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salexectrian-heir · 3 years

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the 2/2 time travel fic

happy 2/2! here is the first chapter of this fic idea i posted about a little while ago

First chapter below | ao3 link in notes

Akira had been dreading the conversation with Maruki.

Not because he was having second thoughts--no, Akira was steadfast in his resolve that this reality was a mistake. His resolution hadn’t come without a price, of course. His friends were being robbed of their dreams, their happiness no matter how false it was in nature...and Akira would have to bear the burden of knowing he was the one who ultimately was going to destroy it all. And even though the thieves and his rival were on board with its destruction, Akira knew that the decision had taken a piece of them with it. It had required a sacrifice from them all. And that ate Akira alive, knowing that they all had a taste of what could have--

No, Akira couldn't think like that. It would only make everything he had to do that much harder.

Somehow, out of all the betrayals he had experienced this year, Maruki’s was by far the most painful.

Maruki had held space for Akira when Akira had needed it most. Akira rarely entrusted others with his needs, having been burned too many times before this point to forge that kind of fragile, vulnerable, two-way connection with someone else. But Maruki had felt safe enough to confide in, and in turn made Akira feel seen, feel validated. Had respected Akira’s opinions and sought them out instead of admonishing him for sharing his perspective. Against his better judgement, Akira had opened his heart.

No adult in Akira’s life had ever done that for him before. So of course learning that Maruki had taken those secrets spoken in confidence, manipulated them, and thought he knew what would be best not only for him but the world…something snapped in Akira.

And now, sitting across from the former “counselor” turned Self-Appointed Savior, Akira battled his warring emotions into submission. Into the familiar blank mask he wore outside the Metaverse to hide his true disposition. The mask he thought he would never have had to wield against the one adult he thought he would have never needed to hide from.

From the only adult he thought he could finally trust.

The calling card tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket was burning a hole through its thin fabric. Each controlled breath Akira took as he listened to Maruki explain himself pressed the blistering deadweight a little closer to the skin of his chest. The frail, last line of defense he had that separated the world from that bleeding and bruised muscle.

And right now, if he didn’t get rid of the card within the next few seconds he was sure the scent of his burning flesh would suffocate them all.

Maruki broke the lull that had settled between them first. His voice was gentle when he asked, “Are you sure you don't have any doubts, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira narrowed his eyes at the formality. They were past that. Way past that. “What do you mean, Maruki-sensei?” Akira responded sardonically.

The hand Maruki had wrapped around the mug of coffee Akira had made for him started a complicated beat against its porcelain surface as he studied Akira.

“ Akira,” he amended and started again, his eyes softening into something almost sorrowful. “More accurately, I should really be be asking 'do you two gentlemen have any doubts',” Maurki paused and glanced over his shoulder towards the cafe entrance.

“You're there, aren't you Ake”--the door to Leblanc nearly shattered on its hinges with the force of which it was thrown open--“chi-kun!?” Maruki stuttered out, his face swiftly morphing from melancholic to bewildered in the span of a second as he openly gawked at the entryway.

Akira blinked once. Did a double take. Then blinked once more.

Because it wasn’t Akechi who had just stormed into Leblanc.

Or, it was but...

“You,” a man who looked like the splitting image of a twenty-something, utterly irate Goro Akechi spat, his face contorting into a feral grimace as he pointed directly at Maruki.

Akira had seen the younger version of Akechi make that exact expression only one time before in the bowels of Shido’s palace. It was not something anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of.

There was a beat of absolute silence.

And then chaos erupted.

This older version of Akechi with murderous intent seething in his eyes launched himself at Maruki, barreling full force into their booth like a bull after the counselor’s throat. Maruki made a very undignified squeak at the sudden assault and tried to put as much space between him and the rampaging Older Akechi by scrambling further into the seat. Kicking wildly at him to try and stop the halestorm of blows reigning down from the furious Akechi-lookalike. It did little to deter the older detective prince. If anything it made him even angrier.

Meanwhile Morgana, who had relocated from sitting next to Akira to perching behind him on top of the booth, was yowling at ear piercing decibels. His fur also was comically puffed up, making him appear two times his normal size as he whipped his head back and forth between the attempted murder happening before them and Akira.

Who was sitting there with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth, watching everything unfold in a sort of detached awe.

A moment later the door was ripped open a second time and everything got a whole lot weirder.

Because it still wasn’t Akechi.

Instead, a very frazzled looking twenty-something version of himself tumbled through the door. He was out of breath, as if he had sprinted all the way here from...where ever the fuck he had come from. This older version of himself took one panicked survey of the room and promptly leapt into the chaos, snagging the Older Akechi around the waist in an attempt to slow his assault.

This older version of Akechi was taller, and had a bit more mass than his older self, but his older doppelganger didn’t let that stop him. He braced one boot against the seat of the booth and dug his other heel in the floor, leveraging the angle and gravity, to yank the Older Akechi off of the therapist’s lower half.

At this point, Akira noted, Maruki had effectively shoved himself so far back that he was half on the table with his back pressed against the window, fingers clumsily looking for the latch that would open it. In his haste to avoid the older Akechi’s swiping gloved fists, he knocked over the potted plant on the window sill. Soil cascaded across the table along with the poor upended plant and broken fragments of its pot.

Sojiro was going to kill him.

I should really be more concerned about all of this, Akira idly thought, flicking away a tiny ceramic shard. But he found it was hard to feel anything right now, as what he was watching seemed so surreal. I wonder if this is what disassociating feels like.

For the third time that evening the door to Leblanc was forced open with an unforgiving smack that sounded off over the cries and screams from the fight. The wall was surely dented at this point from the abuse. Akira vaguely wondered if the door hinges were going to survive the night.

This time it was the Akechi he had been expecting. Eighteen year old Goro Akechi stood in the doorway, gaping in utter shock at the pandemonium unfolding before them. Akira could practically see the formulaic equations running through and swirling around Akechi’s head, as he processed what was happening.

The younger Akechi simply mouthed, “What the fuck.” And continued not to move.

Akira’s attention was drawn back to the weird three sided battle happening literally two feet in front of him when he heard a pained gasp.

“Goro--plea--,” the older version of Akira wheezed, collapsing onto the floor after a sharp elbow connected with his sternum, “p-please--stop.”

The older version of Goro Akechi did not, in fact, stop. He in fact, got worse.

“Get back here you PIECE OF SHIT,” he bellowed, successfully grabbing hold of Maruki’s leg just as the counselor had managed to get his head and shoulders out the window.

Another undignified squeak escaped Maruki as his body was forcefully pulled back into the booth with a very painful looking jerk.

“A-Akechi-ku--” Maruki started to plead, but his voice cut off in a gurgle when the older Akechi managed to get both of his gloved hands around his throat.

It was at that moment his older self resurfaced in the fight. Hooking his arms under the older Akechi’s armpits, he twisted Akechi’s arms back, breaking his hold around the counselor’s throat and heaved the detective off Maruki.

“No!” the pinned Akechi cried, scrambling for purchase on Maruki’s sweater as he was tipped backwards.

The sound of stitches ripping followed the men as they tumbled backwards out of the booth and into a couple of the barstools behind them, which crashed to the ground in their wake. Maruki braced himself with one hand on the table and his other on the back of the booth to prevent himself from tipping into the writhing body pile on the floor. His sweater was stretched out and torn, hanging loosely off his neck.

Akira’s phone, which had also been on the table, lit up and started to incessantly vibrate. A stream of messages from Futaba were flooding in when Akira checked it. He elected to ignore those for now. Before flipping the screen down, Akira took note of the time.

23:58 PM.

Two more minutes until this shitshow of a day was over and the dawn of February Third would rise. Akira released a weary sigh and set his phone aside in favor of his now lukewarm coffee. God damn he wished he had something a little stronger than the Jamaican Blue Mountain brew he was sipping on to put up with all this bullshit.

Happy fucking Birthday to me, he thought as he raised his mug in mock cheers at the camera Futaba had installed in the corner of Leblanc’s seating area. Where he was one hundred percent certain she was watching in pure horror, given the messages he was still receiving making his phone vibrate and shimmy at his elbow.

Honestly after all this, Akira suspected nothing in this world could ever surprise him anymore.

“Aren’t you going to help?” Morgana’s voice cut through the static he hadn’t realized had been present in his ears.

From the floor, his older self was doing a much better job at dodging the older Akechi’s flying elbows with graceful dexterity, but Maruki somehow had strayed too close. He was now kneeling on the floor with his sweater once again in the older Akechi’s vice grip.

“He kind of deserves it,” Akira said flatly, setting down his mug.

Though Akira quickly changed his mind when Maruki started making gurgling noises again, which could only signify one thing.

The younger Akechi recovered from his stupefaction when he saw Akira move, and stepped in to assist. It required both Akira’s older self and the younger Akechi to hold back the raging older Akechi long enough for Akira to pull Maruki safely away. The older Akechi was then shoved against a wall, getting yelled at quite vehemently by his older self.

“Sorry about your sweater,” Akira said, after he turned away from the arguing dopplegangers.

Maurki plucked at the frayed neckline and chuckled a bit breathlessly. “It’s seen better days.”

Upon closer inspection, Maurki’s glasses were broken and sitting askew on his face. His lip also had been split at some point and was leaking a tiny trail of blood down his chin. Akira grabbed a bunch of napkins off the counter and held them out to Maruki, who accepted and thanked him with a slight bow of his head, pressing them to his mouth.

“Would someone kindly explain just what the fuck is going on,” the younger Akechi demanded in near hysterics (his Akechi, Akira’s mind unhelpfully supplied before Akira buried that thought deep down).

The older versions of themselves fell silent.

There was a deep sigh that sounded almost identical to the one Akira had made a few minutes ago.

“Let’s try this again,” Akira heard his voice say from across the room, “how about we all take a seat. Calmly.” There was a pregnant pause as his older self shot a pointed look at the Akechi who had been the source of the problems, and released him from the wall. “Like civil adults.”

“Fine,” the older Akechi said, adjusting the scarf around his neck and smoothing out the lapels of his rumpled grey peacoat before sliding into the booth, with his older self right behind.

Akira tugged on Maruki’s sleeve, gesturing to follow him into the seat across from their visitors. Akira went in first, sitting directly across from the older Akechi which left Maruki to sit opposite the other Akira.

It was probably safer for everyone this way.

The younger Akechi (his Akechi) elected to remain standing, leaning against the far counter with his arms crossed over his tan coat in an attempt to look imposing, but really he just looked uncomfortable in Akira’s opinion.

Once everyone had settled in, the older Akira turned to Maruki. A sad smile broke across his face as he said, softly, “Hello Takuto.”

Why hearing his voice say Maruki’s first name was the thing that finally made Akira realize just how absurd this whole situation was, that shocked Akira back into his body from the weird detached space he had been floating around in the past few minutes, Akira couldn’t tell you.

Panic clawed its way out of his chest and into his throat, making his breathing erratic and ragged. The calling card in his pocket now felt like molten metal encasing his chest. His mind was reeling, racing, splitting apart as it finally registered that the man sitting adjacent from him across the table looked Just. Like. Himself.

What the fuck? What the FUCK?? WHAT THE FUCK!?

Maruki looked between him and his older self. “Akira…can you please explain yourself?”

“Uhm, I have no idea what’s happening,” Akira managed to get out weakly, before realizing Maruki wasn’t speaking to him, but the older man sharing his face.

“I think it would make it easier if everyone referred to us by our surnames, and our younger selves by their given names, for clarity’s sake,” his older self said, glancing at Akira and then Goro standing by the counter. “Will that be a problem?”

“Yes,” Goro said testily.

“Get over it,” Akechi snapped at his younger self.

Goro’s eyes flared. “Why should I--”

“Because it's a trivial distinction and it doesn’t really matter,” Akechi spoke over him, flicking his eyes over to Maruki briefly, “not when we have more pressing issues to deal with. Stop being difficult.”

That’s kind of rich coming from you, Akira thought but did not say.

Goro huffed but didn’t push it any further, opting to glare balefully at himself. The tension rolling off of Goro was enough to make Akira squirm, even from the otherside of the room. Luckily Akechi remained unphased by the daggers being thrown in his direction.

“To keep it simple and state the obvious, we are you. We travelled from the future of the reality this idiot,” Akechi gestured at Maruki, “ wants to impose upon the world. We’re here to make sure it never actualizes, as something evidently went very wrong when we attempted to do the same ten years ago.”

Morgana’s exclamation of “Ten years?!” overlapped with Akira’s yelp (Morgana had reflexively dug his claws into Akira) and Goro’s “What do you mean, ‘something went wrong’?”

“Yes ten years Mona, and I mean it exactly how it sounds,” Akechi said in a clipped tone, clearly not willing to explain himself further.

Akira sucked in a breath through his teeth as Morgana retracted the claws he embedded from his shoulder and mumbled an apology in his ear.

“Our memories of what happened on February Third are...not intact,” Kurusu offered, earning a scowl from Akechi. “The last thing I remember is entering the palace...then… waking up in the new reality. Same for him,” Kurusu nodded in the direction of his boothmate, whose scowl deepened.

Maruki cleared his throat. “How did you time tra--”

“We aren’t telling you shit, what we’ve said is all you needed to know,” Akechi snarled, “so shut up, read the damn calling card, and then get out.”

“If you lived in my reality for that long, surely you found it enjoyable Akechi-kun, you--”

“Don’t assume you know anything about me,” he growled, “and don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You are both aware of what will happen if this reality--your reality, is destroyed...,” Maruki said slowly, gaze switching between the older boys emphatically.

“It was never ours,” Akechi was quick to shoot back.

Kurusu nodded. “We are fully aware and...deemed travelling here to end it worth the consequence.”

“Kurusu…” Maruki said, a mortified expression dawning on his face. “I suspected Akechi-kun might have felt this way given the conditions of his existence...but you too?”

“Wait, I don’t follow,” Akira spoke up, unease settling heavily into his gut like lead stone as he watched the varying expressions on the faces before him. They all know something I don’t. “Conditions of his existence…?”

“He hasn’t told me yet,” Kurusu said, suddenly avoiding Akira’s eyes, instead turning to face Akechi. “That...complicates things.”

Both Akechi and Kurusu exchanged a look, then glanced at Goro.

“I take it you haven’t shared anything with Akira either,” Akechi asked Goro--who eyes darted over to Akira before shaking his ‘no’ . “I guess that answers our question if we landed in the right timeline,” Akechi muttered, then sat up straight, leveling a look directly at Akira.

Akira’s heart rate spiked under the weight of the familiar yet so foreign maroon tinted gaze, and he was struck once again by how breathtakingly beautiful Akechi Goro was. Taking the time to look at this older version of his rival, Akira noticed the years had been kind to him. His cheekbones had become more prominent, defining his face with sharper angles that his shorter hair style complimented. Even if it was still a little mussed from the earlier fight.

Akira swallowed thickly. Whatever Akechi was about to say, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good.

“What your esteemed counselor was most likely about to tell you before I”--he exhaled sharply--“lost my temper, was that in the true reality, we most likely died,” Akechi explained coolly, gesturing between himself and Goro on his right. “The only reason we’re here presumably is because it was your wish. And Maruki granted it.”

Something in Akira’s chest cracked painfully.

He desperately wanted Goro to meet his eyes, to look at him, to tell him it wasn’t true. That he escaped the night they fought in Shido’s palace . But he was still staring at his older self with an intensity that barred no distractions.

It couldn’t be true.

Akira had felt the warmth of Akechi’s body when they brushed shoulders on the subway, had watched as the clouds of his breath faded away into nothing in the cold January air when they loitered outside the Jazz Jin. Witnessed the blood rush to flush his face when Akira teased him over ridiculously sugary, overpriced drinks and soft music. Sensed the raw power in his presence when they would pull off a seamlessly synchronized attack in the metaverse together…

It couldn’t be… he couldn’t be...

Akira’s vision tunneled as he focused on his rival.

Goro brought his hand to his chin, falling into his typical thinking pose which Akira had always found endearing, but now was sending sharp pains through his chest. “I couldn’t find any conclusive evidence to support it, but given the gaps in my memory after my final fight with Akira, and Wakaba Isshiki and President Okumura’s suspicious reappearances…,” he trailed off with a shrug. “Occam’s razor.”

“The simplest explanation is often the correct one,” both Goro and Akechi said in tandem.

“Two of you.” Kurusu pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up into his fringe as he did, and muttered under his breath, “I have to deal with two of you for the next twenty-four hours.”

Akechi pinched Kurusu (who flinched) without breaking eye contact with Akira and continued on, “And then Maruki was going to bait you, Akira, into accepting his false paradise by dangling our life before you. Holding us hostage, essentially.”

“I wouldn’t have explained like that!” Maruki said defensively. “I was devastated when I learned what happened to you--err the two of you? That night in December. I don’t mean to make it seem like I am holding you both hostage--”

“But you are, and you did. ”

“Will, this Maruki hasn’t done it yet,” Kurusu quietly corrected Akechi.

Akechi plowed on, ignoring Kurusu’s comment, voice raising with each word he spoke, “You stripped us of our agency, forced us to play pretend in a world where you erased and repurposed parts of ourselves to fit your mold of perfection!”

Maruki winced.

Akechi trembled, barely able to contain anger, “I’ve spent enough of my life being manipulated by the will of men who think they own me, own the world. I refuse to live a moment longer in a reality concocted by someone else. I refuse.” His gloved fist slammed down on the table, causing the half-full mugs of forgotten coffee to rattle and send little splatters of dark liquid onto its surface.

Kurusu was quick to place his left hand over Akechi’s fist, who recoiled under the touch.

Akira stiffened at the sight of a thin band of silver on Kurusu’s finger, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

He’s married... I’m married?

Akechi started to pull away but then stopped, exhaling sharply. Kurusu ran his thumb over Akechi’s knuckles and his gloved fingers finally relaxed under Kurusu’s palm, splaying onto the table. He let Kurusu pull their hands off and out of sight.

“And.. you agree with this Kurusu?” Maruki asked after a few seconds of silence.

Kurusu took a steadying breath, and answered. “I do. And I understand that it means that I will also cease to exist.” A small smirk played on his lips. “At least this version of me.”

