#- yes. it was meant to be this way. that's alright. full passive acceptance

[vaultsixtynine]

inventing fucked up new emotions for roz

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 8 - Familiar

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it him?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington​ is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Alex sat at his drum set, sticks in hand, and began hitting things at random. Watching the cymbals wobble at dramatic angles every time he made a blow, hearing the crash ring in his ears over and over, making the toms sound da-da-dum in a roll, like his frustration could finally sound out something that fit what he meant to get across. His mom had bought him a punching bag last Christmas in a passive aggressive insistence that he needed a quiet thing to hit if he was going to get things out. Sure, he used it, but only when he actually wanted to work out. He made sure she knew so she couldn’t complain to him about wasting her money on such an expensive gift.

He needed the drums specifically. His thoughts and feelings couldn’t always come out of his mouth, but they were definitely sounds. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t make them with his own tongue. The only time he’d gotten close was when he and Willie had been screaming over the railing of the observation deck at the Stratosphere a few weeks ago.

Today’s tantrum (and preceding argument) was over school. He was a good student, but the way things were going with Sunset Curve, Alex had little desire to continue. What was another year of subjects he already grasped the concept of when he had no plans to use them? It was a circular conversation at this point, like most things he had with his parents lately. Sometimes he could nod and pretend to just accept whatever they said, but other times they got under his skin. They got in like termites, making anything that was stable inside before feel hollow and weak.

A knock sounded at the door and Alex stilled his cymbals before getting up to answer it. It was his younger sister, Abby.

“You have a phone call,” she told him. Her tone was sassy, but Alex smiled a little at hearing it mirror his own. She was learning. He was proud. Messing up her hair as he moved past her, he went over to the phone and grabbed the receiver.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered, knowing it could only be one of three people on the other end.

“Hey, man.” It was Bobby. “Luke’s been having a rough day. He won’t say that it’s because Julie is heading out to finish her tour soon, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s about. Reggie and I are thinking we take him to the pier; hopefully we can distract him.”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Alex said. “I can meet you at your place in about five minutes.”

“Sweet, dude, see ya.”

They hung up and Alex grabbed his fanny pack, slipping outside without saying a word to anyone. If his parents weren’t used to it by now that was their fault.

Less than an hour later, all the guys were on the boardwalk, surrounded by the many games and rides at Santa Monica. Someone else was busking in the corner they usually occupied, playing a saxophone and they each dropped some change in the tin set out before them. Luke was bouncy and energetic for the most part, but relatively quiet. A few thrill rides would break the silence soon enough, though.

They all walked with their arms around each other’s shoulders, forming a wall that forced anyone else to move around them. Alex had made sure Luke was in the middle, sandwiched between him and Reggie, with Bobby on Reggie’s other side. It didn’t last long, thanks to Alex’s long legs getting them all out of sync, but they still liked doing it. Soon it was just Luke and Reggie, letting Bobby and Alex walk slightly ahead on their own.

“We wanna get something to eat first?” Luke suggested.

“And blow chunks on the rides?” Alex responded. “Kinda not in the mood to pay for my own puke, thank you.”

The look of slight horror on Luke’s face made Bobby laugh.

“Thanks, Alex, for that,” Luke was saying.

“Guys, there’s a short line over here!” Reggie was already heading toward one of the rides, eyes bright with excitement. Alex held out a hand so Bobby could go before him, receiving a head shake of denial before he followed him and pulled Luke along behind. It was a two-seater anyway, and even if Alex weren’t trying to give them a nudge, having Reggie scream in front of him was far better than directly into his ears.

He usually didn’t scream on the rides as much, but he took the opportunity this time. It felt great. Willie had unknowingly given him a gift in that simple act of emptying his lungs into the air. Ride after ride, he wanted to lose his voice to all the things he let out. The safety guards didn’t quite feel like Willie’s hands grabbing onto his jacket, but he wanted to pretend. Among all the realities he kept near his chest, it was alright to imagine he still had Willie there - smiling, giggling, hands open to be held.

He’d had a good amount of time to bang it out once they’d gotten home. Alex broke more sticks that day than he ever had in his life. The main reason he stopped was because Abby came to his room crying, both because she was extremely annoyed and could tell something was wrong. Maybe his parents weren’t much for support, but he was grateful for her. He was also glad she was only nine and was still a huge cuddle bug.

After getting dizzy on rides, Luke was finally at full energy again and had moved them onto games. Alex preferred to watch, but Luke and Bobby were competitive while Reggie cheered for both.

“Is this what it was like in the arcade?” Alex asked, elbowing Reggie as he hollered at Bobby trying to throw a basketball in the net.

“You bet!” Reggie turned with a smile. “We went lo-co.” He enunciated the last word. “You got this Bobby!”

Luke had finished his turn and come up with nothing, so he joined the other two.

“Okay, after this, I’m hungry so I say we get hot dogs,” he told them.

“Yes,” Alex agreed, feeling hungry himself.

Suddenly Reggie began cheering, and they turned to see Bobby celebrating as well as he made a final shot into the hoop. The guy working the booth let him choose from their ridiculously large stuffed animals, and he grabbed a giant puppy. Reggie’s excitement overcame him and once Bobby was facing his direction, Reggie butted his forehead against him, leaving Bobby blinking in confusion. Yikes, Alex thought. They were going to take a long time to sort things out.

Luke guided them all to his favorite hot dog vendor and they all sat at a table that was placed along a wall covered in posters. Alex positioned himself facing away from the table. Sometimes they liked to scout venues they hadn’t tried playing at yet, and it had been a while since they had come to the pier to check the wall. The missing person posters had become more numerous in their corner, which was a sad change. Alex saw one for the Viper Room and nearly had the impulse to cross himself reverently for the sake of Rivers Phoenix. 

