#I feel like most of my ideas lean heavily into crack fic territory

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #105

Danny knew he wasn’t from this dimension. He wasn’t sure how he knew but it was something that he felt deep in his core that was true. Something’s just didn’t feel right sometimes and it also felt like the things that were happening were off or wrong somehow. His parents on his 15th birthday came out to tell him that he was adopted and that just cemented the feeling that he wasn’t from here. He goes to Ghost Writers library to look for anything that could help him and he finds a summoning request, basically you can request that someone summons you as long as you’ve got a vague idea of who it is. Danny asks to be summoned by his birth father.

Pick anyone from DC to be his dad but ima go with Batman for this example just because it’s Bruce LMAO. Batman suddenly gets a piece of paper that requests him summon the Ghost King and while everyone is terrified about what such an entity want’s especially since it’s Batman. Everyone is further confused when a teen gets summoned and looks around the room at all the superheroes in awe.

[astralkoo]

the huntress | jungkook (teaser)

Pairing: jungkook x (f.) reader

Genre: werewolf au, hunter au, action, thriller, angst, fluff, smut

Rating: 18+ (graphic violence / explicit sexual content)

Estimated Final Word Count: 15-20k??? Maybe more bc it’s already at 7.4k and I haven’t even fully hit on the main plot yikes

Teaser Word Count: 1,780

Summary: You are a hunter. You are a protector. And you are a killer. These are simple facts. Facts that have been drilled into your head since you were a child. These facts are all that you know, all that you can rely on when the world around you is constantly changing. But, what can you do when one of the very creatures you’ve been taught to hunt, taught to kill, taught to hate makes you question everything you once believed?

Warnings: explicit language, descriptions of blood, graphic violence, death, killing/murder, jk is kept in a cage, panic attack, betrayal, sad jk, explicit sexual content; sex in a lake, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), sub!jungkook, dom!reader, virgin!jungkook, lots of whining, light dirty talk, hand job, fingering, jk has a kissing kink, oral (f. receiving), biting, reader calls jk puppy (all warnings are subject to change)

Release Date: TBD

A/N ; ah shit here we go. she’s been coming along pretty smoothly, so I thought it was the right time put the teaser out for you guys! I’m really excited to get the full fic posted and hopefully it won’t be too far in the future, but with my track record... I can make no guarantees. thank you for 1.4K followers!! I hope you enjoy!

You felt it building in your chest, swelling into something large and uncontainable. The sensation creeping up your throat, filling the back of your mouth and forcing open your jaws. Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes and your dry lips strained as they stretched open, the monstrous yawn finally breaking free.

Fuck. You are so tired.

It had been an exhausting day to begin with and of course, with your luck, it was your turn to take the night watch.

Around you, the forest was alive: crickets and cicadas singing lazy songs, the warm summer breeze rustling through the leaves, the waning moon casting a cool silver glow over the sleeping earth. Beside you, the dying remains of a bonfire flickers and spits blazing embers, choking and fading with every gust of wind. The darkness is slowly closing in, the eerie shadows of the surrounding trees creeping closer and closer with every passing minute.

Gravity pulled at your eyelids, the sweet lure of sleep all too tempting.

Crack.

You shot upright, eyes wide and alert, ears straining. It was too dark to see past the outer layer of trees, and a heavy silence followed, only remedied by the soft crackling of the singed wood. There’s a familiar prickle under your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. It’s dark, but you don’t need to see to know that there is something out there. Call it a self-made sixth sense if you will, something you’ve developed and trained into perfection over the course of many years.

Instinctively, your fingers reached for your bow. The sleek black metal scraped against the large stone it was propped up on as you swiftly and silently fall into position. Unsheathing an arrow from the leather quiver, you pull it back against the string until you feel that perfect tension. The side of your thumb caresses the cool skin of your cheek, and you close one eye, honing in on the dark tree line.

Come on. Give me a reason.

But you’re only rewarded with silence.

After a few tense moments, you slowly lowered your weapon, brow twitching in irritation.

“Get a grip, y/n.” You grumbled roughly.

You were on edge. It’s understandable; you were in completely unfamiliar territory, with no reliable knowledge of the land or its inhabitants to lean back on. The knowledge which you did have, however (that being the knowledge that the nearby town had been getting ravaged by a bloodthirsty beast under the cover of nightfall), didn’t ease the tension in your shoulders in the slightest.

After all, that was the whole reason for your troop’s relocation.

A little over three weeks ago, the head of your troop received a letter from a desperate mayor, pleading for your help. They had a problem. Almost every night for the past month, towns people that wandered the streets late into the evening when the sun had set behind the hills and the moon had risen past the horizon, whether it be walking home from a long day of work or going for an evening jog when the summer heat wasn’t so unbearable, had been getting killed. No, not killed— slaughtered.

You’d seen the pictures.

No human being was capable of doing what had been done to those people.

Ergo, the exigency for your troop’s presence.

This town didn’t need cops, they didn’t need police or detectives searching for some rampant serial killer. What they needed were hunters. More specifically, werewolf hunters. Which is precisely what you were. ‘Slayers of the Supernatural’, some might say. Your job was simple: find the murderous creature responsible for the bloody deaths of thirty seven innocent civilians, and eliminate the problem, once and for all. Pretty cut and dry when you think about it.

And for a troop as skilled and experienced as yours, finding and ending this bloodthirsty beast should be a cinch.

But, that didn’t make sitting out, so painfully alone in the dark of night with a killer werewolf on the loose any less unnerving.

Now, you weren’t afraid of the monster itself, you’d held your own against its kind and worse plenty of times in the past. No, it was the deafening silence that was most disquieting. The stillness. The lack of happening. It set you on edge, made it feel like you had to hold your breath to get the slightest idea of what was going on around you. The wait had always been your least favorite part of the hunt, despite it being one of the most vital.

You’ll admit, you can be impatient. It was your most notable cause of failure back in your training days and in some of your earlier hunts. But you’ve gotten better, become capable of capping your overzealous antics, improved in terms of self restraint. Though, you’d still much rather be in the heart of the action than sitting on the sidelines and waiting with buzzing anticipation nipping at your heels.

Exhaling heavily, you slumped back onto the ground, exhaustion quickly seeping back into your sore muscles once the brief flush of adrenaline drained from your system.

Then you heard the rustling of leaves. But this— it was different from the sound made when the breeze wisps through them. There was a certain force to it, a heaviness in the way the branches clicked and the leaves crunched. It was the sound of a body moving through the heavy foliage. A large animal? Maybe. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. Not human. Not an animal. But something in between.

Your hand was around the grip of your bow in less than a second, body swiftly falling into a low crouch.

It was dark. But the moon spilled just enough light over the forest for you to catch a glimpse of a silhouette: a tall, dark shape moving slowly through the brush. You had your mark. Now you just needed a reason to loose your arrow.

Never strike without absolute certainty that you have your eye on the right target. That’s what Junmyeon always drilled into your head during training after you attacked too early and without proper understanding of who (the dummy representing an innocent civilian, in such cases) you’d been aiming at. Because if you somehow mistook an innocent for one of the beasts you hunt— it was a thought you didn’t want to so much as consider.

Teeth gritting, you carefully followed the shadowy figure, feet shifting silently across the dirt. Suddenly, your boot clad toe suddenly knocked a pebble, sending it skittering across the ground. You froze, and so did the silhouette. Then its head whipped in your direction, and the very second you saw the flash of two unmistakable red eyes, your fingers released the taut string, sending the arrow whizzing into the tree line.

A shriek of agony ripped through the calm night air. The figure staggered, doubling over, before quickly righting itself and whirling around, taking off into the dense, black forest.

You didn’t let so much as a fraction of a second pass before you launched yourself off the dirt ground and bolted into the woods after the creature, a delicious combination of red hot adrenaline and childlike excitement immediately consuming you. It was this— this feeling, this exhilaration that you lived for. That you hunted for. It drove you in ways nothing else ever had. The combination of blood rushing through your veins and your heart thundering in your ears created an almost euphoric sensation. It was a high, thrilling and electrifying. But perhaps those weren’t quite the right words to describe it.

Maybe it was the fact that for these moments as you were rushing through the brush, low branches slicing at your arms and face, cool wind winding through your hair, you could clear your mind and focus only on this one thing, on putting every ounce of your energy into this one moment to accomplish this one feat. There wasn’t— there couldn’t be a single invading thought, doubt, concern. There was nothing but boiling determination, molten in your bloodstream.

Ahead of you, the creature rushed frantically through the dense forest, weaving and staggering around the bulging trunks of towering trees. It was trying to lose you. But you excelled when it came to the chase. The fact that it was wounded also helped; the dark red blood stained the leaves and mossy earth, leaving a clear path for you to follow.

You were catching up, the distance between you and it growing smaller and smaller with each moment. You could hear the creature's heavy footfalls, the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs. Within a few strides, you were within arms distance. If you were to reach out your hand—

Just as your fingertips grazed its back, you broke through the tree line. The creature, caught off guard, stumbled. A fatal mistake. Before it had a chance to recover, you rammed your shoulder into its back, directly between its shoulder blades, sending it stumbling forward with a stunned yelp. You hadn’t even noticed the massive body of water until he fell into it. Always be aware of your surroundings, you reminded yourself sharply, before honing in on your target. The water, reflecting the night sky like a mirror, rippled and spat around the form of the creature as it attempted to scramble away from you. But you didn’t let it get far.

You thrust yourself on top of him, pinning his kicking legs down with your own and making a grab for his flailing arms. A sharp hiss rushed past your teeth when you felt something slice into your arm, but you paid no heed to the warm, familiar trickle of blood. It only fueled the roaring fire of determination inside of you further. He was bucking up, thrashing wildly, trying to throw you off, but you held fast, angling yourself in such a way that you had the upper hand. Icy water splashed across your face, seeping into your clothes as you used all your strength to keep him down. But it wasn’t easy fighting a werewolf with your bare hands. Not even a wounded one. And you were quickly growing sick of feeling the piercing sting of his claws cutting through your clothes and biting into your skin.

In one swift motion, you unsheathed the silver blade hidden in a pouch sewn into the inside of your boot. Every muscle in his body froze up at the feeling of cold metal pressing threateningly against his vulnerable throat.

Panting through clenched teeth, you pinned him with a chilling glare.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat.”

[castieltrash1]

dangerous territory → clint b.

gif credit (x)

summary → clint stays behind during a mission, leaving you alone with him in the avengers building. seeing him sprawled out on the comfy lounge room couch gives you some naughty ideas -- only adding to the tension your relationship already has.

word count → 6.7k (literally wtf)

warnings → i ignore the entirety of iw/endgame except for clint’s makeover, extreme sexual tension, smut; switch!fem!reader, switch!clint, couch sex, oral (both recieving), fingering, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, praise

a/n → literally idk if i should be ashamed or not but im Horny 4 Hawkeye!!! oopsie !! also there are like .3 smut fics for him on here and im determined to fix that

---

Quiet was not a word you’d use to describe the Avengers Facility.

In fact, with Steve’s loud orders, Bruce’s lab explosions, and Sam’s boisterous laughter -- not to mention the never-ending petty arguments that managed to revert the Avengers to 11th graders in their first debate club -- it was the farthest thing from quiet.

But, now, with zero disagreements and zero distractions, you’d been able to enjoy the building all to yourself. Almost. Of course, the one time you got to avoid a mission, you ended up falling into an even worse situation.

You’d covered for Wanda last mission, and she’d insisted on paying you back for the newest one. It wasn’t high stakes by any means, but the work itself had countless components and everyone who was nearby -- or at least on the planet -- had been called in to fill some role.  

Everyone, of course, except you. And Clint.

Suddenly the idea of being stuck in the Quinjet with everyone’s post-mission moodiness sounded very appealing. You could feel a headache growing as you wandered around the kitchen, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid him. He was not supposed to be here. Hell, he didn’t even like stepping foot in the place unless the world was in immediate danger.

Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice his odd attitude. Natasha gave him a confused look when he mentioned staying behind, but decidedly hadn’t commented, almost like she’d already pieced together the reason for Clint’s actions. Knowing her, she probably had. But, even Wanda shot a glance that worried you -- though you seemed to be the only one to catch her squinted green gaze before it disappeared. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what she saw in his mind.

Sure, you had a couple of ideas as to why he would choose to isolate himself with you, but you tried to not let those thoughts consume you. The others wouldn’t be back till midday tomorrow -- if all went well -- and you were not about to spend the next 36 hours soaking your panties with stupid fantasies.

Unfortunately, even when ignoring Clint, your mind was still focused on him. When you passed by the gym or shooting range, antsy to get your daily work in, one quick thought of seeing Clint’s arms -- tensed as he loaded his bow, muscles straining and eyes focused on his target -- was enough to have you quickly walking in the opposite direction.

But, now, as you make your way into the lounge to relax, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You have just as much of a right as Clint does to walk around whenever and wherever you please. In all honesty, you feel even more entitled considering you’re the one actually living in the tower (at least most of the time.)

He’s exactly where you expect him to be -- he may be fast and quiet on his feet, but you’ve been keeping tabs on him, for your own sake.

It’s a bit odd seeing a book instead of a bow in his hands, but you’re not entirely sure you should be focused on how his fingers wrap around the thin pages, thumbing the corners so gently--

“Done avoiding me, are you?”

Well, shit.

His gaze remains on his book -- though the very few pages he’s turned assures you he’s not paying attention to whatever riveting story Tony has stocked his shelves with.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. There’s a moment of temptation to take a seat next to him on the couch, as close as possible. To feel his strong arms around you, smell the raw masculine cologne he always wears a bit too much of -- heavy on his neck and sharp jaw that you know your lips could curl around so perfectly if given the chance.

You swallow heavily and take a seat in the chair across from him, sinking into the expensive fabric.