Maruki slumped back in defeat, staring unblinkingly at the droplets of coffee on the table. He swallowed, his jaw working for a moment before he nodded to himself. “Well then, I must accept that those are your decisions.” He looked up. “However, you don’t speak fo--”

“I also refuse to accept this farce of a life,” Goro interrupted, as if he had been waiting for Maruki to call on him. He turned his glare fully onto the former counselor and lifted his chin defiantly, “I’ve made my decision, and nothing you or anyone else says will change my mind.”

“Akira?” Maruki’s voice sounded so small and so far away, despite being right next to him. Akira turned in his seat, meeting Maruki’s pleading eyes. “Do you feel the same?”

Akira’s heart twisted in on itself.

Did he feel the same?

Before he couldn’t feel anything but now… it was as if his body was making up for the lost time. He was feeling too many things all at once.

If he rejected the reality Maruki was offering...it would mean…condemning them all to death.

From the corner of his eye, Akira took in the strange trio’s expressions. They all were mirrors of each other, all displaying their own versions of unwavering resolve and grim determination that Akira had walked into this conversation with--before everything had fallen apart.

A gentle nudge against the back of his head coupled with soothing purrs grounded Akira enough to stop his mind from spiraling any further. It also reminded him that it wasn’t just these lives who had a say in the fate of reality.

“I do,” he echoed his older self, and reached into his jacket pocket. Fire licked at his fingers as he peeled off the calling card that had melded into his skin and tossed it onto the table in front of Maruki.

Finally free of its oppressive, burning weight Akira took his first full breath since he came down the stairs from his room. Its phantom pain lingered, the skin too hot and tender where the card had laid over his heart. Akira flexed his fingers over the spot, hoping the friction would ease the discomfort. It didn’t. So he shoved his hand into his pants pocket and focused on regulating his breathing.

“I thought out of all people, you would understand,” Maruki said in the same small voice. Gently, he picked up the card and turned it over. “I’ve heard your calling. I’ll be waiting in the palace, as promised.”

When he stood up no one moved to stop him.

He met each of their eyes one last time and said, “If you don’t show, I’ll take that to mean you’ve accepted my reality.”

“We’ll be there,” Kurusu said with a conviction Akira had never heard himself use before. “See you tomorrow.”

“Ah, today, actually,” Maruki said, checking his watch. A heartbreaking smile formed on his face. “It’s probably not my place to say it, but Happ--.”

“Don’t you dare. Get. Out,” Akechi hissed venomously.

When the door clicked shut and the chimes ceased their ringing from Maruki’s exit, a collective sigh of relief seemed to ripple through the group. Akira let himself fall back against the booth, and was low key amused when he watched his older self do almost the exact same thing. Akechi gingerly leaned back as well, tension bleeding out from his tense shoulders as he eased himself down aside Kurusu. Kurusu reached out a hand and hesitated before tucking a short lock of hair behind Akechi's ear.

Akechi turned to him and whispered, “I can’t believe...that it worked."

“Believe it,” Kurusu matched his volume, and suddenly Akira felt like he was intruding on a private moment as their gazes lingered a little too long on each other.

“Are you, we...” Akira began uncertainly, “...friends then? In the future?”

Akira watched himself blush in real time.

“Ah. About that,” Kurusu said, fiddling with a piece of fringe as his cheeks continued to darken.

Akechi lifted his left hand and started tugging off his glove, one finger at a time. “In a manner of speaking.”

Akira’s heart kicked into high gear. Oh my god.

On Akechi’s ring finger was a thin silver band. Identical to the one on Kurusu’s hand--that he was now holding up beside Akechi’s.

Goro was the first to react. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Oh get over yourself,” Akechi chided, “you can quit pretending like you never--ouch !”

A sudden violent exchange under the table had Akira heavily suspecting his older self had stomped on Akechi’s foot.

Akechi glared at Kurusu. Kurusu glared right back.

“Would it kill you to be nice to yourself?”

Akechi crossed his arms. “Yes.”

“Uh,” Akira croaked, drawing everyone’s attention, “can we talk about how this happened?”

“You both probably have lots of questions,” Kurusu said, “So let’s start at the beginning. Goro, you might want to sit down for this.”

#akeshu #shuake #goro akechi #persona 5 royal #akira kurusu #goro akechi x akira kurusu #time travel

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salexectrian-heir · 3 years

Text

messages from last night update

chapter below the cut | ao3 link

✧ Oracle ✧

SEPT 1ST 4:57 AM

[Joker] Hi

[Joker] Story time

[✧ Oracle ✧] i see yusuke returned ur phone

[Joker] Aha, yeah. After swearing on my life I would not make any more poor life choices

[Joker] I assume that was your doing

[✧ Oracle ✧] ur welcome

[Joker] Hmm well I might not have sworn hard enough

[✧ Oracle ✧] ???

[Joker] bet you 500 yen you can’t guess where I woke up this morning (without hacking my location)

[✧ Oracle ✧] oh god akira… jail?

[✧ Oracle ✧] again??!

[Joker] No

[Joker] Better

[✧ Oracle ✧] !!?

[Joker] On the catwalk of the auditorium

[✧ Oracle ✧] BRUH

[✧ Oracle ✧] didnt yusuke like walk u home???

[Joker] He did

[Joker] I just didn’t stay home after

[✧ Oracle ✧] (-_-;)・・・

[✧ Oracle ✧] but don’t they lock up the buildings at night….

[Joker] ...

[✧ Oracle ✧] also i’m p sure catwalks are at least fifteen meters in the air??

[Joker] ...

[Joker] I am surprisingly still very dexterous while intoxicated

[✧ Oracle ✧] o m g

[✧ Oracle ✧] what possessed u to sneak out of the dorm, pick a lock, scale scaffolding, and fall asleep on a metal beam is / literally / beyond me

[Joker] Me too, It's all very...fuzzy after getting back to the dorms

[Joker] Maybe I was a cat in a past life

[✧ Oracle ✧] cat!kira

[✧ Oracle ✧] congrats u now have a fursona to add to your growing list of ‘sonas

[Joker] Cat!kira go prrr?

[✧ Oracle ✧] HAHAH a self-drag?

[✧ Oracle ✧] Someone truly is hungover and regretting his life choices

[Joker] Jokes aside, all that flexibility training I did in hs apparently paid off

[Joker] I have no new bruises or injuries that I am aware of so I made it up in one piece. Somehow.

[✧ Oracle ✧] wait hold up I thot all that “training” u’d say u were doing was just like horny akira code for “going to mess around with Sumi after school”

[✧ Oracle ✧] don’t tell me u actually were doing gymnastics with her that whole time

[Joker] Okay

[✧ Oracle ✧] ????

[Joker] You literally just told me not to tell you

[✧ Oracle ✧] but was i right?! i NEED to kno if i was right

[Joker] Haha yes and no

[Joker] We did both

[Joker] is typing...

[✧ Oracle ✧] oKAY OKAY OKAY NO DETAILS (SAVE THOSE FOR ANN)

[✧ Oracle ✧] JUST CONFIRMATION THANK U next

[Joker] You have written fanfic more explicit than anything I could ever tell you I’ve done, AND I PROOF READ IT FOR YOU

[✧ Oracle ✧] ヽ(•//д//•)ノ [ok true]

[✧ Oracle ✧] but

[✧ Oracle ✧] ヽ(•̀//д//•́)ノ

[Joker] Ik Ik, I’m teasing. I won’t corrupt your virginal ears

[✧ Oracle ✧] /anyway/ people r gonna be mad jealous when they find out u dated an olympic gymnast

[Joker] She wasn’t one when we dated though so technically I didn’t

[Joker] She found out she qualified shortly before we went back to being just friends

[Joker] I think we’re both much happier this way

[✧ Oracle ✧] Obviously. you still talk to her??

[Joker] Yeah

[Joker] We caught up before the semester started

[Joker] She said she was nervous, but that’s to be expected when you’re on the global stage. Aside from that she’s fitting in really well with her new teammates. She just wishes Kasumi could have been a part of it

[✧ Oracle ✧] </3

[Joker] Yeah :( </3

[Joker] But she’s good

[Joker] Still calls me senpai though...which idk how to feel about that

[✧ Oracle ✧] lol its ~cute~

[Joker] Hmm leaning towards don’t think so

[✧ Oracle ✧] “oh ~senpai~ you’ll still watch me compete in the olympics on TV right?”

[Joker] ...did you listen in on the call

[✧ Oracle ✧] no

[Joker] “no,” she lied like a liar (I know you still have my phone bugged damn it)

***

The Phantom Thieves of Cats

SEPT 1ST 5:01 AM

[✧ Oracle ✧] *kicks down the door to the thieves den*

[✧ Oracle ✧] INARI U FAILED

[✧ Oracle ✧] GUESS WHERE AKIRA IS

[✧ Oracle ✧] (hint: not where he’s supposed 2 be)

[Fox] Preposterous! He was safely returned to his dorm room. I personally put him to bed.

[Panther] you stayed over in their dorm room Fox… isn’t he in there w/you??

[Fox] is typing...

[Fox] Ah. It appears that I am in his bed and Akira is indeed missing. I was on the floor when we went to sleep. I have no recollection of this transfer.

[Fox] I have awoken Ryuji but all he has done is throw his possessions at me in an attempt to silence my “pestering” so I do not think he will be of any help in this situation.

[Joker] Don’t bother with him Fox. He isn’t responsive until at least 9am after a night out.

[Joker] Also, why aren’t the rest of you sleeping?

[Panther] Joker! you’re alive!!! are you okay???????

[Joker] Define okay

[✧ Oracle ✧] *cackles*

[Panther] where are you?!?

[Joker] You aren’t going to guess?

[Panther] jail?

[Fox] Please let it not be true your detective arrested you last night, and you are suffering in incarceration as we type.

[Joker] Why is jail everyone’s first guess? I was only arrested once!

[Joker] Fuck

[Joker] Also, he is not “my” detective

[Fox] is typing…

[✧ Oracle ✧] u sure about that

[Joker] Oh no

[✧ Oracle ✧] pls reread our messages from last night

[Joker] Oh GOD

[✧ Oracle ✧] *cackles louder*

[✧ Oracle ✧] i can’t wait to hear what inari is about to dish out

[Panther] wait what did akira say to you @ ✧ Oracle ✧?!

[Joker] Futaba please *softly* don’t

[Fox] Last night I had to relieve you of your phone before you texted the detective prince incriminating evidence of your state of inebriation and infatuation. You were adamant that you had to send him a picture of a cat as a token of your feelings, which I objected as the image you selected was not flattering of the cat. I may have just met you a few days ago, so please tell me if I am overstepping my bounds, but I do not think sending hideous pictures of cats is a wise way of winning over this man’s affections.

[✧ Oracle ✧] pls show us the picture he wanted to send

[Fox]

[Panther] Hahahah oh akira

[✧ Oracle ✧]

[Joker] …

[Joker] I’ll be staying at this undisclosed location until further notice

[Panther] no Akira!!! seriously where are you??

[Joker] the_view_is_nice.image

[Panther] :O

[Panther] how did you get up that high???

[✧ Oracle ✧] gymnastics training

[Panther] huh? i didn’t know you were a gymnast Akira!!

[✧ Oracle ✧] im sure he’ll tell u all about it now

[Joker] -____-

[Fox] I cannot believe I failed my first mission as the Chosen One.

[✧ Oracle ✧] i can

[Fox] is typing…

[Panther] @ ✧ Oracle ✧!!!!!!

[✧ Oracle ✧] kek

[Fox] I am an utter disgrace to this friendship. How can I even call this a friendship when I have done nothing but leech from the kindness you all have bestowed upon me. How will I ever be able to show my face among you, those whom I have failed. I must atone for the shame I have wrought.

[Joker] You didn’t fail @ Fox, and you are not a disgrace. It was my fault. I was the shitty friend in this situation. I’ll make it up to everyone, and to you Fox. I’ll think of something.

[Fox] Food would suffice.

[Joker] Dinner for a week it is.

[Fox] Delightful!

[Panther] wow he got over that fast

[✧ Oracle ✧] welcome to being friends with Inari, the path of forgiveness is through his stomach

***

✧ Oracle ✧

SEPT 1st 5:07 AM

[Joker] Slight problem

[Joker] I actually have no idea how to get down

[✧ Oracle ✧] u really r part f*cking cat

***

Regrettably, some of his life choices last night did him no favors.

Mistakes had been made. Limits and Lessons had been learned. Unfortunately the hard way.

After miraculously finding a way down off the catwalk without injury into his dorm shower and a fresh set of clothes, Akira managed to show up for his opening shift at Big Bang Blends ten minutes early.

Haru took one look at him when he slinked into the kitchen and immediately said, “Oh dear.”

Akira spun a damp curl around his finger. “That bad, huh?”

“Uhm.” Haru offered him a wobbling, pitiful smile. “You kind of look like how I would imagine a cat that got caught outside in the rain might feel.”

He let out a self-deprecating chuckle and wandered over to the apron rack. “Fair comparison.” Selecting his off its hook, he pulled it over his head. “I’d add on that the cat also got stuck in a tree and developed a splitting migraine.”

“I know just the thing that’ll sort you out!” Haru hovered over to Akira’s side. “Whenever I--” she paused, considering her words with a finger to her lip, “overindulge,” she settled on with a giggle, “I’ll make myself a cup of my special tea. It instantly clears my head and calms my stomach.”

Akira’s stomach rolled unpleasantly. “ Special tea ?”

Haru nodded vigorously. “It works like a charm! And I’m not just saying that because I drink it, I have a friend--well, I might be overstepping if I were to call him that, we aren’t that close,” Haru sighed, “but I make it for him too when he occasionally stumbles in here in a similar state.”

“Do I want to know what’s in it?” he asked hesitantly.

Haru beamed brightly at him. “No.”

Akira groaned.

“I promise it’ll work,” Haru said, wandering out of the kitchen and over to her collection of loose leaf teas that were displayed in clear, sealed jars behind the counter. She called back to him, “You’ll perk up in no time!”

He gave her a weak thumbs up.

Picking up the task list from the side of the walk in freezer, he resigned himself to his fate of ingesting whatever the fuck concotion Haru was going to feed him. It couldn’t have been worse than what he drank last night. In all honesty, he would have been feeling way, way, worse if Yusuke hadn’t convinced him to drink so much water when they got back. Akira would like to think the fact he wasn’t curled up on the floor in the fetal position on the cafe floor was also thanks in part to the Amazake he had chosen to drink the night prior too. But the thought of the non-alcoholic sake made his stomach churn harder so he stopped that train of thought immediately, and focused on setting up the dining area. His head felt like it weighed five pounds heavier than it usually did, which made moving it a bit of a hassle, but he had the opening sheet to finish before the cafe opened and he’d damn himself if he didn’t deliver.

What his stomach did seem safe to think about was luck stats, and that maybe Futaba was onto something when she had made that off hand comment in their chat last night. Akira was incredibly lucky to have landed two bosses ( three if he counted Sojiro but the man was more like a father than he ever was a boss) who cared more about his well being as a person than as a source of cheap labor. Watching Haru make his tea as he flipped chairs down off the tables only amplified his guilt of showing up before her utterly and unmistakably hungover.

Being the sloppy friend did not sit well with Akira.

He swore to himself as he pushed in the last chair he took down that this was the first and last time he ever did anything as stupid and irresponsible as he did last night. Not to mention, his luck wouldn’t last if he kept this up. He’d make it up to everyone somehow, and Haru in particular now. He wouldn’t let his current state impact his work.

And once he stopped feeling like dogshit and could form a coherent argument, he was going to have a long, hard talk with whichever one of his personas decided it would be great fucking idea to drink so much, scale the interior of the theatre, and fall asleep on a steel beam no greater than sixty centimeters in width. Because honestly, what the fuck ?

Even In high school, his “peak stupidity” years, he hadn’t done anything as dumb as this.

Okay, well, that was a lie.

He had done a lot of stupid, often illegal things (see: petty theft, breaking and entering) in high school that to him, had been justified. He was quite gifted at stealing and knew his way around a lock with professional proficiency, and he had gotten away with it unscathed for a very long time.

Except for the whole getting arrested and put on probation thing , which ironically had been for a crime he didn’t actually commit.

“It’s ready!”

“Thanks, Haru.”

Akira swung by the to-go counter reaching for the mystery tea waiting for him and continued on.

After thirty minutes of sipping on whatever miracle cure Haru brewed as he checked off the morning set up tasks, it fucking kicked in. The mind fog and nausea disappeared almost entirely, settling his stomach enough that he was able to keep down some Advil and melon pan with Haru for breakfast. Akira could handle the headache until the medicine took over.

He just couldn’t move too fast or too sudden (Akira was still a little too off balance for that), or turn his neck sharply (thanks to what he had drunkenly decided to use as a pillow the night before). But he powered through it as he set about stocking the various coffee beans in their containers.

The last item on the task sheet they completed together. Prepping the food items for the pastry case with all of the baked goods Haru had made the night before. In addition to mochi, goma dango, and other pastries one would expect to enjoy with tea and coffee, there was always some kind of cake. Meticulously and lovingly decorated, sliced by hand that Haru showcased in her cake display. Today’s selection was a daring one, a pink lemonade cake with delicately applied ombre pink frosting and topped with candied lemon slices that were evenly spaced, each sitting on an artful dollop of whipped white icing.

“Did you want to try a piece, Akira-kun?”

Akira glanced over from where he was sliding a tray of nerikiri into the case. A plate with a modest slice was being extended to him. Eyeing the color up close, his stomach protested. Apparently still a little too hungover to test the limits of his digestive tract with such an extravagant confection.

“It looks amazing, but I think I’ll stick to the melon pan this time Haru.”

“I can always save it for la--”

A sharp series of knocks interrupted their conversation.

From his position squatting on the floor, he checked the time on his phone. There were still five minutes until the cafe officially opened for the day. Haru had warned him there were always a few people who showed up early and failed to read the sign.

“I’ll get it,” Akira sighed, sliding the door of the pastry case shut. “You finish with the cake. I’ll handle our impatient caffeine addict.”

“Oh don’t worry the cake’s all done, I just cut the last slice.” Haru waved Akira off. “I can get him.”

Him?

He hastily straightened up, brushing a few stray sugary crumbs off his apron and immediately looked over at the entrance. Every muscle in his body seized up. Waiting outside the glass doors was one impeccably dressed and restless looking Akechi Goro. Akechi rolled his shoulder, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag while he checked his phone.

