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themanofgloom · 4 years

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Boogeydad Shenanigans

Summary: A cute, fun drabble about Ormad’s usual mornings with Rudy and what it’s like to sit inside his head!!

Trigger warnings: Plenty of self-deprecative thoughts, mentions of death, anxiety, cursing, drugs mention, ex-lover mention

If you can read it, it’s appreciated!!

You’ve been staying awake for the past hour. What are you doing sitting in bed. What time is it? No, you don’t even have a clock in the mansion -- idiot. You’re an idiot, that’s what you are, you understand? It’s not like you didn’t not know that days ago but just givin’ you a little reminder in case you forgot.

Rudy needs to go to school. Get up. Make breakfast for her early.

Noooo.... Ormad shut his eyes and rolled to his side, face shoved into his pillow. It’s probably not that late. Or maybe it’s really early. Yeah... more time to sleep, more time to kick back and relax. That’s great. He stretched his arms and legs, groaning quietly before squishing up again.

What’d he dream about last night? Wait-- no. Don’t think about it. Don’t, don’t, don’t. That was a hideous dream. He hated it. He scrunched his nose and moved it around. No, no, no. The dream was ugly and awful and he should think about something else. Like... like the blanket. The blanket smushed up against his back. Yes, think of that blanket like a person. Like, like a nice person cuddled up next to him because yes, they liked him very much, he was great.

No, that was stupid. Yes, it’s stupid, and I’m going to believe it.

Ormad sat up in his bed and blinked several times. His two dark feet stuck out at the end of his violet blanket. The room was pitch black; just the way he liked it. He yawned before laying back down again--

Squeeek!! Light poured into the room. He hissed and covered his face.

“Dad!” Rudy said. “Are you ready to go?”

Ready to go? What?? Then it hit him. A truck did. A truck of oh my lord, what a stupid ass you are!! “I-- um, well--”

“Come ooonnnn!” she urged. Rudy already had her signature hoodie on, as well as her sneakers (shoes in the house were fine -- were they?) and backpack. “They’re selling cupcakes in the morning today!!”

“Yes, yes, okay.” He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as she skipped on away. He pursed his lips and glared at nothing. His head shook.

Idiot, you could’ve been up earlier. You could’ve made her breakfast and you could’ve greeted her with a, “Good morning, sweetie! Look at all of this I made for you in just a few minutes!” You could’ve felt GREAT today and done something good for her, but instead you just laid here in bed like the lazy fool you are. Later on, when she grows up, she’s going to do the same thing; she’s not going to take care of you. She’ll let you wilt and suffer because you deserve it, you know that, you know--!

Ormad stumbled out of his room and slapped his hands through his hair. Messy. It was always messy. Not like he cared; he was too lazy to make himself look nice, anyway. He didn’t want to be so perked up and pretty and proper for the teachers. Because oh, what’d they expect out of him, some weird freak?

Hell yes he was a weird freak. Just not as weird as some other people. At least he could hide his weirdness. Yes.

Ormad met Rudy in one of the hallways. He was about to open up a portal to the Positive Side when she interrupted: “Dad!”

“Huh?”

“Did you pack stuff up? I got my water bottles, but where’s your backpack?” She wasn’t hostile or yelling in any way, but it sure as hell felt like it to him.

“Backpack? Why do I need a backpack?”

“Field trip! Remember?”

Oh no. Look. You big embarrassment. This is why she’s humiliated by you. First you slept in for hours without making her breakfast, and now she’s reminding you of something you should’ve remembered days ago. What the hell is wrong with you? Ormad clenched his fists and gestured wildly, not knowing what to do with his hands. “Um-- what do I bring, again?”

Rudy exhaled, her feet shuffling. “Daaaad. I talked to you about it yesterday.”

“I know.”

“And the day before.”

“I know, Rudy.”

“And now we’re gonna be late.”

“Can you tell me what I need?”

“The pamphlet we got and some shades.”

Pamphlet. Where the hell did he leave the pamphlet? Ormad’s stomach felt hot as he stormed around his room, searching anxiously through drawers and the sheets of his bed. Where was the pamphlet? Where the hell did he leave it?

“Rudy? Do you know where I put it?”

“I mean, I gave it to you a week ago, and you said you’d put it somewhere safe.”

A week ago. You see, that’s a great excuse. It’s not your fault that you don’t know where it is; it’s just the long amount of time between now and then. See? You did nothing wrong. Rudy just gave it to you too early.

Ormad fussed about, looking through the living room.

No, don’t think shit about your daughter like that. She’s your daughter. She’s your baby. She looks up to you and if you look down at her like that, guess what! She’s going to abandon you when she grows up and she’s gonna frolic over to one of those Rulers in the Positive Side and you’ll lose custody and be all alone!! So then you’ll be in a lonely cycle again and you’ll probably end up trying to do stupid shit to get her back. Don’t think about your daughter like that, she’s not dirt, you’re dirt, you can let her walk on you because her feet can’t crush you, but ohhhhhhhhhhh you can’t walk on her, you understand? You do that and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life and you’ll probably be asking yourself, “Why am I even

“Found it!” Ormad declared, holding up the pamphlet with a shaking hand.

“That’s great,” Rudy replied. “Come on. We gotta go!”

Ormad formed a backpack out of Negativity and stuffed the pamphlet into it. Then he looked himself up and down, tapping his claws together. “Do I look fine?”

“Yeah!”

“I should be disguised as someone. Something else. I’ll pretend to be a chaperone, but a Positive instead.”

“Dad, you’re fine.”

“Fine? I’m not fine. Maybe you are, but at this point they’ve gotten used to a human in their class. If they see me, there might be an attack on the trip and they’ll tear me apart, and then you’ll get hurt and die because you’re a human. You know that, right? How easily humans can bleed out like that?”

A sigh came from her, along with the rolling of her eyes. “It’s fine, Dad! Really.”

“Tell me fine when you--” No. Cut it out. Cut it off. He sewed his lips shut before anything else could get out, and he closed his eyes and exhaled. Stop. Breathe. Your daughter is not your therapist. Do not treat her like one. You ugly, monstrous, disastrous garbage fool.

Ormad opened the portal, and the two of them went in.

***

“You didn’t have to say that to the tour guide,” Rudy mumbled.

“Well, I defend myself when I need to,” Ormad replied. “It’s a little hard to deal with.”

“What?”

“Being me. That’s hard to deal with.” He tapped his claws on the edge of the table. There were no Positives in the room they were in, but there were plenty of Positives in the room next door. They’d been kicked out.

Ormad clenched his jaw, and his heart sank. “Am I pitying myself again?”

Rudy rubbed the back of her neck. “A little bit.”

Damnit. He thought he wasn’t. God, why couldn’t he just talk about himself for once?

Or maybe you talk about yourself all the time to the point where it sounds normal. You talk about yourself to yourself. That’s it. That’s normal for you. Change the topic and suddenly you’re being assaulted.

They sat there together in silence. Ormad was scratching the edges of the chair with his claws, bouncing his legs and glaring at nothing. Rudy sniffed.

“Hey, Dad,” she said quietly.

“... What is it, Rudy?”

Her small stubby fingers curled the strands of her dark hair. “Can I... tell you something? I’ve had it on my mind for a while now.”

“Anything, sweetie.” His heart was rising in his chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was she going to tell him? Was she going to say that he’d been using her as a doctor again? He thought he’d been just fine. No, you’re not fine and you know it. Something always slips by you, and before you can take it back the damage is already done and when you say sorry it just comes out as self-pity. So yes, maybe you did do something bad and now she’s going to tell you and your relationship with her is going to crumble and it’s going to be all your fault.

“There are therapists in the Positive Side,” Rudy told him. “Maybe you should get one.”

“... Therapist?” Ormad repeated, and he dryly chuckled. “I don’t need a therapist, Rudy. I’m completely fine on my own.”

“You don’t seem to be, Dad.”

“What are you talking about?” He ran a hand across the top of her head and gently patted it. “You’ve asked me this several times before. I’ve said no to every single question. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I asked you,” Rudy said. “I said, ‘Dad, do you want to get a therapist?’ But right now, I’m just saying you should get one. You need to.”

“I don’t need one, Rudy. Trust me.”

“You said to the tour guide that if he didn’t want to feel the same pain and suffering that you do, he should ‘back the hell off.’“

Ormad clenched his teeth. “He was just angering me.”

“But it happened last field trip, too. And the one before that, you had a breakdown.”

“Then maybe I should just stop coming on field trips,” he admitted. He averted his gaze. “But I can’t just leave you unsupervised. Imagine what they can do to you when I’m not around, Rudy. Terrible things.”

“Dad.”

“Yes.”

“Get a therapist.”

Ormad sighed and said nothing.

“You need help. Just get one. Please.”

Why should he? He wasn’t a weak little victim. He wasn’t going to let himself be vulnerable and open again to the wrong people. Rudy was the only one who understood him. And he didn’t even need to vent to her! It was fine. They were a perfect family. They were fine.

But then when she’ll get older, you’ll look at her differently, won’t you? And maybe you’ll be like those petty humans on Earth. You’ll say, “Hey, since she’s older now, she can handle things better!” So you’ll dump and dump all your pour little feelings on her and then she’ll get humiliated, maybe say something like, “Dad, please, stop, you’re hurting me!! I hate you, i hate you!!”

Because you don’t want to hear those words. You don’t want her to hate you because if she hates you, you’ll do anything and everything to get her to not hate you again. But she will continue to hate you when you don’t make the right choice and you can’t take it back because the mistake was YOUR fault, you understand?