“Tony picks good furniture, right?” Clint sighs, book closing without so much as a dog-ear mark as he leans back.

It’s silent for a second, and you’re entirely sure you’ve missed a part of the conversation during your mini black-out, but Clint doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, waiting patiently for your answer. You consider it a small win and accept the change in topic with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah. Didn’t think price made such a big difference.” There’s a firmness to the chair that keeps you from sinking, and mentally, you consider if it’d be strong enough for other activities. “How much you wanna bet he spent on each of these chairs?” you question, genuinely curious. “I gotta guess at least two grand.”

Clint’s cool eyes glint playfully. “Three,” he challenges with a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. “Though, you should really try this couch. Definitely my favorite thing here.”

There’s just a hint of suggestion in his tone -- the kind that you’d miss if you weren’t trained in reading people. It’s not unexpected, though. You’d have to be a fool to not recognize the exact same longing stares, the same lingering touches that Clint offers you. But, that’s what makes it all more intimidating. It’s an unspoken thing, and at this point, that’s what feels most convenient -- even if your lonely nights spent moaning his name are growing far too common for comfort.

Still, you can’t exactly ignore him, and his eyes follow you closely as you make your way to the couch, falling into the comfy cushions with a huff.

“Wow.” You laugh. “No wonder you’ve been spending so much time down here.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “So you have been paying me some attention. Interesting.”

If he notices you shift as far to the other end of the couch as possible, he doesn’t mention it.

“Don’t take it personally, Barton,” you huff. “I’m used to keeping an eye on everyone around here.” It’s not entirely a lie, but he manages to see right through the half-truth regardless.

“So you avoid everyone, then?” There’s no hurt or misunderstanding in his voice, not even confusion. He knows what you’re doing, knows why you can’t bear to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the couch.

He just chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach clench unconsciously. You expect him to keep pressing you, work you up until you spill your guts, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even say a word as you hear the rustling of paper and feel the couch move slightly as he shifts.

You turn your head towards him and open one eye, then both as they go wide. Clint has taken on a whole new level of comfortable, feet perched on the coffee table and one arm resting on the back of the couch while his free hand flips through the same first few pages as before.

In all honesty, you suddenly find yourself happy that Steve and Tony are gone -- otherwise they’d be scolding Clint for his manners, and most definitely not ogling his firm legs in those tight, black jeans.

You drag your gaze back up his body, stopping near the hem of his shirt, where his new position has allowed for the fabric to ride up his stomach. It’s just a sliver of skin but the image is enough to make your heart race. There’s a faint dip in the muscled hip line leading to his jeans, and if you stare extra hard, you can see the light trail of thin hairs disappearing under the fabric.

Swallowing heavily, you quickly look back at Clint’s face, holding back a gasp as he stares back at you.

“So,” you fill the silence before he can, mentally thanking Natasha for her training on keeping your composure. “How’s that book of yours?”

Clint just grins for a second -- you both know he’s caught you. “It’s alright. Not the most interesting thing in the building right now, though.”

You gulp. “Yeah… The place is big. Lots to explore. I don’t think I’ve even seen every room--”

“I have a feeling you know that’s not what I mean,” Clint cuts you off with a chuckle, and you send him a challenging glare.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you scoff.

He hums, before his tongue peeks out to swipe across his bottom lip. “You’re sounding awfully like a broken record today.” His icy, pale eyes return to his book, and you watch as he lifts his thumb to his wet lips, tongue darting out the lick the tip. You can practically feel the action, and almost whine in disappointment when his hand returns to flip the page.

Clint is downright grinning at this point, and you know he’s taking in every breath, shift, and blink of yours. “But, I know you’re not actually confused,” he continues. “In fact, I’d argue you like this game of ours a bit more than you should.”

You know if you brush it off again, he’ll drop it. He’s too nice to make you uncomfortable, and his statement hangs in the air with a heavy weight.

“You know, Barton?” you shift from your spot on the couch, eliminating a good chunk of the space between you and him. “I think you’re smarter than most people give you credit for.” He raises a brow, and you would believe his undisturbed look if you didn’t see his fingers twitch against the spine of the forgotten book.

“Tell Nat that,” he jokes, and you grin. Seeing that little crack in his facade, the way he fills the conversation with a joke, the discreet but heavy swallow he tries to hide -- it’s all enough to power you to move closer, until there are mere centimeters between you two.

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ll be telling Natasha anything from this conversation of ours.” Keeping your attention on the slight tense of his jaw, you push the book from his hands, and he immediately drops his feet from the table to discard it in their place.

You pause for a second, glancing at Clint’s lap then back at him, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and grab your hip.

“Get over here already,” he groans, both arms wrapping around your waist to situate you in his lap. His hands are warm and firm and everything you could have ever imagined, and you automatically roll your hips down onto him. There’s a pleased moan from you both, and his own hips jolt in a way that sends you even closer to him, until your chests are touching.

He immediately dives for your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin as he breathes you in deeply. “I gotta admit,” he murmurs, letting his lips graze the bottom of your jaw in the most sinful way, “you look so much better sitting here than standing around in the kitchen.”

You drag your fingers through the long hair on the back of his head, tugging it playfully. “You’ve been watching me, Barton?”

He hums, squeezing you just as teasingly. “I do a lot of staring when it comes to you, babe.”

You pull him from your neck by his hair, and he looks up at you with the most mischievous glint in his eyes. The nickname makes you undeniably flustered, but you force the embarrassment away.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that’s what you call creepy,” you mumble, leaning down so Clint can feel your words against his own lips. He immediately darts forward, but you pull back with a sly grin, watching his eyes darken at the action.

“I think,” he growls, catching you off guard as he pushes you back onto the couch, making you jostle as you try not to fall off the edge. He steadies you with a large hand, and you only jolt again when he uses his free hand to spread your legs, caging you in as his hips drop between your parted thighs. “You’d be a hypocrite for saying that.” He drops back to your neck, and you can feel his smile before his teeth sink into your skin lightly -- just enough to make you gasp.

He continues to litter your neck with kisses, and you watch in awe as his toned arm tenses by the side of your head -- the thick black lines of ink rolling as his muscles flex.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, back arching as his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to right below your chin. “You gonna fuck me?”

Clint bites the edge of your jaw in retaliation to your words, before he pulls back just enough to stare at you with a lustful gaze.

“Not yet, baby. Not that easily.” One of his hands trails up the front of your thigh, before it busies itself with the hem of your shirt. You try to hide your disappointment, but Clint notices it, of course, and just shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you leave this couch anytime soon. You’ve made me wait long enough for this… I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, and you hungrily reach and tug until he’s as close as possible -- until you can feel the denim of his jeans scraping deliciously against your thighs as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. It’s messy and entirely uncalculated, and your nails catch in the wrinkles of the back of his shirt while his own fingers tug impatiently at the bottom of yours.

You part from him for a second, and his own greedy mouth follows yours, only managing to press against the side of your lips. “You act like you’ve made this easy for me,” you retort, and his chest rumbles against yours as he chuckles.

“Oh honey, I think I’ve made it quite obvious I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day you walked in here.”

“Clearly, not obvious enough.”

Clint huffs, warm breath hitting your cheek. “What’d you want me to do? Huh?” He shifts so his words make their way directly to your ear, each syllable accentuated with a puff of hot air. With him this close, neck just below your nose, you can take in the heavy smell of that sharp cologne you love so much.

His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, but instead of the obvious trail up, his hand trails down to play with the hem of your shorts. “Tug these little things off in front of everyone? Show them all how worked up you get me wearing these? Is that what you want?”

Your hips lift in a silent plea, and you groan. “They’re comfortable.”

“Maybe for you, but I find myself very uncomfortable when you wear them.” He snickers, and if you weren’t so turned on, you’re sure you’d roll your eyes. Only Clint Barton could make a joke about untimely hard-ons during a time like this.

“Then why don’t you take them off?” you groan, and he shakes his head while muttering something about you being bossy.

Still, his words betray him as he tugs the fabric down your legs, as slowly as possible while his eyes drink in the new area of exposed skin. “What part about taking my time with you did you not understand?” The corner of his lips tug in that mischievous way of his, and you have a sneaking feeling his patience is as fleeting as your own.

Proving your point, Clint tosses your shorts over the back of the couch with a grin, then pushes you further up the cushions. You’re almost sitting, shoulder blades knocking the arm of the sofa while your legs bend at the knee to accompany Clint, who scoots back. It’s the perfect and most disastrous angle to be at as you have to both feel and watch his deft fingers trail up from your knee.

You’re a hundred percent sure the effects of your arousal are extremely obvious, but he doesn’t comment on the wet patch of your panties -- though you see his eyes focus on the area between your legs for a second too long before his gaze flickers back to your thighs.

His calloused fingers trail the edge of fabric around your legs, rough skin providing a type of friction you can’t begin to explain. His touch is fleeting and he changes the amount of pressure with every swipe of his thumb, always pushing just enough to let you know he’s holding you down. That you can’t escape him -- as if you’d even think of trying to do so.

“Your legs are so sexy, you know that?”

You let out some type of pleased whine, a sound that Clint relishes as he tightens his grip on your thighs. “Make the prettiest sounds, too,” he continues, and then his fingers are right there. One hand holds your left leg down, while the other covers your panty-covered core. His thumb rubs into your desperate, throbbing clit, and you use your little amount of freedom to push your hips up, wanting, needing more.

Clint immediately presses you back down, and you watch his tattoos shift just slightly as he adds more weight to his hand on your thigh.

“Please, please.” You revert to begging at your lack of movement, losing all shame in regard to your desire. It’s obvious you need Clint -- any excuses or lies from before long forgotten. You need his movements to speed up, the slow circles of his thumb providing barely enough friction.

He just chuckles, but relents a little and you downright purr as the thin fabric of your underwear drags against your tingling nerve endings. It’s impossible to move under Clint’s weight, but all the muscles in your lower half flex and twitch as they desperately search for release and relief.

“How about…” Clint trails off, fingers moving upward to grab the waistline of your panties, “we get these off?”

You’re sure if you nod any faster you might make yourself dizzy, and Clint just smirks in that knowing way. That way that lets you know he has you right where he wants you. Right where he’s been waiting to have you.

The article of clothing is soon flung behind his shoulder just like your forgotten shorts -- and you can only faintly remind yourself to make sure you grab everything before the others return. Though, at this point, you think anyone could walk in on Clint between your legs and you’d still be begging him to make you cum -- audience or not.

“Fucking Christ,” Clint groans, palms sliding between your thighs to spread them, giving him a full view of your glistening core. “I swear, you’re gonna kill me.” Seeing his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and greedy fingers, you’re not sure you can reject that statement.

He removes his hands for just a second, but you don’t dare close your legs, and he has the audacity to wink. Before your mind can even process the action, though, he’s pulling his shirt off, arms crossing over his chest as they show off in their full glory. Hips, stomach, chest, arms -- they’re all exposed so quickly and your eyes drink in the features as fast as they can. Clint throws the shirt to the side -- you have a feeling he’s utilizing his perfect aim to create a clothing pile -- but you just stare at his shoulder, where the ink spreads to areas you’ve never had the chance to see before. The olive green accents contrast against his tanned skin, which has gained a light sheen from the sweat of his arousal.

As he leans back down, Ronin’s portrait stares you dead in the eyes -- quite literally. If you didn’t know the deeper meaning, you’re sure you could mistake the skull as a danger warning to the man pressing a kiss against the inside of your knee.

Short hairs chafe your legs as Clint makes himself comfortable, pressing his jaw against you. When his hot breath dances over your center you almost squeeze your thighs together, but he’s there to push them apart with a chuckle.

“No, no…” He pulls away barely, and you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re gonna give me what I want, ok?” His fingers are gentle, and so are his eyes when he glances up to you. He’s hopeful, pleading almost, but stays respectful. “If that’s ok, of course.”

You almost want to cry, because how could he think any differently, but you just nod. “Please Clint, touch me.”

He sends you a lopsided grin, and then he’s right there, pressing a kiss against your clit. The feeling is completely different from before, lips slick and soft unlike his rough thumb. All the air in your lungs leaves your body as you let out a sigh of relief, body finally relaxing as it gets the touch it needs.

You reach down and your nails scratch his scalp lightly before you grip his hair in a tight hold. He nuzzles against your hand and groans against you, and the feeling of control makes your blood run hot through your veins. One of the most powerful men on Earth is between your legs, sucking softly on your clit like it's the only thing he could ever want.

He traces circles on your thighs with his coarse fingers as he warms you up with gentle licks and the occasional curl of his lips around your most sensitive area. You let him have the satisfaction of your spread thighs, but you periodically tug on his tousled locks to remind him that he’s the one between your legs. It’s the perfect balance of dominance -- the type that makes your head spin and your eyes roll back into your head.

Clint presses another kiss to your clit before traveling lower and the intimacy of the action makes your skin flush. You can tell he’s not going to be holding back for much longer though, if the desperation of his descent is any indication. His fingers join his attack as he spreads your folds, tongue dragging the entirety of your core.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” he mutters, mouth impatient as he covers as much skin as he can at once. It’s fast and downright dirty as he presses his tongue into you, eliciting a groan from your parted, panting lips. You’re dripping at this point, and he laps up the mix of saliva and arousal with a yearning thirst.

It’s all so overwhelming. His fingers are digging into your skin -- likely to leave faint marks -- and the scruff framing his jaw scrapes and leaves your skin burning, while the softer locks between your fingers are a comfort to steady you.

The heat building in your body is entirely unbelievable, and your back digs into the couch as you arch into Clint, desperate for all he’ll be willing to give you. You press him closer, and he moans at the power in your hands -- the control you have despite him hovering over you. It’s a mental trip for you both, your stomach and pelvic muscles clenching as they react to his generous, eager giving.