The message Akira sent Akechi last night intrusively echoed in his head the moment the former detective looked up and locked eyes with him. Pocketing his phone into his suit jacket (it had to be custom fit, because there was no way it could have cut his figure that well without tailoring), he lifted his chin ever so slightly. Akechi’s expression twisted wickedly into something that short circuited Akira’s brain.

Oh.

Fuck .

A war waged between two primal instincts in Akira’s body at the sight, the overwhelming urge to run in the face of danger clashing with a tidal wave of lust. The rush coursed through his veins, freezing him in place. Much like prey that had been cornered, his heart began to thrash against his ribs.

Akechi’s grin was sharp and salacious, a stark contrast to the innocent and winsome smile that the T.V. ready Prince so often wore. Akira didn’t know him all that well (... yet ), but God , that smile just seemed to suit Akechi so much better.

Akira got to witness this side of Akechi knowing it was reserved for only him for about two whole seconds before Akechi’s face changed, shifting into his composed, manufactured doll-like mask when Haru made it over to let him in.

The transformation gave Akira something pretty close to whiplash.

Really arousing whiplash.

“Good morning Akechi-san,” she greeted him, holding the door open with a warm smile.

“And same to you, Okumura-san,” he returned politely, stepping past her and into the cafe proper. “Pardon my early arrival, I have quite the busy day planned unfortunately and was hoping to get a jump start.” He brushed aside a few strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes with a gloved hand. “I hope your morning has been going well.”

“It’s barely started,” Akira muttered, reaching for a to-go cup to start Akechi’s order to busy himself with so he wouldn’t stare at the breathtakingly handsome man in front of him. His heart needed a break already.

Instead of writing Akechi’s name, he doodled a pair of handcuffs with the bold letters A and G within the negative space in each cuff (Akira admired his work for a brief moment and thought Yusuke would be proud). He marked the drink as a caramel latte, recalling what Haru had put down on his cup yesterday. Then proceeded to make a pour over instead.

Haru flipped the sign to open, and then said, “Very well, so far! I tried out a new cake recipe, you have to try it.”

Akechi laughed, and Akira’s stomach clenched--but this time in an all too pleasant way. Akira diverted his attention from grinding the beans for his drink to watch the detective ( Fuck! ) The sound was light and lyrical, and after what Akira witnessed… sounded totally out of place coming out of the same mouth that had held that smug, voracious grin a moment ago.

“As much as I would love to, I must decline. I cannot get into the habit of having cake for breakfast.”

“Then you must take a slice with you!” Haru walked past him and over to her cake display, lifting the glass lid and taking a piece out.

“Alright, if you insist,” Akechi conceded, coming to a stop in front of Akira, who moved on to scooping the grounds into the damp filter. The proximity made it near impossible to keep his eyes off the detective, but Akira somehow managed it, forcing himself to pay attention to his pour.

“Actually, would you mind if I borrowed your barista for a moment, Okumura-san?”

Akira snapped his head up from his preparations and met Akechi’s eyes once more ( God damnit! ). Which was a really dumb idea as a shock of pain spiked down his neck. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from wincing.

A dangerous glint appeared in that maroon gaze that catapulted Akira’s thundering heart into his throat.

“Is he in trouble?” Haru peered over her shoulder from where she was packing a bright pink slice of cake into a to-go container.

“He might be,” Goro murmured just loud enough for Akira to hear, then broke their eye contact to address Haru, “I assure you, nothing of the sort.” He smiled that infuriatingly fake smile at her, complete with an innocent tilt of his head. “I just need to ask him a few questions, in private.”

Haru shot Akira a questioning stare, Do you need me to say no?

He shrugged nonchalantly, or as nonchalantly as someone who was having a very intense internal meltdown over an insanely attractive man could, and said, “It’s fine, Haru.” He continued to pour the scalding water in a circular motion over the coffee grounds in the filter, doing his best to quiet all the alarm bells in his head.

His response must have come off convincingly enough because Haru nodded and said, “Well, I can’t see why that would be a problem.” She hesitantly returned Akechi’s smile. “But I will need him back in a bit when the morning rush hits.”

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Akechi turned and gestured to a table in the corner of the cafe--far away enough from the counter that Haru couldn’t possibly overhear their conversation. Then under his breath he added, “As long as Kurusu-kun doesn’t resist, that is.”

Akira cleared his throat, willing his throbbing heart to drop back into its cage between his ribs. “Go on, I”ll join you when I’m finished.”

Akechi nodded, leaving the yen for his coffee on the counter and sauntered away. Akira topped off the pour over and transferred the liquid into the to-go cup. On his way around the counter he snagged what was left of his miracle tea and took a swig. He hoped it would replenish his mental reserves to handle the upcoming verbal sparring match he was sure he was about to walk into.

Akechi, in his immaculate glory, was leaning back in his chair languidly with one dark clad leg crossed. He watched Akira closely as he wandered over with their drinks. Akira suddenly felt incredibly out classed and underdressed in his usual cardigan-v neck combo he had going on compared to Akechi’s tan suit jacket and pressed button down shirt.

He slid into the seat opposite Akechi and pushed his coffee across the table. Akechi nodded in thanks and brought it to his lips.

Akira pretended he didn’t watch the way Akechi’s throat moved as he swallowed his first sip.

The detective hummed approvingly. “Black.”

“The way you actually like it,” Akira said with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Is it now,” Akechi chuckled darkly against the lid still pressed to his lips. “Sadly, my coffee preferences are the extent of where your knowledge of me ends.”

In the tenuous silence that descended after that statement, they sipped at their respective drinks. Gazes not once wavering off one another.

“I assume you know why I’m here,” Akechi finally said, cutting the tension.

“When I said ‘come get me ’ I didn’t mean ‘corner me at work ’,” Akira hissed over his cup of miracle tea.

He could think of many other, far more superior places he would have loved to be cornered by Akechi in. But Akira kept that part to himself.

The detective leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist. “You do realize if this were a real investigation and I caught you as unaware as you were this morning, you being at work with your Boss present wouldn’t have deterred me.”

Akira stole a glance at Haru, who was busy writing the specials of the day on their blackboard, then drained the rest of his tea.

Akechi followed his gaze and continued on in a saccharine tone that contradicted the alluring smile his mouth had split into again, “But since it’s not, I highly doubt you want an audience for when I bend you over the counter and take what I want from you.”

Akira promptly choked.

Any lingering doubt Akira may have had about Akechi’s preferences evaporated. Akechi knew exactly what he was saying. He had to have, right? There was no heterosexual explanation for that response.

Point to Akechi, he thought, accepting the fact his face was probably as red as the flowering plant hovering three inches above his head.

“How considerate,” Akira managed to rasp once he got his tea to go down his throat correctly. Swallowing burned like a bitch. Now he had to deal with a sore throat on top of the rebellion being staged by his heart and stomach, and the leftover vertigo from his hangover.

“Will you hand it over now?” the detective asked with a hint of sugar coated venom.

“Hate to disappoint, but you’ll be walking away empty handed this morning. I left it in my room.”

Which wasn’t a lie. In his haste to recover from last night’s escapade and get to work on time, he hadn’t thought to grab the handkerchief. The last thing he expected was this.

“I think you’re sending me mixed signals.”.

“Am I?”

“You tell me you want one thing, then act like you didn’t expect it to come to fruition when I follow through on it so I’m curious,” Akechi titled his head and his hair shifted, shining ethereally in the early morning sun streaming through the window. “What is it you really want, Kurusu?”

For you to fuck my brains out, Akira thought. But admitting that so bluntly to Akechi’s face felt like defeat. So, he kept the stupid illusion of their game going and leaned in.

“I want to see if the Detective Prince is really as good at his job as the rumors say he is.” Akira mirrored the detective’s head tilt and offered him a crooked grin. “I won’t be that easy.”

“If you want me to physically remove it from your person, then I must insist from this point forward you carry it with you. If every time I corner you, you… aren’t ready,” Akechi’s smile grew wider, “then doesn’t that defeat the purpose? And unlike you it seems, my time and attention is limited.”

“Rude.” Akira mimicked the detective’s posture, dropping his chin into his palm. “My time is limited too. I just can’t have you stalking me at work. And--” what Akira really meant to say next was , I cannot possibly work and retain my sanity with you watching me like that all the time. But instead said, “--Think of Okumura-san’s business. You’ll scare away her customers.”

Akechi shot him an unimpressed look. “Somehow I highly doubt that.”

Wow. Cocky bastard.

"Well,” Akira said, changing tactics by imbuing a little bit of truth, “I imagine you can relate to not wanting to be distracted at work, with your fans and all.”

“They can be...rather inconvenient at times, yes.” Akechi studied him intently. “Alright then. Let’s make a deal.”

“Making a deal with the enemy? Akechi,” Akira feigned a gasp, “don’t tell me you’re a dirty cop.”

The detective snorted into his coffee. “I’m going to choose not to entertain that comment and suggest we establish some ground rules.”

“I thought rules didn’t exist in investigations,” Akira said mischievously.

“Like I previously stated, good thing this isn’t one, then?”

They shared a private smile.

“I propose this,” Akechi said, straightening up, hands clasped on the table. “From this point on, you will carry it on your person. I will catch you off guard within the next two weeks and take back what is rightfully mine. Our working hours are exempt from this. Obviously, the common spaces in the dormitory will be too by default. Should you ever need me as your RA, that will come first and foremost, I take my duties seriously. As should you. I think you’ll find these terms agreeable and respectful of each other’s time. Unless there are any other locations you want to deem off limits.”

Akira made a show of considering Akechi’s words, tapping a finger against his cheek. This was literally the most drawn out, intellectually charged foreplay Akira had ever engaged in but he couldn’t say it didn’t excite him. In fact, there was something exhilarating about it.

“No. Everywhere else is fair game.”

“Really?” Akechi inquired, grin breaching that rapacious territory again. “Be careful what you agree to, Kurusu.”

Akira shrugged and leaned back.

“So,” Akechi prompted, “you won’t say no, will you?”

Of course he was going to accept. So Akira simply said, “I think I’ll hold on to your handkerchief.” And then held out his hand. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Hah, excellent,” Akechi smiled and shook it firmly. The leather was soft and warm as it dragged against Akira’s palm. “Otherwise, I will be forced to order a room inspection and somehow I doubt that is how you want this to play out.”

“If you are inspecting the room while I’m in it, then I might be.”

Right after the words left his mouth, the logical part of his brain that wasn’t stuck on being hungover and horny on main finally spoke up and reminded him of the very important, expulsion worthy, major cockblock that was currently being housed in his room: Morgana.

But then Akechi’s mouth upturned devilishly, and suddenly Akira decided he’d cross that furry bridge when he got to it.

“Well, then. I must be off. Thank you for the coffee,” Akechi said, dropping Akira’s hand as he stood up. “I have an interview taping in…” he checked his phone and sighed, “just over an hour. Hopefully the trains are on schedule.”

Akira tilted his head. “Still doing those?”

“Yes, keeping up appearances on behalf of the precinct,” Akechi explained, “I may be officially on hiatus as a full time student, but I still pick up cases from time to time. The media wants to know how I balance it all.”

“Ah. Explains the get up.”

Akechi bristled at the comment, his nose wrinkling ( cute! ) and brows drawing down as he straightened his already perfectly straight tie. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“Nothing,” Akira teased with a lilt in voice, “It’s nice, maybe a little stuffy.” He deliberately looked Akechi up and down. “But I bet you’d look better out of it, judging by what I saw you wear the last time you showed up here.” He couldn’t fight the coy smile his mouth twisted into even if he tried. “If you’re looking to show off, those shorts from yesterday would do a better job.”

The call out was meant to fluster Akechi, but the detective’s face remained remarkably even toned. Flawless even. Too flawless.

Could he be... he's totally wearing makeup.

Akira lifted a brow pointedly.

That did the trick, earning Akira a heated glare before Akechi turned his head sharply away. The movement roughly shifted the hair around his face, revealing a sliver of skin previously hidden. To Akira’s rapidly dawning delight, the detective’s neck was rapidly turning pink.

“Shut. Up. Kurusu.”

Oh, so Akechi blushes all the way down when he’s flustered. Fascinating. Akira filed the thought away for… later.

For totally innocent purposes.

Totally.

Akira stood up and slipped in front of Akechi, demanding to be looked at. Giddy with his new discovery. “Oh? What’s this? He can dish it out but can’t take it?”

Akechi’s eyes flashed as he brought himself up to his full height, and stepped into Akira’s space. Scowling down the few centimeters he had on him, he forced Akira to take a step back. “You,” he said lowly, continuing to move forward, making Akira walk backwards until his back hit the counter, “are a brat .”

“Just figuring that out now, detective?” Akira smirked. “I thought that was obvious.”

From this close Akira could see just how gorgeous the detective’s eyes truly were. Flecks of light red dotted the center most part of his eyes, giving off the illusion of glittering in the light. He was close enough that if Akira leaned in a fraction more their noses would touch.

A very polite, soft cough came from somewhere on Akira's right.

The detective’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly put space between them again and turned to face Haru, who was standing in between the kitchen and the counter area looking anywhere but at them.

Akira owed her now a second apology.

“I wish both of you a good day,” Akechi gracefully recovered and turned on his heel. He flexed his shoulders as he opened the door but stopped with one foot out the door.

“Oh, and Kurusu-kun?” Akechi turned halfway to face him, “Be sure to check your email this afternoon.”

And then he was gone.

***

It’s Always Snack Time in Tokyo

SEPT 1ST 8:00 AM

[Takuto Maruki] Hello! I was going to wait until I saw you in person, but I can’t resist telling you the good news! I submitted the paperwork to bring on an official research assistant. The chair of the department should grant me an answer by the end of the week. The position is yours once I get the documented approval.

[Takuto Maruki] That is, if you are still interested in conducting research with me like you did over the summer

[Akira Kurusu] I am

[Takuto Maruki] Even more wonderful!

[Akira Kurusu] Won’t it be unethical if you don’t let other people apply for the position though?

[Akira Kurusu] You can’t play favoritism

[Takuto Maruki] I, fortunately, get to make the rules in this situation and I wrote that I could appoint the position to any student that met certain criteria and showed promise in the field

[Akira Kurusu] You literally wrote the position description so that only I fit that criteria, didn’t you

[Takuto Maruki] You would be correct! :D

[Takuto Maruki] So if you’re free and want to get a jump start on assisting, I was hoping to recruit you this upcoming Friday to proctor an exam.

[Akira Kurusu] An exam? The second week of class? Savage Sensei

[Takuto Maruki] It is a 300 level that meets M/W/F so the curriculum moves fast. This cohort in particular is grasping the concepts at a much faster rate than the other two I teach for this course.

[Akira Kurusu] When is it? I open the cafe Friday mornings

[Takuto Maruki] 2pm

[Akira Kurusu] Okay, I can make that work. I’ll be there

[Takuto Maruki] Wonderful! :)

***

The Phantom Thieves of Cats

SEPT 1st 11:12 AM

[Skull] yo i am not back readin any of that

[Skull] wat did i miss?

✧ Oracle ✧ Changed Skull to Edgelord Can’t Read

[Edgelord Can’t Read] I CAN EFFIN’ READ!!!

[Edgelord Can’t Read] i said i wasn’t gonna, not that i cant big difference

[Edgelord Can’t Read] ur the one who cant read

[✧ Oracle ✧] wow gr8 comeback edgelord im so offended. what r we 7yrs old

[Edgelord Can’t Read] shuddup

***

Gotta Go Fast

SEPT 1st 11:28 AM

[Skull] BRO A CATWALK?! WTF?!?

[Skull] how the eff did u get down??

[Joker] My amazing cat-like reflexes

[Skull] bro

[Skull] how u feelin btw

[Joker] You know that feeling you get when you’re about to go over the hill on a rollercoaster?

[Joker] Like that

[Skull] oof

[Skull] ill make u my ma’s soup when ur shifts over, its the best for this kinda shit

[Joker] Why is everyone being so understanding with me today

[Skull] were ur friends man we gotchu

[Joker] alsdjflskf

[Skull] uh did the rollercoaster drop or smth

[Joker] Haha no

[Joker] Thanks Ryuji

***

The Phantom Thieves of Cats

SEPT 1st 2:01 PM

[Edgelord Can’t Read] UH HOLY SHIT EVERYONE CHECK UR EMAILS

[Panther] what?? why??

[✧ Oracle ✧] im surprised u even read ur email

[Joker] Oh.

[Joker] Fuck.

***

To: Shujin Hall_5th Floor

From: Akechi Goro; Niijima Makoto

CC: Kawakami Sadayo

Subject: Violation of Dormitory Rules

Dear Fifth Floor Residents of Shujin Hall,

This is a friendly reminder that there is a strict No Pets Policy in this Residence Hall. A contraband item, a can of pet food, was located on the floor inside the trash room on Friday night. As such, we will be conducting room inspections beginning tomorrow, starting with rooms located in the Girls’ Wing. Let this be an example to all that the consequences for violating this rule will be termination of their dormitory agreement and the loss of their on campus housing status. Any additional charges will be determined by the Residence Hall Director, Kawakami Sadayo.

If you have any further information on this subject, please feel free to contact us.

We hope you have a wonderful rest of your weekend.

Sincerely,

Your Resident Assistants

Akechi Goro

University of Tokyo | Class of 20XX Criminal Justice / Psychology Major | Philosophy Minor [email protected]

Niijima Makoto

University of Tokyo | Class of 20XX Criminal Justice Major | Psychology & Law Minor [email protected]

#akeshu #shuake #akeshuake #goro akechi #persona 5 royal #persona 5 #akira kurusu #goro akechi x akira kurusu

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salexectrian-heir · 3 years

Text

Rough outline for my time travel 2/2 akeshuake fic complete. It has 8 chapters, I’m estimating they’ll be 2k each maybe, or that’s the hope. I want to have all chapters written before the date. I’ll have a couple options when it comes to posting.

I could drop all 8 at once on 2/2 (that is if I can get it all done and ready to post by then)

Post one chapter leading up to 2/2 (ambitious bc it cuts back on writing time)

Or post once chapter a day starting on 2/2 (ideal but then also it’ll last past 2/2 which kind of might defeat the purpose?)