And then she’ll go over to the Positives and the Rulers will tell her all about you and the terrible things you did to them when you were younger. She’s gonna get poisoned by them and then she’ll probably break into the Negative Side and try to kill you. Maybe that’ll happen -- oh yes, that’ll definitely happen!! Because gueesss whaaattt? You’re a stupid foolish clown. You’re just some jester with strings attached to you lala la la la la dancing for everybody to laugh at because you always tend to slip up and embarrass yourself, like this morning, or maybe that one time you let Alice nearly overdose and she said it was your fault, YOUR fault, but you said no, so then later she broke up with you and then you left the Earth because boohoo, you couldn’t do enough, could you?

And that’s why you’ll always enter a new door in life just to break it and lock it shut, because everything you touch wilts like a flower, and that’s why Rudy’s going to die before she becomes an adult, and that’s why you were so alone when you were younger and that’s why everybody betrayed you and that’s why you’re unloved and you’ll be forgotten and nobody NOBODY will ever ever FORGIVE YOU for what youve done to them and next up youre going to be forgotten by your own daughter because of what youve done to her so

QUIET

Startled, Ormad let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes. Rudy waited for a response, almost expecting none.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “I will. I’ll get one.”

For you, but not for me.

#Poetics And Potential ( writing drabbles/etc. )#You're A Brat. But You're My Kid And I Love You. ( Ormad & Rudy )#Negativity Itself ( Ormad )#drugs mention #death mention #long post

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grizztomysam · 5 years

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Put Me Back Together

Grizzam Reunion Fic

Another one...bc there are a good handful of amazing reunion fics from our talented fandom writers.

Disclaimer...it started as one thing and then grew into this monster a crazy thing that’s probably all over the place but c’est la vie...so here it is people. From the depths of my unfinished drafts list to you. I just Thank the Lord it’s one more unfinished work finally finished.

LOWKEY NSFW and some trigger warning for brief suicidal ideation.

============================

When Grizz returns, it’s to an angry and chaotic New Ham, now under moronic leaders puppeteered by a literal psychopath, Allie and Will in jail, his friends manifested into some modern type gestapo and his relationship with Sam as uncertain as the future of New Ham.

Threat of burning into ash is strong and imminent.

He longs to march straight to wherever Sam is, start anew from where they had left off that day he decided to put down his hurt and pride and promise Sam he’d return. Wants to steal him away far from everything and into the woods. But he heads instead for the long trek to the other side of town towards his childhood home, empty and unused since New Ham happened.

He ignores how his lips still smart from their last kiss in the clearing by the woods, so sudden and ending too quick. Ignores how he can still feel Sam’s hot breath, hurried and aching against his neck, hear the quiet whimper when he hugged back, tight, that almost made him fuck it all and stay.

Almost.

But he can’t. He won’t. He mustn't.

Eden has arrived and Sam needs to step up to necessary obligations. Put all focus on keeping some semblance of peace and safety for his family. Becca needs him more. More than Grizz believes he does. Because he does not fit into the equation that is Sam’s life now.

Grizz had promised to come back safe, he did, but nothing more.

Perhaps if Campbell wasn’t sitting on the throne, orchestrating their little world to fall into rubbled ruin....

But things are different now then they had been two weeks ago. So much, too much has transpired.

A new born baby, a young mother and the possibility of everything ending in violent dissonance trumps romantic love.

Because it’s love for Grizz. For years, even from afar, it’s always been love.

Others would argue it was infatuation or some concentrated form of obsession for the forbidden. But you don’t ache like Grizz did or know for certain without hesitation you’d step into the line of fire if ever Sam’s life was in question if it wasn’t love. He would have sacrificed everything if it meant Sam would hurt a little less.

And that one night that had been so perfect he had stayed awake, his eyes wet long after Sam fell asleep, happy and sated, his head nestled close into Grizz’s chest. Stayed awake, tracing sonnets onto Sam’s arm in the dark, because he lacked the courage or his own words to say I love you in the light.

Even if the gnawing sting from his chest to his throat does not ebb after his fifth shot from the secret reserve in the bottom drawer of his dad’s home office. Even if the pain that pricks his eyes and makes his nose run wants to rip him in two when his mind clears once again from the haze and he’s left with nothing but a quiet that screams and won’t let him sleep.

And when he does it’s always filled with brilliant blues, freckled skin that tasted of salt and cinnamon, strong limbs tangled with his and a “Come back to me” whispered in his ear.

==========

A couple weeks pass and he’s proud of his resolve.

Though there is a small part that thrums with an ache. Wonders where Sam is, how the baby and Becca are doing. If she has the same brilliant blues of her father’s. Wonders why Sam hasn’t tried to contact him. He is quick to tamp it down and bury it deep with earth and cement.

He keeps his head low. Stays home if he can help it, only ever venturing into town when summoned by the current counsel to report about there findings. He and the explorers inform with vagueness, a silent understanding and agreement to not divulge everything to the coup government.

Because something is brewing. It is with lack of words or official declaration, but the air is thick with promised revolution. If Campbell knew this he had yet to act. But it was a matter of time before everything would come to an angry and bloody head.

And there will be bloodshed. It’s certain when Campbell has an artillery to his disposal of almost half of the town’s confiscated guns. If only Allie had destroyed them all.

But there was a lot of things Allie should have done.

It would be a matter of time before plans materialize and a new leader defacto arises among the rebels to free Allie and Will and save New Ham.

Matter of time.

But for now he’ll be a coward. He’ll turn from the pointed looks Gwen and even Gordie keep giving him. Refuse to open or read the growing ignored texts from the explorers and the committee for going home after catching them in a huddle one day hearing “Grizz” and “leader” among the heated but hushed exchange. Because for once he wants to be selfish.

Wants to wallow and be miserable and miss Sam and forget everything that has to do with starving to death, trials and killings, and growing up.

==============

Week three begins and a brief snow storm falls, turning into sleet and icy roads. Activities lessen, tho the garbage piles still grow in heaps across town. The cold giving small mercies as the stench is not as potent if it had been under smoldering heat of summer. Everyone stays inside with the roads becoming dangerous to even walk the small distance from home to the cafeteria.

No one thinks to salt the road. But there’s not much thinking done under the new regime. At least for rational decisions that will benefit and keep the town afloat.

Grizz is forced to venture into town. His food rations had gone down considerably low and he needs some type of ointment for a stubborn cut he’d acquired from the expedition that has turned into a rash on his forearm.

He laughs, the sound maniacal and foreign. This human thing to want to survive and live, despite the times when he’d flirted with dark thoughts. Skimmed his fingers against the plastic, orange containers in his mother’s vanity cabinet. Solitude can be loud in letting monsters you never knew you had take havoc. Can be frightening in it’s influence. But he could never do that to Sam.

He’d promise he would come back. Even if he had to stay away.

=============

Its a slow and bitter cold walk as he inched his way to the nearest store, hoping the free for all terms Harry has laid out to the people hasn’t already depleted there food reserves. He’s careful not to slip and bash his head on the iced concrete below, but the harsh wind is a welcome distraction from cabin fever. He also admits to the sudden sharp want that perhaps he might see Sam today.

His head falls down quick onto his chest as he submits to an almost frenzied energy. It’s chanting incoherent nothings, forming into images of Sam’s lips on his. He can almost taste him.

Fuck it all to hell because he needs to see him.

As his feet move by some force that’s tethered to the direction of Allie’s, a pained almost animalistic cry cuts through the air and a thud as something or someone falls fast and hard on the icy ground. He thinks he hears a crack on impact.

His head turns so quick towards the fall, he almost snaps his own neck, eyes blurred against the flurries from the sky.

The figure is laying on its side at the bottom of the steps leading to the loading dock of the convenient store. Its unclear who at first, but it’s favoring its right arm, cradling it against their chest, their head curled into itself.

When he sees the rust red hair against the garish white, curls peeking through a dark green hood, he knows its Sam. He almost takes a fall as he runs with a speed that threatens to pummel his ribs into his lungs, needling cuts into his already cold, dried and split lips.

Please be okay, the thoughts taste acrid and sour.

He skids to a stop and lands on his knees, immediate in taking Sam’s hooded head into his lap. He’s gentle but shaking, trembling hands cup Sams face, thumbs soothing against cheeks frozen and pale. The smaller boy is unusually quiet, no wails of pain. Its more choked and gutteral, broken hitches of breath, his eyes shut tight, jaw tense and clenched.

“Baby!” he gasps “ I’ve got you--Fuck!” his lips against Sam’s furrowed forehead. One hand moves down the line of Sam’s bent and cradled arm to see if he can feel exposed bone. Sam winces sharp against the pressure but Grizz feels nothing although its hard to be sure against the layers of coat.

“I’m here now, it’s gonna be okay” he whispers against Sam’s temple.

It’s futile assurance. But he needs to hear it out loud.

Then he feels a sticky wetness against his lips.

It’s blood.

He blanches but swallows his panic, lifting the hood and combs back hair with a finger to see it’s but a small cut. He wipes the red from Sam’s hairline and from the corner of his mouth into the snow by his thigh, then moves one hand to feel into Sam’s hood and the underside of his head. He steels himself but his fingers feel only matted curls.

He breathes, pressing once again his lips against Sam’s forehead. Sam has yet to open his eyes, but he’s leaning his head into the kiss.

He lets out a pained sigh, “Grizz?”

And Grizz almost weeps.

He tighten his grasp on Sam’s face, gives him another kiss, firm and on his cheek and moves himself back on his haunches.

He squat and his thighs strain as lifts Sam to a sitting position, gripping the underside of Sam’s uninjured arm and holding steady over his bent one.