“God, Clint, gonna cum.” The words barely feel like they’re coming from your own body, jaw slack as you tremble in his hold. His index finger presses into you slowly, while his thumb replaces his tongue on your clit. The change of stimulation has you reeling, your grip on Clint loosening as you feel his warm words against you.

“Kinda the point, sweetheart.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you know Clint is smirking -- you can practically hear it in his voice.

His finger curls to press against your front wall, and he rubs it gently once, twice, before he lets the digit drag out, sinking in again even slower. The leisurely thrusts continue as his tongue returns to circle your clit, his cocky words from before silenced as he puts his mouth to work. Your breath grows heavier, heart rate increasing with every second. His middle finger joins the first with a steady push, and you clench desperately as they curl and press and rub and reduce you to nothing but putty.

You’re right there and Clint knows it -- somehow he knows it. His fingers move faster, harder, and his lips wrap around your clit with even greater determination. There’s a shift, fingertips grazing the perfect spot as he sucks desperately and it’s over. You’re crying out his name, thighs shaking and you clench and flutter around his never-ceasing fingers. There’s a moment where all senses leave you and all you can feel is Clint, and the spread of warmth between your legs. Your ears ring and your own moans become faint background sounds.

And then, you’re pulling his head back, his tongue still trying to work your sensitive clit. He fights your tug on his hair but you must be begging because he finally relents with a huff. You can hear his breathing, and you feel his shift as he leans back over you, fingers still working you through your high.

“Look at me,” he demands, and his free hand drags down your cheek. “C’mon, open your eyes.” He forcefully grabs your chin, and your eyes open too quickly for your mind to process. It’s all so bright and you have to blink away the splotches of color coating your vision. Clint takes up the entirety of your view, lips wet and eyes dark. “There you go, baby.” He’s grinning and panting and his fingers are still fucking moving.

You whimper and glance down -- as much as his grip on your jaw will allow -- and the view of his tattooed arm between your thighs, veins pulsing as he fingers you is imprinted in your mind permanently. It’s a never-ending high that goes on for a second too long before Clint finally, finally eases his fingers from you. They’re practically dripping with your release, and he wastes no time bringing them to his glossy mouth.

It’s hypnotic to watch as his lips close around his fingers, nostrils flaring as he sucks them eagerly. They come out clean, and his chest rumbles with a groan. “Can’t get enough of your taste. Fuck.”

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, chest heaving and shirt clinging to sweaty skin. But, there’s finally a moment where your legs feel somewhat solid, and you take advantage of the opportunity, bending your leg to put the bottom of your foot on Clint’s bare chest.

He shoots you a confused but intrigued look, and you respond with a lopsided grin as you push him backward, until he’s the one stumbling to find a spot against the arm of the couch. Faintly, you consider the move would be much sexier with a pair of heels digging into his skin, but this will have to suffice for now. Maybe next time -- if there is a next time, of course.

“Now, what are you up to, baby girl?” Clint is practically vibrating with excitement as you gather the strength to push yourself off the couch, ignoring the slight twitch of your exerted thighs.

“Take your pants off,” you say, with little shame. “Now.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone get undressed so quickly and the hastiness of Clint’s actions leave him with very little coordination. It takes him three tries to get his belt undone, and he pokes himself with the metal prong when his eyes return to glance at you.

Raising a brow, you put your hands on your hips, and he speeds up. The button and zipper take him twice as long, but the sound when he finally tosses his belt and jeans off to the side is well worth the wait.

He licks his lips, looking up at you -- waiting, watching. Your earlier thoughts regarding his legs are heightened tenfold as you take in his toned thighs and hard cock in-between. He’s thick, the bulge pressing against his boxer-briefs making your heart skip a beat. The mere idea of him stretching you open has you growing too impatient for what you have planned.

“Keep going.” You swallow and hope your voice doesn’t sound too shaky.

Clint’s quick fingers make work of the fabric, and you focus on finishing yourself off. You pull your shirt off and let it drop to your feet before your hands move to unhook your bra. You’re barely sliding the straps down your arms when you hear Clint huff, and you look back to him.

“I wanted to do that,” he almost whines, chest puffing.

You roll your eyes but laugh, and toss your bra to him. He catches it with a wink, before throwing it behind him. Immediately, his gaze drags over your chest, excruciatingly slow. You know he’s taking in every inch, every natural mark that decorates your torso. Normally, you’d feel odd being examined so closely while still being at a decent distance -- but Clint is observant and his eyes are hungry.

Finally, his dark eyes reconnect with yours. “You gonna come sit or should I just grab you?” His tone is playful and daring, but you hear the hint of arousal that suggests he wouldn’t be opposed to tugging you into his arms. You don’t have time for games anymore, though, so you stand between Clint’s legs, and he pats his thigh playfully.

“Hmm…” You bite your lip and shake your head, eyes glistening with mischief. “Not yet…”

You make your descent to your knees perfectly paced, fluttering your lashes as you look up to Clint from between his thighs. He cusses and his arms fall limply to his side as he resigns himself to the torture he knows you’ll be sure to deliver.

“I thought you wanted to take your time,” you tease, fingers sliding up his thigh. Your nails against his skin have him tensing, muscles quivering.

He groans, and tosses his head back. “That was before I made you cum. Just wanna fuck you now -- make you shake again.”

You pinch him. “Sweet-talking will get you nowhere, Barton. You should know that.” But, you still let your palm graze over his hard cock, twitching at your touch. He’s firm and warm, and when your fingers wrap around his length, you realize how deliciously thick he is, filling your grasp fully. The length is there too, just enough to not be intimidating, but the girth has your core throbbing.

“Fuck, Clint,” you groan, giving a slow jerk of your wrist. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He’s pulsing in your hand, skin flushed and precum beginning to drip from the head of his cock. It coats your hand on the second stroke, easing the drag. Soon enough, he’s practically glistening, and your mouth waters. You have to taste him.

He calls your name, voice trembling, as your tongue darts out to flatten against his tip. “Oh God, please.” He’s flushed, from his cheeks to his tensing thighs, and you’d grin if you weren’t taking him deeper into your mouth. Another part of the burning, fervid desire deep in your veins lights up as your lips wrap around him -- tongue greedy for more as it laps everything it can reach. A growl reverberates through his entire body, and the sound makes your thighs clench.

You spare him a glance, and he looks destroyed. Sweat gathers on his forehead and the veins in his arm pulse as he grips the cushions to stay steady. Sane. Calm.

His knuckles are white and you relieve them by grabbing his left hand in your own, thumb rubbing over the back of his palm. He’s squeezing you like you’re his lifeline, and you reward him with your free hand around his base.

“Fuck fuck, I’ll cum too fast with you doing that,” Clint grunts, and you watch his chest heave as he tries to steady his breathing.

You pull off him with a line of spit, breaking it with your hand as you use the saliva to glide your fingers. He’s still throbbing, and you trace his underside vein with your wet thumb. “I thought that was the point, right?” You repeat his words from earlier with a grin, pressing a kiss against his thigh as your hand speeds up. He’s so close and he needs it so badly, but he finally pulls his hand from yours to grab your moving wrist.

“Not until I fuck you.” He pants, and begrudgingly removes your hold from his cock. “And a couple times, at the very least.”

Your heart races at the mere thought of as many rounds as you can handle, with Clint making you cum again and again. Still, you stand slowly, silently hoping he’ll push you back to your knees and cum down your throat.

But he doesn’t. He watches closely as you straighten out, and you quickly move to straddle him. “Fine, but you’ll let me ride you, understood?” Your thighs brush over him with the lightest touch, and with just one solid movement, you could have him sinking into you. But, you wait. You watch as he swallows heavily, eyes hooded.

Clint gives you a lopsided smile. “No complaints here, babe.” And with that, you reach down to hold his length, pressing the tip against your clenching, wet, core. He gasps, but you shift just slightly, until he bumps your clit. It’s too much and too little all at once, and you let out a soft cry as he jerks upward, precum coating the swollen nub. You reward yourself with one more drag down from your clit before letting the head of his cock push into you.

You’re immediately clenching around his length, and Clint’s calloused fingertips dig into your hips as he helps steady you. It only takes a couple breaths and a slow spread of your thighs to take him fully, arousal coating his cock quickly. He barely holds himself back from rutting into you right away, but you rock your hips and grip his shoulders regardless.

“Fuck,” he half-groans, half-whimpers. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Your nails dig into his skin as you roll again, letting out an incoherent babble of his name as your clit gains friction from his own warm body. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your thigh onto his, and it has you shuddering. It’s so dirty and your fingers move to Clint’s hair, desperately clinging at the long strands. His forehead presses to yours, and he smells like the most dangerous concoction of sweat, cologne, and mint toothpaste you’ve ever had the honor of inhaling.

You join in an almost-kiss that’s all teeth, but he brushes his tongue against your cupid’s bow in a much gentler way, and you know he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine in reaction. He squeezes your hip gently in reassurance, and then his grip on you tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but you can feel the years of arm workouts, and you know there’s no way to escape -- as if you’d ever want to.

Clint’s knee jerks and then he’s thrusting up into you with such force it leaves you breathless. He holds you down and all you can do is gasp and hold him tighter as he pushes into you harder and faster. Every shift provides a new angle and friction as his tip stimulates your sensitive walls.

Your thighs shake desperately and you can hear the wet slap each of his movements provide as you coat his cock in warm slick. He grins at the sight, one hand drifting from your hip until it reaches your throbbing clit.

“Look at you,” he coos and punctuates the words with a rough circle of his thumb.

Your chest heaves as you gasp, but the lack of Clint’s hold gives you a second to grind against him. He grunts as you do, and you chuckle breathlessly against his parted lips.

“And look at you.”

He retorts by way of another rub against your clit, and your laughter quickly turns to a drawn-out moan.

“You look so pretty when you’re about to cum.” He pants between every word, but he’s determined to deliver the compliment that makes your face too warm. You’re not sure how he knows you’re so close -- it must be way more embarrassingly obvious than you thought -- but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he’s letting his cock drag inside you slowly, with a hard thrust every few seconds. Not when the pressure on your clit is changing so rapidly you can’t breathe.

When you do cum, with a broken cry and shaking torso, Clint doesn’t let up. He goes faster, harder. It’s a never-ending high that turns your brain to mush, and your body into even less. Your thighs burn and your toes curl but all you can feel is the delicious length buried deep inside you.

It’s only during the beginning of the cool down that you tug a little harder on Clint’s hair, and roll your hips a little more. “C’mon, Clint, please. Please fill me up.” His chest rumbles against yours with a throaty growl, and you continue to ride out your orgasm as he fucks into you with a few more desperate, shaky thrusts.

He cums in you thick and warm, with a groan of your name. It tumbles from his lips sinfully, and you commit the sound to memory. The rasp of his tone and the sight of his wet, swollen lips.

It’s not until he eases out of you slowly, and you feel the drip down your thigh that you’re grounded and reminded of exactly where you are. On a multi-thousand dollar couch. Owned by Tony Stark.

“Oh my god, Clint.”

His eyes are closed and you’re sure he’s about three seconds from sleeping for eighteen hours, but he manages a tired smirk. “I know. That was good.”

“No! I mean yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He half-opens one eye. “What?”

“I think we stained the couch.” A quick glance between Clint’s thighs all but confirms it, and you’re not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed by the very large wet spot staining the blended fabric.

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking about right now. After everything that just happened.”

You playfully slap his shoulder as you roll onto the cushion next to him with a huff. He nudges you back with his arm before clearing his throat, and letting out a butchered impression of your voice. “Oh Clint! Your dick was just so amazing!-”

“Oh my god!” You cover your face but nothing stops the laughter that rumbles through your chest -- even if he’s got your tone completely wrong. He just chuckles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side with a sigh.

“How much do you think we’ll owe Tony by the end of the day?” He looks down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, but presses a chaste kiss to your hair. “C’mon, you don’t think I haven’t planned out every surface we still need to fuck on before they get back?”

“Clint!”

“See, you keep screaming my name but for all the wrong reasons.” Now you can feel his grin against the top of your head, and it comes into view as he stands with you still in his grasp. You’re not sure how he maneuvers it, but he’s got you in his arms before you can even blink, and the look he sends you tells you not to complain or even question it. He’s not even out of breath -- all things considered -- and when you glance in the direction he’s heading, your eyes widen.

“You have got to be joking…” You squirm in his arms as he sets you down on the table used for almost every meeting, and the mere thought of defiling it forever makes you squeeze your legs together shyly.

But, Clint is quick to spread them, all with a cocky grin and a far too confident tone.

“I don’t know about you…” He begins, as his fingers trail up your thigh. “But I think we could reach ten thousand by midnight.”

If you distantly hear FRIDAY warn adamantly against it -- neither of you mention it.

“Better get started then, Barton.”

---

[sdvharveybby]

so i fell fast and hard for harvey, you know, as you do. i was wondering if i could request harvey and the farmer going to an aerobics class together? this man was so shy about it and it absolutely melts my heart 🥺🥺 thank you so much!!

OH bby anon do I understand! When I first watched that event I was like, “Oh you sweet man. So so precious!!” This ask is such a cute idea, thank you so much for sending it in! I never thought about this, personally, so I’m glad you sent it! 

I really enjoyed writing this, as well, but I’ll be honest... I’m not 100% confident about it? I certainly loved writing it, but if this isn’t up to your liking- I’m totally down with re-writing it. I don’t want anyone to feel major dissatisfaction with my work, you know? Let me know! I, originally, intended to do some headcannons (because thems are easy mode), but honestly- it fit a fic type better. Also, Zumba is crazy crazy fun- I did it in high school, and I had a blast! I felt like it fit the story and his event!