Hmm.

#akeshu #shuake #akeshuake

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salexectrian-heir · 3 years

Text

I want to write a 2/2 fic for the upcoming real life date but it has been done sooo many times before in the fandom (it’s free angst lmao)

Spoiler warning lol

So I’m brainstorming ideas that haven’t been done and the best one I’ve got so far is on the night of 2/2 when Maruki calls for Akechi to come in from eavesdropping outside it isn’t 18 year old Akechi that storms in.

It’s a very irate, murderous 28 year old Goro Akechi followed closely by 26 year old Akira Kurusu who is trying to hold back said irate, murderous Older Akechi from strangling Maruki, who has effectively shoved himself so far into Leblanc’s booth seat he’s almost crawling out of the window at his back.

Meanwhile 18 year old Akechi stands there gaping in the doorway at his older self who has now managed to lunge into the same booth seat as Maruki, dragging Older Kurusu into it with him in a heap.

And 16 year old (almost 17 now) Akira just sits there sipping his coffee, staring blankly at one of Futaba’s hidden camera bugs in Leblanc, not questioning the chaos unfolding before him as if nothing in this world could ever surprise him anymore.

(The twist is time travel, a side effect of Maruki fucking around with reality is creating “gaps in reality/worm holes” and the older boys fell through from the fake future to stop it from happening since they can no longer beat the overpowered God Tier Future!Maruki, but sure can kick Young!Maruki’s ass.)

#akeshu #shuake #goro akechi #persona 5 Royal #gonna post this on Twitter too

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salexectrian-heir · 3 years

Text

messages from last night

Pairing: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist

Fandom: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal

Rating: M (will bump to E in future updates)

Word Count: 19,993 (WIP), chapters 1-4 are out! (link to ao3 in notes)

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No powers, Chatting & Messaging, Underage Drinking, College Shenanigans, Drunk Texting, Sexting, Sexual Content, Akechi is still Akechi but with less murder more black mail, P5R Characters, tags to be updated

Summary:

Akira Kurusu, first year psychology student, can’t resist flirting with trouble when he and his misfit group of friends cause mayhem on their floor. More specifically, mayhem in the form of a kitten they stole from a party and snuck into their dorm.

Now they have to focus on not to getting caught breaking the rules by their RAs… too bad one of them is former The Detective Prince with a perfect case record. Things couldn’t get more complicated.

That is, until Akira sleeps with him.

chapter 1: death, taxes, and drunk texts

✧ Oracle ✧

AUG 27TH 2:58 AM

[Joker] hi

[Joker] ansswer me

[✧ Oracle ✧] w t f aren’t u out w/ryuji? why are u messaging me

[Joker] death, taxes, and me drunbk tsxting you are 3 certaintties in life, Futaba. get used to it

[✧ Oracle ✧] oh joy.

[✧ Oracle ✧] fine, i’ll bite. roll for damage

[Joker] i bonged champagnge.. i may have also done one (1) or more keg stnds, and slapped a bag o fwine? what in the atctual fuck am I doing w my life?

[✧ Oracle ✧] certainly not ur best. Joker’s enfeebled 2

AUG 27TH 7:02 AM

[Joker] wow

[✧ Oracle ✧] sucks 2 suck bruh, gl in class w/the hangover (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

[Joker] ...

AUG 27TH 7:18 AM

[Joker] jokes on you, im still drunk

The first time Akira Kurusu saw Goro Akechi, he crashed and burned like Icarus.

He had been longboarding across the Todai campus, weaving in and around clusters of students crowding the sidewalk when the chance encounter happened. The first signs of his hangover he was dutifully ignoring with the help of a playlist Ann had made him. It was surprisingly good and the song he was listening to was catchy, even if he didn’t quite understand all the English lyrics. A good enough distraction to drown out the budding headache knocking at the base of his skull. (In hindsight, not one of his smartest ideas).

As he approached two girls walking in the center of the sidewalk, he noticed they were giggling. Passing excited whispers between themselves while looking at someone just ahead. Akira leaned back slightly, letting his shift in weight guide his board, taking him in a wide arc around the pair of blushing women as he tracked where they were gazing. A few feet ahead, a preppy looking young man with brown hair in a green pullover sweater was riding a bike, attracting the attention of quite a few people as he passed. And conveniently for Akira, he was clearing a path through the hoard of students.

Akira leaned forward, kicking the ground to gain enough speed to stay in the wake of the cyclist’s route. His gaze fell on the man’s back, watching the way he moved his lean body with a natural grace, easily shifting between sitting and standing, to pedal and coast. He absolutely did not check out the cyclist's ass, as Akira was a respectable young man that did objectify and drool over strangers--even if said stranger’s dark pants did more than accentuate his--okay so maybe he was ogling a little bit. Sue him, the man had a great ass. Akira tore his eyes away from the very nice view to the messenger bag resting against the man’s left hip. An embroidered black letter “ A ” the only mark in its light gray leather.

Akira contemplated how long he could follow him without it seeming weird, but before he could come to a conclusion the decision was made for him. The cyclist suddenly veered off the path and into the grassy quad to bypass a particularly large group of loitering people. Akira hugged the edge of the sidewalk to dodge the bodies and found himself unable to keep his eyes off the man on the bike for more than a second.

The grass slowed the cyclist down just enough that Akira was able to match pace with him, finally able to get a good look at his profile. Strands of his caramel colored hair billowed in the summer air framing the sharp features of his face like some kind of model Akira expected to only see on T.V… in fact, he was sure he had seen him before, was it on T.V. somewhere…? The weight of Akira’s stare must have surely been felt, for the man turned his head and looked right at him.

If you had asked Akira, he would have said the whole world stopped right at that moment for what he saw in that piercing maroon gaze stole his breath away.

Unfortunately for Akira, that momentary lack of oxygen his brain so desperately needed caused a temporary lapse in judgement. He somehow had managed to forget the cardinal rule of skating: watch where you’re going . While locking eyes with the person who had perhaps the most gorgeous face he had ever seen (life’s not fair, a great ass and a face to match? Which God did Akira need to submit a formal complaint to about fatal distractions?) fate rapidly closed in on his knees.

The world violently restarted as his shins collided into something painfully hard and immovable. The ground traded places with the clear sky as the momentum he had picked up flipped him head first over the side of a bench. His legs followed, and he was at the mercy of inertia and gravity as he got to know the metal construction a lot more intimately than he ever planned to, before rolling off it and landing unceremoniously on the concrete sidewalk, flat on his back. His longboard carried on valiantly without him down the pathway, the sound of its wheels grazing the pavement fading away the longer he stayed prone.

Of course, this display did not go unnoticed. Soft snickers and hushed laughter echoed from several directions, along with a few startled gasps. Akira groaned, rubbing the heel of his palms into his eyes. He needed to get up. Collect whatever was left of his dignity, find his (fake) glasses that were strewn from his face somewhere on his descent, and chase after his board. But the throbbing pain emanating from both his head and right knee was doing a pretty damn good job of convincing him to stay down, so he let himself wallow a few seconds longer than he should have. When he finally removed his hands from his face, he realized someone was staring down at him.

Those eyes.

Perhaps it was some cruel joke by whatever God had heard his complaint and witnessed his epic fall, toying with his battered pride, for the cyclist he had been so caught up in was hovering over him with a perplexed expression on his face. The locks of his soft brown hair glowed gold around the edges, much like a halo, as he blocked out the sun. Akira’s lungs seized up a second time.

“That was quite the scene,” the cyclist spoke in a lilting voice, offering Akira a polite smile and a gloved hand, “are you always this reckless?” When Akira didn’t answer or take what was being extended to him, his divine rescuer’s expression slowly melted into one of concern. “Are you alright?”

Akira finally felt himself breathe. He’s … beautiful.

And like before, the world seemed to come to a halt. Suspended in that moment, the cyclist gaped at him, eyes blown wide. Akira’s stomach clenched, his own eyes mirroring the maroon pair above him as it dawned on him that he had breathed the thought out loud. Akira was keenly aware that if he didn’t get his breathing under control he was going to suffer brain damage. Or more accurately, more brain damage than he already incurred from his accidental attempt at defying physics.

The cyclist recovered first.

“And you’re an idiot,” he muttered under his breath, breaking whatever hold had that had suspended itself a beat too long between them. His disarming smile slid easily back into place, though his eyes still held on to some of his shock. He grasped Akira’s forearm with a firm grip and pulled him to his feet. Once righted and safely situated on his feet, Akira’s lungs figured out how to start working properly. The flood of oxygen meant his brain could reboot and let him say something less incriminating of his blatant infatuation. Key word could .

But his brain didn’t.

“Uhm, yeah. Thanks.”

Smooth Akira, he thought, cringing internally when one of the cyclist’s brows arched at his comment, thanking him for insulting you, you’re off to a great start.

He kind of wished he’d melt back into the concrete.

“You should really watch where you’re going.” The cyclist released his grip on Akira once Akira had stopped swaying. “You could have gotten seriously injured.”

The phantom feeling of gloved fingers pressing into his skin lingered where the cyclist had touched him.

“Maybe,” Akira said with a slight shrug and half smile, “I’ve survived worse.”

The cyclist gave him an odd look, mouth parting for a second as if to ask something but then thought better of it and instead pressed his lips into a thin line. Warmth rose to the surface of Akira’s face when he noticed the cyclist giving him a once over before meeting his eyes again.

The cyclist gestured towards his lower half. “You realize you’re bleeding.”

Akira glanced down to where the cyclist’s attention had been drawn and saw he was, indeed, bleeding.

“Ah. Shit,” he said, fingers immediately finding themselves a piece of his fringe to twirl, “so I am.”

A steady, thick trickle of blood was running down his leg and into his sock from a gash on his knee. As far as first impressions go, Akira thought it couldn’t get much worse than this. Getting caught by the person he was checking out, epically crashing, and then making an utter fool of himself as all his charm seemingly decided to take a vacation the moment one attractive boy with magnetizing eyes smiled at him.

There was a huff, followed by the sound of a button snap as the cyclist dug in his messenger bag.

“Here.” A moment later a handkerchief was thrust at him. He dropped the curl he had been fiddling with to accept it. It had an embroidered “ A ” in one of its corners, matching the font of his bag. “It looks pretty deep, I would apply pressure for a few minutes to stop the flow, and then immediately clean the wound once you get to wherever you were headed.”

Akira rubbed the soft fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. It was clearly high quality. “I’ll ruin this if I use it, are you su--”

The cyclist cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Cold water removes blood stains.”

Grabbing his bike from where it was leaning against the bench, he swung his leg over to mount it.

“Then, uh...how do I get this back to you?” Akira asked, hoping to come off as his usual calm, cool, and collected self, and not at all the desperate, dumb, and dejected fool he was starting to feel he was becoming.

The fact that his handsome stranger would forever remember him as such was a serious blow to his ego. His dignity was at an all time low, which was a new feeling for Akira. One he quickly determined he loathed. He needed a chance to prove to this man with a fine ass he was not a fumbling idiot. Despite the clear evidence suggesting otherwise.

What happened to all that charisma he had painstakingly cultivated during high school?

“I don’t even know your name.”

The cyclist adjusted his messenger bag and tossed Akira an inquisitive look over his shoulder, eyes searching his face. A small smirk crept across the cyclist’s perfectly bowed lips, apparently having found what he was looking for. “If fate should bring us together again, I suppose you’ll get your chance to return it.”

And with a wink, ( a wink! ) the blindingly beautiful cyclist took off, expertly dodging the flocks of bodies that had gathered to witness the commotion they had caused. Akira watched the cyclist until he vanished around the bend in the sidewalk, with his mouth left slightly open and his knee still profusely bleeding.

Fate, huh? ***

Akira suffered through the rest of his Wednesday classes in a muted agony. The discomfort of his hangover peaked early afternoon, quickly replaced by demanding aches from his altercation with the quad bench. It made getting comfortable during his lectures almost impossible. His back hurt , and his knee consistently throbbed when he’d lower himself into and out of the lecture hall seats. Not to mention the sharp, shooting pain that would ricochet up his leg when he’d accidentally hit against the desk in an attempt to find a position that didn’t make him regret getting up that morning. Longboarding back to the dorms after his last class released him for the evening proved to be torture, so he opted to walk (limp, realistically) instead.

Thankfully though the bleeding had finally stopped, at the cost of the cyclist’s handkerchief. He fully intended to return the cloth after a thorough cleaning if he could, but the problem was Akira just wasn’t sure how he would find the cyclist again. Tokyo University’s main campus was massive, not even taking into consideration the sister campus sites. On top of that, he didn’t even know if the cyclist even attended the university--it was very possible the guy could have just been passing through. But his face was so damn familiar…but even if he had seen him before, it would take nothing short of a miracle to find him again.

If fate , as the cyclist put it, gave him another opportunity… and they met again… Akira rationalized he could redeem himself a little bit by giving it back. Any chance of asking him out for coffee was ruined the moment Akira humiliated himself but at the very least then the only memory the cyclist would have of him wouldn’t be one where he got taken out by a damn bench. Akira shuddered at the intrusive sensation of violently falling head over heels.

All Akira really wanted to do was faceplant into his dorm issued extra long twin sized bed and maybe eat his weight in matcha pocky in fit of self-loathing to deal with these strange feelings, but as the dorm elevator dinged and he stepped onto his floor he found out fate truly had other plans.

He was greeted by the sound of voices raised in animated chatter. Gazing down the hall, he saw his fellow residents loitering outside their dorms, leaning against door frames, darting between rooms, slowly making their way towards the common space where both wings of the dorm converged. Akira sighed. He had completely forgotten about the floor meeting tonight. His pocky pity party was going to have to wait.

Keeping his head down, he entered the lounge and quickly took a seat on the empty couch closest to the hall’s entryway, propping his board against its side. He intended to make a quick escape when it was over. The sooner his face was stuffed with matcha flavored treats the better.

“Incoming! ”

Akira had about two seconds to scoot closer to the arm of the couch in order to dodge the blonde blur that vaulted over it.

“What’s bonkin, Kurusu?” The blur said, bouncing onto the cushion next to him.

“ Sakamoto-kun, ” a stern voice scolded, “Please be more respectful of your surroundings. You could have damaged something, or worse, someone .”

His roommate, Ryuji Sakamoto, straightened up immediately and scowled at the girl that had somehow materialized to stand before them. She had short, dark brown hair that cut just below her chin, and a thin braid crowning her head. The glare she was sporting bore absolute judgement down upon him.

“Well, it’s not like I did, I was watchin’ where I was landing,” said Ryuji defensively.

The glare intensified through narrowed eyes. “Not the point.”

Her sharp gaze suddenly fell on Akira and he fought the urge to sit up too.

Imposing would be a great word to describe her , Akira thought as he dropped his smile and met the pointed look she was giving him with a blank one of his own. This only seemed to irritate her further.

“Don’t let Sakamoto’s influence rub off on you.” It sounded more like a threat than a warning.

“Well, we already live together, so. Too late,” Ryuji said, chin jutting out ever so slightly.

“He might actually benefit from Sakamoto-kun’s influence,” a pleasant voice interjected from somewhere behind him, and Akira’s heart came to a stuttering stop. “Perhaps then Kurusu-kun would have less disastrous luck with quad benches, if he learned how to dodge them.”

Oh. No.

No no no no--

Slowly, he turned to meet an all too familiar pair of alluring maroon eyes. Heat surged up the back of his neck, spreading to the tips of his ears and left him overheating in his v-neck as a fresh wave of mortification hit him like a speeding truck. He was crashing all over again. The cyclist from the morning pushed off from the wall behind the couch he had been leaning on, apparently the whole time Akira had been sitting there and failed to notice, and sauntered to the front of the room. His eyes never left Akira’s.

Fate was supposed to be on his side when they met once more damn it.

Akira opened his mouth to say something he hoped would come off as clever in response but was cut off.

“Wait, you were that kid that wiped out this morning? In the quad?”

Akira broke away from the cyclist to glance at the dark haired boy in gym clothes sitting on the couch opposite him.

“The one and only,” he said with much more bravado than he felt. Too hyper aware that the cyclist was still staring directly at him.

Akira’s ears burned.

“That was you, dude?” Ryuji laughed. “Some people in my nine am were talking about it.”

“By the way, how is your knee?”

Akira’s eyes snapped back to the cyclist. “It stopped bleeding. Guess I have you to thank for that.”

The cyclist’s mouth turned up at the edges. Not quite a smile, but too innocent to be a smirk.

“Oh shit, did you really did get fu--”

“Language, Sakamoto-kun,” the imposing girl said.

“I-I mean, oh snap,” Ryuji corrected, back straightening up a fraction again, “did you really get messed up? Lemme see?”

Akira swallowed the embarrassment forcing its way up his throat, and forced himself to play it cool. He pulled back the edge of his frayed cutoff shorts, the edge had partially obscured the deep gouge that left half the skin above and on his right knee cap missing, along with some serious bruising. The rest of his leg was littered with other small scratches and scabs.

“Dude that’s gonna scar.” Ryuji grinned. “Sick, we’re gonna match.”

Without being prompted, Ryuji rolled up his right pant leg to his mid thigh. “See these lines here? These are from emergency surgery I had to have when some douchebag broke my leg.”

“Broke your leg?” Akira’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe.

“Yeah, my asshole gym teacher in high school hit me with his car. Anyway, here above my knee are the scars from where they had to put pins in to keep the rod in place. We’re scar bros.” Ryuji lifted his hand in the air.

There’s a lot to unpack there , Akira thought to himself, but returned the grin Ryuji was giving him and high fived him anyway. Now was not the time, nor the place.

The imposing girl cleared her throat, clearly not amused by their antics. The same couldn’t be said about the cyclist, who was studying them intently with eyes alight with something Akira couldn’t quite place. Without staring at him openly at least. And he was not about to get caught doing that again.

Imposing girl cleared her throat. “If we’re done showing off our idiocy, perhaps we can get the meeting started?”

She then left to herd the rest of the residents from the hall into the common space. Some of whom opted to stand in the back while others took places on the floor when the couches filled. Ryuji animatedly waved at Ann, his friend from high school, who rolled her eyes but still wandered over to squeeze in next to him.

The energy in the room was running rampant as excited whispers, peals of laughter, and muted squeals. It died in a hush when the imposing girl called everyone to attention.