He waits against Sam’s back when Sam breath becomes more labored and heightened. Grizz sooths his fingers against Sam’s waist and can feel Sam’s stomach move in sporadic spasms.

They need to get to the hospital now, but Grizz realizes that Allie’s house is closer, hoping to God someone will be there, preferably Gordie or Kelly.

Gripping his back and the underside of Sam’s uninjured arm Grizz hauls him up as gently as he can, gritting his teeth to the pained hiss from Sam’s twisted mouth. They stand for a minute, Sam’s back flush against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around his waist. Then he feels Sam nod twice against his chin, a small but brave sign and his heart is so full for this boy.

He maneuvers himself to Sam’s side, tucking with one hand Sam’s head into the crook of his shoulder, the other still wrapped around Sam’s back and holding firm, Sam’s bent arm against his chest. With careful steps he leads them both towards Allie’s.

============

It’s a long walk as he tries his best from moving too quickly as to keep from hurting Sam more, the only sound is the wind that’s grown angry and harsh, whipping the loose strands of his hair from its topknot hold into his stinging eyes, and Sam’s low whimpers he can feel the younger boy is trying to hold back.

There’s also a small feeling of shame. Perched itself in the corner of his eye, shaking its judgmental finger in his periphery.

Because it feels entirely too good to hold Sam again.

The panic and the fear of the moment is gone and now he’s drowning because Sam is in his arms and the universe would have to pull tooth and nail to get him to let go.

He looks down when he feels a movement against his neck. Tears have fallen now, a blue gaze is looking back at him, dull but coherent.

And he has to summon some unearthly strength from reaching down and touching lips against lips.

So he faces forward, blinks hard against the telltale pricking of his eyes, tightens his grip on Sam as they walk onward, a hand cradling Sam’s cheek against his chest and tells his heart to fucking stand down as Sam nips at the knuckle of his thumb that has somehow found its way to his lips.

============

The house is empty as they pass through the foyer and God he had missed this place. It’s warm and looks as it had more than a month ago before the coups and expeditions and heavy things like Sam being a father.

He brings Sam to sit on the weathered leather couch closest to the living room archway and motions for him to stay. He’s relieved Sam’s breathing has evened and a warm blush has crept on his cheeks as well as a redness to his lips.

Lips so lush and taunting, he finds himself moving closer and closer for a stuttered minute.

But he forgets himself.

With Sam he’s come to realize he always will, because the circuits in his brain backfire and synapses no longer synapse and he’s mush. Pathetic gooey mush.

He can’t help it.

Like he even wants to.

So he forces himself to remember.

Remember Sam is hurting something awful and he needs to prioritize and compartmentalize. Needs to go find the first aid kit and text Gordie or Kelly to get there as soon they can. He knows the basics of splinting a break if there is even one, hoping again to God there is none, but he needs help.

Turns from the flash of disappointment that flits through Sam’s eyes as he heads towards the kitchen. Pays no mind the feel of Sam’s gaze following him, burning into his back through so many layers until it reaches skin that’s grown coal hot, marked with memories of tongues and teeth. He almost moans as he grips the edge of the kitchen counter, willing himself to stop.

Now is not the fucking time.

It’s a quick search when he finds the a large first aid box in the wood framed glass case by the fridge. He grabs it and hurries back.

Hurries back to something so precious he both wants to swoon and go “Awe” with the same lilt he once heard from Bean after she’d found a baby orphaned squirrel near the football bleachers at school.

Sam has laid himself back, clutching his right arm tight, like a cocooned little thing. His shoes are now off, polka dotted socked feet propped up on the coffee table, and his long lashes against freckled cheeks with his mouth in a pout.

Grizz is sure he’s grinning like fucking goon, but he’s feeling all soft from the lightness he hasn’t felt for a long time that wants to swallow him whole and he’s okay with that.

“Stop standing their like a creeper and come fix my arm..it still fucking hurts”.

Grizz starts, a piece of errant hair falling in front of his brow, and brushes it back, a nervous tick that always seemed to appear whenever Sam’s around. The boy in question is squinting back but there’s a quirk to his lips and the crinkled lines are showing in the corners of his eyes.

Grizz shuffles forward, with a rolling of his own and slowly helps Sam back up, propping him with several couch pillows as Grizz settles himself on the edge of the coffee table, the first aid kit by his side.

He taps his finger on Sam’s chin when the younger boy’s gaze gets preoccupied in following the movements of his hands and an almost glazed hungry look stares back at him, lips slightly parted.

Lips that almost always looks bitten and swollen and made for kissing.

He’s definitely going to hell at how fast he feels himself go hard. There has to be some hidden commandment. Thou shalt not lust after ye patient.

He blames whatever Sam is feeling to the drunken haze of pain from his arm and busies his focus on telling the younger boy he needs to take off his coat so he can properly see his arm. Its slow work and he’s trying to be careful but he almost jumps up desperate, wanting to find scissors or something sharp and pointed so he can cut Sam from this damn thing because Sam’s breathing is heavy again and his lips have gone pale from the pain.

And when it’s finally off he tosses it angry across the room, almost clipping the framed picture of some Pressman ancestor from its hang on the wall.

The muffled chuckle that answers is worth it.

He’d miss Sam’s laugh. Sam’s laugh, which was some addicting thing he felt he was always chasing to get a high from.

He thanks the Lord above, who’s been unusual in his merciful generosity that the shirt underneath is short sleeved. The freckled skin of Sam’s forearm has turned a mottled angry mix of purplish red and there is slight swelling near his wrist, but there is no broken skin or exposed bone. He signs for Sam to move his arm at the elbow, which he does with little difficulty but when Sam moves his wrist it’s with a pained grunt, his eyes shuttering tight.

Grizz is quick to grab his other hand, squeezing and encouraging to squeeze back, anchoring his thighs to steady Sam’s own that has now come to be between Grizz’s legs. He wants to spout some poetic line of how he’d take on his pain.

Let me be the balm to your hurt. Can I kiss it away?

But instead hes rifles through the kit for gauze and anything else he can fashion into a makeshift splint while they wait for Gordie or Kelly to answer and arrive.

He finishes wrapping the gauze securely around the splints that’s keeping Sam’s arm straight to the wrist and shakes to activate an ice pack from the kit, placing it firm against the gauzed covering. As he keeps the ice pack in place, he keeps his head down focused on Sam’s arm, anywhere but his eyes and lips, a finger trails the edge of his untucked shirt and slips under to skim against skin now pebbled with gooseflesh.

His breath grows shallow as he looks up to see Sam’s stare, intense and unwavering, his bottom lip between his teeth. The blue in his eyes have gone a midnight hue.

Grizz almost drops the ice pack. Or punctures it with how tight he’s now clutching the bag.

“You have anything in there for the pain?” Sam slurs, half signing with his left hand, his gaze travel to Grizz’s mouth, eyes fluttering languid and with purpose.

He can only nod, his tongue grown thick, words having lost meaning or connection, his brain matter having melted into a liquid mess as he turns slight to rip open a small sachet of aspirin. When he attempts to place the pills into Sam’s free hand, Sam pulls away shaking his head. He tips his chin up and opens his mouth.

Grizz swallows the “Fuck” that wants to spill out, his nose flaring as he exhales and proceeds to offer the pills into Sam’s eager lips, his tongue darting out and its tip licking at Grizz’s forefinger.

Grizz slips and catches himself with his hands on either side of Sam’s hips before he can fall onto Sam’s injured arm, but theirs a smirk on Sam’s lips as he leans forward, cutting the distance between them.

Sam has a fucking pain kink, his heady thoughts conspire. It’s the only explanation how Sam is currently trying to seduce him rather than writhing in pain.

Fucking wrong choice of words because it goes straight to his already hardening groin. And now surely he’s headed for the deepest level of hell.

“My head still hurts...kiss it better?”

The words pull him from the fog in his head and he’s all too quick to comply.

Because fuck it all he wants to play too.

He holds himself up, careful not to put any weight onto Sam and shift his head until his lips touch the clotted cut near Sam’s temple. He nips the spot twice then parts his mouth slight, leaving lazy open kisses that travel down until he’s sucking onto the soft pad of Sam’s ear that’s got the younger boy clutching tight onto the collar of his t shirt, his head lolled back, his spine arching and desperate.

“Kiss me! I want you!”

The plea is wanton, dripping with sweat and dirt, that the sudden urge to rut and shed his skin to howl at the moon is strong and overwhelms.

Pushes him over the edge as he grabs Sam’s nape with a growl, crashing hungry lips against hungry lips.

And its fire and ocean water salt and a spice he has no name for but heats the tips of his toes to his tingling scalp as he grapples and wrestle between control so he doesn’t crush and hurt Sam and the encompassing desire to devour him.

He is drunk on the mead of Sam tongue against his; wants the taste to become imprinted into the strands of DNA; wants this to go on and on forever.

Because he doesn’t know if he can stop.

Until a loud rapping on the wall and a clearing of one’s throat has him jumping back as if scalded, leaving Sam to chase after his lost lips, brows knitted together, eyes still shut.

“Um...I guess Sam’s all better now?”

Kelly stands outside in the foyer having the decency to act sheepish.

But Kelly’s always been kind. And Grizz is tired of pretending and running and staying away.

==========================

Hours later, Sam returns back to Allies from the ER, his arm having been xrayed and confirmed to have a minor hair line fracture to the wrist and forearm and his splint reinforced. Kelly is nothing but professional, doesn’t try to wheedle out details he feels others would.

“Becca’s staying over with Gordie at my place to wait out the storm with Eden. She won’t be home until later this week. But I’ll let them know Sam’s ok and wants to stay at Allie’s since its closer to the hospital.” She offers this with a small smile as she hands Grizz a packet of prescription grade painkillers.