He unfortunately spotted a familiar face among the missing person posters. Luke’s parents were still hoping he would come back home. He peeked up at the rest of the guys, all bent over their food too far to pay attention, and decided he didn’t need to say anything. The whole thing with the Pattersons was touchy for all of them, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up.

Taking a bite into his own hot dog, Alex looked back up and caught the picture beneath Luke. It was a young boy, aged nine, with dark hair growing over his ears.

William was the only name associated with him, but it listed other things like ‘missing since 1988,’ and ‘last seen in Reno, NV’ and a physical description. Alex furrowed his brow and slowly chewed the rest of his bite as he lifted a hand to pat Reggie on the back.

“Hey, you - you don’t think that’s Willie, do you?” he asked quietly, pointing at the poster. Reggie looked over his shoulder at the kid in the picture. He returned a look of sympathy to Alex.

“Alex,” he said softly. “I know you miss him, buddy, but sometimes a kid is just a random kid. We’ve probably seen his poster every time we’ve been here and just never cared. I hope the little dude’s okay, though.” He glanced back at the picture before facing forward again.

“Yeah,” Alex huffed lightly. “You’re probably right.” He flipped himself around to face the rest of the guys at the table and finish his food, ignoring the pit in his chest.

Julie sat by her mom’s side, holding her hand gently and feeling her breathe as she rested soundly. She was going to hate leaving in the morning, but she only had to finish this leg of the tour and then she could be home. They had made plans together to make scrapbooks about her shows, and she wasn’t going to miss it. Her mom always knew how to motivate her, and she was really grateful for that.

One of the nurses entered the room and gave her a sweet smile. She had kind, squinting eyes and her black hair was tied into a bun that had since loosened up.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just making some checks, doing some cleaning, this and that,” she said.

“I don’t mind at all,” Julie assured her. It was hardly the first time she’d been around while one of the nurses was doing their routines. Something about it had become calming, like it let her know that her mom was in good hands.

“She’s so proud of you,” the woman said among her movements.

Looking up, Julie felt her chest straining to hold the weight that had entered. She couldn’t help but take those words as heavy as they could come.

“I’m sure she tells you, but if you weren’t already making a name for yourself the entire hospital would know who you are by now anyway.”

“She talks a lot, huh?” Julie asked solemnly, a hint of a smile pulling the corners of her mouth.

The nurse raised her eyebrows.

“When she’s having a good day, she’s the best to be around.”

Julie nodded.

“That’s my mom,” she said quietly, smiling.

They both were quiet as the nurse continued about her work.

“Do you have any kids?” Julie asked.

The nurse chuckled.

“Quite a few, actually. I have six. Well, seven, but six at home with me.”

“Wow!” Julie couldn’t imagine handling that big of a family.

“Some of them are older than you, but my youngest is ten now. Most of them just go off and do their own thing or take care of each other.”

“Does the seventh have their own family?”

Pausing, the nurse seemed to blink strangely. She took in a deep breath and then went back to the sheet she had been folding.

“No, unfortunately, we lost him,” she said, the warmth she had spoken with earlier a little more withdrawn.

Julie immediately felt bad for asking, and she seemed to freeze at the tension.

“Don’t be sorry,” the nurse said. “I don’t mean he passed away. We don’t know where he is.”

A horrific realization swept over Julie as she realized there was something more terrifying than the death of a loved one. Not knowing where they were or if they were okay - it sounded like hell. A well of pity deepened inside her heart.

“Has it been a long time?” she asked tentatively.

The nurse nodded.

“It’s hard to let go,” she said, almost sounding like she was changing the subject. “But we all figure out something that helps us carry on.” She straightened with her clipboard in hand at Rose’s bedside.

“What did you find?” Julie asked, genuinely hoping it was a good answer.

The nurse’s eyes glistened as she smiled wistfully.

“Never forgetting,” she said. “But I think you’ve already found something that will help you.”

Julie cocked her head to the side, not understanding what she meant.

“My niece is a big fan, by the way,” the woman said, bowing her head down as she exited the room.

A small noise from her mom made Julie turn to see her eyes slowly opening up.

“Hey, mom,” she said softly, leaning closer to her.

Rose smiled and rubbed her thumb over Julie’s hand.

“Sweetie, hi,” she responded in a raspy voice. “You’re gonna play a mini show for that nurse’s niece, too, aren’t you?”

Julie chuckled. Of course she could overhear them.

“I’m thinking about it,” she told her.

Quietly shutting the front door behind him, Alex surveyed his family’s dark front room before tip-toeing up the stairs to his room. Thank goodness his dad wasn’t reading in the living room this time. He was always guaranteed to be caught when that happened. Once he got to his bedroom he took off his hat and fanny pack and was pulling his hoodie over his head when he heard a small knock. Dammit, he’d be so close.

Opening his door, he looked down to see Abby in her pajamas holding something behind her back.

“Abby, god,” he whispered. “I thought you were gonna be mom.”

She shyly shook her head. Her little blonde braids made small shuffling noises as they barely reached past her shoulders.

“What did you want?” Alex asked her.

“I wanted to show you my picture,” she told him quietly.

Any other night he would’ve sent her back to her room to show him in the morning, but her cuteness was a weapon and Alex was oddly weak tonight.

“Come here,” he said, nodding his head to let her inside. He patted the space beside him on his bed. She grinned as she sat cross-legged and held up the picture.

Alex could definitely identify himself, because she always drew him with his fanny pack on. There was also what appeared to be Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

“Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing to a fifth person in the picture.

“It’s your other friend. I don’t know their name. I heard you talking about them.”

Alex sat back and looked at her, not sure if he was mad about it or not. He tried to be cryptic in his conversations over the phone with the guys, especially if they brought up Willie, so how she picked up on anything was almost impressive.

“Do you not like it?” Abby wondered.

Shaking his head, Alex put his arm around her and squeezed her into his side.

“Abby, this is great!” he assured. “I just didn’t know you paid such good attention.”