“Welcome fifth floor residents of Shujin Hall. My name is, Nii--uh--”

She cut herself off as a tall, slender man stood up from the floor, and bowed. “My apologies, I just realized I am in the wrong dormitory. Please excuse me.”

All the eyes in the lounge followed him as he disappeared into the elevator. The silence left in his wake was broken with bouts of awkward laughter and hushed whispers the moment the doors to the elevator closed.

“How the eff do you walk into the wrong dorm and go up five floors?” Ryuji scoffed, face caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief, still staring at the elevators.

“As I was saying,” the girl announced, bringing the attention back to the front of the room, “Allow me to introduce ourselves. My name is Niijima Makoto.” She gave a polite bow of her own before stepping aside and gesturing to the cyclist, who mimicked Niijima’s bow. “And this is Akechi Goro--”

The squealing from earlier returned in full force, amplified with a few shrieks and gasps that rippled around the lounge at once.

“I told you it was him!

“I can’t believe it!”

“The Detective Prince!”

“Oh my god, It really is him!”

“Is he gonna be our RA?!”

Akechi glanced up from his bow with a charming smile plastered on his face. “As some of you may have already deduced, Niijima-san and I will be your Resident Assistants. I am pleased to make all your acquaintances.”

Excitement washed over the common space again, mostly from the girls present.

“Is he, like, an idol or somethin’?” Ryuji muttered, bumping into Akira’s shoulder to grab his attention, pulling Akira out of the epic internal face palming he was repeatedly doing. That’s why he was familiar.

Of all people to make a fool of himself in front of, it had to be him.

“You seriously don’t know who he is?” Ann hissed, elbowing Ryuji sharply in his side, “He’s that high school prodigy, second coming of the Detective Prince! He got really famous a few years ago when he was in his third year for solving some like, a series of uncrackable high level cases. He’s here on a full scholarship from the SIU.”

The detective’s face had been a common occurrence on the news station Sojiro’s T.V. so often played in Leblanc during Akira’s last two years of high school. Though, studying the detective’s face now Akira understood why it took him a minute to recognize him. The Detective Prince had grown up. And had only gotten more attractive with age.

He had grown into his preppy style of clothing, no longer looking like a lanky teen pretending to be an adult, but more like the young model Akira had mistaken him for. Some of the softer features that painted the detective as an innocent child star had sharpened into something that definitely could break hearts and bring people to their knees with just one twist of his lips.

Or a well-timed glare in Akira’s case.

Ryuji frowned. “If he’s got it made, why’s he an RA then?”

Akira shrugged, still admiring the sloping angles of the detective’s face as he adjusted his tie around the white collared shirt peeking out from under his green sweater. “Sense of justice?”

“Maybe he wants to keep up his public image?” Ann supplied, twirling the end of a pigtail.

“Forever a snitch,” Ryuji grumbled, “he’s gonna make it impossible to get away with shit without getting arrested.”

Akira stopped staring just as the detective looked his way.

“ If ,” Akira leaned in conspiratorially to his friends, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, “we get caught.”

Mischief danced in his roommates eyes. “Hell yeah!”

Luckily his roommate's cheer was lost to the sea of babbling girls that Niijima-san was still attempting to quiet down. Once settled, she resumed her speech.

“We would like to go over a few ground rules, seeing as it is the start of the semester and for many of you this is your first term at Todai. You may be unfamiliar with the dormitory protocol.”

Niijima and Akechi took turns explaining the very obvious, in Akira’s opinion, university wide rules. Though a few were pointedly thrown their way, he was sure of it. Like not skating in the halls (with a pointed glance in Akira’s direction), or disrespecting the common area space (and one in Ryuji’s direction). The no-pets policy that existed for on-campus housing, but not in all off-campus housing complexes. And lastly, the emergency protocols for events like fires, and all stairwells and exits out of the building.

At the end, Akechi then asked, “Any questions?”

Which was a mistake. Several people started talking at once, vying for his attention. Niijima rolled her eyes at Akechi’s bashful reaction and disarming smile. “Any questions pertaining to the dormitory rules?”

“Akechi and I will be available in our rooms during the day at set hours that we scheduled around our classes. We also will be alternating who is on duty during weekends. We will post our RA schedules outside our doors by the end of the week. Please do not hesitate to stop by should you need any assistance,” Niijima stated, and dismissed the floor.

Akechi’s maroon eyes locked onto Akira’s the moment the crowd burst into action and resumed conversation. Akira swallowed thickly.

“I’m starving ,” Ann whined, stretching from her seat on the couch. “Anyone up for a food run?”

“You don’t gotta ask me twice, I’m always down for food,” Ryuji enthusiastically replied, “Oh-- let’s go to that ramen bar just off campus. Man, the things I would do for a beef bowl right now.”

“Ramen? Really?? You had that yesterday for lunch.”

Their bickering continued and eventually faded into the rest of the background noise as he held his RA’s analytical gaze. A sculpted brow raised a silent challenge. A taunt. As if to say, your move.

“How does that sound, Akira?”

His friends looked at him expectantly.

“Uhm.”

He was brought back to the present conversation when Ryuji nudged him, consequently losing the impromtu staring contest he had been holding with the former Detective Prince.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said, having no clue what he just agreed to. “Give me fifteen? I wanna grab fresh clothes.” He gestured to his blood stained shorts and sock.

“Oh yeah sure dude, we’ll meet ya in the lobby downstairs.”

A flock of girls carelessly swarmed past Akira as he stood up, moving to the front of the room and blocking Akechi from Akira’s view. While the detective was otherwise preoccupied, Akira snagged his board and made his escape.

#akeshu #shuake #goro akechi #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #akira kurusu #goro akechi x persona 5 protagonist

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salexectrian-heir · 3 years

Text

ragged edges and sharp teeth

Pairing: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist

Fandom: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,305

Tags: Hurt/No Comfort, Canon Universe, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Platonic Affection, References to Underage Drinking, Referenced/Implied Suicide (Goro’s Mother), References to Depression, The six times someone kisses Goro Akechi, and the one time Goro Akechi kisses someone, Shuake Week 2020

Summary:

But in truth, in reality, Goro is selfish. Always will be. He is all ragged edges and sharp teeth, he is rough and all consuming and unrelenting.

And ruining Akira is perhaps his most selfish desire of all.

Shuake Week 2020: Free Day (a six and one prompt)

i. his mother

Goro is six years old and he is crying.

The water is scalding against his skin but that he doesn’t quite mind. He tries to fight the tears but they fall despite his brave efforts to not let them roll down his cheeks. Normally, he likes this place. The bathhouse is usually calm and comforting, and feels a little bit like an adventure when he’s sent here on his own. But tonight, he knows something is wrong .

One of her “ friends ” is over. One of the many he doesn’t like. His mother had that look on her face when she ushered him outside, the kind of look that made him want to stay rooted to the spot, clinging to her leg and begging to not be sent away.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in this place, time almost doesn’t feel real in the bath. But it’s been long enough for his fingers and toes to prune, for his tears to have (finally) run out, and everyone else to have left. He runs his wrinkled fingertips over the tiles of the tub that are smooth and sleek, and wonders if anyone would come looking for him if he stayed in the water all night.

Probably not.

He sinks another few centimeters so that the water reaches his chin, and thinks about staying.

But he would miss his mother too much, and his eyes sting immensely, and all he wants is to fall asleep with her curled up next to him on his futon. He wouldn’t even mind if she hogged all the covers. It would be enough to know she was with him. That he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He fumbles his way out of the tub and into his night clothes with clumsy, pruned fingers. The street is empty as he walks back to the complex where he and his mother live. The door is unlocked, but he vigilantly locks it behind him like she taught him. She must have forgotten. Again. But that’s okay! Because Goro can reach the top lock now and knows she must be tired, that’s all.

There are no lights on except for the glare from TV, a forgotten channel making ambient noise he barely notices. He creeps towards her bedroom and slides the door aside to find it empty, to his relief. No strangers left to linger in the space he covets. The next place he knows to check is the bathroom, which is where he finds her laying on the ground. Her head lifts at the noise and her eyes widen when she sees he’s standing in the doorway.

“Go-chan?”

He’s seen his mother like this before. He knows she’s hurting but doesn’t know why (a much older Goro would understand and curse himself for not noticing sooner. But he was six, and a six year old wouldn’t know what to do. He would blame himself anway.). He lays down beside her on the floor and she tucks him underneath her chin. He pretends he doesn’t hear her cry, pretends that he hadn’t just been crying himself, and buries his face in her neck. Her hair is damp but smells like home, floral and fresh in the way that makes his heart ache. He is grateful it's not the lingering scent of cigarettes and sweat that sometimes would stain her skin in ways that would make his stomach churn.

He thinks she’ll be okay this time when he feels a tender kiss on the top of his head, on his temple, on his cheek when she finally pries him away from her throat.

He thinks she’ll be okay when she whispers I love you , against his forehead as she carries him into his room, and helps him get ready for bed.

He thinks she’ll be okay when she leaves a chaste kiss on his lips when they are finally curled up on his futon together, as she brushes away the tears that somehow, some way, had found themselves running down his puffy face again.

But he doesn’t hear her when she says I’m sorry with soft lips pressed to his damp eyelids. After his fingers have woven into the locks of her hair like a lifeline.

Because Goro is already half asleep, and doesn’t have the energy to kiss her goodnight.

ii. a relative

Goro is nine years old and he is numb.

It’s freezing outside and no one thought to give him a heavier jacket. So he stands there shivering, hands fisted under his armpits as he tries to breathe normally. The air burns his lungs each time he takes a hiccuping breath, and wishes more than anything that someone would wake him up. Because this has to be a dream. A cruel one.

Then someone grabs his face and kisses his cheek, starling him out of the haze that had settled upon him like a wet blanket. They had meant it to be a comforting gesture he would come to realize much later in his life, but his traumatized nine year old brain couldn’t handle it and he violently recoils.

The shove isn’t strong enough to deter this woman… an aunt? A great aunt? A friend of his mother? Goro doesn’t know. He’s never met her before. Or maybe he has? If so, she clearly wasn’t important enough to remember or leave an impact on his life before this moment.

All he knows is they violated his space and as he remembers what his mother--he chokes on the protest that formed on his lips as he repeatedly pushes himself farther from the person trying to hold onto him--he remembers what his mother had always told him.

“ Don’t let anybody touch you unless you want them to .”

He holds those words close to his heart, hoping the punches he’s throwing get his message across.

He didn’t want to be touched by anyone.

Anger bubbles up from somewhere in his gut. Why didn’t his mother do the same when all those “friends” touched her when she didn’t want them too? Why couldn’t she be strong enough? Why wasn’t he strong enough to protect her ?

Why wasn’t he enough?

Bile rises in his throat when he finally breaks the hold of the hands that were gripping his chin, his elbow... blatantly ignoring the affronted scoffs and whispers of what a disgrace, such a rude child, that circled in the wake of his outburst.

The only person he wants holding him is his mother.

But she is six feet under the dirt at his feet, and won’t ever be able to hold him again.

iii. a girl in the orphanage

Goro is eleven and is taken completely by surprise.

One moment he is huddled around a board game in his room with a classmate, and the next she is suddenly leaning into his personal space, pushing her face into his. His eyes go wide as he braces himself on the edge of the desk so as not to fall out of his seat.

He never really thought about kissing girls before it happened, and knew immediately after that he probably would never think about kissing girls again.

His body reacts faster than his brain and shoves her off. She gasps and stumbles back, her expression twisting in confusion at his rejection.

“Why,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “did you do that?”

“Because I like you, and I wanted to kiss you…did you not like it?

He had never been kissed like that before. He thought first kisses were supposed to feel special. But this...felt empty. And bluntly says as much to her.

She looks at him like he had slapped her across the face. “I-I thought...you liked me back?”

“What gave you that idea?”

Guilt only starts to settle in his gut when he sees the tears welling up in her eyes just before she mutters something akin to an apology and bolts out of his room.

He glares at the spot she had been standing.The longer he thinks about it, the angrier and more justified Goro feels. He doesn’t regret telling her the truth but… he drops his head on his arms.

He can’t even make friends right. Maybe he really was broken, like all the other kids say he is.

She gets adopted two days later.

He doubts she even remembers that kiss.

iv. a hook up

Goro is seventeen and it's a means to an end.

Goro hates these events, but has to attend to keep up airs with Shido and his... associates . To be available for Shido to both dangle in front of and threaten his inner circle with. The fact Goro fits in with them at all makes his skin crawl, and he drowns the urge to peel it off with the complimentary wine he’s (illegally) being served. It’s the least offensive crime he’s committed by a landslide.

Goro just needs to be seen and not heard. To both impress and intimidate. And it works every time.

But tonight, it works perhaps a little too well. Or Goro is a little too drunk to care anymore, and wants to get something, anything out of this hell he’s stuck in. Which is how he finds himself pressed up against a bathroom door by the son of some sycophant politician dragged along by his father hoping to get in Shido’s good graces.

The boy is his age, maybe a little older. Far too eager, excited, and sloppy. He kisses Goro hastily, before Goro could stop him (it’s not what they're in this bathroom for, and they both know it). The boy’s mouth is clumsy, and the kiss is full of inexperienced tongue and tastes of the sickly sweet moscato they’ve been chasing. When the boy tries to deepen the kiss, Goro takes a fistfull of this boy’s hair and yanks. It earns him a yelp.

Glaring down at him, Goro simply states, “On your knees.”

And the boy obeys without a second thought.

The boy doesn’t like him . He likes the image he carefully manufactured to be desirable. Even if the boy claims he went down on the Detetive Prince in a bathroom in some fancier hotel in Shinjuku, no one will believe him.

Back at his apartment, Goro slams down the mug of tea he had made to wash out the taste of the boy from the party. If that boy really knew what Goro kept buried underneath the layers and layers of masks he wore, what he was truly capable of, he would run away screaming.

But it doesn’t matter, it’s not like the boy’s affection was really for Goro . And Goro held none for the boy. It means nothing. A release, an excuse to feel something other than seething rage for a few minutes. A pitiable excuse for human connection Goro so desperately craved. How pathetic.

Goro begins to laugh.

And when his manic laughter breaks into sobs he can’t quite tell.

v. his rival

Goro is eighteen and it stops his entire world.

Stepping out of the Jazz Jin, Goro is quickly enveloped by the brisk November chill that finally settled itself in the streets of Kichijoji. It seeps through his clothes and makes him shiver, craving the warmth and atmosphere of the lounge they just left.

He shouldn’t even be here with Akira. Against his better judgment, Goro had reached out, invited him here one last time before…

Akira ducks around him as the door shuts, effectively cutting off the only exit out into the street.

“Akechi, can I ask you a question?”

Goro raises a brow. “I suppose.”

Akira removes his hands from his pockets, and suddenly seems unsure of what to do with them. Turning them over and flexing his fingers as he says, “Um, I’ll need you to close your eyes first.”

“Akira, we don’t have time for games,” Goro chides in that manufactured plastic tone of voice the Prince uses to let his fans down easy.

(Thinking Akira will probably try to shove some stupid trinket in his hands like last time. And Goro will have to repeatedly decline said trinket until Akira inevitably shoves it in his pocket while he’s not looking and only for Goro to find it later when he takes off his coat back at his apartment).

A soft laugh pulls him back to the present. And then, “Indulge me, detective . Please?”

Maybe it was the poorly disguised desperation hidden in Akira’s voice that made him cave to the delinquent’s whim, or Goro’s realization that this was perhaps the last time he would ever get to feel like a normal teenager before...

Goro rolls his eyes and gives in to Akira’s request with a sigh. “Alright.”

The sounds of Kichijoji’s nightlife are amplified when his eyes flutter shut. He becomes hyper aware of the cold clinging to his skin, the idle chatter of the passerby at the top of the stairs, milling about down the street.The welcoming scent of coffee that never seems to fade from Akira’s clothes.The sound of Akira stepping closer into his space.

Suddenly, alarms are going off in Goro’s brain as he register’s Akira’s hand cupping his cheek, skin to skin.

“May I?” Akira’s question is whispered so quietly, Goro thinks he feels it more than he hears it.

Goro swallows, unable to get his tongue to work to form words. It’s the first time anyone has ever asked Goro for his permission, for his consent, and he has no idea how to even voice how that makes him feel.

It’s blindsiding him.

A thumb traces over Goro’s bottom lip, and his eyes snap open. He’s peering right into irises of silver, sparkling from the string lights that hang around them in the stairwell of the Jazz Jin’s entryway.

“You said you would keep them closed,” Akira whispers, gaze dropping to where his thumb is still idling tracing Goro’s mouth.

Goro’s prolonged silence seems to unnerve Akira, for he begins to pull away. Without thinking, Goro’s hand shoots out and grabs the lapel’s of Akira’s coat, holding him in place. Goro wasn’t even aware he moved until Akira let out a small gasp.

“I never said that,” Goro murmurs, but his eyes fall shut anyway when Akira leans in again.

Akira’s lips are so soft, so delicate and gentle when he presses them against Goro’s mouth. They are everything Goro is not, and Goro is melting . It’s so much kinder than he deserves, far more genuine than Goro is even capable of being.

“To remember me by,” Akira breathes when Goro parts his lips to taste more of him, “since we agreed to stop seeing each other after this.”

Too soon the warmth from Akira’s mouth is gone, and so is the dark haired boy. Having assimilated into the shadows to leave Goro alone in that stairwell.

It changes everything and nothing at the same time.

Goro still puts a bullet in Akira’s brain two days later, but it's his own head that explodes.

vi. a kiss met halfway

Goro is still eighteen, and living on borrowed time.

“ Your life isn’t trivial! ”

Goro has never wanted to believe anything so badly before. But knows in the shell of his empty heart, that Akira is wrong.

That he’s just being a brainless, sentimental fool, giving Goro’s life more meaning than it ever had the right to have.

Yet the thief’s words echo in the recesses of his mind, with each step he takes away from Leblanc for them only resonate louder. By the time he reaches the main road, the words are deafening screams and he has to--has to--

Akira is just where he left him. Sitting there stupidly at the cafe counter with his face in his hands.

The door to Leblanc is ripped open. It shakes on its hinges as it absorbs the aftershocks of being slammed into the wall by the force of Goro’s hand. The jingle of the bell is drowned out by the roar of Akira’s voice in Goro’s ears.