Kelly had always been kind.

And now Grizz, has, once again, Sam’s back flush against his chest as they sit up against the cushioned headboard of the guest room Sam has adopted as his own.

“It got too dangerous, with Campbell and all.” Sam whispers this, trailing a finger down Grizz’s arm wrapped around his waist, his breath steady and calm, lids heavy, the painkillers doing their job well. Whispers it before Grizz can even ask.

“That’s why I didn’t bother to talk to you. I heard you’d returned. I wanted to see you I really did.”

Grizz reassures that he believes with a soft kiss into his palm, intertwining their fingers.

“And I know why you had to stay away and didn’t come back to me” Sam lifts up and turns his neck to kiss him.

There is no need to repent.

It’s a moment he wants bottled and preserved, placed high above some tall shelf that no one can reach. Not even Campbell and his militia and guns and the need to destroy and hurt and kill.

But he knows he can’t hide forever. Doesn’t want to really anymore.

Sam is back in his arms, where he belongs and soon he’ll meet Eden who he certain he’ll love fierce, as much as he does Sam.

And it’s fucking time to fight back. Stop being afraid.

Because he has been.

Stop using reasons of staying away because it’s safer for all against monsters with human skin. when in reality they are invincible together.

I Love You, he signs onto Sam’s chest and he holds him closer, the moonlight twinkles and casts shadows from the filtering light through the window.

#Grizzam Fic #IDEK #from my drafts graveyard #it's actually come to see the light of day #grizz visser #sam eliot #grizz and sam

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thephantomisdead · 5 years

Text

Trial and Error — Chapter 4

(Trial and Error on AO3)

(← Return to Chapter 3)

The smell of car exhaust and garbage hit me as soon as I stepped off the bus.

The diner I was supposed to meet the guard at was only about a block away, but the air swirling through the streets signaled that rain was imminent. I had no idea what to expect from this meeting, so I wanted to arrive early. At the very least, I didn’t want to be caught in the storm with all my files in my leather bag.

I was having a hard time getting Arthur’s case out of my head. I couldn’t believe I was going along with his request not to make a plea deal. Somewhere in my mind, I was uncomfortable with the thought of him spending the rest of his life in jail. Legally, practically, I knew it would be the “right” thing — but I pitied him, and I resented myself for it. A small part of me hoped I would see his face when a not guilty verdict was read, and it hurt to realize that would never happen. I told myself the ache in my chest was from thinking about my inevitably doomed career after losing the case.

I was close to my destination now. The neon lights of the diner lit up half the street, and as I approached, I noticed the smell of frying oil wafting through the air.

A bell chimed brightly above my head as I opened the door.

Please seat yourselves, read a sign in the entryway. There were a few customers along the bar area and a few by the windows on the right in booths, but the diner was mostly empty. Everyone spoke in hushed tones.

My shoes were painfully loud against the black and white tile floor as I walked to the end of the row of booths to the left. I chose a seat facing the door, as far from the entrance as I could get.

Soon enough, a waitress came by the table. She was older, probably in her mid-50s, and had a weary look about her despite her kind demeanor.

“What can I get for you, darling?” she asked.

“Just a coffee, please,” I requested. “No cream, no sugar.”

“Coming right up. Long day?” she inquired with a kind smile.

“You could say that,” I replied, scratching my cheek.

“I’ll go ahead and bring you that coffee,” the waitress told me. “Just let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”

It had now begun to rain outside, and the dark street looked like wet tar under the gleam of the street lights. Drops of water slowly ran down the window.

The bells on the diner door chimed as a man entered, soaking wet from the rain. When he took off his hood, I saw that it was the guard I was supposed to meet. I nervously fingered the envelope of cash hidden in my purse as he walked over to the booth.

“I see you managed to stay dry on your way here,” he commented, taking off his jacket and placing it on the seat. His clothes underneath were still relatively dry, and he sat down across from me, brushing off his shirt.

“I got here a few minutes before you did,” I said simply. “It hadn’t started raining yet.”

“You know, I don’t think we’ve had proper introductions yet. David Friedman,” he introduced.

“Winter Martin,” I replied, shaking his hand stiffly.

“I believe you were bringing something for me.”

As I was reaching into my purse for the envelope, the waitress returned with my coffee. I nearly knocked everything onto the floor trying to take my hand out of the bag.

“Here you are,” the waitress said, placing the cup in front of me as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Thank you,” I managed to choke out.

“Anything for you, dear?” she asked David pleasantly.

“Just a coffee for me, if you wouldn’t mind,” he requested. “Thanks, Peggy.”

She smiled and left us again, and I hurriedly reached into my purse again for the envelope of cash.

“Keep it,” David ordered. I paused, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I said you can keep the money,” he repeated. “There’s another favor I need from you.”

“What do you want?” I asked suspiciously, closing my bag. I slid my coffee cup toward me with both hands.

“Well, it’s not so much a favor as a request,” he clarified. “I wanted to talk to you about this whole thing with the Joker.”

“I’m not going to talk about an ongoing case.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, I know that. I want to talk about him.”

“I’m not going to talk about my client while—”

“Jesus, Martin, will you just listen to me? You need to get him off those charges however you can.”

I blinked.

“One more coffee for you, dear,” came the voice of our waitress as she returned to our corner of the diner. “There’s cream and sugar for you on the table if you want any.”

“Thanks, Peggy, you’re a doll,” David said. He took the steaming hot cup from her with both hands and gingerly set it on the table, wincing at the heat.

I watched the woman return to the other side of the restaurant before I spoke again.

“What are you trying to insinuate here?” I demanded in a low voice.

“Nothing you haven’t already done.”

I wanted to tell him that whatever he was suggesting, I wouldn’t do it, but I’d given up any moral high ground earlier today when I’d offered him a bribe.

“This Joker guy, he means something to a lot of people in this city,” David stressed. “Beyond that, do you know what it would do if he gets thrown in jail? Or even worse, if they kill him? There’ll be riots out here for months.”

“I don’t mean to disappoint, but I’m not here on some moral crusade,” I told him. “I want to get this case over with and move on with my life.”

David shook his head. “You don’t have that luxury anymore, Martin. You’re a public figure now, whether you want it or not. Whatever you do, it’s going to mean something to people out there. This case matters.”

“I didn’t sign up for this,” I lamented, putting my head in my hands.

“Yeah, you did,” David countered. “What, did you think you were going to be defending saints in this job? You can’t honestly sit there and tell me you didn’t know what you were getting into. You signed up to be a public defender in Gotham, and now that you’re getting some dirty looks on the subway, you want to back out.”

“That’s not it,” I muttered.

David took a loud sip of his coffee.

“I don’t want to be a hero,” I insisted. “I don’t want the whole world watching me. I don’t… I don’t even know what I’m doing. Everyone talks about me like I’m the murderer when I’m just playing my part in a legal proceeding, and they hate me for it.”

“Did you ever bother to think that some people might look up to you?”

I sighed.

“You’re probably the only attorney in this city who wouldn’t hand him straight over to the prosecution,” David reminded me. “You’re idealistic. You defend him because you know someone has to. The people you look straight through on your way to work, the ones that just seem like part of the scenery — they all idolize you. Not only are you defending a figure they support, but you’re showing them that there’s still people in this system who would treat them fairly. You’re the symbol of real, even-handed justice in Gotham.”

I looked up from my half-empty cup. “I don’t want to be a symbol.”

“It’s way too late for that now, Martin.”

* * *

I got home especially late that night, and I stayed up even later.

My small apartment was usually quite neat. Tonight, though, papers and books littered the kitchen table. I sat hunched over my notepad, biting the inside of my lip as I agonized over my research. Several files were precariously stacked across from me on the only other chair at the table. The clock on the wall read just past 2:30. My head had begun to hurt shortly after I’d left the diner, and now it felt like my skull was being slowly crushed in a vice.

I had one day before Arthur’s arraignment — it usually would have occurred only a day or two after his arrest, but it had been almost three weeks already. The entire legal system had slowed to a crawl in response to all the rioting, and the jails were overflowing. The arraignment would be an absolute circus.

Reluctantly admitting that I wasn’t going to get much more productive work done, I tossed my pen down onto the table and shuffled off to my bedroom. My body ached.

As I laid in bed, cold sheets wrapped tightly around my body, an overwhelming sense of loneliness crept up on me. My feet were tangled in a soft blanket underneath the sheets, but I didn’t feel cozy. My small apartment was cold and empty, and I was insignificant and alone. I briefly wondered how Arthur felt in his cell at night, and my heart sank.

I wrapped my arms around an extra pillow and pulled it close to my chest.

“It’s okay,” I whispered into the darkness, pressing my lips to the fabric. “It’s gonna be okay.”

A lump began to build up in my throat, and my eyes burned with tears.

“Fuck,” I sobbed, pressing my face into the pillow. “I can’t do this, Arthur, I’m so sorry.”

#joker #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #joker (2019)#my GARBAGE FIC AH #trial and error

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broke-n-bitchy · 5 years

Text

Wicked Dreams

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Author’s Note: This one ran a little long, I got carried away! Sorry.

P.S: Lucy is bisexual and that will come in handy with what I got in store for you guys!

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, smoking, implied smut idk???

-Lucy’s POV-

Slowly opening my eyes, the bright sun beamed through the window and I felt a massive pressure in my head, “Ugh, fuck.” What the fuck happened last night?

Last Night

After coming back from getting some much needed fresh air, I saw Nikki still just sitting there while everyone else was dancing, even Ryder was. And he usually just stood in the corner near Mick, away from everyone.