“I have good hearing, you know,” she stated proudly. Alex chuckled and gave her a light noogie. “Heeeyy!!” She put up her hands to get him off of her.

“Look at this, though!” he said, pointing to the drawing. “You even got that he has long hair!”

“It’s a boy?” she exclaimed, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. “You have a crush on a boy?”

Alex’s jaw hung open a few seconds too long and immediately felt his body begin to shake and all words were caught in his throat.

“I know what that’s like, Alex,” Abby was saying, in her sassy way. It was enough to reboot his brain.

“Wait, how do you know that? You’re nine!” He looked at her like she was his odd sister again.

Abby simply shrugged.

“Not telling you about it,” was all she said. “And your boy sounds cute.”

The emotion that took over was too good to just be relief. Alex pulled her into a tight hug, seriously trying not to cry. They sat like that for a minute until he got afraid of crushing her.

“You’re a stinker,” he told her, rubbing her back and lightly kissing the top of her head. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, Alex,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.

“Alright, now go to bed, okay?” He let go of her and she hopped off the bed and out the door. Seeing it shut behind her, Alex climbed under the sheets and lay on his back, exhaling sharply. She had been kept out of that conversation long enough, he guessed. It barely even had to be one with her. He let a few tears leak out before aggressively wiping them off his face and turning on his side. Man, did he need some shut-eye.

[rex101111]

Drink, Drown.

Fandom: Fate Grand Order.

Rating: E (tho this chapter is M)

Chapter 1: The Truth is in the sake. And no one likes bitter sake.

Summary: Raikou and Shuten are tasked with finally putting their hatred for each other behind them. Things go horribly, and then less horribly.

Raikou No Minamoto was certain she had never found a cup of sake more distasteful than the one she was currently holding in her hand. Looking at it rationally, there was no real reason for her to hold this sake cup in such contempt.

It was perfectly serviceable, made of finely polished red clay and containing alcohol of such quality she’d be surprised if her venerable father had any in his vast stores that could match it. The problem was not with the cup, or the sake, but rather the person, the annoying insect, that was offering it to her.

Lounging as a queen on a throne was Shuten-Douji, drinking her own cup of sake with a pleasured flourish. Her long coat hung very loosely around her figure, hiding nothing of the oni’s lithe body save for what was covered up by those ridiculous undergarments that counted as clothes the same way a gnat counted as a horse.

(Raikou expertly hid the breath she had to take to center herself when she found her eyes roaming over the demon’s form, and if Shuten noticed she was polite enough to play along like she hadn’t.)

Raikou herself, sitting stiffly with her knees on a pillow, was dressed as she usually was, the purple silk of her own clothes hugging her curves as it always did. Though now she found that fact oddly grating in a way she found hard to describe, as she made minor adjustments to her posture and tugged at the fabric.

The two servants were alone, in the middle of the day, seated across a simple table in a room far away from the general hustle and bustle of Chaldea. The goal of this situation was both simple and utterly absurd to anyone who had known the two servants for more than two minutes each.

They were sat down in this room, Shuten’s (which explained all the alcohol), and told that they would not be allowed to come out until they could get along. Or at least come to some mildly peaceful arrangement that would have them stop trying to rip each other to pieces every time they passed each other in the halls.  

She still couldn’t believe their Master had convinced them to do this.

“You haven’t touched your cup!” Exclaimed Shuten with wounded grace, having already polished off two bottles in less than an hour and was barely showing any signs, “don’t tell me the scion of the Genji can’t handle her liquor! The shock of that would be more than I could bare.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated or needed, oni.” Raikou snapped as sharply as the sword that was taken from her before this exercise in futility began, her fingers gliding back and forth across the smooth lacquer, “I will drink when I wish to do so and not a moment more, while you can feel free to drown yourself as you please.”

“So cold!” Shuten laughed imperiously, taking another dignified sip from her wide and flat dish, “I bring you this gift and you rebuke it? Were I not a monster your heartlessness would have broken mine.” For all the dramatic flair, Raikou could see that the oni was in perfect control of herself, every word carefully picked and placed like a gift as she spoke. “You’re not going to force me to be the reasonable one in this situation are you?” Another laugh, this time carrying a bit more bite as Shuten drowned it behind another gulp of sake, “now that would be heartless…”

Raikou wrinkled her brow and scoffed, before she turned her gaze back to her still full cup, the liquid within gently reflecting the meager light of the room and showing her a lightly distorted mirror of her face.

She had been considering this cup and its content since the moment Shuten had shoved it into her arm in the name of celebrating the inevitability of it all, and the longer she did the more a suspicion about it grow in the back of her head.

The history these two shared hung heavy in the air and rested on the back of Raikou’s tongue, leaving something bitter and old in its wake as she considered the liquid more and more…

“Do you think it’s poison?” Shuten asked of a sudden, Raikou whipping her head to look at her. “Do you think this is some stab at revenge for the last time you and I shared a drink? Oh please.” Faster than the amount of alcohol in her system should allow, the oni swiped the cup from Raikou’s hand, drained it in a single motion of her head, and then refilled it with the third bottle she was busy draining herself before handing it back to Raikou. “This is nothing more than what you see, a cup of sake to ease the tension between us two.”

The samurai considered the newly filled cup in her hand just as gravely as its predecessor. “You’ll forgive me if I find your generosity hard to accept, oni.” She fixed Shuten with an arrow point glare. “As you said, last time we shared a drink ended with something a bit more dire than a bar brawl.”

“Unlike you humans, us oni would never consider spoiling a perfectly good cup of sake with poison.” To illustrate her point, Shuten knocked back another mouthful with a pleased sigh. “Raikou, if I had any plans to kill you with sake, I’d throw you into a barrel and melt you with it, so calm yourself and drink, you and I will never have this conversation our master demands if either one of us is sober.”