Regardless, inspiration with this was actually memories! I recently quit my martial arts class (due to health reasons), but the mood in this story is exactly how it was in my dojo! One time I was doing a Naeryeo-Chagi (also known as “axe kick”, but you bring your leg up as high as you can and with a flat foot you snap your leg down), I can kick pretty high, so when I kicked as high as I could I felt my other foot leave the ground and I fell FLAT on my butt. I was so stunned!! Eyes wide, all I could do was just laugh. Everyone thought it was funny and so did I! That stuff just happens- it’s hilarious!! I have so many wonderful memories in that class...

ANYWAYS- HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BBY. THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN. I feel your love with Harvey (the boy deserves all the love in the world!!) 

Word Count: 1572

An eventful day of hard work for the farmer, but luckily, they finished their chores early- hopefully to spend some time with Harvey. He always seemed to disappear on Tuesdays closer to noon and he never told the farmer why. It was perplexing, but he always carried a duffle bag with him and a look that bashfully avoided eye contact.

There he was, carrying his duffle bag as he made his way to town. Approaching him, the farmer stopped him in his tracks, “You like to disappear around this time,” they teased as Harvey looked away. “Y-Yeah well, you know… Heh, doctor… duties?” Harvey’s words didn’t sound convincing whatsoever, especially since he came home from work early because his patient rescheduled their check-up. “With a duffle bag?” The farmer further challenged, now crossing their arms and putting their weight on one leg. They gave him a cocky smile as he began to blush, “Okay, okay-“ He submitted as he held up a hand, “You caught me! I’m taking cooking classes with Gus!” Harvey tried looking into the farmers eyes as he said this, but it wasn’t for long. “Harvey, you’re already a great cook. Now, what are you really doing? I won’t make fun of you!” They assured him as they walked and pulled Harvey into a big hug. He gave a heavy sigh and scuffed the dirt with his shoe. “Heh, well… Uhm… I’m still taking those aerobics classes. It’s a bit embarrassing, but you know- you saw it before. Just trying to work on myself!” Harvey was bashful and quiet as he said this, but he reciprocated the hug. Once they pulled away the farmer bounced back with a smile that made his heart stop. “Great! Let’s go then. We don’t want to be late.” They walked away from him making their way to Pierre’s. Harvey stood, stunned at the farmers response but bounded after them yelling, “What do you mean ‘we’?!” “I’m coming with you, and you can’t stop me.” The farmer smiled to Harvey and he blushed once again, “You don’t have too. You must be tired after work and all- I can’t ask you too-“ The farmer stopped and faced him, they gave a jokingly annoyed look, “We can do this together, Harvey. It’ll be fun and maybe it’ll be less embarrassing for you. My cardio is bad,” They laughed, and Harvey gave them a soft and affectionate look, “Okay, but don’t get worried about me. Even if I say I can’t breathe- I can,” He laughed back, and they made there way to Pierre’s together deciding to hold hands as they did so.

Harvey was nervous about the farmer joining him- he wasn’t sure how they’d react. Towards himself or the class! He didn’t want the farmer to feel embarrassed or witness him messing up. Most of all- it was hard for Harvey to be social with the ladies in class and he didn’t want them to see him as stiff compared to everyone else.

Walking inside they saw Marnie, Robin and Emily already there. They all gave Harvey and the farmer warm smiles, “What do we have here?” Robin began as they put an arm around the farmer, “I decided that I’m joining today! My cardio sucks,” Robin laughed and whispered into their ear, “Don’t worry, mind does too.” Emily jumped up and clapped her hands together, “This is awesome! We have the cute duo joining us!” They all gave them an endearing welcome that made Harvey and the farmer blush, and after roughly 20min of chatting they all decided to get to work. The farmer looked around and watched everyone begin to pick their spots. “Today is actually Zumba class led by Caroline. You’ll love it- it’s really fun. She’ll teach you the dance moves to the song she chooses, and we just copy her,” Harvey remarked leaning towards the farmer. Now, this was all new territory for the farmer, but they were determined to have fun and get some exercise in. Harvey seemed confident so why couldn’t they?

The session lasted about an hour long, and it wasn’t until the farmer had sweat droplets running down their face that they realized how intensive these classes get. These women have to be power houses to get through this and still smile like it was nothing, the farmer thought as they hunched over breathing heavily. “You… You look tired,” a voice heaved behind them and as they looked, Harvey didn’t look any better. He had his hands on his knees and he closed his eyes trying to get his breath back. Sweat dripped off him as he brought up a hand towel and began wiping his face. “Please,” the farmer choked out as they smiled, “You look worse than I do,” they managed to finish as they laid down to relax a bit. “I blame the fact that I already did my farm work before this,” Harvey laughed as they said this and sat beside them holding a water bottle. “You did great! Isn’t it fun?” The farmer sat up and took his water bottle, they downed about half of it before responding, “I can’t believe how fun this is! Once you get the moves down it just flows. I felt so… powerful,” they laughed and gave Harvey a big smile. “Thanks for coming,” he admitted, “You being here, with me, actually helped a lot. I was pretty embarrassed being in a class full of women who have been doing this longer than I. They’re so strong and they can get through the whole class like it’s nothing- I felt so out of place.” The farmer gave him a friendly punch to his arm, “I’m coming back- this feels great! But wow, it also hurts.”

The walk home was slow, but it was filled with excitement from both the farmer and Harvey. “Honestly, it’s pretty admirable for you to go those classes,” They began as Harvey walked beside them- he kept his sweatband on and occasionally drank from his water bottle. “You think so?” He questioned wiping the excess water from his mouth. “Oh, yeah! You see Marnie? She can move, I was in awe. She knew everything and was so confident- it was kind of intimidating! I know what you mean about feeling out of place.” The farmer admitted and cracked their knuckles, “I’ll show her up next time though! Then she’ll be in awe!” Harvey laughed at that and watched them with admiration. The determination the farmer had to want to keep coming to the class eased his nerves and made him quite happy. It was something they could do together, something new to experience, and having a partner who was almost as out of shape as he was, was comforting. “Thanks for coming. Like I said, it helped out my confidence having you with me.” He didn’t look at them as he said, he looked forward as he walked, and he wore a small smile. “Oh, Harvey- you knew the moves too! You were so cool to watch, I mean, I didn’t know you could even move like that,” The farmer teased nudging him. He chuckled at that and offered the farmer the rest of his water through the walk home.

It had been a few months since they went to there first class together, and they had a blast! They both felt like they were getting stronger and with the farmer at his side Harvey worked like he never had before. He had someone he wanted to impress, and it gave him the motivation to keep working on himself and his health. Whenever they’d go to class together, they wore ear-to-ear smiles and it was filled with plenty of laughable moments, like the farmer using the jump rope. They weren’t bad at it, but the one time the rope wrapped around their ankle, tripping them, and they hit the ground face first. Harvey was of course worried but was relieved when the farmer rolled over roaring with laughter. He then, of course, joined the laughter while he helped them stand. Or the time that Harvey was lifting his weights- he pulled one up with enough force that he accidentally let go and it flew! When it hit the ground (making a loud BANG) he blushed madly as Pierre bolted in the room and began lecturing everyone in the class. Nobody could hide their smiles and giggles when Pierre grew red with anger, “You better not break anything! This isn’t some stomping ground!!” Course Robin was the first to break as she fell out in laughter, keeling over as soon as Pierre left the room. Harvey no longer felt out of place in the aerobics class, and he constantly thanked the farmer for that. He realized that he was more embarrassed about possibly messing up than just accepting that moments like that just happen and he began to laugh whenever something silly happened to him. Whenever someone tripped or dropped something he learned to laugh (when they did) and not immediately assume something was wrong. He learned that the most from how many times the farmer tripped, fell, scrapped something, dropped something and instead of feeling embarrassed or nervous, they just laughed. Everyone else did too!

Looking back, Harvey was extremely grateful for having the farmer at his side. He never expected this to happen, but he was happy that it did!

[isananna]

Posted Anonymously

Got this title from a title game from @suddenclarityharry and got inspired to write it. So here I am, three days later, with a Chris Evans fic on my hands. I may or may not work on more stuff in this AU. Who knows but I enjoyed writing this a lot!

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female OC

Word Count: 4785

Synopsis: She had no idea the amazing new guy friend in her life was the hot, popular, easygoing colleague everyone had a thing for. Until she did and it killed her to think that if he ever found out, it’d ruin their more-than-just-friendship friendship. Office AU

Tagging @suddenclarityharry @aeliad @klausgoldsteins @iwillpooponthefloor

Bailey stared at the man in front of her, his eyes sparkling and his mouth set into the widest, most charming smile she’d ever seen. No, she had to stay strong and not give in. It’s not like she was his personal analyst and could waltz right on over to her office (high walled cubicle that gave some modicum of privacy if she ever had short, not quite formal meetings with a colleague or a subordinate) and ask her for a favor. Except everyone was just a little weak to one Christopher Robert Evans, man or woman, and he knew how to play that fact very well. It was mostly innocent (if calling favors and giving his target the biggest, most endearing and soulful puppy dog eyes could be considered innocent) and it was for work. But still, she had to be strong but she could already feel her resolve crumbling.

“Come on, please? I’ll owe you one! My boss just sent over some last minute requests and my presentation is tomorrow.” He smiled even wider, like he was trying to highlight the beard he’d been growing recently.

Fuck him and fuck the beard that made him even better looking than he already was. It should have been a crime for anyone to be so damnably gorgeous and having the clearest baby blues she’d ever laid her eyes on that made her heart squeeze just a little bit tighter whenever he was in such close proximity.

“You already owe me a lot, Chris.” Bailey sighed, rubbing her temples. She already had a lot to do, what with one of her juniors out sick for the week and she had to pick up his work. Everyone else on her team was either fully booked or too new to take on the extra, albeit temporary, load.

“Please, Bails?”

There it was. She could feel the crack growing. She didn’t interact with him much outside of work, having different friend groups and working in different departments and all but she knew for a fact that he didn’t have nicknames for everyone he worked with, but somehow she wound up with one. Maybe because they both started in the company at the same time, her as a newbie and him as a hot shot marketing manager who transferred over because the hours and the pay were better. Everyone knew, of course, about the rockstar employee the company snagged when they joined almost ten years ago, and for some bizarre reason, they’d been joined at the hip for work projects ever since.

“I’m only staying at the office until seven. Whatever I have finished I’ll send. I trust you can handle the rest?” She looked up at him, eyes weary, then back down to his knees which was barely just a handbreadth away from her knuckles, Chris having chosen to sit halfway on her desk, leg dangling, as he leaned against her cubicle wall but more heavily on the foot planted on the ground.

“You’re the best, Bails!” His face brightened considerably as he pushed off his standing leg. “It’s not a lot but it’d be great if you could sort out and clean up the additional data tables. I could have done it myself but I’m still not done with the presentation deck.”

“Mmmm.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing sideways, only to catch him popping open his collar and letting his clavicle tattoo peek just a little bit. It was after hours anyway. No need to be all buttoned and suited up. “You have me for only an hour and a half.”

“Getting to it!” He grinned, rolling up his sleeves before walking away, soles of his leather shoes tapping smartly against the floor.

It was only when she didn’t hear his footsteps anymore that Bailey finally let out the breath she’d been holding the entire time. How was she supposed to know that the funny, interesting guy she met online on a restaurant review site, of all places, was her hot, popular, and easygoing officemate? It killed her to know that she was the only one who knew the truth about their… relationship, but how exactly was she going to ‘fess up to one Christopher Robert Evans that one Bailey Alexander Jones was the online friend whose taste in food was the only one he trusted? Other than his own of course.

It all started on an unusually free Sunday afternoon. She was looking at reviews for pet friendly restaurants, to widen her options, and each time she tapped on a restaurant’s profile and read through the reviews, there was always one user that caught her attention. The reviews he left that were detailed and full of all the reasons why he loved the place. Or if he didn’t like the place, his reviews were never terrible, but always worded well so that the owners could use it as suggestions for room for improvement. His profile picture certainly helped matters along too. It was his arm wrapped around the neck of his brown and white mixed breed (a rescue, according to his bio which made him all the more precious in her eyes). No face, just the arm of a man (who clearly went to the gym and took care of himself by the looks of things) and his dog, with the top buttons of his shirt open, offering a peek to his clavicle tattoo and on a whim she messaged him. With absolutely no ulterior motives (which was a flat out lie when she looked back on it, even before she found out it was Chris Evans she’d suddenly become friends with).

It was how she knew.

. . . .

Hey. Sorry, I meant to get back to you on that new bakery with stuff for dogs too but swamped with work. Big presentation tomorrow. Felt bad asking one of my officemates to overtime and help out a little.

Bailey stared at her phone. She was finally at home, seated on her couch and in clean clothes and warm skin after her bath, knees pulled up against her chest as she read the message for the umpteenth time. Chris didn’t realize he had both her work number and her personal number, so he couldn't put two and two together, but she did. And she felt terrible for keeping up the facade but how exactly was she going to bring this up? It’s not like she could just blurt it out, but it’s not like she was hiding some big secret. And wasn’t there some sort of office fraternization rules in the employee handbook? She really didn’t want to lose her job and she didn’t think that he would want to move to a different company either, if their ten year tenure was anything to go by.

It’s fine. Was a bit busy myself today. One of my teammates got sick and no one else could pick up the slack so I had to do it, on top of my own work.

She swallowed thickly. She didn’t mean for him to feel bad, or to fish for some kind words, but he was so easy to talk to on the phone. He was kind, considerate, sent her stupid dad jokes and pictures of his dog (Dodger she later found out after countless hours of messaging). Even if it was just an online relationship, she couldn’t help but feel the palpable attraction. He was the first, and the last, person she texted every day. She replied in turn with goofy pictures of her dogs, a beagle named Rocco and a corgi named Duke, they constantly messaged each other and talked about anything and everything and the only thing missing was that they actually meet up.