Making my way over to him, I held my hand out for his, “Hey, come dance with me!”

I was a terrible dancer but I was higher than a kite and the mixture of alcohol along with blow had me feeling pretty damn good.

“Ah, no. I don’t dance.” Nikki said while rolling his eyes, shooing my hand away from him. I couldn’t help but pout, how lame.

“Yes, you do! You dance on stage!”

“That’s because I’m on stage in front of a crowd of 15,000 plus fuckin’ people! I got give em’ something to look at! But here? No.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer, come on.” I leaned down and began tugging on his arm, shit, he was stronger than me.

“There’s no use hun, I’ve been trying to get him to dance with me for twenty minutes.” The brunette on his right side told me, an idea popped in my head.

“Fine then.” Letting go of his arm, I turned my attention to the petite girl with a smug grin, “Do you want to dance with me?”

She shot Nikki a glance and he just shrugged, waving his hand as if he was giving her permission. Nodding, she took my hand and I took her with me to where the crowd of people were dancing and tugged her close to me by the hips,

“What’s your name?” I asked while I stood in front of her, leaning forward so I could hear her,

“Scarlet! You’re Lucy, right? That chick in the opening band?”

“Yeah, that’s me!”

The beat was deafening and her body was moving along with mine, her hands were grasping my ass and mine were guiding along her sides before she turned away from me and pressed her ass against my heat.

If I was a guy, my dick would be hard.

Placing my hands firmly on her hips while I ground along with her, meeting her movements with my own, she reached back and tilted my head towards her until she was breathing into my mouth, leaning in as close as she physically could.

My eyes met Nikki’s from across the room, he was standing up and making his way over to us.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me in front of him, facing towards my previous dance partner, she moved closer and pressed her body against mine while Nikki’s hands move from my sides, down to my hips to the smooth skin on my thighs.

I felt his breathing on my neck when I tilted my head back, I could hear him mumbling something but couldn’t quite make it out.

“What was that?” I spoke loud enough so he could hear but no one else.

“I said you’re a fucking tease.” He whispered into my ear, smirking, I just shrugged my shoulders.

“You’re the one that didn’t want to dance.” I retorted, watching as Scarlet walked away and moved up behind Nikki.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no. Last night was starting to come back to me. This was bad. Peeking up over the pillow I had in front of my face, I saw a dark-haired figure next to me. It was Nikki. Shit.

Pulling up the blanket, I was wearing the same shirt Nikki had on last night and had my underwear on. That sun was really starting to get on my nerves since my head is pounding. Quickly getting out of bed, I walked over and pulled the curtains back. Much fucking better.

Hearing light snores from across the room, I saw Nikki sleeping, he was still wearing his pants so maybe there was hope.

Looking around, I picked up an empty beer bottle and threw it at Nikki and I all I got was a grunt.

Storming over to the bed with my hands on my hips, “Nikki, wake up.”

Still nothing.

“Sorry for this,” I mumbled before pushing him over until he fell off of the bed, he landed on the floor with a loud thud.

“What the fuck!?” He yelled as he got up, stumbling until he was sitting back down, he glared up at me in disbelief.

-Nikki’s POV-

So good, I was sleeping so fucking good until I felt a pair of tiny hands shove me off of the fuckin’ bed. Trying to get my thoughts together, I glanced up towards Lucy who was standing in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest, she was wearing my shirt. It was halfway buttoned like I normally wear it, and I was trying my best to stop staring at her tits. Being much shorter than me, it covered her ass but barely reached her thighs.

“What happened last night?” She questioned, leaning back to try to remember, and then I did. Smirking up towards her, she looked like she was panicking. I should fuck with her.

“You don’t remember what happened? Damn, because last night you told me it was the best sex you’ve ever had.” A smug grin was on my face while her face fell, her eyes were widened and she looked like she was about to have a panic attack. Picking up a glass half full of whiskey off of the nightstand, I took a drink while I waited for her to say something.

“What?! What the fuck?” Lucy yelled she was pacing back and forth while rubbing her temples like it would help her remember.

“I’m kidding, nothing happened,” I told her while trying to hold back a laugh but it slipped out,

“Dick!” She smacked my arm and shoved me back, making me spill my drink a little.

“You’re a bitch sometimes,” I growled while standing up, hovering over her.

Lucy tilted her head back so she could meet my gaze, “If nothing happened, then why was I in your bed? Why am I wearing your shirt?” She questioned while tugging my shirt further down like I haven’t already seen it all.

“Ah, yes, that. Well, after the party and on the way back here, you said you were starving so we stopped off to get food, you ordered nachos, I think? But you ended up spilling shit all over your dress, Tommy tried giving you his jacket to cover up but you stood up in the middle of the aisle, told us you needed to be free of clothes and pulled it off.”

Her hands were covering her entire face but I could see that her cheeks were turning red, “I’m so, so sorry.” She mumbled in total embarrassment.

“Don’t be, it was hot.” I shrugged while walking over to the over the side of the room, picking up her dress and showing it to her. She took it her hands and sighed before shoving it into a trash bag.

“But the best part was when you sat back down and just kept eating.” Lucy did indeed have a wild side and there were parts of it that were just hilarious.

“Yeah, I tried to sober up.” She admitted, the night must be starting to come back to her.

“Well, you kept dripping food all over yourself, so I gave you my tee shirt. You were sitting next to Tommy and honestly he couldn’t handle it, he was starting to get a hard-on. I mean, you were almost naked for fuck's sake. Just sitting there, shoveling food in your mouth.”

“Not the first time that’s happened.” She told me and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“When we got back here, you lost your room key so I brought you here and you crawled into my bed and just passed out.”

“Then why were you next to me?”

I huffed, rolling my eyes, “Well it’s my fuckin’ room! I wasn’t about to sleep on the fucking couch!”

There was a part of the night that I remembered as clear as day that I wanted to keep to myself. I was debating on telling her.

-Last Night-

Pulling my shirt on over her body, she let it hang loosely before tugging me closer to her, tilting my head down so she could reach my ear, “I will never, ever admit this to anyone. But you’re fucking hot, and kind of nice when you want to be. Once I can see straight, I’m gonna tear you the fuck up.” Her fingers were gliding up and down my bare chest, grunting softly, it took everything in me to carefully remove her hand.

“Maybe another time, babe. But how about we get you back to the hotel to get some sleep?”

As I was about to tell her what she said to me last night, she had her hand deep down in her bra, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Looking for my room key, I think I put it in here last night. Things are always getting lost in there.” I can see why her tits were huge.

“Uh huh.” Looking anywhere but at her, downing the rest of my glass and setting it down, I looked around the room. It was a fuckin’ mess.

“I found it!” She grinned, holding it up in the air in triumph.

“Okay, well, from what I can remember, last night was fun. Oh, and I’m keeping this shirt. It’s soft.” She said before walking to the door and out into the hallway.

Following her out into the hallway, I grabbed her wrist and tugged her back towards me, “Where are you going?”

Lucy stared at me for a moment through her tired eyes, “Well I’m going to put some pants on and then I’m going to the cafe for some food. I’ve got a migraine from hell.”

“I’ll go with you.” She nodded before continuing down the hallway until she reached her room.

-Lucy’s POV-

I must have been really fucked up because I don’t remember what all happened. Unfortunately, everyone else probably did.

Oh man, I’m going to hear so much shit today.

Stepping into my room, I walked over to my suitcase and unzipped it, pulling out the first pair of shorts I saw, sliding them up. I decided to keep on Nikki’s short, I tucked it into my shorts and buttoned them together.

Glancing into the mirror, I looked like garbage. Tying my hair up and out of the way, instead of wiping off my smudged makeup, I slid on a pair of sunglasses instead.

Once I got down to the lobby and into the cafe, everyone else was already there. Including my band.

“Hey, move over,” I told Vince who was next to Alex, I squeezed in which didn’t take much, they were both skinny.

“So last night..” Alex began and I shushed him. “Nope, I don’t want to know what else I did. But I do know what I want to eat.” I didn’t even need to look at the menu.

“I need like, six pancakes drowning in syrup and an entire pot of coffee.” Tommy laughed but I wasn’t joking.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I need to fuckin’ carb load, my head feels like someone is beating it with a hammer.”

“THAT SUCKS!” Alex yelled in my ear. Fucker did that on purpose. Grunting, I reached over and grabbed a cigarette from Tommy’s pack, also snagging his lighter.

“Say thank you.”

“No,” I grunted while lighting it, tugging the ashtray in my direction. Everyone went about talking, and I just sat there in silence.

-Once our food reached the table, I glanced up at the waitress, “Hey, love, can you bring me like the entire pot of coffee you have behind the counter?”

“Uh, sure.” She gave me a weird look before going to grab it. She came back and set it down in front of me, “Thank you.” I told her before tipping her a twenty dollar bill.

Reaching over, I grabbed Alex’s straw from his drink and placed it in the little narrow part of the pot where you pour it, taking a long drink and proceeding to drown my pancakes in syrup, “Want some pancakes with that syrup?” Tommy asked me along with a very loud laugh.

“Why are you so loud? Be quiet.” I snapped before digging into my food. I needed this.

“Sorry about my cousin, she can be a bitch. Trust me, I’ve lived with her my entire life.” Sami chimed in, but I couldn’t give two fucks. I just wanted to get rid of this migraine before our show tonight.

“Hey Lucy, why are you wearing Nikki’s shirt?” Sami asked me with a cocked eyebrow before glaring over towards Nikki.