Loath as she was to agree with the pesky demon, Raikou sighed and finally lifted the cup to her lips, delicately drinking her first serving of sake of the day. “…Not bad.” She admitted under thin lips. “For all your faults, it seems you are competent in this at least.” She narrowed her eyes and curved her sword shaped smile. “Even an insect has her talents, it seems.”

“How gracious of her ladyship to bestow this lowly demon with her compliments.” Shuten’s voice was a mire of sweet acid, her smile thin and sharp as she refilled Raikou’s cup. “Don’t hold back now, wouldn’t do for a Berserker to show restraint, would it?”

Wordlessly, for the next half hour, they drank in diplomatic silence.  As Shuten finished her fifth and sixth bottle, Raikou carefully reached half of her second. Being servants meant that things that would normally kill or at least cripple a normal human had profoundly less effect on them, but even then Shuten held the distinctive advantage of being an oni while Raikou was decidedly not (fully, anyway). That meant that while Shuten could soak in sake for a week without feeling it the samurai needed to exhibit some modicum of self-control.

Self-control, she internally groaned, being something she had in already short supply before you introduce alcohol into the equation.

“Right.” Shuten sighed quietly as she put down her last cup, straightening in her seat slightly to look at Raikou directly, “since this is a diplomatic meeting, of sorts, I think it’s only fair that the one person in this room that was trained for diplomacy have first crack at this mess.” She waved a hand vaguely in the samurai’s direction, “so, tell me how you really feel about me, get it off your considerable chest.”

Biting back the irritation of the crack at her figure, long used to it from Shuten, Raikou put her empty glass on the table and placed her hands on her knees, attempting to impale the oni with her glare, “my feelings on you are quite clear, I’ve made them apparent from the first time we met in Chaldea.”

“How you feel about me while sober and how you feel about me while drunk are two entirely different things.” Shuten easily shrugged Raikou off, her smile easy and unaffected. “When you’re in your right mind you want me to die and stay away, now when you have some sake in your system…?”

Shuten trailed off to allow the question to arrive unspoken, a hand outstretched to await Raikou’s answer.

“I want you to stay away and die.” Raikou said evenly, letting the answer hang in the air before she hurriedly added, “slowly. I want you to stay away and die, slowly.”

Shuten blinked. Her face perfectly passive as she took in the answer. Without a single muscle in her face twitching, she reached under the table for another bottle (Raikou didn’t have the strength to question how she had so many) and poured Raikou another drink, “right, not drunk enough yet.” She nudged the full again cup towards the samurai lightly, “here you go, drink up until you’re reasonable.”

“I’m being perfectly reasonable.” Despite saying that, she reached for the cup and drained it quickly, reflexively motioning for another serving soon after. “You’re pestering Kintoki, annoying me, and you’re useless to Master, so I don’t-oh, thank you.” She nodded politely at Shuten as she filled her cup, before throwing it back swiftly, “ahh, right, so I don’t see an issue, do you?”

“Well,” Shuten began as diplomatically as the alcohol in her blood would allow, “for one thing, I don’t want to die, selfish I know,” she took a long swig from her bottle, “and for another, I’m plenty useful, I’ve helped Master on plenty of occasions.”

“That’s debatable.” Raikou muttered as she accepted another refill, almost automatically.

“Well,” Shuten uttered, as she emptied another bottle and got another one, “whatever your opinion on the matter, Master finds me useful and her opinion has more weight, so there’s that.” Putting the bottle down and straightening her posture all the way, the oni locked eyes with the samurai. “So, my death being off the table, let’s try again.”

Raikou kept her stare steady with Shuten for a long, breathless moment, seeing the image of her flushed face in her dark eyes, before she broke it to take another controlled sip from her cup, “Master wishes for us to get along, or at least stop fighting, yes?”

Shuten nodded, “that would be the gist, yes.”

“So, we need to find a way to…minimize the ways in which we antagonize each other.”

“Hah! Well isn’t that a polite way of putting it!” Shuten approved with a short laugh and a subtle smile, “alright then, I’ll start, you tell me what I do that angers you so much, and I’ll try and be subtler about it.”

Taking another, much slower, sip of her sake, Raikou considered this for a long while. If anyone else had asked her while she was sober, the answer would be simple. But now, alone with this demon, her blood purring with the alcohol, it all seemed so…hard to grasp.

Part of her wanted to blame Shuten exclusively, to think up that she unleashed some fog into the air of the room to addle her thoughts. But she knew her too well for that, she had inhaled deeply of that mist ages before, she could recognize the tang of it at the back of her tongue, and could center herself against it.

Perhaps the answer was as easy to grasp as always, only this time she could not afford to acknowledge it.

“What is your obsession with Kintoki?” She asked at last, putting down her cup and placing her palms on her knees. “Ignoring his discomfort at your presence, you glue yourself to his side and shove sake into his hands, why?”

“Oh, this again.” Shuten sighed wearily, polishing off one last bottle before tossing it behind her with little care. “You know, Kintoki is free to talk to whomever he wishes.” She chuckles and shakes her head at Raikou, “it’s very poor form for a mother to hover over her child like some sort of circling raven, you know.”

“Answer my question.” Raikou was now in more familiar territory, anger at the oni burned away some of the sake, making it slightly easier to think. “You remember he’s the one who cut your head off, don’t you?” The memory was sharp in Raikou’s mind, the brilliant gush of blood as the terror of mount Ooe was cut down, “what is your obsession-“

“My interest with Kintoki,” Shuten cut through as pleasantly as a rusty knife, “lays in the fact that he is an interesting and entertaining young man whom I have known since he was a child.” She graciously ignored Raikou’s harsh scoff, “and besides, why should I hold a grudge over that sordid little affair?”