Oh? Sorry to hear. Hope your teammate gets better, for your sake too. Don’t want you to burn out or anything.

Bailey smiled, falling sideways into her couch, her dogs jumping onto the empty cushion above her head and making themselves comfortable.

Yeah, me too. He said he was fine today but I told him to stay home and take an extra day, just to be safe. Don’t want him relapsing. He’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll just be my usual busy self, instead of extremely busy.

She closed her eyes and pressed her phone to her chest. What she wouldn’t give to make this awkwardness go away. She desperately wanted to tell him. Every time she saw Chris at work and there was someone just a little bit too close to him, she wanted to tell them he was hers. Which was pathetic, because she didn’t think that falling in love would make her that girl, the territorial and possessive one but apparently that was what was happening. And the fact that she was even admitting to herself that she was in love with the man sounded strange in her ears and gave her some weird combination of a heady buzz and a headache. Her eyes opened halfway when she felt her phone vibrate.

Well, I’ve got to go home now. Still at the office but there’s nothing more I can do now except crack open a cold one, shower, and go to bed. Talk to you tomorrow after my meeting. Wish me luck!

She looked at the clock. It was ten but she knew his commute home wasn’t going to be too long. He lived just a couple of stops after hers and she only had a thirty minute train ride to work.

Night, you. Good luck tomorrow. Hope your presentation goes well.

It didn’t take him long to reply.

Night, you. Thanks for keeping me company, electronically anyway, while I worked!

Her eyes zoned in on the emoji he put at the end, the kissy face one. It was things like this that made her heart beat faster than it should, and why she was falling further and further in love with him, all sweet and kind and reliant on her.

. . . .

His presentation did go well, she knew both from his exuberant, but tired, face when he dropped by her cubicle  during lunch, slumping in the chair beside her desk with a couple of takeout boxes in hand as payment for her overtime. Although really, she knew more than an hour ago because the minute he was finished with his meeting, he texted her with a host of party popper emojis, and ended with his usual kissy face.

. . . .

She was thankful for the rare weekend off. Now was one of them, when marketing was starting to slow down because they’d done all the prep work for the upcoming busy Thanksgiving and holiday sales. Those were always done well in advance so they could put up quality campaigns. Sure they were still busy, but markedly less so, which meant she didn’t see Chris as often, which also meant she could ignore her bubbling feelings at work.

Have you eaten at the new European dessert place in Newton? I heard their ile flottante and their cannolis are to die for.

Bailey smiled, amused. Of course she did. She lived about a ten minute walk away from it and she couldn’t wait to sample their other dishes.

Yup! It’s near my place. I can walk there.

When she realized what she sent, Bailey’s eyes widened and she dropped her phone on top of her kitchen table. She did not just tell him the general area where she lived. No. He might interpret that as an open invitation to finally met up!

Oh you live in Newton? Me too, but not near Beurre et Sucre. Maybe you’d like to go together some time?

. . . .

Bailey shot down any of Chris’s attempts at trying to strike a conversation after that awkward exchange. She didn’t ignore him completely, but she did always reply with short messages or late, saying she was just so busy at work she couldn’t find the time. She felt guilty because he didn’t do anything wrong, but she just wasn’t prepared to face the music. What if he were furious at her for keeping everything a secret? Maybe if she let things cool that everything would blow over? She wasn’t planning on ignoring him for long, just for the next week or so. That seemed like a realistic enough time to be super busy at work. There was a stretch of a few days, soon after they started texting each other constantly, that she all but ignored him, when work just kept piling up on her desk.

. . . .

Hey. I know you’re busy but I hope things are going to look up soon. They should! It’s been almost two weeks and I miss talking with you.

Bailey’s brain conveniently ignored the ‘talking with’ in between the ‘miss’ and the ‘you.’

. . . .

I’m in your side of Newton. Want to grab a cup of coffee over at Beans and Bones while I’m in the area? Dodger’s with me.

Shit. She stared wide eyed at the message on her phone. She blinked a few times and even rubbed her eyes for good measure, to make sure she wasn’t misreading it. But there it was, plain as day. He was asking her out for coffee, strangely enough her neighborhood coffee place, a nice public space that never got too crowded but was never completely empty either. Nice and safe and obvious.

Ah but no pressure! Sorry, didn’t stop to think if you were going to be busy later.

She stared at her phone again, looking at the timestamps. He was really nervous, sending a barrage of messages. The three blinking dots at the bottom of the screen told her he was typing, then it stopped (he probably erased it) before starting up again, then stopping once more. Rinse and repeat.

Hey you there? Sorry I sprung it up on you. I just… I found myself here and was hoping you were home too? Shit. Was I moving too quickly? Oh God. Sorry. Forget it. Never mind. Turning back. I hope I didn’t scare you off. I just really wanted to meet you, I guess.

Her heart started to beat wildly as she fumbled with her phone, sitting up straight from her bed, never mind the wave of dizziness from suddenly shifting positions.

Hey um, yeah. I’m free! Sorry, I was just doing something. Didn’t get a chance to reply to your messages until now. I can be there in thirty minutes?

What the hell was she doing. She wasn’t only going to potentially ruin her friendship with him but she was risking a hell of a lot by doing this.

Great! I’ll see you then. I’m wearing a black leather jacket, navy shirt, and jeans.

She groaned. Of course he’d be wearing a black leather jacket. That’s just the vibe he gave when they were at work. That he was the hot, popular, easygoing one just everyone gravitated to. Not that she was quiet and shy by any stretch of the imagination, no, but they just hung out in different circles and had different friends and just always seemed to be at each other’s periphery if they weren’t talking shop. Usually, the only times they really ever spoke to each other at work, outside of project meetings, was when he sidled on over to her desk and blinked his damnably gorgeous baby blues to ask her for a quick favor and if she could pull up some data for him and prepare it for a presentation deck he had to finish. And somehow, even if she was busy, she managed to keep a straight face and nod, saying she’d have it done before the day was out and he’d smile that infuriatingly gorgeous smile, give her a wink, and walk away.

Leather jacket too, jeans, white button down, and rose gold Air Force Ones.

She fell back into bed, covering her face with her hands.

What on earth was she doing?

. . . .

Bailey gripped Duke’s and Rocco’s leashes tighter when she made her way to Beans and Bones. It was her favorite coffee spot, both because they made the best pick me ups after her weekend jogs and she could bring her dogs inside. Right now, she was hoping their food and coffee would be enough to help fix the inevitable breaking of her heart. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked inside, her dogs trailing happily behind her as she looked around for Chris.

He was at the corner booth, on the side facing the door, with his brow slightly furrowed, book in one hand, the other scratching the back of his dog’s ear. Dodger’s tail was thumping happily on the wood floor, mouth open and tongue wagging as he stared up at Chris. Just as she was about to take a step, his head lifted and his eyes caught hers. Her heart nearly stopped and she couldn’t look away from his magnetic blue eyes. He’d seen her, and by the appraising look on his face, he pieced everything together. There was no going back now. The only thing she could do was walk up to him with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Hey um.” She tucked her hair back behind her ears nervously, fidgeting as she clenched and unclenched her fist around the leashes. It’s not like she’d never been in close proximity with him before, but this was different. This was outside of work, in her favorite coffee spot, with their dogs.

“Why don’t you get something first?” Chris smiled kindly, leaning forward and reaching for Duke’s and Rocco’s leashes. “I’ll keep an eye on those two while you’re at the counter.”

“O-okay.” She let her grip go, wondering if he felt the static too when his fingers brushed her hand.

The trip to order her food and drink was quick and Bailey found herself back at the booth not even five minutes later. When she reached out to get her dog’s leashes, Chris only gripped them tighter and propped his elbow on the table, book discarded, as he grinned.

“Oh no. I’m keeping Duke and Rocco hostage for the afternoon while we sort everything out, Miss Jones.”

She hoped she managed to sufficiently suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at his words.

“I um.” She looked down at the table. What could she say? He obviously wasn’t angry. Surprised, but not angry. In fact, surprise easily gave way to a look that was equal parts amused and victorious.

“I had a feeling it was you.”

Her head snapped up as she stared at him. She wasn’t expecting the look on his face, something soft and tender and relief and happiness.

“W-what? H-how?”

“Lots of little things really.” Chris tapped his clavicle. “I pay a lot more attention to you than you think.”

Bailey opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the arrival of her coffee and blintz with strawberry compote. She mumbled a quick thanks before wrapping her suddenly too cold and shaking hands around her mug, hoping the warmth would help. She felt her ears grow hot when she heard him laugh, deep and warm and rich.

“From the way you reply too. I also live a couple of stations away from you and we’ve ridden the same train a few times. I get in earlier and get off later than you if we’re commuting the same time so I kind of figured you lived in the area. Imagine my surprise you told me you did, in fact, live in Newton.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep it from you that I knew it was you.”

Chris shook his head good-naturedly, covering one of her hands with his own.

“Don’t be. I understand why you’d freak out about it.” His thumb was absently stroking the back of her hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do to calm her down. The dogs were sorting themselves under the table, trying to find a way to settle themselves in between table and human legs. “How long have you known?”

“Couple of months maybe?” She squeaked. The skin he was touching felt like it was on fire. “It was late, we were all working overtime to finish that presentation, and you ended up pulling off your tie popping open top buttons of your shirt at some point. I saw your tattoo when I looked over towards your general direction. It’s pretty distinct and it’s hard not to put two and two together.”

“Just my general direction? Not me?” He teased, eyes warm. He still hadn’t let go of her hand.

“You’re too full of yourself sometimes,” Bailey mumbled, averting her gaze but not doing anything to shake off his hand.

Chris laughed, tilting his head back, the hand with the leashes reaching up and pressing against his chest. The dogs scrambled beneath them, three furry faces staring at him like he was going to bring them out for a walk.

The rest of the afternoon passed by pleasantly, nerves on both their parts starting to fade. As it turned out, Chris admitted he was panicking after she didn’t reply to his text about going to Beurre et Sucre, and again (clearly) after he invited her out for coffee.

. . . .

“What would you have done if I said I couldn’t make it today?” Bailey took her dogs’ leashes firmly this time, her nails grazing his broad, calloused palm. She wondered why they were rough, like he spent years doing some sort of manual labor.

“Hate myself for scaring you away?” He shrugged, smiling a little carelessly. “To be honest I really didn’t think about it. I just had to know. My days were getting pretty boring without you and your witty remarks.”

“I have to admit I missed your stupid jokes.” She let herself smile a little too, falling in step with him as they started to walk towards her apartment building. He said he’d drop her off then make his way to the station and back to his place, then see her on Monday at work.

“You like them, admit it!” He grinned, blue eyes sparkling, as he tilted his head downwards to face her properly.

“Some of them were well timed. Shitty day because a certain someone dumped more work on me when I could have been home and lounging in a bubble bath!” she shot back playfully. It was nice, whatever this was between them. Certainly more than just a plain old friendship but she’d be lying if she thought that it was anything more than that.

Chris’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and his eyes shone with an almost wicked gleam at her last words.

“Pervert!” Bailey shoved his shoulder, face bright and burning, as she turned away, her dogs gleefully sniffing about as they led them home.

“Hey now none of that. Healthy adult male right here!” He laughed, wrapping his free arm around her shoulder and pulling her in.

Bailey snorted but let him drag her along to his pace just the same.

Their banter continued until they reached the stoop of her building, his arm around her the entire time like she’d up and disappear if his grasp wasn’t secure around her.

“Well, this is me.” She gently pried herself away from his side, a little disappointed at the sudden lack of warmth but there really wasn’t any reason for him to keep holding her anymore. Not that there was any during their walk but she just couldn’t bring herself to peel away from him. Whether it was because she just couldn’t find the timing or she actually liked the weight of his arm around her, the smell of his crisp, ocean cologne invading her nostrils, or the added warmth on a cool day, she didn’t know.

(Oh but she did, she absolutely did.)

“Um, see you on Monday?” She rocked back and forth on her feet, nervous again.

“Seems too far away.”

“Huh? What do you mean? Monday’s in a couple of days.”

With his free hand, he reached out and lifted her chin, leaning his head down as he kissed her. Bailey’s eyes widened and her hands instinctively pressed against his chest.

“Shit. Sorry, did I read that wrong? I was so sure…” He pulled away, apologetic, head down like an abandoned puppy. Even Dodger could read his body language, the dog wedging himself in the space between his legs.

Bailey’s fingers rested on her mouth, touching and pressing her slightly swollen lips like she couldn’t believe what just happened. She could not, in fact, believe what just happened and her mind was whirling.

“Bails?”

Her heart ached at how worried and flustered he sounded, like he’d just ruined everything he managed to fix earlier this afternoon.

“You, um. You like me?” she squeaked, looking down, hair falling and covering her face. She was sure her face was steaming.

Chris’s shoulders relaxed as relief spread through him. She sounded like she was amazed that he could even think of her that way.

“Yeah. You’re pretty cute and adorable, huh?” He tugged Dodger away, the dog dutifully following, as he closed the gap between them and pulled her flush against him with his free arm. He bent down and kissed the top of her head before resting his chin on it. “Yeah, I do. I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“I’ve been told I’m bad at reading things like that,” she mumbled into his shirt, pressing her forehead against his chest.

“Well then. Let me spell it out for you, Bailey Alexander Jones. I like you. Would you go out with me?” he murmured into her hair, the arm around her squeezing tight like he’d never let her go unless she said yes.

She looked up at him, chin against him now, staring into his endlessly blue eyes and the warmth on his face. She tiptoed to close the space between their faces, eyes falling shut as she kissed him back, his hold on her tightening to support her weight.

. . . .

“Please? I’ll finish faster if you help.” Chris bat his eyelashes shamelessly as he leaned forward, elbow propped on her desk, hand cradling his cheek.

“Excuse me but I have my own work to do.”

“I’ll take you out to dinner!”