“Nothing happened, man. She refuses to sleep with me.” Nikki grunted and I laughed, “Yeah but I can totally be your wingman.”

“Pft, I don’t need a wingman.”

“Just let it happen, Nikki. I’m offering my powers of persuasion.” He thought about it for a second while eyeing me, “Alright, deal.”

@triplehaitches @knightwhosaysnii @carmineharry @slowandangry

@rxsesinjune @fandomshit6000

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wedreamedlove · 4 years

Text

[FIC] Run, Rabbit, Run (6/6)

Rating: M Characters: Yamada Jiro/Iruma Jyuto Word Count: 2630

Summary: “A hound and a rabbit; the outcome’s clear.”

“Aah, this is why delinquency doesn’t pay off. Didn’t you know? In all the fables involving a rabbit and a hound, the rabbit always wins.”

AO3 | Index: PAGE 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Despite everything that happened yesterday, Jiro slept soundly and only woke up when he heard Jyuto moving around in the bedroom. Jiro continued to lay there on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with a groggy mind, and marveled at how relaxed his body was. It felt like it had been ages since he slept so comfortably.

He frowned and tried to follow the train of his thoughts backwards for why that’d be the case, but then the door to the bedroom clicked open.

Jiro popped his head up over the back of the couch and saw Jyuto appear, dressed in casual clothes and looking like he had been awake for a while now. The other man paused when he noticed Jiro awake and then leaned against the doorframe to watch him back.

“Here I thought you would have been clamoring to go home at the crack of dawn, but you’re just getting up now.” Jyuto glanced at the window, where the late morning sunlight was shining in, and then turned to smirk at Jiro. “Have you come to like this place that much?”

“Fuck off. I’ve always been a late riser.”

Jiro bristled but it was halfhearted since there was still a heavy blanket of sluggishness draped over him. He rubbed his cheek against the couch and ignored the temptation to go back to sleep. But then he noticed that Jyuto was motionless in the doorframe, staring at him.

“What?” Jiro asked, scrunching his nose at the silence.

“… Nothing,” Jyuto’s eyes slid off from Jiro to the side, “I’m going to get lunch. What do you want?”

“M’not picky. Get me anything.” Jiro got the words out around a yawn.

Jyuto made a noise of acknowledgment and then left the apartment.

Jiro let himself stay on the couch for a dozen more minutes or so before he dragged himself up and into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was only after he splashed water on his face that he realized, belatedly, how horrifyingly civil his conversation was earlier with Jyuto.

It was… nice when they weren’t at each other’s throats. But something in Jiro balked at the thought of not being contrary to Jyuto at every possible opportunity. He looked up at the mirror, seeing trails of water trickle down a face with green and gold eyes. He could see his brothers in his reflection, but another image also surfaced to the forefront of his mind. A flash of dark, ocean-green eyes.

Jiro yanked his eyes down to the sink and stared hard at the water swirling down the drain, imagining it to be his thoughts. Fuck. He didn’t regret what happened, especially when today was already after the fact, but he also didn’t need these intrusive memories in his daily life. Jiro scowled.

It felt like the longer he stayed here the more his rhythm was going to be thrown off by that dirty cop. Fortunately, today was the day he could leave and go home. Jiro firmly guided his thoughts in this direction and cheered himself up. He was long overdue in getting out of here and returning to familiar territory.

~~~

“Here.”

Jiro blinked at the cell phone in front of him.

Earlier, Jyuto had returned with lunch and the two had taken a relatively peaceful meal together, much to Jiro’s surprise but he wasn’t going to question it and lose his good fortune. For him, food took priority over everything else. Anyway, it was when Jiro threw out his garbage and turned around that he saw Jyuto holding out this phone to him.

“Uh, what’s this for?”

Jyuto rolled his eyes. “To call your brother and let him know you’re going home.”

“You can just drop me off at any random place in Ikebukuro! Ichiro doesn’t need to be bothered.”

“Did you already forget our deal?”

Jyuto reached into his inner jacket pocket to pull out Jiro’s pins, flashing them between his fingers, before he slipped them back into his jacket.

Jiro stiffened, vaguely remembering what happened on the first night. The dirty cop had said something about that, didn’t he? That he was going to send Jiro back in full view of his brothers. He eyed Jyuto, tempted to get those pins back by force, but Jyuto seemed to read his mind and the man crossed his arms with raised eyebrows, looking relaxed and arrogantly confident about how he’d be the victor in any fight. Jiro inwardly sulked about how this was the case only because he was still injured.

“Bastard,” Jiro settled for sneering, “Do you get off on humiliating people?”

“Yes.” The answer came back without any hesitation.

Urk. Jiro felt his hackles rise even more at Jyuto’s shameless response and was about to fire back with more insults until the dirty cop cut him off.

“If you won’t make a call then I’ll just have to take you to Ikebukuro and drag you through the streets until Ichiro shows up.”

Jiro would have to be dumber than a rock not to know that Jyuto would happily carry out that threat. So, he just glared at Jyuto before snatching the phone out of his hand. It was already unlocked and, while a small part of him wanted to snoop through whatever Jyuto had on here he didn’t think the other man would stand there quietly and let him, so he opened the call screen before pausing. What number should he call?

He dialed a familiar set of numbers and waited as it rang.

On the fourth ring, a familiar voice picked up. “Jiro?”

“Ichiro!” Jiro called and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jyuto scowl for some reason. What crawled up his ass? Jiro pushed him out of his mind though to concentrate on his call with his brother. “I’m heading back now, so you don’t have to storm Yokohama. Then again, that’d be hilarious.” He snickered at the thought.

Ichiro laughed too before becoming serious. “Great to hear you remember the three day limit. So, where’re you gonna be? I’ll come pick you up.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid anymore! I can get home myself, so you don’t need to leave the store—” The phone was suddenly plucked out of Jiro’s hand. He didn’t even hear Jyuto come up beside him and Jiro scolded himself for his lack of attention before he tried to grab the phone again. “Bastard, give that back!”

But it looked like Jyuto expected him to lunge for the phone because, in a quick movement, the other man twisted a hand into his collar and threw him onto the nearby couch.

Jiro grunted when he landed on the couch and was already scrambling to get up again when Jyuto straddled him, keeping him down, and kissed him with bruising force. Jiro kept his mouth closed and tried to shove Jyuto with all of his strength, but before he could an excruciating pain exploded beside his head and he cried out instinctively.

Jyuto took advantage of Jiro’s open mouth.

The searing hot pleasure from Jyuto’s tongue wrapping around Jiro’s mixed in with the pain Jiro was feeling. One of his hands reflexively flew to the source of the pain, which is where he knocked into Jyuto’s wrist and realized that the man had twisted his ear to get him to open his mouth. He only managed to clutch at the other’s wrist before Jyuto pinched his ear tighter, warning Jiro not to struggle.

Jiro hesitated, one hand clutching Jyuto’s wrist and the other hand twisting in the man’s shirt. He tried to breathe through the throbbing ache in his ear and this let Jyuto do whatever he wanted with the kiss, stroking their tongues together, sucking, and making their kiss obnoxiously loud and wet. Jiro strained to keep his eyes open, not wanting to blink and squeeze out the water in his smarting eyes.

The dirty cop had his eyes open as well and those dark green eyes watched Jiro with a cruel pleasure.

Eventually, around the time Jiro felt spit trickle down the corner of his mouth, Jyuto broke the kiss and sat up, chest rising and falling quicker than usual; but he still kept his entire weight on Jiro and made it harder for Jiro to catch his breath.

Jiro could feel himself alternate between paling white and burning red with humiliation and rage as his eyes darted from Jyuto’s smug face to the phone in the man’s hand and then back to his face. He was going to kill him. He was going to kill this dirty cop and nothing was going to stop. Screw everything else!

He hadn’t decided yet on what he was going to tell Ichiro and Saburo, but he stupidly thought he was going to have more time to think on it. Of course, he should have expected that Jyuto wouldn’t miss this chance to fuck up his life. Did he really think this man was more than just a sadistic bastard—

“It’s muted.”

Jyuto’s words stopped Jiro’s thoughts in their tracks.

“H-huh?!” Jiro blurted out, unable to make sense of those words among all the chaos in his head.

Jyuto leaned down, eyes narrowing with amusement. “I muted the phone. But if you don’t stay quiet underneath me then who knows what your dear brother will hear.”

Jiro looked at the phone again and Jyuto generously allowed him to see that the mute button was pressed. Jiro could hear Ichiro calling out his name in an increasingly worried tone and, for a few seconds, that was all that resounded in the room.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Jiro asked, still stunned. Ichiro… didn’t hear anything? What the hell was that all about earlier then?

Jyuto repeated himself with some impatience. “Are you going to be nice and obedient beneath me?”

“Fuck you and—” Jiro said, but when he saw a dark shadow flicker across Jyuto’s eyes he quickly changed his tune, “Fine! Dammit, go ahead. But if you say anything to Ichiro about… about this, then nothing’s going to stop me from killing you.”

Jiro let himself sink down into the couch to show that he wasn't going to fight with Jyuto anymore for the phone, but his set jaw also revealed just how unhappy he was with the situation.

The corner of Jyuto's mouth raised up before he turned his attention to the phone. "Hello, Yamada Ichiro. Yes, this is Iruma Jyuto, the generous person who has been hosting your little brother during his impromptu trip into Yokohama. You should really train your puppies not to roam around without an owner. There are all sorts of bad men out here."

Jiro dug his nails into the palm of his hands, wrestling down the urge to stop Jyuto's malicious chuckle as the dirty cop talked to his big brother.

But then Jyuto's laugh and smile slid off his face seconds later. Jiro couldn't hear what Ichiro was saying but Jyuto's face was chillingly blank like an arctic winter.

"How do you know about that?" His voice was extremely low.

Jiro held his breath and strained his ears to try and catch the conversation happening between these two.

Jyuto suddenly snarled at the phone, "Did you forget I have your brother here? Try that and I'll make sure he---"

But Jyuto didn't finish what he was going to say before he moved the phone in front of him with an incredulous and furious expression. Jiro felt like he was going to die from curiosity. How the hell did his big brother put that look on Jyuto's face in a second? Damn, he wanted to learn that move!

"Did he fucking hang up on me?!" Jyuto finally said, disbelief still clinging to his voice.

Jiro knew he shouldn't do anything to piss off someone who was already enraged but he could only hold back his laughter so much and, with Jyuto on top of him, the other man probably felt his body shaking from how much he enjoyed this. In fact, Jyuto looked down at him with blazing eyes and soundlessly moved his mouth, as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say or do.

Finally, Jiro felt a flash of alarm when Jyuto fisted his collar and pulled him, but all the cop did then was hiss out, "You found that hilarious, did you? Get up. We're leaving in 30 minutes."