Raikou breathed harshly through her nose, “what on earth are you-“

“I was a man-eating demon!” Shuten exclaimed, cutting Raikou off again, “I was stealing sake and ruining fields and, well, eating men! And woman and children!” She laughed a bit, “honestly you and Kintoki were only doing what was expected of you! I’d be more surprised if you two didn’t go off to kill me.”

Raikou gaped at her, before she picked up her cup again along with a bottle laying nearby, pouring herself another serving with an angry mutter.

“It was all fair enough, in hindsight at least,” she allowed her smile to turn into a toothy grin as Raikou abandoned her glass for just downing the whole damn bottle, “I was a demon, you tried to kill me, I tried to kill you…” She shrugged her shoulders, “all in the past as I see it, water under the bridge.”

(She could still picture it, that moment where Shuten Douji realized she was going to die. Her shaking fingers losing their grip on the sake dish, her skin growing paler, her eyes filling with something between frantic surprise and dread.

Before her form shifted and Ibuki Douji burst out from underneath her skin, Shuten smiled thinly.)

“I thought you didn’t want to be the reasonable one here.” Raikou growled, placing the bottle on the table between them, if this demon thought she could get under her skin she had another thing coming, “water under the bridge? How big of a fool do you think I am?”

“We’re both dead, Minamoto.” The oni said, her tone calm and still as an afternoon lake, “all of us, here, in this place for heroes and legends, we’re all dead.” Her grin shrunk to something small, both in width and presence, “I call it water under the bridge because calling it anything else would be a waste of my time.”

(Kintoki breathing heavily, his axe stained red and his clothes in disarray. One of her swords broken, her right arm’s flesh shredded nearly to the bone. They bury the body and the head in silence, under two separate trees. They say a prayer, light incense, and walk away.

The shadow of Mt. Ooe follows them for miles.)

Raikou gets up, opens a drawer at random, and is half pleased and half infuriated that she finds another bottle. She begins to drain it with her back turned to Shuten, the oni quietly watching her. Something in her blood begins to simmer.

“I do not think you a fool.” She answers finally, leaning back on her arms and looking up at the pale ceiling. “Otherwise I’d be the one drowning myself in sake.”

Shuten leans her head slightly to the left, the motion lazy and sleepy. The bottle shatters with a sound like a thunderclap on the wall behind her.

They wait. No sounds of rushing feet beyond the door to ask them what’s going on.

Raikou sits. “Stop bothering Kintoki.” Her tone is stiff, professional, a shadow of her father’s hand places itself on her shoulder and pulls it back. “You want to ease the tension? Do that.”

Shuten looks back at the shards of the bottle behind her, sighing mournfully at the small pool they float in, “what a waste…” She looks back at Raikou, her eyes glowing a faint silver, “fine, I’ll give the boy his space, mother dearest, so long as you promise not to throw anymore bottles.”

“Good.”

 The air grows thick, Shuten adjusts her posture to look at Raikou more directly. Her eyes pin her to her seat, arrows in her legs. She leans forward, the light catching a hint of red in the depths of her dark eyes, “well?”

Raikou barely restrains her flinch. “Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me? Ask me why I don’t much like you myself?”

“You don’t like me?” Raikou manages an air of surprise despite the arrowheads digging deeper, “I never would have guessed so, considering how much sake you’ve provided me with.”

“You’re my guest.” Shuten explained graciously, though her tone seemed sharper, “Us oni take great pride in being good hosts, I simply put aside my feelings to do so.” She puts a hand on the table and leans closer, the air between her and Raikou beginning to boil. “You are no fool, ask me, if you wish for this to be resolved, for Master’s sake at least, ask me.”

Stay away from me, Raikou nearly says, because she is a killer of monsters and should not suffer this one showing this much arrogance. What you think of me means nothing, you pest.

But there’s something there, in those eyes, some understanding that pierces her bones and pulls out something ugly. And that is why blades fly and blood spills between them, Shuten knows this and lets it lay. And that terrifies Raikou more than she can bare to think, that this demon is the only person in the world, in this life and the last, that can see through her and place her hand on the truth, and then to choose to do nothing with it.

(Raikou’s bones want to shift, her blood wants to scream, her teeth wish to shred.

Something, something old and angry and buried on a mountaintop, wants to wake up.)

“Why?” She nearly curses at how her voice comes out tight and hoarse. “What grudge do you hold, if not for your death?”

“No grudge.” Shuten corrects calmly, drawing still closer, “what animosity I hold towards you is not due to some past blood, no, I prefer to focus on what is now and right in front of me.” Their faces are a few inches apart, Raikou’s ears ring with something like excitement and fury, “and what I see is a coward.”

Raikou is nearly floored by the overwhelming urge to bite her head off, “what did you-“

“I see someone afraid of her own blood.” Fingers capture her chin, her gaze nailed to Shuten, the smell of sake burns in her nose. “I see someone with strength and speed and skill turning away from the truth of herself, I see a monster who refuses to acknowledge herself.”

(Mothers dragging their children behind doors, whispered warnings and panicked bows.

They owe her their lives, they dare not meet her gaze, they flinch from the blood dripping from her blade. They hate me, a voice like a child hiding behind a wall says, they all hate me.)

“You let other’s views corrupt your own,” an inch closer, their noses nearly touch, “for all your growling, you let insects and cowardly old men shape you and chain your teeth.”

(Minamoto No Mitsunaka is like a statue, coldly towering over her as she presses her forehead to the floor. He walks towards her, his steps echoing in her bones, and places a sword in front of her.

“You are Yorimitsu.” He says, commands, his voice bounces off the walls and impales her. “History will remember you as my son, my warrior, my heir, understood?”

This is a pale shadow of what she wished for, living in the woods overlooking what should have been her home. But she dares not ask for more as she closes her fingers around the scabbard.)

“I hate you because I hate to see an oni denying herself so utterly.”