Bailey’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. Was he really going to use that as a bribe?

“You’ll take me out to dinner anyway.”

Chris laughed, picking up his notebook as he leaned back.

“Was worth a shot anyway. Would have been nice to work together again.”

The first thing they did that Monday was to go to HR and tell them about their relationship. It wouldn’t do to both be assigned on the same projects, conflict of interest after all, and HR was more than amenable to finding a solution for them. They were in different departments to begin with and had proven themselves more than professional that the company was willing to work around their relationship. They weren’t the first set of officemates to find themselves dating and they certainly weren’t going to be the last.

“Go ask the data analysts actually assigned to your team. I’m sure they’re more than capable of handling your requests.”

“Fine. Spoilsport.” He stuck his tongue out childishly.

“Chris…” Bailey sighed, twisting in her seat until she faced him. You know wh—mmf!”

He cut her off with a kiss. She let herself be led along for just a moment until she remembered where they were.

“We’re at work!” she hissed, glaring at him.

“I know but your cubicle wall is pretty high! No one saw us.” He grinned, all cheek and mischief.

“Just… go back to your own desk. We both have work to do and I’d like to actually go out for dinner and not eat takeout.”

He leaned forward and kissed Bailey on her hairline, dodging a swipe from his girlfriend. His skin warmed at the thought.

“I’m going, I’m going!” He stood up, holding his notebook in one hand and pocketing the other. “I should be done at six. That good for you?”

Bailey glanced at her to do list, just three more relatively easy, but a little time consuming, tasks left.

“If you let me get back to work it should be.”

He laughed, nodding, turning on his heel to leave her alone. But not before winking and a whisper of ‘see you later, sweetheart’ right by her ear.

Bailey groaned and slid slightly down her chair.

He was equally as infuriating as he was adorable and that made things all the more challenging. Not that she would change it for the world.

[misharuu]

All You Had To Do Was Ask ; Part Three/Four

part one. part two.

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden  (you only need basic knowledge of the fandom to enjoy this story; only the subplot mentions the canon!)

Pairing: Jiraiya x Naruto

Warnings/Tags: NSFW ; yaoi, sickfic, whump, emeto, graphic suicide attempt, self harm, alcohol abuse, gore, hallucinated character death, GRAPHIC CONTENT

Summary: Naruto is dangling over the edge. He can't cope and he can't comfort himself. He's out of options. Jiraiya leaves for a short mission and the Nine Tailed Fox uses this opportunity to make the final push. Can Jiraya save Naruto before it's too late?

Word Count: 8,054

A/N: okay so seriously. this chapter is SUPER FUCKING BLEAK. PLEASE do not read this if the mentions of suicide, alcohol abuse, suicide attempts, graphic gore, or hallucinated character deaths get to you. I can promise now that there are no non-canonical character deaths in this fic, but there is a hallucinated one as well as a very close (very detailed) suicide attempt. if you just want to get straight to the hurt/comfort I'd wait for the next chapter, but please understand that the next chapter also talks about the suicide attempt frequently.I apologize in advanced for how brutal this wound up being.

AO3. FF.

PART THREE: SHARP OBJECTS

Naruto slowly awoke, blinking the sleep from his eyes. It took a moment for the events of the previous night to come back to him, but once he remembered he couldn’t help but groan, turning over onto his back. Immediately he felt Jiraiya’s hand on his chest, causing him to jump. “You okay, kid?” Jiraiya gently asked from his position next to Naruto’s bed, dark bags accentuating his eyes. Naruto glared at the older man, turning back onto his side to avoid his gaze.

”I’m fine,” he mumbled weakly. He laid still for a moment to take a personal inventory; his headache was almost completely gone but his stomach was still uneasy. At this point he didn’t think he was sick anymore, just extremely stressed and upset.

”You’re not fine. We need to talk about last night,” Jiraiya stated, wanting to reach out and take Naruto into his arms but he resisted. He had spent most of the night taking care of Naruto as he slept restlessly; every time Jiraiya thought Naruto was finally falling asleep he'd start shaking, his hands gripping his head. Jiraiya didn't know, but the Fox was back full force, trying to torture Naruto by not letting him sleep, constantly whispering stories of chaos and gore in his ears. All Jiraiya saw was Naruto desperately grabbing his head, tears freely streaming down his face as he begged something to stop. Jiraiya was absolutely terrified, he couldn't tell whether Naruto was in pain or just begging the thoughts in his head to stop; whether the thoughts were his own mind coming apart or the Nine Tails’ doing he wasn’t sure. He'd never had to deal with anything like this before and he had no idea what to do since he couldn't get Naruto to open up to him. He couldn't even be mad at the boy because he thought it was his fault. After their sexual encounter the day before Jiraiya began to be consumed with guilt, convincing himself that he'd somehow taken advantage of Naruto. He tried to laugh it off, act like it was just a casual encounter, nothing serious, but Naruto needed to hear the exact opposite. And that's when the flood gates were opened. Naruto felt as if he was being rejected again and the Fox took advantage of his vulnerable state, continuing it's mission of trying to get Naruto to break and finally relinquish his control, allowing the Fox to take over. Naruto was fighting to keep the Fox at bay, trying to ignore it and not give it what it wanted, but at this point that was basically impossible.

"Well I'm fine now. I was sick, and now I'm not. I'm fine," Naruto repeated, just wanting to be left alone. Jiraiya narrowed his eyes, unsure how to proceed. He knew that pressing Naruto about this wouldn't end well, he didn't want him to feel forced to talk about it, but at the same time he was terrified that it would happen again. Or that Naruto would do something stupid. Jiraiya opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it, vowing instead to just stick to the boy like glue and not let him out of his sight. "I'm taking a shower," Naruto mumbled, pulling himself to his feet, surprised at how weak he felt. It was like all of the energy in his body was being siphoned off, making his head spin. 'I'm just taking what's mine; without me this is what you'd feel like all the time,' the Fox chuckled in his ears.  Naruto wavered on his feet and was immediately steadied by Jiraiya, disapproval obvious on his face, but he didn't want to argue with Naruto when he was in this state.

"Good, you're starting to smell a bit ripe," Jiraiya chose to joke instead of forcing Naruto to sit back down. "I'm going downstairs to get some food for us, you need to eat something," Jiraiya ordered, unable to stop himself from staring at Naruto’s way too thin physique. Naruto just nodded as he entered the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him. He stood still for a moment as he waited to hear Jiraiya leave their room. As soon as he was sure the older man was gone he slipped his clothes off, being careful not to disturb his broken ribs. A huge bruise wrapped around the side of his chest where his rib and stomach were injured, an obvious sign that the Fox wasn't healing him. 'Lets see how long you can last before you come crawling back, begging for my help,' the Fox stated coldly. Naruto gritted his teeth, trying with all his might to ignore the Fox, not wanting to give it the satisfaction of a response. He turned on the taps and then turned to the mirror as he waited for the water to adjust. His rib cage was clearly visible through his skin, casting an unhealthy shadow. He was much too pale and his eyes looked dull, sad and lost. His stomach was growling with hunger and his weight loss disappointed him but he was afraid to eat. When the Nine Tails first started its revolt one of its favorite tactics was messing with Naruto’s senses. First it made food tasteless. Once it realized that wasn’t working it started messing with Naruto’s perception; making the food taste rotten or making it look like it was covered in maggots. Every now and then he’d be able to eat without issues but his weight loss was obvious.

He frowned at himself as he turned towards the shower, reaching a tentative hand in to check the temperature. He slowly stepped in and just stood under the water for a moment, imagining his sins washing down the drain. He quickly washed his hair and rinsed it under the jets, sighing as the warm water relaxed his tense muscles. Naruto reached out for the body soap and lathered it in his hands, enjoying the fresh scent spreading throughout the bathroom, rising with the steam. Suddenly images of the other night popped into his head; Jiraiya washing his hair for him, gently massaging his scalp, the amazing feeling of his big hands rubbing his body clean. The feeling of his fingers in his ass, spreading him wide, working hard to make him cum. Naruto shuddered as his soapy hand traveled over his hard cock, nearly gasping at the sensation. He was dripping precome, throbbing painfully, needing release.

He moaned quietly as his soapy hand stroked his length, imagining the way Jiraiya's hand felt wrapped around his cock. He panted as he leaned his forehead against the wall, his free hand sliding along his hips before resting hesitantly above his tight opening. He pressed the pad of his finger down, teasing himself, just barely dipping it in. He rubbed his entrance, experimentally dipping his finger in further, unfamiliar territory. Naruto gasped as he took in his finger down to the knuckle, just barely grazing his prostate. His legs shook with pleasure as he jerked himself off while fingering his opening, moaning freely at the newly discovered sensations, unable to restrain himself. He imagined the feeling of Jiraiya's cock thrusting into his ass as he added another finger, whining desperately as he neared completion, a slightly painful warm feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach. "A-ah!" his hips stuttered as he thrust wildly into his hand, getting lost in pleasure. “F-fuck, Jiraiya,” he moaned breathily, the mere mention of the older man’s name pushing him over the edge, ropes of cum getting washed down the drain. Naruto let his head rest against the shower wall as he panted heavily, trying to regain his composure.

‘Pathetic,’ the Fox snickered in his ear, ‘he already told you it was a mistake. You are a mistake. Just give up. No one will ever love you. You’re doomed to be alone because of what you are. It’s all for naught; once you inevitably give in to me I’ll slaughter him, eviscerate him while I force you to watch.’ The Fox’s voice boomed in his ears, making Naruto shake with fright, showing him visions of disemboweling Jiraiya with his bare hands while he helplessly watched through his own eyes. Naruto looked down at his hands and imagined them being covered in Jiraiya’s blood, gore under his fingernails. He felt sick and dizzy, gagging as the intrusive thoughts assaulted his mind. Dirty. Unclean. Monster. He tried to scrub his hands clean but no matter how much soap he used he still felt filthy. He turned the hot tap up as high as it would go, desperate to feel clean again. Naruto’s skin was red from the scalding hot water, burning and raw as he scrubbed his skin as hard as he could. Nothing was working, he could still imagine the blood coagulating on his skin. He shook uncontrollably as he turned off the taps, kneeling at the bottom of the tub as he attempted to get a hold of himself, struggling to overcome his cracking mind.

——————————

Jiraiya slowly walked down the hallway from their room, heading to the main floor so he could get them some food. He frowned as he imagined Naruto’s thin, shaking frame, hands clamped over his ears. He just felt so fucking guilty, so unbelievably angry at himself for misinterpreting the situation. Naruto wanted him, needed him, and he pushed him away just like everyone else had. The boy was sick (in more ways than one) and rather than being there to comfort him he had pushed him over the edge, pulling the ground out from his feet. Jiraiya didn’t know what to do to fix the situation. He was thankful that Naruto’s fever was going down but in some ways he was in even worse shape, and he was scared to think about the state of the boy’s mind. Naruto admitted that the Nine Tailed Fox was messing with his head, trying to pressure him to break the seal once and for all, but he didn’t know how far the Fox was taking it. ‘That’s it, I’ll need to fix Naruto’s seal tonight, that’s the least I could do. Maybe that’ll finally put him at ease and he can start to go back to his usual self,’ Jiraiya thought to himself, not totally convinced that the fix would be so simple, but he remained hopeful.

Jiraiya stopped in front of the main desk, offering the woman behind the counter a small smile. “Oh! Sir! A message came for you just a little while ago. It seemed urgent,” she explained with a smile on her face, turning towards a stack of papers behind her. She shuffled through the pile for a moment before retrieving a small sealed scroll. “Here it is!” she exclaimed cheerfully, handing the scroll to Jiraiya. “Is there anything else I could help you with?”

Jiraiya took the small scroll and placed it in his pocket. ‘This is from Tsunade,’ he thought, curiously eyeing the seal over the flap before addressing the woman at the counter. “Yes, I’d like to order two servings of today’s lunch, please. Room two oh one,” he offered a kind smile.

”Right away, sir, you have perfect timing! I’ll have someone bring it up in just a few minutes, lunch service is about to begin,” she have a small nod before notating Jiraiya’s order. Jiraiya bowed his head in thanks before turning away from the counter, making his way to a nearby bench. He took a seat and retrieved the scroll from his pocket, preparing his hand signs. “Release!” he muttered as the seal vanished, allowing him to open the parchment. He frowned deeply as he read over his orders, cursing in his head. ‘Shit, she’s got word from an ally nearby that has information about the Akatsuki’s movements and she wants me to interview them immediately,’ Jiraiya rolled the scroll up and placed it back in his pocket. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Naruto alone with everything that was going on, and he knew the boy was also in no shape for a mission right now, regardless of the rank, and regardless of how badly Naruto wanted to be alone. Jiraiya knew that the more someone pushed to be left alone the more they actually needed a shoulder to lean on. He had vowed to himself to stay by Naruto’s side, both to make sure he was taking care of himself and to try to mend their relationship. But an order was an order and legendary sannin or not he had to follow the direction of the hokage. ‘I’ll talk to Naruto about it and see how he responds,’ he thought to himself as he got back on his feet, quickly heading back to their room.

——————————

When Jiraiya got back to the room Naruto was still in the bathroom. He could hear that the shower was off and he had the urge to check up on him but he didn’t want to work Naruto up again. He sat on the couch as waited for Naruto to emerge from the bathroom, keeping a watchful eye on the door.

Naruto grabbed his towel from the rack and wrapped it around his shuddering shoulders. He sat for a few moments longer, taking long deep breaths to try to calm himself. Once he felt more steady he dried off his hair and rubbed the towel across his skin. He silently got dressed and combed his hair, not daring to look at his reflection in the mirror; he didn’t feel strong enough to face himself. He placed the comb back on the counter and flung his towel over the towel rack to allow it to dry. He turned the doorknob and walked back into their room, glancing sideways at Jiraiya.