Akira startles and whips his head in the direction of the noise. Goro can see the thief’s eyes are swollen and red, brimming with unshed tears as he pulls his hands away from his face. His mouth falls open, brows furrowed in shock or confusion, Goro isn’t keen on differentiating at the moment because he’s too busy closing the distance between them.

Goro is so sick of other people defining what his life is meant to be. So sick and tired of being manipulated, following orders like some kind of marionette on a string. And for nothing in the end. Because Goro is his own worst enemy the cards were stacked against him from the beginning.

So fuck it. Goro decides for the first time in a long time that he wants to be touched. To be held. To feel the weight of someone’s desire for him pressing in from all angles. He wants to drown himself in Akira until he can breathe nothing else.

And Akira meets him halfway.

They don’t speak of what they’re doing, as they tumble up the stairs to Akira’s room.

They do not name the desperate feeling they are chasing through each other’s clothes as they fall to the floor.

They refuse to acknowledge the truth that is passed between each other’s mouths, secrets they had kept buried beneath flesh now exposed.

But everything left unsaid hangs in the silent spaces between their bodies as they move as one.

+1 a kiss goodbye

Goro is (still) eighteen, and he is dying.

It takes less than a minute.

Goro does his best to keep the desperation out of his eyes but can’t keep it from his hands.

Hands that reach for Akira to roughly pull him into the helicopter after Maruki, who had been tossed aside like a ragdoll.

Goro drags the beaten and bloodied thief into his lap, and no one seems to pay them any attention, too focused on either watching the unconscious therapist in the back, the collapsing palace around them, or the brilliant white light they were heading for.

Akira goes to unhinge his helmet, and Goro lets him. It clatters to the ground, next to where Akira abandoned his own mask.

He lets Akira drag fingers drag across his chest, to travel up and bury themselves in his hair, to cradle the back of his head like the most precious treasure he’s ever laid hands on. So much of Goro yearned to be touched, and there was so little time.

Goro slides his own hands, still encased in clawed gauntlets, along Akira’s battered face. He uses the pads of his thumbs to trace the angle of Akira’s jaw as he crushes his mouth against Akira’s for the last time. Akira’s blood is sweet on his tongue.

For a split second, Goro wishes he could have been a stronger, more selfless man in his final moments. One who didn’t covet things that were never his ( would never be his ), or ruin the things he touches.

But in truth, in reality, Goro is selfish, always will be. He is all ragged edges, and sharp teeth, he is rough and all consuming and unrelenting. And ruining Akira is perhaps his most selfish desire of all.

Goro knows Akira deserves better, but Akira allows it willingly all the same. Letting Goro lay claim to everything Akira is, everything Akira could be for a moment. For a moment, it all belongs to Goro.

And in return, Akira takes everything from him. His revenge, his anger, his envy, his loneliness, his heart. Devouring what is left of Goro Akechi as the false reality shatters around them in a blaze of white light.

#Shuake #Akeshu #Shuake Week 2020 #Goro Akechi #Persona 5 #Goro Akechi x Akira Kurusu #forgot to post this here

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

Photo

healing aura

I commissioned the incredible @resjade to create Anise (my canon Lavellan Inquisitor) surrounded by dawn lotus, embrium, and healing magic; all aspects of her aesthetic being a Spirit Healer. THIS IS SO GORGEOUS I’M IN LOVE <3 thank you SO MUCH for this beautiful work of art Jade <3

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

Text

Loki: Chapter 13

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*

Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly.

Chapter 13

It had been the single most perfect Valentine’s Day she had ever had. The dinner, the candles, the bath…

Ar lath ma.

The admission had been a whisper against her skin. She thought she might have even made it up, hearing things she wanted to hear, so desperately. Her heart beat took off in a rapid staccato, spurring her to wrap her arms around his neck and slate her mouth over his. His confession had tasted even sweeter on her lips. Had felt more steady than the way he carried her out of the bath. Had been more intoxicating than the pleasure he gave her over and over in his bed that night.

And yet it got caught in her throat when she tried to return it.

But that was why she was here now, outside his apartment. If she couldn’t say it yet, then she would show it. And then try to figure out why.

A small voice hissed at the back of her head that she knew the reason, that she was just a coward.

Nothing good lasts forever. Look what happened the last time a man told you that. Screaming matches, a family feud, heartbreak, a broken engagement, and running away.

She let out a sharp exhale, and quickly rolled her shoulders to chase away the fear. This time it would be different. She would be different. She had grown from that, and would shake off hold it had on her heart.

The key to his apartment was warm in her hand. Correction, now her key. She had been holding it tightly for the last five minutes standing outside his door, not quite ready to let herself in, mind revelling in the memories. If being honest, she was still not entirely over the fact that he gave her it in the first place. She had made him swear not to get her any gifts for Valentine's day on their date a week ago. She didn’t need chocolates or flowers (though she really did love getting flowers), and didn’t want him to feel like he had to buy her things just because some holiday dictated it. She would much rather receive a gift spontaneously, because he thought of her in the moment. And he listened. He did not give her his key on Valentine’s day. Instead, he waited until they had gone to bed.

“It is 1:03 AM,” he had said, reaching over her body to open the drawer of his bedside table and to take something out.

“Yeah, so?” She twisted beneath him, trying to get a better look at what he was doing.

“It’s no longer Valentine’s Day. I can now give you a gift.”

“Oi,” she had begun to protest, “I said we’d split this date evenly, and you already broke that rule.” Her attempt to pin his arm back down had been easily thwarted, “and now you’re about to break--” he interrupted with a kiss to her lips. Then to her nose. Then to her cheek, trailing down her jaw to her neck. Needless to say that distraction worked. While preoccupied with his mouth, he had pressed something into her the palm of her hand in the darkness. The shape was unmistakable.

“It is not much, but I figured it would be wise if you had a key to my place. That is, if you ever wanted to come over, even if it is three am after your shift when I am not away, or--”

Anise had not been so chaste in her interruption. Not at all.

“I said no presents,” she had said between kisses, “you lied to me.”

“Only by omission.”

She turned the key over in her hand. She was here to show her love, to fill his fridge with groceries so he would have something to eat when he got in tonight because she knew he would be too tired to go to the store himself before coming home.

The lock came open with ease, and the light from the hall trickled in as she opened the door.

In the dark, his apartment screamed ‘I’m lonely’. Flicking on the hall light didn’t do much to help, now it screamed ‘I’m lonely’ but with a fluorescent twist. She made a mental note to get him some better mood lighting. Candles seemed to be his go to, which are fantastic and romantic, but not always practical. And the amount of time he spent staring at his computer screen and doing paperwork… his eyes would thank him for it.

She loaded his fridge with the essentials for breakfast she knew he liked. Almond milk, berry yogurt, eggs, granola for his pantry, a few boxes of protein bars. And a few things he could make for a later meal, fresh vegetables and fish. On a notepad she found on the counter she left him a note about what he would find, a little heart.

On her way out, she paused by his bedroom door. His bed was immaculately made with not a wrinkle in sight. Like they had never spent nights together in it together. Like it had never been slept in at all. Heat rose rapidly in her cheeks at the idea her mind conjured staring at his bed. She shifted her weight as she stood in the doorway, debating whether or not to follow through on it.

“Why the hell not,” she thought and walked towards the bed, pulling her hair out of the bun that had kept it piled on top of her head.

She tossed back the comforter and broke the seal on the neatly tucked sheets. Phone in hand, she pulled her t-shirt over her head, left her bra and yoga pants on the floor, and climbed into his bed. She arranged his gray sheets over her body, pulled out her phone and laid down, her red hair spilling onto his pillows. With the front facing camera, she took a picture and sent it to Solas. quickly following up with a text of “i miss you”. He was most definitely on his flight by now, and most likely wouldn’t get it until he landed, and she would be well into her shift.

She didn’t fix his sheets before she left.

***

The first on-call room she tried to open she was met with a chorus of shocked outbursts. She slammed the door shut before she could see anything she would later regret.

“Locks exist for a reason,” she snapped at the couple through the door, pounding her fist on it for good measure.

The next one over was, graciously, empty and she quickly flopped down onto one of the beds. She needed just ten minutes to herself. The moment she had arrived at the hospital it had been chaos. A tractor trailer crashed into the bus that ran between downtown Haven and the suburbs on the highway, causing the ER to flood with bodies. She immediately started her shift scrubbing into an emergency surgery to assist Vivienne. Normally, the opportunity to scrub in with the Chief was well fought over by the residents, but no one protested when Vivienne called on Anise. There hadn’t been time for petty in-fighting this afternoon.

Their patient, the bus driver, suffered several ruptured organs in their abdomen causing massive hemorrhaging, and a few broken ribs. In the end, their spleen had to be removed but their liver was salvaged and the perforations along their intestinal track repaired.

The vibration of her phone trapped between her thigh and the firm mattress ultimately stirred her from the depths of her mindlessness. A smile formed her lips when she saw she had a text from Solas. The perfect distraction.

[Vhenan]

Thank you for the groceries. You are too kind.

[10:03pm]

A few seconds later, he sent another.

[Vhenan]

[Image]

Why are you not still in it?

[10:04pm]

It was a picture of his empty, ruined bed. Her smile broke into a full grin.

[Anise]

duty called, and it has been non-stop. but i just so happen to have some free time on my hands right now

[10:05pm]

[Vhenan]

Wasted, granted you are not here. I could think of many things to do to you with your hands in that free time

[10:05pm]

Heat pooled in her belly, trickling down to ignite that oh so sweet sensation between her thighs.

[Vhenan]

Though, I should not distract you from your duty. That would be unkind.

[10:05pm]

[Anise]

You. Tease.

[10:06pm]

[Vhenan]

Come over after your shift ends. Whatever time that is. I will make it up to you.

[10:06pm]

The sudden opening of the on-call room door startled Anise, and she dropped her phone right onto her face.

“I didn’t...interrupt something… did I?” Hawke said, hesitating in the doorway.

Anise’s already flaming face burned even hotter.

“No,” she said defensively, scrambling to sit up and stash her phone in her lab coat pocket.

“You aren’t really selling it.” Hawke kicked the door shut behind her and face planted on the bed on the opposite side of the room. Her voice came out muffled. “I’m laying down here anyway. Now spill it, Spice.”

Anise rubbed her face with both hands. Hawke wasn’t going anywhere, and she had been dodging her for weeks about her personal life, after she overhead Dorian’s well-intentioned teasing of her extracurricular affairs. So she decided to be honest.

“Well, I… started talking to someone.”

Hawke’s head immediately shot up. “Ooh, can I guess?”

Anise crossed her arms. “They don’t work here, so no.”

“Damn,” Hawke said, rolling over to face Anise, “you were able to meet someone outside of work? Where are you getting your free time, I would like some of that.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand Anise said, “It was more of an accident. Chance encounter type thing.”

There was no way in hell Anise was going to tell Hawke she only met Solas because her kitten stole his underwear. Nope, not ever. Hawke would never let her live it down.

“Lucky you, I take it that’s why you were grinning all doe-eyed at your phone?”

“I was no--”

“Oh, come on,” Hawke teased, and made a cheesy, hopeless romantic facial expression, “total lovestruck doofus.”

Anise grabbed her pillow and lobbed it at Hawke’s face for a direct hit. “Ass.”

“You got it bad, Spice,” Hawke cackled as she put the second pillow under her head, watching Anise stand and head to the door. “By the way, the new rotation schedule is up.”

Anise paused, her hand on the handle and looked over her shoulder. Hawke’s face broke into a shit-eating grin.

“Judging by your smugness, you got what you wanted. Ortho?”

“Hell yeah I did.” Hawke’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “You on the other hand…”

“Oh no, I don’t like that look…Hawke, just tell me. What’s my verdict?”

“You’re on Cardio.”

Anise gulped.

“Good luck dealing with Fenris.”

Hawke’s snickering followed her out the door.

***

Anise gasped and shot up in bed, fingers digging into the center of her chest, scratching at the skin and bone barrier that separated her lungs from the oxygen she so desperately lacked. It was only a small relief to find as she raked her fingernails down her sternum that her chest cavity was not in fact split open, but wholly sealed and unbroken.

Firm hands yanked her own away from her body, and pulled her forward into a tight embrace as she continued to get down as much air as she could. He cradled her head under his chin and held her close to his body.

“I’m right here.” His voice cut through the static buzzing in her head and she latched onto it. “Okay?” The familiar and comforting scent of him washed over her in seconds, and she began to relax in his arms. The steady rise and fall of his chest against her shoulder grounded her, and she tried to sync her own in time with his.

“Nightmare,” he said more so than asked, after a few minutes had passed and her breaths came at less labored pace.

She nodded.and shifted so she could face him. “I was in the OR for open heart surgery.”

A hand rubbed at her back in slow circles down her spine. “Aren’t you always?”

“Yes,” she laughed, but it was mirthless. More of a slight gasp. “But I was on the operating table. Awake,” she said, knuckles digging into her breast bone again, feeling its solid resistance against her touch. The beat of her heart was still a little too fast to be normal. “It felt so real, I could feel everything. I–I couldn’t tell it was a dream. How do I know this isn’t? And it’s not the anesthesia kicking in and–”

“Anise.” He entwined the fingers of his free hand with hers and guided it away from her body again. “Do you have a history of heart problems?”

Since I met you, perhaps.

“No,” she said instead, and felt more of the tension bleed out from her body.

“You’ve been working too much.”

As he said it, it clicked.

“I just found out I’m on cardio rotation next week, that has to be why.”

The cardiothoracic attending was a bit of a nightmare himself, to say he was impossibly judgemental and incredibly intimidating would have been an understatement. And on top of that, there was some kind of unspoken feud between him and Anders, which made it difficult to get to know him. Seeing as she was friends with Anders, he didn’t really give her the time of day.

She sighed. “I just can’t shake how… how real it was.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain we are awake now, half-dressed, in my bedroom.”

That made her truly laugh, and chased away the remaining fear that had been lingering in her body. “Only reasonably certain?” She traced a path long his bare thigh with her fingertips, enjoying the way he tensed at her touch.

His exasperation was evident in the sharp exhale he let out against the top of her head.

“Forgive me for my poor choice of words.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But if I am being honest, you continue to surprise me every time you wish to stay.”

She turned her face so that it was only inches away from his own.

“I sometimes believe you are a figment of a dream I created and expect to wake in an empty bed.”

“So dramatic,” she said, and tilted her face so that she could capture his lips before he could pull away. “Am I everything you dreamed I would be?”

“That and more,” he said without missing a beat, laying her back down with a kiss and pulling the covers back over their bodies.

His hands continued to hold her as one kiss turned into another, and another...

Eventually, he drifted off into sleep. Her head tucked neatly under his chin, arms wrapped loosely around her body, and a thigh resting between her own. She was on the verge of joining him, but wanted to stay awake just a little longer in the comfort of his embrace.

Ar lath ma was her last conscious thought.

#solas #solavellan #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction #light chapter

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

Note

DWC PROMPT: "I'm right here, okay?" for your Loki-verse version of Anise and Solas, pretty pretty please!

Anise has a nightmare, set in the Loki-verse :) for @buttsonthebeach

Solavellan, Rated T

Firm hands yanked her own away from her body, and pulled her forward into a tight embrace as she continued to gulp down as much air as she could. He cradled her head under his chin and held her close to his body.

“Nightmare,” he said more so than asked, after a few minutes had passed and her breaths came at less labored pace.

She nodded.and shifted so she could face him. “I was in the OR for open heart surgery.”

A hand rubbed at her back in slow circles down her spine. “Aren’t you always?”

“Yes,” she laughed, but it was mirthless. More of a slight gasp. “But I was on the operating table. Awake.” Knuckles digging into her breast bone again, feeling its solid resistance against her touch. The beat of her heart still a little too fast to be normal. “It felt so real, I could feel everything. I–I couldn’t tell it was a dream. How do I know this isn’t? And it’s not the anesthesia kicking in and–”

“Anise.” He entwined the fingers of his free hand with hers and guided it away from her body again. “Do you have a history of heart problems?”

Since I met you, perhaps.

“No,” she said instead, and felt more of tension bleed out from her body.

“You’ve been working too much.”

As he said it, it clicked.

“I’m on cardio rotation next week, that has to be why.” She sighed. “I just can’t shake how… how real it was.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain we are awake now, half-dressed, in my bedroom.”

That made her truly laugh, and chased away the remaining fear that had been lingering in her body. “Only reasonably certain?”

His exasperation was evident in the sharp exhale he let out against the top of her head.

“Forgive me for my poor choice of words.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But if I am being honest, you continue to surprise me every time you wish to stay. I sometimes believe you are figment of a dream I created and expect to wake in an empty bed.”

“So dramatic,” she said, and tilted her face so that she could capture his lips before he pulled away. “Am I everything you dreamed I would be?”

“That and more,” he said without missing a beat.

#solavellan #Anise Lavellan #Lokiverse

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

Text

50 Interesting OC Asks

1. What is a rumor people tell about them? 2. How long would they last in the zombie apocalypse? 3. If they’re about to get in a fight, what song plays in their head as their ‘hype song’? 4. How important is family to them? 5. If they had a theme song, what would it be? 6. What’s a movie they can quote from start to finish? 7. Are they more of a leader or a follower? 8. If they were given 1000 acres of land with no strings attached, what would they do with it? 9. If they had to flee their home country, where would they live? 10. Do they think psychic abilities exist? Which one would they like to have? 11. What was their favourite fairy tale growing up? 12. What’s a skill or craft they would like to master, but haven’t? 13. How did they find out Santa isn’t real? 14. What’s a personality trait they wish they had? 15. Do they believe in getting revenge on those who wrong them? If so, how do they go about it? 16. If they were arrested with no explanation, what would their friends and family think they had done? 17. In 40 years, what will they be the most nostalgic about? 18. How would they describe their family? 19. If they could shop for free at one store, what would it be? 20. Do they have any pets? If so, what are they? 21. If they had to bury treasure, how would they hide it? 22. If they were given a one minute ad slot during the Super Bowl that they couldn’t sell, what would they fill it with? 23. What’s the most important object they own? 24. What event in their life would make a good movie? 25. If there was a day held in their honor, what would people have to do on that day? 26. If they could dedicate their life to solving one problem, what would it be? 27. What makes a person beautiful to them? 28. If they turned into their crush/significant other for a day, what would they do? 29. What do they do/act like when they’re angry? 30. What would be their perfect day? 31. How would they conquer the Earth? 32. If they could swim in any liquid what would it be and why? 33. Where do they find meaning in their life? 34. What percentage of their life have they felt truly alive? 35. What job were they born to do? 36. Do they believe things happen for a reason? 37. What do they think is a conspiracy? 38. Do they believe in magic? 39. Do they believe in the afterlife? How do they picture it? 40. What’s a superstition they believe in? 41. What is the dumbest way they’ve ever been injured? 42. Do they drink/smoke/do drugs? 43. What’s the best and worst purchase they’ve ever made? 44. Can they cook? What’s their favourite dish to make? 45. Do they mind conflict? 46. What is something silly they’ve been tricked into believing? 47. If they could start a charity what would it be for? 48. If they were a cryptid (bigfoot, mothman, ect.) what would they be? 49. What’s their ideal temperature and weather? 50. What topic could they give a 20 minute presentation on with no preparation?