~~~

Fortunately, the drive to the meeting spot in Ikebukuro seemed to take the edge off of Jyuto's anger and soon the suffocating atmosphere inside the car lessened into something more bearable. Instead, the closer they got to Ikebukuro the more nervous Jiro could feel himself becoming.

It was ridiculous. His feelings were stupid. He should be overjoyed and happy that he was getting away from Yokohama, Mad Trigger Crew, this dirty cop, and everything that happened to return home to his brothers and his normal life. But now there was this--- this thing between him and Jyuto and neither of them had spoken about it so he didn't know where things stood.

Was it a one time thing? Were they going to go back to normal when they returned to their groups and forget this ever happened? Or... Or what? His mind whispered. Did he want this to continue?

Jiro bit his lip and sneaked a glance at Jyuto, but he couldn't read anything from the cop's stony eyes which were fixed on the road. Jyuto drove with a single hand on the wheel and his fingers there were tapping out a two-beat rhythm.

Eventually, they arrived at the meeting spot which was set at one of the smaller residential parks in Ikebukuro, the second park in 1-Choume, and Jyuto parked the car on the side of the street.

Jiro looked around. "There's no one here."

"Not surprising. We're an hour early."

"Huh? What for?"

Jyuto slid his gaze over to Jiro, looking at him with contempt. "Only a fool would go to a meeting place right at the appointed time. Who knows whether or not the other party set a trap in advance?"

Jiro's hackles rose. "My brother wouldn't---"

"---play dirty like that?" Jyuto interrupted with a snort.

Jiro realized he had been too quick to decide that the drive over had calmed Jyuto because of the other man's snappish replies and, now that he looked closer, he could see a line of tension in Jyuto's shoulders.

So he bit back the retort he wanted to make and let silence descend onto the car again. Jiro bounced his leg in the quiet pressure. He chewed on his lip and then suddenly cleared his throat.

"Jyuto."

The cop turned his head to Jiro. "What is it now?"

"I want to talk about us."

"Us?"

Jiro's cheeks heated up when he saw the amused smirk appear on Jyuto's face and how the man raised an eyebrow. But Jiro pushed through his embarrassment. "Yeah, us. Look, I never regret what I choose to do. But what are you planning to do about it? Act like it never happened? Or if you're going to use it---"

"I don't care."

Jiro's immediate feelings, when he heard that prompt response, was something in-between disappointment and hurt. It was like a lance of pain before that messy ball of emotions sunk down heavily in his chest.

But, as Jiro struggled to keep anything from showing on his face, he noticed how still Jyuto was holding himself and the careful blank look on the other man's face before realization came over Jiro. Jyuto was always like this. What he didn't say was just as important as what he did say.

This contradictory man loved needling him, threatening him, belittling him, and humiliating him and yet Jyuto always let him make the choices, time and time again. Jyuto threatened to out whatever they had between them to his brother, but didn't. Jyuto didn't escalate things to the bedroom until Jiro pushed. Before that, the man warned Jiro about crossing a line.

What Jyuto's "I don't care" really meant was that he would accept whatever choice Jiro made. So, that meant that if Jiro did actually want...

Jiro spoke slowly, "I don't ever go back on my decisions."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, and maybe it was just Jiro's imagination, Jyuto's face seemed to soften a little as he muttered, "Reckless fool."

Before Jiro could react, Jyuto leaned over and cupped the back of Jiro's head before kissing him, oddly tender. Jyuto sat back after that and snickered at Jiro's wide eyes.

"W-what was that for!?" Jiro spluttered, completely caught off guard.

"Your brothers are here."

Whatever soft emotions Jiro felt for Jyuto disappeared right then and there and he paled before whipping his head around to look for them. Fuck this dirty cop! He knew it! "You sonuvabitch!"

But when he looked around he still didn't see anyone in the area. Bewildered, he turned his head back to Jyuto only to see the man let out a peal of laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"You lied!" Jiro spat and reached out to yank Jyuto by the collar over to him. "What's with your sick enjoyment of messing around with me like that!?"

"You make it so easy." Jyuto leered.

Jiro snarled impressively and was about to angrily kiss him when Jyuto caught his chin with his fingers moments before their mouths touched. He could feel the other man's breath skim across his lips.

"If you bite me how will you explain our appearances to your brothers later?"

Jiro choked, mute with frustration, before he broke free from Jyuto's grip so that he could swallow the dirty cop's laugh with a kiss. But, although it annoyed him to admit this, Jiro kept Jyuto's words in mind and didn't push the kiss any harder. He fumbled around, mimicking what Jyuto did earlier, and brushed their lips together softly and lightly.

But when he tried to draw back, Jyuto's hand had already slid from his chin to grip his nape and Jyuto held him there as he repeatedly kissed Jiro again and again, not letting him go.

All Jiro could hear inside the silence of the car was the sound of his pounding heart, their quickening breaths, and wet mouths rubbing, licking, and sucking on each other.

Just as Jiro's mind started to fog and he felt himself leaning more and more on Jyuto, the man suddenly pulled away.

"Your brothers are here." It was whispered together with a hot breath and, for a second, Jiro couldn't register the words at all. His eyes were focused on Jyuto's lips and it was only when he saw them pull up into a satisfied smirk that he came back to himself. "For real this time."

Jiro threw himself back into his own seat, having just noticed that he nearly climbed over the gearstick to get closer to Jyuto, and then he scrambled to get the door open to climb out. Jiro violently shoved down his embarrassment and, after slamming the door shut and leaning back against the car, he took a few deep breaths to erase his blush before he looked around for his brothers.

He found them easily at the other end of the park and wasted no time in rounding the car and running over to them.

"Ichiro! Saburo!"

"Jiro!" Ichiro called back, picking up his pace and raising a hand in greeting.

On a normal day, Saburo might have just ignored him or rolled his eyes (if Jiro even decided to greet him) but today he gave Jiro a tense nod and looked over his shoulder to focus on Jyuto, who had calmly gotten out of the car by this time.

"Jiro," Jyuto called out.

There was nothing remarkable in his tone. Nothing that hinted at anything.

And yet Jiro found himself freezing the moment he heard his name come from Jyuto's mouth. This was the first time Jyuto had used his name. The other man wasn't using his full name to mock him. It was just Jiro's first name, plain and simple.

Jiro turned around, struggling to keep his face neutral and failing if the amused gleam in Jyuto's eyes was anything to go by. Fortunately, turning around put his back to his brothers and they couldn't see his face.

"What?" Jiro grumpily asked.

He had to cross his arms though when Mad Trigger Crew's 45 Rabbit decided to go all theatrical and didn't say anything; instead, he reached into his jacket to take out a cigarette pack, pulled out a smoke, and lit it. He was making them wait on purpose. But, in the corner of his mind, Jiro noticed that Jyuto had never smoked once when he was at the man's place.

Just as Ichiro took a step forward, patience running out, Jyuto took a drag of his smoke and said, "You forgot something."

The cop balanced the cigarette between his lips and reached into his pants pocket this time to pull out Jiro's pins and throw them over. Jiro reflexively caught them, stunned at himself for having forgotten about this.

Ichiro's eyes tracked the pins and he growled, "Why did you have those? Is this why my lil' bro was with you?"

Jyuto eyed Ichiro when he saw the other person's hand twitch towards his hypnosis microphone. His own hand moved towards the receiver he had on his belt even as he sneered, "You should be thanking me for not letting him bleed out in an alley before you hurl accusations."

"What!?" Ichiro shot a look over at Jiro.

"Uh," Jiro inwardly cursed Jyuto for just revealing that but he also felt a stab of anxiety at the thought of the two of them pulling out their hypnosis microphones. It definitely wasn't because he was worried about one or both of them. Nope. "It's a long story that I'll tell you about at home. But, anyway, I'm better now and Jyuto did... help me out." The last bit was grudgingly admitted.

Ichiro drew his eyebrows together, scrutinizing Jiro's face, before he relaxed his tense posture somewhat and said gruffly, "You better tell me everything. Don't even think about leaving out any details."

Jiro grimaced at the upcoming lecture he could see coming already but nodded nonetheless.

"Jiro."

Jyuto said his name again and Jiro had to resist the urge to flatten the sensitive hairs that rose on the back of his neck at the strange feeling which came along every time the cop said his name. Why was he saying it so much now? Did he like it that much or something?

"What now?"

There was a small feeling of deja vu before Jiro realized he was echoing Jyuto's earlier words. Jyuto seemed to notice this as well and he gave a short chuckle before speaking.