“I am not-!” Her voice catches in her throat when Shuten closes the distance between their faces almost completely. Her vision filled with the yawning abyss of her eyes, their breathes mingling between lips half an inch apart. “I…I’m not-“

“I want you to stop hiding, Ushi Gozen.”

The sake in her blood vaporizes, something in the back of her mind shoulders it’s way to the front and commands her hands to wrap themselves as tightly as possible around the oni’s neck. The next command is to press her thumbs to the base of her throat and to continue until she hears the most satisfying snap of her life.

“O-oh, dear.” Shuten coughs out, a laugh tumbling out of her soon to be crushed throat, “it seems the sake has g-gone to our heads, how ir-rresponsible of us, eh?” Raikou tightens her grip further but all it accomplishes is to squeeze another strangled chuckle out of Shuten, “but…a-amazing, h-how beautiful you are when you indulge yourself,” a grin like a rusty sickle stretches across Shuten’s face, “I think I prefer this side of you most, Ushi Gozen.”

Don’t call me that. That is what she wants to say, that is what she wishes to growl from the bottom of her throat, but all she can manage is an inhuman sound that she cannot acknowledge or else surrender herself to the urge to curve her own lips in a mirror of Shuten’s grin.

One of Shuten’s hands reach out to Raikou face, the other to her clenching fingers, and caresses them both gently. “How beautiful you are when you choose to be honest…” The tips of her fingers dance like feathers on Raikou’s skin, sending a wave of ice where they touch. “I want you like this always, to acknowledge what is in your grasp, and what is forever beyond your…” Her voice, usually so smooth and so quick, slows and cracks as less and less air gets through her throat. “…beyond our reach…”

(Kintoki is bleeding, he holds her shaking form and whispers gentle assurances. There is blood around the edge of her lips.

Her son’s hands grip her arms as tight as iron, to keep her from escaping, to keep her from attacking.

Her head wants to slump forward; the horns are heavy.

“It’s okay.” He promises, his blood dripping from her lips, his golden hair in disarray. “You’ll be okay.”

She did this. She did this, she did this to her own son she did this-

“You’ll be okay,” he repeats again, his hold tightening twofold into a crushing embrace while he buried his nose in her hair, “everything is going to be okay.”

Ushi Gozen wails, her tears flowing down the mountain.)

Her fingers release Shuten, the oni gasping for air and rubbing her sore throat.

Shuten sputters, no attempt to salvage her dignity as she sucks in air on reflex, her voice is hoarse and spiteful, “oh, come now, why the sudden restraint?” She coughs harshly, looking up at Raikou, who was merely standing over her, her hands slowly lowering to her sides. “What?” Shuten snapped, something in Raikou’s gaze jabbing her somewhere sensitive, “was I not clear?”

“What is beyond us?” Raikou asks, suddenly, her voice far away, “why are you so defeated? Why is the terror of Mt. Ooe so quick to die?” Her eyes are dark, and yet something shines in their depths. Something sharp. “Why?”

Shuten rubs her neck, as she considers her next few words.

She looks at the figure in front of her very carefully, up and down, takes note of her stance (rigid, ready to spring forward teeth first), her eyes (unfocused, swirling with a primal impulse), her hands (shaking, growing sharp), and realizes who is truly in front of her.

She almost wants to laugh, she nearly cries. She thought she would be more beautiful than this. Ah, well, another thing to be wrong about, what’s the harm?

She stands up, her posture regal and proud, as she looks deep into the eyes of Ushi Gozen. “Why do you cling to love?” She finally feels what an ocean of alcohol could not impose on her, her head and heart and gut aching in equal measure. “Why reach out towards something you’ll never grasp?”

“Because I had it.” Ushi hisses. She looks down at her hands and flexed her sharpening fingers. “I had it, right in my hands, I held it my hands I had it.”  She stops, freezes, her eyes widening in sudden comprehension, “and you want it.” Shuten’s frame locks up, and Ushi doesn’t pass up the opening, “you want it, you wish for it, yearn for it, but you hold yourself back.”

“Silence.” Shuten hisses, her eyes swirling with red and silver, her air of dignity and grace nowhere to be found, “do not presume to know me, I will not-“

“I presume nothing.” Ushi hisses back, and then finally they degrade into what they had always been, the only things they were ever allowed to be, two monsters gnashing their teeth at each other. “You call me a coward, and yet you hide in your coat and your wine and your blood.”

“I said quiet!”

“Why!?” Ushi Gozen raises to her full height, her voice a roar of rage and barely contained terror, “why do you wish for death, instead of reaching for what you want!? Why would an Oni deny herself what she wants!?”

“You know NOTHING!” Shuten puts her foot on the table between them and raises to meet Ushi’s glowing gold eyes, “I will not be lectured on how to be an Oni by a child scared of her own horns!”

“Is that what you think we’re destined for!? To be alone!?” Ushi’s voice gains more in panic and outrage, and then her eyes widen again in realization, “that’s why you cling to Kintoki…”

Shuten clenches her jaw. “You. Know. Nothing.” She crushes each word between her fangs like a sieve working through sand, “you think you held it in your hands? You think you captured love?” She shakes her head with a bitter laugh, “if you did, you would have simply crushed it between your fingers, because that is how Oni loves humans, and no other.” Ushi Gozen opens her maw, but Shuten Douji captures her jaw between her claws before she could say another word. “Hear me now, hear it from someone who has lived as a demon for far longer than you have denied it,” she brings her closer, their foreheads, their horns, touching as nearly all space between them is gone, “to be an Oni and to love is to feel blood between your teeth and flesh between your fingers, am I clear?”

Ushi Gozen raises her left arm and swings her claws to knock off Shuten’s head.

The oni spares one hand to grab the attacking limb’s wrist and continues, “if you think you can deny this, go above your nature, then you are deluding yourself.”