#ask away!

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

Text

Loki: Chapter 12*

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*, this chapter is NSFW

Chapter 12* (4.8k, NSFW)

Anise wove in between bodies at a record pace, clutching her lunch bag to her chest, dodging interns left and right. She needed a moment of silence to clear her throbbing head, and if one more first year came up and asked her how to properly intubate someone, she might just scream. Normally, she would be all for teaching freshly graduated doctors-to-be techniques, but after what she just witnessed in the resident lounge? Absolutely not.

Anise took a sharp right and dove into the stairwell that would lead her towards the basement, her feet moving on autopilot to the once familiar place she would run off to escape to early on in her career at Haven. At the second to last door from the bottom, she slumped into it, letting her weight push it open. Her brows arched as she saw someone else who apparently had the same idea she did, sitting on a gurney in the hallway of the abandoned wing of the hospital.

“Old habits die hard,” Dorian said with a smirk, and gestured for her to sit in empty space beside him.

“Gods, this takes me back to first year when we all would eat down here,” she said, hoisting herself up on the forgotten piece of equipment. She proceeded to open her own packed lunch, a tuna wrap with carrot sticks.

“Let me guess, your reason for avoiding our common area is the same as mine?”

They locked eyes, and said in synchrony, “Anders.”

Dorian cackled.

He fished a carrot stick out of her bag for himself before saying, “Honestly, I don’t know what we all saw in him. It ends the same way for everyone. You can’t fix him, no matter how hard you try,” he bit into the carrot stick with a loud crunch, “but at least it’s Hawke this time, and not a new intern. Maybe she will finally knock some sense into him.”

Anders was a brilliant doctor, one of the best neurosurgeons in the nation if not the best. He turned down multiple offers from hospitals all around the country before settling at the Ferelden teaching hospital. But his personal life was a total mess wrought with commitment issues, and he was constantly getting in over his head with the medical board with his fiery attitude and unorthodox approach to medicine (which was not necessarily always a bad thing, and definitely something that had drawn Anise to him in the first place, but his sometimes he just skirted the lines of what was ethical). Anise had made the mistake of getting involved with him shortly after starting her internship (as did Dorian) but quickly realized Anders was… a lot to say the least, and she politely ended things. To her surprise (and relief) he was understanding. They got along much better as colleagues than they did as lovers, anyway. Anise vowed never to date another doctor at her hospital moving forward. She was much more content to over hear gossip, than be the reason for the gossip.

And then, there was Hawke--their fellow resident, good friend, and ruthless rival. She was a handful, too. Equally as fiery, passionate, always managed to make everything a competition, and went tit for tat with Anders. He may have finally met his match. It didn’t surprise Anise they were sleeping together, or that they were airing out their dirty laundry in the resident lounge at this very moment. Something she had walked in on in her effort to get her lunch.

They had both stopped yelling and stared at her, mortified at the fact they had gotten caught. She had given them a painfully awkward wave before zipping over to the fridge, snagging her lunch, and darting out of the lounge in under ten seconds.

Their fighting resumed before the door had even shut on her way out.

“Let’s hope only metaphorically, Anders has a surgery this evening, and I’m getting to scrub in and perform the craniotomy.” She stuck her tongue out at Dorian’s envious expression.

“Brat. Does Hawke know about this?”

Anise rolled her eyes, “If I were to hedge a guess, it’s what started their fight.”

As she bit into her wrap, her phone vibrated in her pocket. When she checked it, she promptly choked.

[Vhenan]

Will you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?

Schedule permitting, of course

[1:13pm]

Friday.

As in The Fourteenth of February.

As in, Valentine's Day.

“Best steer clear of Hawke for the rest of the day then. Otherwise she might just knock you instead.”

“Hah..ha,” Anise replied weakly, eyes still glued to her phone. Her brain, temporarily out of order.

Solas wanted to take her out.

On the national holiday for couples.

Granted, he had taken her out before, but that had been more casual, and hadn’t felt as exclusive. From the outside, they could have just been good friends dancing together, grabbing a bite afterwards. People did that all the time.

(Well, he did kiss her, but no one had been around to witness it, so therefore it didn’t technically count, or so she tried to rationalize.)

That date also had been before they started sleeping together…before he called her vhenan...

A wave of heat rolled up her neck, burning the tips of her ears. She had been too cowardly to bring up what he had said to her in his sleep filled haze the day after the last time they had slept together. Their snow day together had been too picture perfect, and she didn’t want to chance ruining it. She spent the entirety of the day on top of him on her couch (they had switched apartments for Loki’s sake). And when they weren’t alternating between their favorite movies… they engaged in other forms of entertainment.

[Anise]

I believe my shift ends at 5 next Friday--if you don’t mind having a little bit of a later dinner, I would love to join you

[1:20pm]

[Vhenan]

I do not, I’ll make the arrangements.

[1:20pm]

[Anise]

Nothing too fancy!! You’ve seen my laundry, I only own scrubs and that one dress

[1:21pm]

[Vhenan]

It is done.

[1:22pm]

“Who’s Vhenan?”

Anise nearly jumped out of her skin and almost dropped her phone on the floor.

“Dorian,” she chided, shoving him hard, and scrambling to send off one more text.

[Anise]

No presents! And we go halfsies

[1:22pm]

“It’s your fault you made no effort to hide your screen. I’ve been talking to you this whole time and you’ve so carelessly ignored me. I had to know who was more important than your very best friend.”

“Absolutely no one.” Anise tucked her phone safely back into the privacy of her pocket.

“Darling Anise, we both know that’s bullshit.”

It was at that moment the door to the hall bust wide open, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoed like a gunshot, startling both Anise and Dorian.

“Oh fuck,” Hawke’s horrified face was quickly covered by her hands, sending tufts of her pixie cut jet black hair to stick out at even odder angles than they normally did, “and here I thought I could escape today for one fucking second.”

Dorian and Anise exchanged a quick glance and said together, “Old habits die hard,”

Dorian shifted further down the gurney, as did Anise, leaving space for one more body. Anise gestured to Hawke to take the spot, and offered her a carrot stick. Hawke made a disgusted noise but took the seat, and carrot stick, anyway. It looked like she might snap it in half. She fell into an awkward, tenuous silence beside Anise, who suddenly became very interested in the tuna of her wrap, taking small nibbles and examining the bite marks she left behind.

Finally, at long last Hawke said, “I can’t scrub in with Anders anymore.”

“Because you’re sleeping with him?”

Hawke shot Dorian a dark look. “I’m dating him, asshole.”

Anise paused mid bite, “Wait… like…?”

“Like, it’s official, All-Spice,” she quipped at Anise using that stupid nickname that speech pathlogist gave her that Hawke hung around with. Apparently, he gave everyone nicknames. “We went to the Chief, came clean, and everything. Anders had to speak privately with Viv for like an hour.” Hawke rubbed her face. “And then he comes back and tells me that I no longer am allowed to scrub in with him anymore.”

“I mean, that makes sense,” Dorian said, which was clearly the wrong thing to say to Hawke, earning him another, darker, glare as she chomped down on her carrot stick.

“Fuck you,” Hawke said with her mouth full, pausing to swallow before continuing, “I know that. I still get to be upset about it.”

“Valid,” Anise said, taking another small bite of her wrap.

“Sure, but you don’t have to scream about it,” Dorian retorted.

“Also, valid point,” Anise commented, covering her mouth with a hand as she chewed.

“Fine, you’re right. Sorry,” Hawke sighed, shoulders rising and falling dramatically. “And I’m also sorry for what you walked in on, Anise. I want it to be clear, I didn’t mean to sound like I was angry at you. I’m not. I just let--”

The door to the hall opened again, with considerably less banging this time, but all three residents snapped to attention as they saw who stepped through.

“The Witch,” Dorian hissed.

The Chief Resident’s expression soured.

“I heard that, Dorian,” she drawled, “why is it that when I need a competent resident, the three of you are nowhere to be found. Incoming abdominal gunshot wound, no exit, OR three.”

All of them immediately jumped up, pushing each other out the way to stand before Morrigan, Dorian and Anise shoving their lunches haphazardly back into their packs as Hawke edged them out.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Lavellan, you have a surgery tonight, you’re out.”

Anise didn’t fight it, given the circumstances, and quietly stepped back.

“Hawke with me. You look like you need it.”

“What,” Dorian protested, gesturing flippantly at Hawke, “how is that the basis of your decision?”

“Dorian, you suck up to every attending, you’ll find a surgery to scrub into before I make it back to the OR floor.”

Hawke’s amber eyes sparkled as she flipped off Dorian when Morrigan had her back turned. Dorian returned the gesture with equal flair.

“Remind me why we’re friends with her again,” Dorian asked, after they were gone.

“Because she’s a pariah like us, and you do actually like her as a person, flaws and all.”

Dorian grumbled something in Tevine under his breath, slumping back down onto the gurney. “And remind me why I’m friends with you, when you won’t even tell me all the interesting bits of your life?”

Anise sighed.

If she started telling Dorian about Solas, it would mean someone else would know, which would make it all the more real.

It really didn’t take her that long to decide.

“Okay, but you have to promise me not to laugh and call me crazy,” Anise warned, and Dorian’s face lit up, “but it started with my kitten and my neighbor’s boxer briefs…”

***

The restaurant was one of those scratch kitchen types, where everything was locally sourced and organic. It had a rustic feel to it that reminded her of home the moment they sat down at their booth, surrounded by plants and large glass windows. Surprisingly, it was comfortably warm. She had shrugged off her winter coat, but kept on the black blazer she had dug out of her closet that she hadn’t worn since she graduated medical school, and was happy to know it still fit perfectly. She had gone with a floral turtleneck underneath with a pair of tight jeans and ankle boots. Not too fancy, but still dressed up. He had worn something similar in fashion, a pair of nice jeans, a green sweater, and sport coat over top.

It was surreal. To be out, with him, clearly as a couple. Her heart hadn’t stopped fluttering since he took her hand when they left their apartment complex.

She hadn’t meant to talk about work, or make Solas talk about work, knowing how bringing it up seemed to ruin his mood. But when he asked about how the surgery with Anders she was able to scrub in on went, the incident with Hawke naturally came up, and suddenly she was discussing work.

“I’m sorry, I’m monopolizing the conversation. I would ask you about your week, but I get the impression it wasn’t any better than the last.”

“You would be correct in that assumption,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I managed to avoid the C.E.O for most of it. One awkward elevator ride was all I had to endure. Luckily, in silence.”

Even with that simple statement, she could see the tension set in his shoulders. “Let’s not talk about work anymore.”

He peered over his steepled hands at her. “What would you like us to talk about, Anise?”

Anise ran her tongue over her teeth and thought for a second. “I want to learn more about you. So let’s play a game.”

Solas’ brows arched. “What kind of game do you have in mind?”

“You try to make an assumption about me. If you’re right, I drink. If you’re wrong, you drink. And vice versa.”

He chuckled. “Where did you learn this game?”

“Med school. We had to find some way to cope,” she said with a laugh of her own.

“You might want to order a second glass of wine before we start.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you think I’ll only make wrong assumptions, and you’ll only ever make right ones?”

“Indeed, I do.”

Anise rolled her neck. “Game on. I’ll go first. Your favorite color is green.”

“You went for something easy.” Solas took a generous sip of his wine. “What gave it away?”

Anise grinned. “Your sweater. Your ties are mostly green. Your socks have intricate green patterns on them. Your briefcase is a very dark green, almost black if you’re not looking close enough. But your sweater tonight really sealed the deal for me.”

“Astute observations. Then let me counter with this, your favorite color is blue.”

“Guilty.” Anise blushed behind her glass of wine, and took a sip. “I’ll bite. How’d you know?”

It was Solas’ turn to smile. “Your bedsheets are blue. As is the accent wall in your bedroom. The gift wrap you covered my wintersend gift in. Most of your scrubs are light blue, though this could be required at your hospital, but I took the risk.”

There were also two very obvious reasons, she wasn’t about to admit to as she gazed into them.

“Only attendings have a specific uniform color, and its navy ironically.”

Their dinner arrived after that, but they continued their little game even after their drinks were finished, using water instead until they ordered a second glass each. Solas guessed Anise had broken bones as a kid--she drank, she had broken two in her arm when she was four years old, and was religious--he drank, which prompted a long philosophical conversation about the elven gods and their teachings in which he was surprised to find she wasn’t religious, or spiritual, at all. That she viewed them more as lessons in morals more than anything. Anise soon learned, after a few more wrong guesses, Solas hated plums, but not as much as tea, loved to read research articles, if only to critique their methodology and sample size, and to her greatest surprise, had been arrested twice before the age of eighteen.

Anise finished off the last of her ravioli, and asked, “For what?”

“Disorderly conduct, and Trespassing,” Solas said, pusing around some of the vegetables on his plate, “I was very misguided in my youth.”

“I remember you saying that. My my, what a troublemaker you turned out to be,” she teased.

His lips twisted into that half smile she loved so much. As he studied her from across the table, setting aside his cutlery and dish, her stomach did flips. “You are the youngest child.”

Anise took a sip of her wine. “Youngest of three.”

“All girls?”

Anise shook her head triumphantly, “Only girl.” Solas took a sip of his.

“I have two older brothers. One is in law enforcement, the other is in a metal band.”

“Metal band? Diverse interests in your family.”

“Hah, you don’t even know what my father does for a living.”

Solas did that deep stare again. There was silence for a beat, then he said, “Politician.”

“Damnit,” Anise whispered, taking another sip.

Solas eyes lit up with a realization. “Is he--?”

“The Dalish politician, yes, yes, the one and only,” Anise rolled her eyes rather dramatically, feeling the wine settling in, “kind of obvious. Know how I mentioned in the past my family was busy with legal matters in Wycome? Well, I’m sure you saw recently on the news, the Dalish settlement in the Free Marches was officially recognized as a historical site and can no longer be bought or demolished, because of his advocacy and support from Wycome residents who rallied.”

“I did, it’s incredible what he has done for the history of his people.”

‘I agree. They are in the process of creating a museum to preserve the artifacts and culture from the ancient Dalish in the city. The land will remain untouched and essentially become a nature preserve with trails and historical markers. He keeps saying I have to visit once everything settles down and it’s opened to the public.”

The waitress came around to collect their plates and ask if they wanted dessert. The answer was obviously yes, as if Solas could ever say no to anything sweet. It was entertaining to watch his face light up over a simple frilly cake.

“I do believe it's your turn,” he said, licking icing off his fork.

That was… distracting.

Anise recovered, tips of her ears burning, “You’re an only child.”

Solas stared off at the space behind her quizzically. “What happens when someone does not know how to respond to a statement, do we both drink?”

“I’ve never encountered that kind of situation before playing this game,” Anise admitted.

“To answer your question, I do not know if I have biological siblings. I don’t remember my biological parents. I was placed into foster care in Arlathan when I was very young. I met kindred spirits there, people I would have considered siblings, at the time.”

“I would say they absolutely count.”

He nodded, and drank. While doing so he dug out his phone, scrolled through it for a moment, before smiling, a true smile, and catching her eyes again. “You must not laugh.” He held out his phone.

Anise raised a brow. “No promises without context,” she said, accepting his phone and turning her attention to the picture he had left up.

“Oh, my gods,” her hand quickly shot to her mouth before she could let a giggle escape. “This is you. You have hair. How old are you here? This is… your friend that took you dancing?”

“Seventeen. And yes, that’s her. Her name was Sage. I met her while in the boarding school the state sent me to. Scroll if you want to see more.”

The picture was of two teenagers in school uniforms, standing in the middle of a city street. Solas clearly the younger of the two, with messy brown hair that just barely glinted red in the sunlight. The girl beside him had a shock of green hair that fell just below her chin. One of her arms slung around his neck, laughing at him, as he flipped off whoever was holding the camera.

The next one was Solas eating a cupcake in a dorm room, or to more accurately describe it, having a cupcake shoved into his face by Sage, who had icing on her nose already. The third was an action shot of them dancing. They got a little older every couple photos or so. At the bottom she realized the photos belonged to a memorial album he had on Facebook. While she was busy admiring photos of Solas’ over the years she had not known him, and tearing up as she realized what he had given her, a piece of his past, he had paid for their date.

Sneaky.

“Hey wait, that’s not fair,” she said, returning his phone and standing up, “you baited me.”

“I did.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and helped her into her coat.

***

The moment they made it into the lobby of their apartment complex, they were inseparable. In their favor it was empty, and the elevator was theirs alone. How they got that lucky, she didn’t know. What she did know was how badly he wanted her, evident with each pass of his tongue as it pushed past her lips. How his hands slipped under her shirt and roamed her stomach sending heat sliding down her spine to pool in her core. How the elevator brought them to their floor all too soon.

They stood in front of his apartment, her back pressed against his door with clothes entirely wrinkled and lungs breathless, torn between not wanting to stop but also wanting to move inside. She chased his lips as he pulled away to take out his key, but landed on his neck. She continued to kiss him as the lock clicked open. He groaned as her teeth grazed his pressure point, the fingers of his free hand digging into her hip. As the door swung inward, she grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him across the threshold.