Jiraiya sighed, preparing his thoughts. Just as he was about to speak there was a knock on the door. “Food’s here!” he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, swinging the door open and greeting the man at the door happily.

“Enjoy your lunch!” the man said as he partially rolled the serving cart over the threshold of their room. Jiraiya gave the man a thankful nod as he rolled the cart into the room, allowing the door to close behind him. “Ahh, this smells delicious!” Jiraiya smiled as he set their plates on the kitchen table, setting down their utensils before sinking into his seat on the floor.

”It does,” Naruto responded, forcing a smile. He hoped that the Nine Tails would let him eat in peace, he hadn’t eaten a real meal in days while he was sick and his stomach was completely empty, growling loudly. He settled down to his spot on the table and held his breath as he lifted the cover over his plate. He slowly lifted it, afraid to look, taking a tentative glance as soon as the cover was off. Large shrimp laid over a bed of white rice, covered in some sort of light vegetable sauce. Naruto sighed with relief, allowing an actual smile to cross his face. "This looks great, I'm starving," he beamed, picking up his chopsticks. Jiraiya smiled as he noticed Naruto's face light up, thankful that the boy was finally going to be eating something of substance, seeing a hint of the old Naruto shine through. Jiraiya picked up his chopsticks, snapped them apart, and dug in to his food, jokingly moaning as he bit into a shrimp which elicited a small giggle from Naruto.

Naruto slowly picked up one of the shrimp with his chopsticks and bit off a small piece, sighing as he realized that the food smelled and tasted great, untampered with. He finished the first shrimp and eagerly started on his rice, the sauce offering just a hint of sweetness. The vegetables were slightly crisp and fresh, mingling perfectly with the large prawns. Just as Naruto was picking up another shrimp with his chopsticks his vision started shimmering. He lowered his hand as he tried to blink it away, feeling confused as it went away just as quickly as it had come on. He turned back to his food and cringed, seeing a severed finger held in his chopsticks instead of the shrimp. He felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he watched the rice morph into a bowl of writhing maggots. Stomach acid crawled up the back of his throat and he swallowed hard, putting the 'shrimp' down and hesitating for a moment, trying to focus as hard as he could to try to get rid of the illusion.

Jiraiya watched Naruto as he ate, feelings slightly more comfortable as he saw his student happily eating his lunch. He was starting to think that he might be recovering, that maybe everything would just go back to normal. He decided that now would be the best time to bring up his mission; he wanted to get it over with while Naruto seemed to be doing a bit better so he could hurry back. "Hey, so, we need to talk about something real quick," Jiraiya stated, his mouth full. Naruto was happy for the distraction. He gave Jiraiya a nod, afraid to speak. "I got a note from Tsunade earlier. Seems like some guy located close to here might have some intel on the Akatsuki. She wants me to head over there and check it out - it shouldn't take more than a few days. You're still recovering and your ribs need more time to heal so I'm doing this one solo. Does that sound alright to you?" Jiraiya asked. Normally he'd just tell Naruto he'd be gone for a few days, disappearing in the blink of an eye, but with everything they'd been going through lately he wanted to be totally above board with him. He especially wanted Naruto's input; he didn't want to leave him alone again if he didn't feel comfortable with it. And in reality, Naruto wasn't comfortable with it. At all. The Nine Tails always seems to be at it's worst when he was alone and he was terrified of what new tricks it had up it’s sleeve, but he was still angry with Jiraiya, the pain still fresh in his heart.

"Yeah, sure," Naruto quickly stated, picking up the 'shrimp.'

Jiraiya nodded, "alright then, it's settled! I'll head out tonight and I should only be gone a few days." Jiraiya picked up his chopsticks and went back to his lunch. Naruto closed his eyes as he bit into the 'shrimp,' trying to force it down his throat. ‘It isn't real. It isn't real. I need to eat. This is just a shrimp. It tastes like a shrimp.’ No matter how hard he tried his mind was losing control, feeling like he was chewing on coppery, rubbery, cold dead skin. That's it, he couldn't take it anymore. "Gotta piss," he mumbled, quickly getting to his feet and hastily walking to the bathroom, struggling to look nonchalant. He shut the door as calmly as he could and turned on the sink, hoping that would cover the noise. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet as he painfully regurgitated his lunch, barely having enough time to get to the toilet. He gagged harshly and his stomach churned as the semi digested food forced its way back up in waves, the stomach acid burning his throat. His stomach gave him no time to relax, immediately shifting into a series of gags, each retch punctuated by a wet cough. Jiraiya frowned from his spot at the table as he heard Naruto repeatedly vomit, just barely audible over the sound of the sink, sighing as he got to his feet. There was a knock at the door and Naruto could hear the concern in Jiraiya's voice, "you okay, kid? Did you get sick?" He couldn't answer, his entire body was overcome with shakes and he was afraid to open his mouth, not wanting to give Jiraiya anything to worry about. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, sliding down his cheeks.  "I'm coming in," Jiraiya stated when he didn’t get a response.

Once he turned the knob the corners of his lips turned into a frown, forehead creased with worry as he saw Naruto sitting in front of the toilet. Naruto couldn't meet Jiraiya's eyes, he felt so embarrassed, so ashamed. He was a mess. He didn't want Jiraiya to have to baby him; the sannin had more important stuff to deal with. He wished Jiraiya would just leave him there, go take care of all of the things he was needed for while the Fox made Naruto waste away. At least then he wouldn't need to be ashamed when stuff like this happened, having privacy as he was tormented and pushed over the edge. Just thinking of the Fox was enough to set him off again; he tried to breathe deeply, swallowing compulsively, as he tried to hold it in. But it was no use, that just made it worse; he gripped the sides of the toilet seat with both hands as his stomach roiled painfully causing him to pitch forward with a harsh retch, burping up a stream of foul liquid. "Shit, are you okay?" Jiraiya asked as he went to grab a washcloth, wetting it under the sink, his own stomach clenched with sympathy as he heard Naruto vomiting. Naruto's face flushed with embarrassment as he panted over the toilet, his nose and throat burning. He spit into the water and then sunk back to the ground, allowing his head to rest on his arm over the toilet bowl as he tried to catch his breath. "Are you still sick?" Jiraiya asked gently as he sat next to Naruto on the ground, feeling the back of his neck. "No fever," the older man said as he draped the washcloth over the back of Naruto's neck, knowing from previous episodes that the sensation helped settle his stomach.

Naruto shook his head, “n-not sick, just didn’t feel so good all of a sudden. S-sorry,” Naruto lied, swallowing thickly, trying to push back the bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to tell Jiraiya about the Fox, knowing he was about to leave for a mission. He didn’t want Jiraiya to have to worry about him when he was gone.

“You don’t have to apologize, it happens to the best of us,” Jiraiya soothed, placing a hand on the boy’s back. “Still feel nauseous?” Jiraiya asked, not wanting to lead him back to bed before he was ready. Naruto nodded slightly, breathing slowly through his mouth. Jiraiya frowned as he laid a hand on the younger man’s stomach, rubbing in circles the way he liked. Jiraiya couldn’t help but feel concerned as he felt just how thin Naruto had gotten, feeling the way his ribs protruded, taking the place of his usually solid abs. “Does this happen often?” he asked seriously, frowning deeply as Naruto nodded again.

“J-just stress,” Naruto lied again, allowing Jiraiya to rub his stomach. Suddenly he felt Naruto shift below his grasp as he grabbed the toilet seat again, rising back to his knees. He started gagging again, violently burping up a dribble of saliva and bile.

Jiraiya shook his head, “you shouldn’t be getting sick this often. You need to take better care of yourself. I’m telling Tsunade to send someone else on the mission, I need to be here for you,” he demanded as Naruto took the washcloth and wiped his face with it.

Naruto finally looked Jiraiya in the eyes, “no, you’re the closest shinobi. Just go, I’ll be okay. I promise, I can take care of myself,” he mumbled, reaching up to flush the toilet. Jiraiya hesitated, considering his options. He knew Tsunade would only send for him if she thought he was the best equipped for the mission, but he couldn’t let Naruto down again. Not after what he’d done. He needed to prove that he just fucked up and didn’t actually regret anything that happened between them; that he would be there for him no matter what. That Jiraiya needed him. He sighed, giving in.

“Fine. I’ll go, but I’m going straight there and then coming straight back. If anything happens while I’m gone you need to promise to send for me or Tsunade,” Jiraiya said sharply, raking his hand through Naruto’s soft hair before wiping away the boy’s tears. Naruto was too exhausted to argue so he just nodded, allowing Jiraiya to help him to his feet. He helped him back to bed after helping him brush his teeth. He pulled the covers up over his shoulder before retrieving a glass of water, handing it to him. “I’d feel much better leaving if you’d drink that,” he ordered. Naruto groaned but gave in, taking a few small sips before placing the glass beside his bed.

“I’ll probably just sleep the whole time you’re gone anyway, you aren’t missing anything. Unless you like watching me puke that much,” Naruto teased weakly. A smile cracked across Jiraiya’s lips.

”I may be a pervert, but that’s one thing I’m not into,” he teased back, going through the closet to get everything he needed. Thankfully the mission would be a quick one as long as he didn’t run into any trouble; he should be able to be back by the following morning. “Please try to get some more food into you, Naruto. You’ve lost a lot of weight... I’m worried about you,” he admitted as he pulled his pack and scroll over his shoulders. Naruto just nodded as he closed his eyes, attempting to take an afternoon nap. Jiraiya finished his preparations and then slid his shoes on, glancing over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but allow his eyes to linger over the blond, his face so peaceful as he slept. Jiraiya quietly walked over to Naruto, bending down to kiss his forehead, unable to resist. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he whispered, gently caressing his cheek before heading out.

——————————

Naruto awoke some time later to a pitch black room. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but something had shaken him awake, something wasn’t right. He rolled onto his back and then peered around the room; he was alone. He shuddered, drowning in the deafening silence. He longed to hear Jiraiya’s goofy laugh. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted to feel Jiraiya’s strong arms around him, shushing him back to sleep. ‘It’s just for tonight,’ he said to himself, ‘as soon as he’s back we’ll talk. I’m going to tell him everything. I can’t live like this anymore,’ he finally admitted to himself, feeling hope welling in his chest, the possibility of getting better - of no longer needing to hide his struggling anymore. Just as he was about to roll back over to go to sleep he heard that damn cackling in his head. ‘Haven’t we already gone over this? No one can save you from yourself. From me. I will have you,’ the Nine Tails roared. Naruto shook his head, not wanting to listen. He vowed to not give in anymore, hoping that if he ignored the Fox he’d eventually give up. ‘Give up? Ha! What else do I have to do while stuck in this fucking cage? You’re my only entertainment,’ the Fox snorted, ‘besides, I finally have you to myself again. I’m only getting started. Tonight is the night. This is the night I make you mine.’

Naruto shivered, squeezing his eyes closed, trying with every fiber of his being to ignore it. As soon as Naruto’s eyes closed he was quickly sucked into a vision.

The Hidden Leaf had burnt to the ground, his friend’s bodies littering the ground. Naruto looked down at his blood soaked hands, sticky and warm. Naruto tried to run but he found himself not in control of his own body. ‘I told you it would end this way,’ the Fox snarled as it forced him to turn his head around. Naruto was left helpless as he saw out of the Fox’s eyes, forced to feel it’s feelings. He heard an odd sound behind him and felt an ominous anticipation mounting in his chest as he spun on his heels. Jiraiya was laying at his feet, a quivering hand reaching out and grabbing his ankle. “N-Naruto... stop...” Jiraiya wheezed on the ground. Suddenly he felt his foot being raised up above Jiraiya’s head, coming down hard with a sickening crunch. “Sensei!” Naruto yelled out in fear, desperately fighting to regain control of his body. The Fox laughed viciously in his ears, ‘it’s no use, you’re mine. Look what you’ve done. They knew all along; they always knew you were a monster. I gave you the chance to end it, let you try to escape me, but now it’s too late. This is your future. You can’t stop me.’ Naruto shook with fear, paralyzed, as he watch the Fox lean down to take Jiraiya’s head in his hands. Jiraiya’s face was a bloody mess, teeth cracked and nose broken. Jiraiya coughed up a spurt of blood as he slowly reached out to touch Naruto’s face. “P-please... N-Naruto... I-I know you’re still in there...” he pleaded, but all he got in return was a blood chilling chuckle. He felt Jiraiya caress his cheek tenderly, just as gentle as ever, even in his time of death. “I-I forgive you,” he rasped out as the Fox twisted his head sharply to the right, bones cracking and trachea collapsing. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he struggled to breath around his broken throat, an awful gurgling sound. Naruto could do nothing but watch as his breathing stopped. Naruto cried out desperately but it was no use. He sobbed, an absolutely heartbreaking wail.

The Nine Tails roared with laughter, ‘why are you so surprised? I told you this is how it would end. I told you I’d make you feel their bones break. You’ll taste their blood, feel it slide down your throat.’ Naruto was so broken he couldn’t even respond, hyperventilating and wide eyed as he stared at Jiraiya’s broken body. The Fox let him gained control of his body again but it was too late. He fell to the ground next to Jiraiya, pulling the older man into his lap. “W-wake up, sensei! P-please!” he cried, shaking the man hard, his broken neck causing his head to loll back and forth. Naruto collapsed onto Jiraiya’s chest, emitting an agonized cry. He clutched his vestments in his hand, hands bunching in the fabric, “p-please wake up, p-please! I can’t live without you!” He just laid there in a broken heap, sobbing uncontrollably, clawing at his eyes, unable to handle what he was seeing. “J-just kill me! Just fucking kill me! You can have me, I don’t give a fuck! Just kill me, let me be with him!” he cried, squeezing Jiraiya even tighter to his chest, rocking back and forth. “I-I’m so sorry, sensei, p-please come back,” he squeaked, voice betraying him. It was too much; he was so overwhelmed that his vision started to go red. He suddenly saw a bright light and passed out.