“ENOUGH!” She raises the other hand to attack, but this too is caught by Shuten, though their foreheads remain glued to each other, their skulls and horns grinding against each other as the floor and table beneath them begin to crack. “I won’t surrender to this! Not again! I approached the brink and he pulled me back!”

“Then he delayed the inevitable.” Shuten growls, her arms shaking under the effort of restraining the former samurai, “it does not matter what the world around you says, no comforting embrace or words of passion can change the color of blood.”

“COWARD!” Ushi roars, and the sounds of rushing feet and pounding on the door sound from behind her, though she ignores it, “you hide your fear behind wisdom, you hide your despair behind conviction, you accepted death didn’t you!? You knew what was IN THAT BOTTLE!”

Shuten bares her fangs, lets out a scream of primal anger, and all around them both is red.

A swirl of muffled pain and gnashing teeth follows; neither is sure how long it lasts. The first to regain herself is Raikou, how suddenly finds herself restrained by Kintoki, his arms gripping her like a vice while he swears up a storm between his teeth.

The room is a mess, the walls of metal crumpled and ripped apart like paper, various bottles shattered across the floor, blood staining and pooling in various places across it. And right in front of her, she sees Shuten Douji.

She is being held against the floor by Ibaraki and Tomoe as she roared and thrashed in their grip, the archer’s horns burning red hot while her chest armor carried an imprint of a fist on its face. The yellow oni was yelling at her friend to stop, her own clothes in disarray and a shallow slash on her cheek.

In between her directionless screams, Raikou could swear she saw something going down Shuten’s cheek, something clear…

Raikou looked back at Kintoki, who was breathing raggedly as he held her, his sunglasses were missing, and his lip was bleeding. “What the fuck was that!?” He shouts, first directing his panicked gaze to Raikou before turning to a slowly calming Shuten, “what the hell were you two talking about!? What happened here!?”

Neither of them answer, they both avoid the gaze of every other person in the room…and in doing so they meet each other.

Shuten’s nose was broken, blood streaming down her bruised face. Raikou could feel her own face covered in blood and swollen, one of her fingers was bent the wrong way.

Her head hurt, everything hurt.

They locked eyes for a long, quiet moment, the others in the room forgotten as they felt the weight of everything land on them.

Shuten turned away first, and with that Ibaraki jumped off of her and put Shuten’s face in her hands, muttering worriedly about needing to go see one of the doctors, are what Master would think, and on and on while Raikou felt all of her strength leave her.

“Well!? Are any of you gonna say something-!?”

“Let go of me.”

He stopped short, looking at Raikou with a mix of anger and fear that nearly broke her heart, “what the hell-“

“I said let go of me Kintoki.”

She glared at him, she thinks, she isn’t sure, he flinches away from her so violently. Slowly, like he was handling a wild animal (and, really, wasn’t he?), he released his grip. The look on his face makes her want to crumple into a corner, more so because she put that look there, but the pain in her body pushes her away from him, and out the door.

Shuten let’s herself be handled by Ibaraki, the girl fussing over her wounds. Shuten’s eyes stay glued to the shallow cut on Ibaraki’s left cheek, the thought that she put it there makes her want to vomit, but she can barely gather the energy.

She looks up, meets Kintoki’s gaze. He reminds her, for the first time in a long while, of the little boy that stumbled onto her mountain. He looks at her like she’s some sort of beast he doesn’t recognize, but he soon schools his expression into something calmer, “what did you do?”

She thinks he’s saying “you” in the plural sense, but some wretched part of her is almost eager to take the blame, to resign herself to finally pushing him away for good. But as always, she settles for a half measure, she laughs weakly, tasting the blood in her mouth as she does, “I wasted perfectly good sake, that’s what.”

He scoffs angrily, and opens his mouth to call her out on the bullshit, but he must’ve seen something not worth the volume about half-way, because he closed his lips in a thin line, and then turned on his heel, stomping away in Raikou’s direction.

“Shuten?”

She’s never heard Ibaraki that timid, this small, and she returns her gaze to her sister, allowing a pitiful, bloody smile to shift her face. “Yes?”

“Are-“ She starts haltingly, eyes jumping around the various wounds on her body. “Are you okay?”

A centuries old reflex nearly kicks in, of course I’m fine of course why wouldn’t I?, but she feels the burning glare of Tomoe scorching the back of her head. She turns to the Archer for the first time, and there’s a mix of concern and anger in there that makes her laugh.

The laugh is weak and hoarse, she leans back on the wall, leaning out of Ibaraki’s hands on her face, and looks around her destroyed room, and all the smashed bottles that littered her floor.

She reaches over and begins to pick up the glass shards without a word, gathering them in her bloody palm, “…what a mess…” she mutters, “can’t have Master seeing the place like this…”

Elsewhere, Raikou leans against a wall, and tries to will her fangs away. “Be quiet…” She commands under her breath, gripping the cloth next to her chest as her heart pounds wildly, “be quiet.”

Ushi Gozen rumbles under her skin, her need and hunger unsatisfied, but soon retreats back to her cave. Raikou slides down the wall and sits on the floor, her face buried in her knees.

(The smell of blood and sake stays in their noses for weeks.)  

[toomanyfandoms02]

Family Reunion // Luke Alvez x Reader

Blurb request for @hotchocolateandpillowforts but turned into a long one.

Summary - Reader is so tired of her family patronizing her for not having a boyfriend. So she begs her best friend Luke Alvez to fake date her for a day at her family reunion.

Word Count - 2.6k

Prompt - "These heels are peeling off my **skin**. But yes, keep complaing about your tie you whine ass."

Luke and I did everything together, this included shopping, like we were doing right now.

"What do you need a dress for anyway? Don't you have enough dresses." Lyke commented, sitting out in the sitting area of the changing rooms.

"I have a family reunion tomorrow, and since we always go to my rich aunts lake house, I have to have something extra nice. I would look dumb if I wore the same dress." My voice bounced back at me in the small fitting room. I cringed at the sound of it.