"Next time you want to come over to Yokohama, let me know in advance. I'd be happy to entertain you."

"Why would I ever want to go back there?"

"I thought you'd want a rematch, considering how you lost to me this time." Jyuto gave a slow smile, the one from the bathroom, the one that promised all sorts of wicked things which Jiro could now put images to and which made him know immediately what sort of "match" Jyuto was talking about.

Jiro forced himself not to react even though he could feel his mouth go dry. He cleared his throat and boasted, "You're on. I'd never back down from a challenge."

The smirk Jyuto had became tinged with something genuine before he took another pull from his cigarette, stubbed it out, and then turned to get back into his car to leave. "I'll see you soon then." The cop raised a hand in a lazy farewell.

Jiro's brothers took that as a sign to leave too and Ichiro took the lead in spinning on his heel to march them home. "If you need us to come with you to beat him up, Jiro, just say the word."

Jiro coughed, "Uh, nah, I've got this."

Ichiro gave him a look but nodded, and then added, "I haven't forgotten about the whole getting hurt thing either. The moment we're home you're going to tell me exactly when, where, and how you got hurt."

"It's really nothing serious," Jiro protested but he quailed underneath his big brother's stern frown.

"I can't believe you ended up getting help from that guy. Well, whatever, here." Saburo shook his head and tossed Jiro something. "You might want to block the last number who called you."

Jiro caught his phone and, as his two brothers walked on ahead while he looked down at his phone, he went through his recent calls to see that the latest one was around 1.5 hours ago. He hesitated and then, after a quick glance to make sure his brothers weren't paying attention, he saved the caller into his contacts under one label, a wry smile on his lips.

『🐰』

#hypmic fanfic #hypnosis mic #jiro yamada #jyuto iruma #series: run rabbit run

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aelin-and-feyre · 7 years

Text

Bear the Storm

Requested by Anonymous 122: “Just relax, I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Elriel - gets a little angsty but also plenty of fluff

An overcast day in the Night Court is a dreary day indeed. Funnily enough, as Elain has observed, it usually falls on days when Feyre and Rhys are away. Today is one of those days, her whole family off on a meeting in the mortal realms. Azriel drew the short straw this time and has to stay to watch over the city. And her.

Elain doesn't exceptionally mind the babysitter per se, just believes it's unnecessary. It has been months since her last break down, and it wasn't even serious that time, simply triggered by a nightmare in the middle of the night that had gone away quite easily. She felt she was doing much better all things considered. Though she loves her sisters for caring so much.

The garden is soggy from last night's rain but it doesn't stop Elain from getting down on her hands and knees to weed and tend to her growing plot of plants, her own little paradise in this odd place she's forced to call home. Thankfully, she does not feel eyes watching her every move, as some babysitters do. Azriel has the decency to give her privacy, though is always available at a moments notice if she ever needs anything.

Her eyes shift to the window of the family room where she knows he is sitting, working through paperwork and trying to deal with the tasks Rhys puts him up to, though he never talks about them to her. In the year that Elain has lived in the Night Court, the year after the War against Hybern, Azriel has become her confidant, a friend when she needs it the most, second only to Nesta. However, while he's become one of her closest companions, she often doubts whether he even considers them friends.

It is that thought which she is pondering when Elain feels the first drop of rain hit her cheek. She looks up at the sky and her mind twists, her eyesight recedes until she knows she is no longer seeing the present, but the future. Mud and pelting rain and wet hair and shadows creep through her vision. She watches in slow motion as the clouds grow darker and thunder rumbles through them at the same moment lightning strikes the other side of her garden and sets that half of it on fire.

Snapped back into her body before she can so much as react, Elain can't find her voice to cry for help. She is utterly incapable to doing anything as she watches once again, in real time that takes less than two seconds, her vision come true. She stumbles back and flames erupt in front of her but the rain is not far behind.

Buckets of water pound down upon her and she finally finds her voice as she screams and falls to the ground in a lump of limbs. The left side of her face is pressed into the mud and she grips her hair. Elain can feel it coming, but before she's even contemplated what it might mean, the dam she had built up in her mind this past year to keep the desolating feelings at bay, comes crashing down.

It's one of the biggest panic attacks she's had since she was thrown into that cauldron, second only to the one two days after the death of her father.

Elain screams again, looking up to see the rain has extinguished the fire but has left nothing in it's place. Smoldering ash that used to be beautiful, healthy plants, crumbles and sinks to mix in with the mud. She stumbles into a standing position, her hands, arms, knees, and face covered in mud and tugs fiercely on her hair, trying to stay in her own mind.

She tries to go to that burned half of her garden but the pain in her chest is piercing, the pounding in her head relentless. Elain makes it halfway there when two strong arms wrap firmly around her middle and pull her against a solid chest. In her haze, Elain looks down and recognizes the hands around her middle, scarred in more than a dozen places on each but holding her tightly as if she's the only thing that matters.

Azriel.

"It's okay, it's gonna be okay. You're okay. The garden will be okay. Your mind is your own. You can overcome." He whispers from behind her, gently pulling her back away from the hot ash swirling in the mud. Surprisingly, Elain finds herself not resisting. Instead, she goes limp, allowing Azriel, when they are a safe distance away, to sweep his arm under her muddy knees and pick her up, spreading his wings and maneuvering through the rain back to the house.

He sets her down on the terrace, under the overhang and out of the rain. Elain immediately crumples to the ground, breathing hard and fisting her hands back in her hair. Azriel joins her in a crouch, carefully drawing each of her hands away from her head one at a time and holding them in his own, repeating the same mantra from before. When her breathing has slowed slightly, and her eyes have again focused back on what is real, Elain looks up at her friend.

"Azriel." Her voice cracks and she realizes she had been crying this whole time. A sob makes its way past her lips and she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face in his chest. "My garden, Azriel! My home, my father, my Graysen, my life, my ring, my garden!" She cries.

The shadow singer wraps his arms around her torso, laying a hand on the back of her mud-matted head, and holds her close while she cries, repeating that she will be fine, that everything will be fine eventually. Elain's not sure how long he held her, or how long she cried, but eventually, her sobs were reduced to mere hiccups and she pulled away.

"I hate this, Azriel." She declares.

He simply nods. "I know." And Elain realizes that he does know. Although he hasn't told her the story himself, Elain has pieced together enough of the clues to know that Azriel has had probably a worse childhood than hers. He, of course, has had more years to experience horrible things, but they have both lost so much, endured so many things, and Elain knows that he understands what she's going through. The thought brings a small smile to her lips. Azriel repeats the gesture. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Elain nods, following him to the biggest bathing room in the house, where he draws her a bath and puts in a generous amount of bubbles. "I'll be outside if you need anything." He assures, and then leaves her alone.

Slowly, Elain peels off her wet, muddy clothes, collecting them in a pile and throwing them in the garbage. She never wants to see those clothes again. The water is warm and feels good on her dirty, aching body. When she goes to wash her hair though, she can't help the distressed sound that escapes her mouth.

Immediately, two knocks sound at the door and Azriel's worried voice comes through the aged wood. "Elain? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just my hair... ugh." She laments.

Gingerly, the door opens just a crack and Azriel peeks in. When he sees shes mostly covered with bubbles, he opens the door the rest of the way and walks over behind her. "Here, just relax, I'll wash your hair for you."

"Oh, no, you don't have to -" She is interrupted by a soothing but firm deep voice.

"It's okay, if it'll help you relax, I'm happy to do it." He states, picking up the shampoo bottle and starting to run his long, scarred fingers through the muddy strands.

Elain sighs and does as he says, relaxing into the warm water, relishing the feeling of his hands stroking her scalp, washing out the mud and memories of the last half hour. "Thank you, Azriel. I honestly don't know what I would do without you. You have helped me through so much, and I appreciate it more than I can possibly say."

"No need to thank me, Elain." Azriel replies, sounding so sincere, Elain was hard pressed not to turn around and see his expression. "Believe it or not, you have helped me a lot too."

"Oh?"

Azriel lets out a short laugh. "Have you noticed that I rarely have shadows circling me when you're around? They disappear because they know they're not needed in your presence, that you're the only company I need. It doesn't happen like that around the others, except Mor." Elain smiles at the confession. "I think we help each other more than we think we do."

As he turns on the faucet and runs her hair under the stream to rinse, Elain thinks about what he said. When her hair is once again mud-free, Elain reaches back and grabs his hand, keeping him from leaving. She brings it in front of her face to inspect, tracing the scars that lace it. "Tell me the story of these." She requests.

Azriel stiffens but must resolve himself because soon he is pulling a chair next to the tub, lacing his fingers through hers, and begining to speak. He tells her the story of his childhood: his father, mother, stepmother, and half brothers. He tells her about what they did to him, where he was kept, how he got away. By the end of his story, the water is cold but the tears streaming down Elain's cheeks are hot.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." She whispers, still clutching his hand that has endured so much, and somehow still became capable of amazing things, like washing a girl's hair when she needs to feel loved.

Azriel's other hand comes to her cheek, pushing back the wet strands there so he can look her in the eye. "I didn't want you to yet, You needed to work through your own demons before you found out about mine."

In a surge of confidence, Elain twists her face to kiss the palm that was resting on her cheek. Azriel smiles genuinely, a rare event that has Elain smiling back. "I'm glad I can drive the shadows away. Thank you for doing the same for me."

"Always, Elain, I'll help you bear the storm."

Send me a number and a ship!

Masterlist

#elriel #elain x azriel #elainxazriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #post acowar #post acowar fanfic #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #acotar fanfic #elain #angst #fluff #writing prompt #my writing

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