, if we’re both feeling the same way, and there really is just the one solution…” He finishes the sentence for her.

#frasier #frasier fic #niles crane #daphne moon #niles x daphne #fic*#by ''ostensibly a man'' what i mean is i wrote a modified canon niles #but personally i have been known to promote a good he/him lesbian niles head canonin my day so.....#no one could stop you from reading this that way (although it may have looked a bit different had that been my intention)#ANYWAY. please enjoy this dinosaur

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