——————————

Jiraiya sat perched on a branch above the small village their ally was located at. He slowly scanned his surroundings looking for any traps or signs of danger. Everything seemed peaceful but he couldn’t shake this feeling deep inside his chest that something was horribly wrong. He jumped from the tree and landed gracefully, taking a few moments to think. Something was wrong. Something awful was happening. Suddenly a stomach twisting thought flashed through his mind, ‘Naruto!’ He quickly sprung into action, turning around rapidly and barreling through the trees, leaping back into the branches so he could travel quicker. Jiraiya cursed himself, he knew he should haven’t left. He knew Naruto wasn’t in any condition to be alone right now but for some stupid reason he trusted the boy when he said he’d be okay.

Jiraiya jumped from branch to branch, moving as fast as his body would allow him, the muscles in his legs screaming out in protest. He was using up all of his chakra to travel like this but all he could think about was Naruto. ‘Don’t worry, Naruto, I’m coming!’

——————————

Naruto awoke on the floor, instantly breaking out in tears, shaking in fear. ‘Break the seal already, boy. It’s already at its breaking point. All it’ll take is one simple snap of your fingers. If you allow me in now I promise to make you unaware of what’s happening. But if you make me wait... if you drag this out any longer... I’ll kill Jiraiya the moment he walks through that door.’ Naruto didn’t have the strength to argue back, he just pushed himself up on shaky legs and made his way to the kitchen slowly. He opened the cabinet with unsteady hands, pulling out a bottle of sake, not even bothering with a cup. The Fox giggled at that, ‘yes, boy. Try to drink me away. Lower your inhibitions.’ Naruto’s quivering hands struggled to open the bottle, so shaky that he could barely get a grip on the cap. He finally ripped off the cap, letting it drop to the ground. He took a long pull from the bottle, coming away coughing and gagging from the acidic, foul taste. ‘Such a lightweight, you’d think with all the drinking you’ve been doing lately you’d have maned up by now,’ the Fox teased. Naruto couldn’t take it anymore, he sank to the ground and chugged from the bottle again, grimacing as the liquid poured down his throat, burning like liquid fire. He bent to the side as the liquid traveled back up with a retch, splattering on the ground. ‘Now that won’t do,’ the Fox mocked. Naruto finally felt the sweet warmth taking over his body, his vision swimming and mind dulling. He took a long swig and gripped the bottle in his hands as he stood back up, trying to get to his ninja gear. 'What are you going to do now, you stupid boy? Try to fight me?' Naruto pulled out a kunai and stumbled into the bathroom, turning on the taps for the tub.

The Fox growled knowingly, 'ah I see. Going to take the easy way out and even do it in the tub so Jiraiya won't have to clean up your mess.' Naruto growled angrily, "if I'm gone then there's nothin' you can do," he slurred drunkenly, taking another sip from the bottle as the bathtub filled. 'Oh, finally talking to me, I see,' the Fox laughed, 'go right ahead, boy. You're too much of a coward, and either way I can't die. I may disappear temporarily, but I'd just reappear in my own dimension. The first thing I would do once I reformed is come back for your dear Jiraiya-sensei.'  With that the sound of Jiraiya's neck snapping flashed through Naruto's head as he relived the feeling of his bones sickeningly rubbing together in his hands. His eyes filled with tears and he fought back a sob, turning off the bathtub taps. "Just SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Naruto yelled, chugging down more sake, barely able to see straight, "just leave me the fuck alone and let me die!" His heart felt shattered in his chest, stabbing like glass. All he could imagine was Jiraiya's blood stained hands rubbing against his cheek, forgiving him before he snapped his neck with his bear hands. He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't take one more second of this torment. He knew that if he lived he'd never be at peace; the Nine Tails would find a way to take control, making his worst nightmares a reality.

Naruto didn't even bother undressing as he slid into the tub, sobs wracking his body, vision tinged red and black. He held the kunai in his unsteady hand, pulling his knees to his chest as thoughts flew through his head with lightning speed. All he could hear was the Fox's laughter roaring in his ears, punctuated every now and then with the sound of Jiraiya's neck snapping. Tears freely slid down Naruto's cheeks as he rolled up his sleeves, examining his arms for a moment. He knew the Fox wouldn't heal him. Normally something like this wouldn't be successful, but with his healing abilities at a stand still he knew he'd succeed. He took a shuddering breath as he held the point of the blade to his wrist, quickly slashing downward towards his inner arm. He gasped as his skin sliced like butter, blood pouring from his arm in crimson waves, turning the water a sickening pink. His breath came in short pained spurts as he held the blade to his other arm, slashing down his arm as he sobbed. He hyperventilated as the kunai slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the floor. He let his arms dangle over the sides of the tub, blood pooling on the white marble, a stunningly macabre display. Naruto struggled to calm himself as he laid in the tub, feeling his limbs slowly go cold.

His vision started to tunnel and his hands went numb. Naruto felt his head loll back against the wall, unable to hold himself steady. He started to slide down into the water, his chin just above the surface. "S-S-Sensei," he rasped as he imagined Jiraiya sitting by his side on the side of the tub. He imagined Jiraiya's hands on his cheeks, in his hair, gently kissing away his tears. A small smile formed on Naruto's blue lips, his teeth violently chattered uncontrollably. 'I love you,' he imagined Jiraiya saying to him as he reached for him with his pale hand. He imagined his parents, standing by the door of the bathroom, slowly waving with huge grins on their faces. Naruto tried to smile back but had a hard time moving, no energy to so much as move his lips. He stared at Jiraiya's face as his vision faded away, darkness taking over, sucking him in. He felt himself falling, like fresh snow on the first day on winter. Soft, cold, fragile. His eyes slid shut as he gave a rattled breath. The Fox was finally silent.

——————————

Jiraiya's heart was pounding in his chest as he finally made it back to the onsen. He didn't even bother with the door, quickly springing up a tree and sliding their bedroom window open. He immediately felt a chill run up his spine. Something was horribly wrong. The air was thick, suffocating. The whole room was pitch black. Jiraiya held his breath as he flipped on the lights, hoping and praying that he'd see Naruto in bed. But his bed was empty, the covers pushed back and wrinkled. He reached down to feel them; the pillow was still slightly warm, damp with sweat. Naruto must not have gotten up too long ago. He headed to the kitchen and saw vomit on the floor, the scent of sake making his nose scrunch up. 'Fuck,' he cursed to himself, turning towards the bathroom. He saw light coming from underneath the door and he was filled with a sense of dread. He leaped over the couch and flung the door open, not even bothering with knocking. His heart sunk and he felt his blood run cold. There was blood everywhere. A pool of it on the floor, much too big, fatal. He was frozen, staring at the puddle of blood, allowing his eyes to slowly travel upwards. He saw a hand dangling from the tub, blood dripping from pale, white fingers. He followed the arm up to a clothed shoulder, a neck bent back, a head lolling on a shoulder... honey blond hair. "Naruto!" Jiraiya scooped Naruto from the tub, his cold limp body weighed down with water, making him hard to lift. Jiraiya let out a choked off sob, feeling cool water soak into his clothes, blood covered his hands. "What the fuck, Naruto, what the fuck have you done?!" he cried, desperately grabbing the boy's arms in his hands. Jiraiya stared at the long, deep cuts running up both of his arms. His hands shook uncontrollably as he pulled off his vest, ripping it in half before wrapping it tightly around each of Naruto's arms. He could tell by the amount of blood that Naruto placed the cuts perfectly, severing multiple vital arteries. He cried out in anguish as he touched the boy's cold cheek, his blue lips slightly parted. "Fuck, what the fuck do I do, what the fuck do I do -" he was panicking, hyperventilating. Jiraiya rocked Naruto's thin broken frame in his arms, picking the boy up and rushing him into the living room. He laid Naruto down on the ground and grabbed a blanket, wrapping him up tight, trying to warm him up. He concentrated his chakra into his palms as he grabbed Naruto's arms, attempting to heal his wounds. He started with his left arm as that was the deeper, more dangerous cut. It stretched from his wrist to his inner elbow, deep and wide, muscle tissue visible.

Jiraiya had to fight down a gag as blood spilled onto his hands from the wound, now uncovered so he could try to heal it. He cried out desperately as he realized nothing was happening. "Please, no, no, no, no, no. You can't be dead. You aren't dead. Naruto! Come back!" he resorted to rocking the boy back and forth again before an idea sprang into his head. He ripped the blanket off and quickly removed Naruto's jacket and undershirt. As soon as the clothing was gone Jiraiya could see the Nine Tail's seal flickering on Naruto's stomach. Jiraiya gasped, 'if he was dead the seal wouldn't be flickering!' Hope poured through his veins as he prepared his sealing jutsu, performing his hand signs so quickly it just looked like a blur. Naruto had been telling him about the Fox messing with his head just a few days prior; he realized at that moment that Naruto's healing and chakra abilities were actively being siphoned off by the Fox who was trying to force Naruto to break the seal. He hadn't realized how serious the situation was. It wasn't uncommon for Naruto to be able to communicate with the Fox, and they used to have a symbiotic relationship. Something must have changed. As the seal started to come undone the Fox's power went to his head. Jiraiya's heart snapped in two when he realized how much pain and torture Naruto must have been going through. As soon as he had the adequate amount of chakra built up in his fingertips he thrust his hand down onto Naruto's stomach. The seal glowed a bright orange before flickering out again.

Jiraiya tried to steady his breathing as he concentrated his chakra back to his palms. He held Naruto's cold, pale arm in his hand gently as he attempted to heal it again. Tears poured down Jiraiya's cheeks as nothing happened, feeling like he was about to collapse. Just as he was about to give up he saw the wound knitting together. "Naruto! Stay with me! P-please, Naruto, you need to fight it! Come back to me!" his voice cracked as picked up Naruto's other arm, concentrating his healing chakra again.

'He still lost too much blood. Whether his wounds are closed or not this isn't going to be easy to recover from... what the fuck was he thinking...' Jiraiya tried to swallow back his tears as he got to work. He grabbed a new set of clothes for Naruto and delicately stripped him out of his wet, blood soaked ones. He dressed him as quickly as possible, needing to warm the boy up. As soon as he was dressed and dry he bundled Naruto back up in the blanket and carried him to the couch where he'd be able to keep a closer eye on him as he cleaned up the mess. Jiraiya paused for a moment and knelt next to Naruto's unconscious body, slowly pushing back the boy's hair, kissing his cool pale forehead. "I'm here now, I'm not going anywhere. I will never let you hurt like this again," he vowed, teary eyed. While he wanted nothing more than to sit at Naruto's bedside and wait for him to wake up he also wanted to get the mess cleaned up before Naruto would need to face it himself, and he didn't want him to have to relive it. Cleaning the blood was hard. The coppery scent lingering in the air made him sick to his stomach, and he found himself having to scrub the marble countless times to try to get out the stains. The bathtub was much easier as the water just washed down the drain. 'He did it here hoping I wouldn't have to clean up,' that realization stung, a deep, searing pain. He thanked whatever god was looking out for Naruto that his arms wound up outside the tub; if he had left them in the water it would have pulled the blood from his body, forcing him to bleed out much quicker. He definitely would have been dead. “Thank god for sake,” Jiraiya darkly joked to himself, knowing that if Naruto was sober he wouldn’t have failed. It took hours to get rid of every last drop of blood, and by the time he was done Jiraiya was covered in it. It was on his clothing, on his hands, even in his hair.

With the room spotlessly clean Jiraiya picked up the almost empty bottle of sake, glaring at it as if it was guilty. He considered finishing the last few shots himself but thought against it, having to stay straight to take care of Naruto. With a heaving breath Jiraiya poured the rest of the sake down the drain, throwing the empty bottle in the trash. As soon as his immediate tasks were done he felt exhaustion taking over and he willingly sunk to the ground with his back against the couch, just sitting quietly, listening to Naruto’s short, shallow breaths. ‘He’s gonna have one hell of a hangover when he wakes up,’ he thought bitterly, taking Naruto’s hand in his own. His skin was still so cold, but the color was returning slowly. He gently kissed the top of Naruto’s hand, rubbing his soft skin to his cheek. The thought of losing the kid made Jiraiya break down and he didn’t even attempt to stop the tears. He freely sobbed as he held Naruto’s cold hand, grasping at it as if it was a life preserver, pulling him in from a dark stormy ocean. He coughed and sniffled, pulling his knees to his chest, burying his face in the crook of his arm. The sobs made his breath hitch in his throat, it had been so long since he cried like this that the feeling scared him, made him feel like he was choking. Suddenly he heard a low groan and he instantly jumped up, staring intently down at Naruto’s face. “N-Naruto?” he struggled to stutter out through the tears, his hand reaching out to touch the boy’s forehead. His skin was warmer, slightly tinted pink. Jiraiya held his breath, praying that Naruto would stir again so he could confirm that he was coming around. He waited for what felt like an eternity until he saw Naruto’s eyebrows furrow slightly, a barely audible groan passing his lips. At that moment Jiraiya felt like he could cry tears of happiness, finally feeling like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

”I’m here, Naruto, I’m here,” he whispered, not certain that the younger man could hear him but trying to comfort him all the same. As soon as he spoke Naruto stirred again, just a slight hitch in his breathing. Jiraiya smiled, his fingertips softly caressing Naruto’s cheek. “That’s it, come back to me. I’ll be here waiting,” he promised before slumping back against the couch, trying to fight off sleep. He was so exhausted from traveling and using up so much chakra that he could barely keep his eyes opened. He fought the heavy feeling in his eyelids for about an hour before he lost the battle, slipping into a deep sleep.

part four.