“I thought you might want to come back after,” he said between kisses, stripping themselves of their outer layers once the door had closed securely behind them. “Bathroom,” he instructed, nudging her with his nose to her cheek to get her to turn in that direction.

Her bra was shed somewhere between the entryway and his bedroom, leaving her only in jeans. She didn’t want to break their connection, but when she stepped into the bathroom what she saw demanded her full attention. Candles and flowers in petite mason jars lined the tub and sink counter. And a bath bomb on the lid of the toilet seat, still in its packaging. Her heart throbbed.

Oh. He remembered I liked those.

The strike of a match brought her focus back to him. He went to grab one of the candles, but Anise got between him and his target, blowing out the lit match. She took the box from him and tossed it somewhere on top of the toilet without breaking his gaze. Her mouth was on the skin of his neck a second later, backing him up against the wall. Nipping and sucking with a couple little harder bites in between, her tongue caressing spots she had marked him. But when his fingers slid into her hair and clenched, it sent a sharp twinge of pain across her scalp making her moan.

“Mm, interesting,” he said, licking along her bottom lip.

It would have taken way more self-control than she had to to resist the impulse to roll her hips into him, and as she did she was rewarded with feeling the hard press of his erection against her hip through his jeans. It sent a current through her, making her throb between her legs.

His fingers curled into the waistline of her unzippered jeans, yanking them, and her lacy underwear down her thighs. It took a little effort as they clung tightly to her thighs, but eventually he wrestled her out of them. He managed to get his pants off with one fluid movement, and had her against the counter in a heartbeat, the cold stone biting into her lower back, his mouth slating against hers.

He lifted her with no effort, setting her atop the counter space, spreading her legs wide open. His fingers raced along the inside of her thigh, finding her clit and starting a steady and slow rhythm that had her writhing in what seemed like no time at all. He pulled away and lazily dragging his fingers aroud the lips of her sex, taking a sharp breath at wet she had become.

“Anise,” he groaned, sliding a finger inside her.

She gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he moved within her. One finger soon became two, and she bit her lip to stop from mewling as they curled in just the right cadence that set her nerves on fire. How he had memorized her body, and the way she liked to be touched so quickly was beyond her. When she couldn’t hold it back anymore, she let a whine escape in the form of his name. He removed his fingers just before she could tip over the edge he had brought her to. Some part of her brain realized she was so wet she was dripping onto his counter, but she quite couldn’t bring herself to care. He pulled her hips forward, bringing her to the edge so he could angle himself to take her.

And take her he did.

Her back arched as he smoothly thrust up and in, her head pressing into the mirror behind her. Her legs curled around his waist at the pleasurable stretch she felt as he filled her, pinning him there against her. The other hand wound its way back into the tresses of her hair, spilling out between his fingers as they scraped along her scalp. He twisted her hair sharply, forcing a blissful cry from her mouth into his, which he devoured greedily, and only encouraged him to fuck her harder. With each snap of his hips his grip in her hair tightened, the tension in her pulling taut until she broke, clenching around his cock in such powerful waves she couldn’t help herself from riding against him. He barely pulled out in time to finish on her stomach. They remained as they were, her legs wrapped around his waist, ass on the counter, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath.

“We did this out of order,” he said, his breathless laughter dancing on her cheek, “Bath first, then sex, was the intention.”

She hummed blithely, “I have no regrets.”

He released his hold on her hair, tucking several loose strands behind her ear, and laid a soft kiss on her temple before pulling out of her embrace. He cleaned his mess off her, and then himself while she wiped down the counter. Through some unspoken agreement, he went to draw the bath and she attended to the candles.

Finally, they sunk into the blessedly warm water, Solas first then Anise. Unable to contain her excitement, she unwrapped the blue bath bomb, and dropped it into the water with a very quiet, noise of delight. An explosion of blue and purple spread like smoke beneath the water as the scent of jasmine rose to greet her.

“Thank you,” she said, settling in against his chest, enjoying the way the heat of water made his body a cool relief at her back in comparison. An inky twilight surrounded their limbs, making anything underneath invisible to the depths of its color.

He laced his fingers through her own resting on his knee above the water, and squeezed.

For some reason, that simple gesture, that subtle contact, overwhelmed her. Her vision swam as the too familiar sting of tears rushed to the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it in. It wasn’t sadness, no that was a raw, hollow aching feeling that suffocated you until you could feel no more.

This… this was different. This was overwhelming, and in the best way imaginable. Like taking a breath for the first time after not being able to breathe, like lungs so full of fresh air it sent racing through her veins straight to her heart in a sweet release.

Am I really that lonely?

Or…is this…?

She knew the answer. Had known the answer for a while now, but refused to let it surface. At least, until...

“Solas,” she whispered.

He drew his free hand out of the water to caress her arm. “Yes, Anise.”

“Did you mean it?” She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. “Did you mean it when you called me vhenan?”

He let go of her hand, and tugged on her to turn around. She hesitated for a moment, realizing he was going to see her crying but obliged, twisting her torso to face him. His furrowed brows that softened when he saw her expression. He cupped her face with both hands, the water from the bath mixing with the tears on her cheeks as he stroked her face with his thumbs.

His ever steady eyes bore into her own as he leaned in and whispered, “I meant it,” before closing and capturing her in a kiss. “Vhenan,” he said against her lips, kissing her in such a way she felt dizzy when he finally broke from her mouth to pass over her eyes, whispering “vhenan,” over each one, before coming to rest on her forehead.

“Ar lath ma.”

#solavellan #solas #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #modern au #Anise Lavellan

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

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Loki: Chapter 11

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*

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Chapter 11

Anise awoke the next morning to find Solas curled around her body with his face buried in her hair. How he was breathing she wasn’t quite sure. She rolled to face him. She untangled herself from his limbs as gently as she could. Apparently she didn’t need to have done so, he literally didn’t budge or notice at all. Out of curiosity, she picked up his arm and let it flop back down. Nothing. She couldn’t stop the smile that formed, nor the quiet bout of laughter that followed. He was dead to the world. She dressed herself, placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, and snuck out the front door--leaving it unlocked so she could get back in later.

No one had bothered her clothes in the laundry room, thankfully. Added to her luck, no one was using any of the machines. The snow must have had everyone taking a day off. She was able to switch everything over into two machines, leaving the others available in case someone did feel like doing chores too. Her stomach grumbled as she shut the last machine door shut.

If she was hungry, then her kitten most definitely was. Poor Loki. She was sure he was used to her being gone for periods of time by now, with her chaotic schedule. But it still stung she hadn’t even said goodbye.

And most likely her lover who lay unconscious and softly snoring where she left him would be hungry too--whenever he decided to return to the waking world. She decided she wanted donuts and coffee but that would mean braving the snow outside. Which meant warmer clothes were called for.

Loki was excited to see her, needless to say. When she cracked open the door to her apartment, his little face was right there. Nose pressing in the slight crack she had made, sniffing loudly and mewling to be let through.

“Silly boy, the door opens inwards.”

She stuck her foot through the crack to block off his point of exit. If he got out, he most surely would get the zoomies and tear up and down the hall, and take up more of her time catching him. She kept him at bay with her foot until she was inside and had the door secured behind her. His little paws immediately found purchase on her pants. He stretched, clutching the fabric and sliding along the floor as she waddled deeper into her apartment. When she got to the kitchen he finally let go, only to weave between her feet demanding to be held. After a few solid minutes of affection, playful bites, and incredibly loud purrs, she set him down to feed him. While he was distracted, she began to bundle up for her trek to the cafe down the street. Adding extra layers on top of her pajamas, a pair of extra thick socks, hat, earmuffs, scarf and boots. She was just able to make it out of her apartment with only one loud mewl of protest.

Her feet sunk into the fresh snow all too easily once outside. It was at least three feet deep, making it more difficult than she expected to maneuver. The street had been plowed, and a few fresh tire tracks suggested people were out and about. She had been lucky to have the day off, after having spent over 120 hours in it last week.

Though the worst of the storm had passed, snow continued to fall. Large flakes floated delicately from the light gray sky at a leisurely pace. The urge to stick her tongue out and catch one was incredibly strong, but she refrained. For all she knew Vivienne could be watching from out of one of the many glass windows at the Hospital just across the street as she passed by. She couldn’t risk it. At least until the hospital would be mostly out of sight.

She let her mind wander as she waded down the sidewalk. The snow continued to fall, the hospital continued to operate, and the world kept moving. Life always kept going. She thought about all the choices that led her to where she was now, how drastically her life had changed, much like the snow changed Haven overnight.

Tipping her head pack, she watched the snowflakes on their descent. Diving off clouds, down to earth, scattering across the wind to where they eventually would find the ground. Or her face. She had risked everything, taking her own dive. Leaving her homeland, her family, an engagement, all for her dream, for her passion. A risk that paid off more than she could have ever imagined. And perhaps most important of all she felt she had truly found herself in the process... she wouldn’t trade that for the world. Despite what it cost her. Her breath came out a wispy cloud in front of her face, going the opposite direction of the snow, disappearing up into the sky.

But she gained so much, too. A new family of residents and their antics, interns and their pestering need to be helpful, and attendings with their drama. Her patients and their faith in her, and her team. A purpose. A loveable nightmare of a kitten that she loved nearly as much as studying medicine.

And even a neighbor who… might just be more...

Memories from the night before flooded her mind. The way he felt as she fucked him, and the sensation of coming completely undone atop him. Her ears burned at the thought, and she shook her head to clear it. It was way too early for that kind of thinking. Even if he did just call her vhenan…

His heart.

She buried her face in her mittens and rubbed her cheeks in circles.

He called you Vhenan. It must have been a mistake… he was tired, and so out of it. He probably won’t even remember having said it...

Vhenan was not a casual pet name. Nor would you call the neighbor you were sleeping around with anything remotely close to that.

And yet.

She had gotten so lost in thought that she arrived at the cafe without realizing. She was just standing in front of the door, hands on her cheeks, taking deep breaths like some bizarre crazed idiot staring vacantly through the glass. For how long, she didn’t know. It could have been two seconds, or two minutes. She pulled herself together and braced for the awkward conversation she was about to inescapably having with the barista.

She couldn’t just casually say, “Oh, don’t mind me, just panicking because I might be falling in love with my old soul of a neighbor who comes with a fuckton of emotional baggage that just might outweigh my own, whom I only met a few months ago, that I met by chance when my kitten stole his underwear while he was doing his laundry” and expect that to go over well.

It even sounded insane in her head.

Graciously, the barista had been on their phone and had not noticed her mental crisis happening just outside. Or perhaps they were pretending and sparing her dignity. She ordered her usual (sixteen ounce vanilla red eye), and paused. For Solas, she eyed the specials...wanting to go with something extremely sweet and decaffeinated. Come to think of it, she had never actually seen him drink coffee before, so she wasn’t even sure if he liked it. He didn’t strike her as someone who particularly liked bitter flavors, given his love for insomnia cookies. She played with a piece of hair that had slipped out from under her hat before finally deciding on a decaf dulce de leche latte (with whip), hoping he would enjoy it.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she left the cafe, with their breakfast in hand. The walk back didn’t last nearly as long, despite the snow coming down a little bit harder. By the time she had gotten back up to his apartment her socks were wet, her hair was wet, and her hands were cold. But still she decided it would all be worth it to get to spend a lazy morning inside with him.

She stomped the snow off her boots outside his door and left them in the hallway. She doubted anyone would steal her size seven sopping boots. Once inside, the distinct sound of the shower running reached her ears. Perfect , she had time to set everything up.

He entered the kitchen dressed in a cotton shirt and a pair of comfortable looking jeans a few minutes later, just as she was pouring her coffee into a mug. He stopped mid step, surprise spreading across his face as he looked at her, then to the table, then settling back on her.

“I thought you had left.”

“Technically, I did,” she gestured to the food. “I figured why not treat ourselves on a snow day.”

“You...” he glanced out the window at the snow that was continuing to dance and swirl its way past the glass, “Anise.”

He appeared by her side in a flash, arm wrapping around her waist, tucking her in close. His body was so warm, heating lingering on his skin from his shower. She practically melded into him. “You should not have, you are freezing,” he kissed her temple and pulled back abruptly. “And wet.”

“Apologies,” she said, a bit breathless if she was being honest. His proximity, the press of his lips, his warmth… would she ever get used to it? Or was her heart always going to react this way when they touched?

He pulled away, taking his wonderful body heat with him. “One moment.”

“Where are you--”

He disappeared and came back with a change of clothes. A sweater and pair of sweatpants. “You might find these more comfortable,” he smirked, “and dry.”

She opened her mouth to protest. Her apartment was only a couple feet away with her own clothes, but… her mouth clicked shut. The chance to wear his …. that wasn’t something she was going to pass up. She went to reach for them, but he set them aside on the counter, eyes locked on her.

He grabbed the hem of her pullover and began to ease it off her. Together, they peeled off each wet layer, him sneaking a chaste kiss each time one was pulled over her head. As she pulled off the last layer, his hands drifted over the bare skin of her stomach. Her breath hitched at the contact. One settled onto her hip, thumbs tracing circles over the dip of hip bones, causing goosebumps to ripple over her skin. The other grabbed the change of clothes.

Right after getting her head through the sweatshirt, his mouth brushed along the shell of her ear before nipping at her bottom lip. “You are far kinder than I deserve.”

She shook her head, pulling her arms through and tugging it down. “Stop talking like that. Let me take care of you, too.”

Luckily the sweatpants had a drawstring, otherwise she would have never been able to keep them up. Not that her pants falling down would be an issue, at least this point in time, given the expression Solas was wearing as he watched her hike them over her ass.

But she really did want to drink her red eye before it got cold.

She waited with baited breath as they sat together, and he took his first sip of his latte. His eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before widening. He took a more generous second sip.

“Do you like it?”

Solas blinked. “To my surprise, I do not hate it.”

She laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It’s sweeter than I expected.”

“It’s also decaffeinated. I wasn’t sure… I’ve never seen you drink coffee before so I figured it would be a safe option.”

“Yes, normally I avoid it, but I will gladly take this over tea.”

Anise made a face at him. She loved tea. “What’s wrong with tea?”

“I detest the stuff,” he said in a flat tone, but the edge of his mouth quirked up the tiniest bit.

Anise feigned a gasp and set aside her coffee. “I see. Well, I must be going then.”

For a fraction of second, confusion flitted across his features, before he realized she was teasing. “I can’t believe that is what would send you running, after everything else you’ve learned about me.”

She playfully bumped into his shoulder, “I jest. It just means more tea for me.”

Solas rolled his eyes and smiled into his latte. The subject drifted to how Anise had found the cafe as they sipped their drinks. She explained how everyone at the hospital hated the hospital coffee, how it always tasted watered down and stale, and how the machine almost never worked properly. And after one particularly grueling week as an intern, Anise had gotten so fed up fighting with the machine she stormed outside and went for a walk. And just so happened to stumble upon the hole in the wall cafe a few blocks down. They fell into companionable silence, finishing up their donuts.

“Anise.”

She met his unwavering grey eyes and her stomach started doing somersaults.

“Thank you, I cannot express enough of my gratitude to truly capture how much I appreciate…everything you do, and this,” he gestured to the breakfast before them, “but also… for last night.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me for that Solas, I wanted you too.”

He shook his head, smile creeping onto his face. “Not only for the sex Anise. For your presence. For… accepting me in the condition I was in. I was not ready to talk about it then, and you respected my boundary.”

Her heart clenched.

“Of course, Solas.”

He wrapped his slender fingers around the edge of his cup, and stared into its empty contents.

“There was an… incident at work.”

Anise placed a hand on his arm. “What kind of incident?”

She felt him stiffen beneath her palm.

“One between myself and the CEO.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

All it took was a gentle squeeze and he launched into the story of how he had been called into strategy meetings with the Vice Presidents and CEO.

“It was awkward, draining, and irritating,” he sighed, his tension evident in his rigid posture.“In theory, I shouldn’t have even been there given the level of my current position, but in reality they value my experience and tenure. If…I had made wiser choices earlier in my career, it would have put me on track to be in the Research and Development Vice President position.”

As if sensing her question, he cast a glance aside at her and said, “In layman's terms, it’s the highest position a scientist can hold.”

“I openly disagreed with our CEO, albeit a bit heatedly during the meeting. Perhaps I should have kept my opinion to myself, but I am not one for keeping silent when I believe I can offer a better solution.” He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Saying our illustrious leader disliked my outspokenness would be an understatement. So would calling what I said simply a disagreement, but I digress.” He pushed aside his coffee. “He cornered me after work. Tempers flared, I insulted him, and…”

It was hard to picture him being easily angered, he certainly never showed her that side of him. Snarky, yes. Annoyed? For sure. But she had never been the target of his ire before, she was still getting to truly know him. Cracking that reserved mask of his, one week at a time. She listened attentively, nodding for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prompted him. His brows knit together.

“He punched me.”

“What! Solas! ”

She was on her feet before she registered what she was doing. She cupped his chin, delicately turning his face towards her. She scanned his face for bruising. How could she not have noticed? She was a doctor for fucking Sylaise’s sake.

“It barely landed. It was in terrible form, and didn’t leave much of a mark,” he reassured her, tugging her hand away from his face. “It happened on the second day, so I’ve had plenty of time to recover.”

“I hope you reported this,” Anise said, horrified.

She knew the answer to that based on his body language alone. “You didn’t… why not ?”

“I considered it, but…” he shrugged, “It happened outside of work. I fear it would only put more strain on the relationship I have with him. He clearly is not over what happened between his wife and myself. And...” Another mirthless grin. “I am prideful, hot headed, and foolish, Anise. I instigated.”

“I don’t approve but,” she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, “but I will stand by your decision. It’s not fair. You took the consequences of your actions in stride, he shouldn’t get to continue to act this way towards you. It’s entirely unprofessional.”

“It is. The rest of the week was just...” he shook his head, “painful.”

He stood and began to clean up their breakfast at the sink.

Following him over with their cups, “Why don’t you leave, work for a different company? One where you can be in the labs again?”

He took them from her and rinsed them out. “Letting go of the past is… easier said than done.”

She came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his torso, placing her head between his shoulder blades. “I know. I just want you to be happy.”

He took a deep breath and turned around in her arms.

“When I am with you,” he smiled, and it was a genuine one this time, “ I am.”

#solavellan #solas #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction

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