"Is it like some chardonnay party?" He questioned.

"Is that even a thing?" I stepped out, adjusting the dress in the full size mirror.

"It looks great on you." Luke pointed to the flowery and poofy dress.

"I would agree, if I was going to prom." I sighed. "But alas, my teen days are over." I made a fake swoon, causing him to laugh. "I have one more to try on, and if it doesn't work out, I'm not going." I stated, dramatically walking back into the small space. I began to slip on the last dress.

This dress was a light tan color. It was short and poofed out towards the bottom. Dark blue embroidered flowers bloomed every which way starting at the middle. I waltzed out again, not having to adjust anything on the mirror this time.

"Now *that* one is smokin'." Luke looked me up and down, causing my cheeks to heat up and an undeniable smile to appear on my face. Just as he said that, a younger girl, I would assume a teen, came from the room adjacent to mine.

"You guys are such a cute couple!" She gushed. "I need to find me a man who compliments like you do." She said, pointing to Luke.

"We actually-" we said at the same time.

"We aren't-" We were now pointing at eachother decoded to give in.

"Thank you!" I smiled at her, smoothing the dress down.

"Of course!" She left the area with a few dresses in hand, leaving us alone.

"I don't want to go to this party anyway." I let out a groan, remembering my hardass family.

"Why not? Don't like your family or something?"

"They are always passive aggressively calling me a prude for not having a boyfriend. They think I'm incapable of holding a relationship and constantly patronize me for it. It's complete bullshit!" I threw my hands in the air in frustration. "Now the worst part is, I've been lying and telling my mom that I have a boyfriend for like 2 months now. I figured 'how hard could it be to fund a temporary boyfriend in two months?' Prettt damn hard for me apperantly." I vented, now sitting next to him on the small leather couch.

"How about I help you out. I'll be your fake boyfriend for your little reunion." I looke dup at him with what I could only assume was puppy dog eyes.

"You would do that for me?" I was silently cursing myself for how desperate I was sounding. But I really needed this to be completely honest.

"Yeah of course!" His hand sat between my shoulder blades. "I have one question though. This isn't a dealbreaker, but I really want it."

"Oh no." I chucked.

"Would I be able to bring Roxy? Lately she's been having separation anxiety." This wa absolutely perfect.

"Actually that is probably doable. My whole family brings their dogs to these things. My aunt may be rich and kind of a snob, but *boy* does she love dogs. I'll text her right now." I pulled my phone out, feeling excitement bubble up inside me. Finally, my family will shut the hell up about my relationship life, and it was going ti feel so good.

Even if it was fake.

*Hey Auntie! I'm bringing my boyfriend tomorrow and he wanted to know if he could bring his dog? Shes a well trained German Shepard, Roxy.* I eagerly awaited a reply, surprised to see her immediate text back.

**You're bringing a boyfriend this year! Hell, he could bring an elephant and I wouldn't say no to a boyfriend! Absolutely. Bring 10 dogs!** I could feel her enthusiasm through the phone, she was a very excitable lady.

"Alright, Roxy is all clear for entry. And if you have 9 more dogs on hand, you can bring those too... Apperantly." I shook my head ta my phone. Luke looked at me quizzically and I shook him off too. "Okay first of all, I'm buying this dress." I stood swiftly, gesturing to the beautiful piece of clothing. "Second of all, after we check out, I need to tell you about my family so you don't walk into the line of fire blindly!" I changed from the dress into my regular shirt and pants again. I slung it over my arm and headed back out to Luke.

I paid for my dress, heading out to his car.

"So, first things first, auntie Jess, the womans house we are going to, has been waiting for me to have a boyfriend for quite a while now." He nodded with an amused smile. "My mom can be a little overbearing, but I'm sure she will love you so don't stress. Bring a bathing suit with you just in case my family so graciously suggests that we play a giant game of Marco Polo. I think that's it!"

"I'm honestly excited." He rubbed his hands together mischievously. "What should I wear?"

"Kind of specific, but can you just wear a white button up with rolled sleeves, a blue tie to match my dress. I know you have one. And just some slacks. Don't forget to wear your swim trunks under it though!"

"I dig these specifics. I'm gonna live *completely* up to your fantasy." He winked. I rolled my eyes at the silly man.

"Thanks Luke. You're sure you're okay with acting like my boyfriend? We have to be all lovey, and believable." His hand was placed on my shoulder.

"Of course, anything to get your family off your back. I get it." I'm so thankful for this man.

-

I fluffed my dress at the end, twirling around in the mirror. My hair was tied up in a simple ponytail that continued to bounce as I spun around the room. I didn't bother putting on any makeup because I knew we would be swimming today. I ran down the stairs at the sound of a knock on my door.

The other side showed Luke. He was pulling at his rolled sleeves to perfect them. He came looking just as ai imagined, we were truly going to look like a power couple.

"Alright, let's go." He looped his arm through mine and led us to his car. He opened the passenger door for me once we got there.

"Keep acting like such a gentleman and my moms probably gonna like you more than I do." I snickered as he started the car.

"I'm just playing the part!" He grinned. I turned to the back of the car, petting Roxys head as she panted.

"Are you excited to see other dogs prettt girl!" She made a soft bark in response. I I forward and kissed her snout, then sitting properly and buckling up.

It was a short drive from my house to the lake house, once we got there we sat for a minute.

"I'm a little nervous." Luke confessed, facing me with a concerned look.

"I would comfort you, but I'm nervous too." I patted his arm and exited the vehicle, looking back to see Luke giving me an 'unbelievable' look. My hand pulled open the back door to let Roxy out.

"Roxy come." I pointed to my side. She lightly hopped out and placed herself beside me. As Luke came from the other side of the car, he held his hand out to me. I grabbed it and headed into the house.

"Should we bring Roxy with?" He asked.

"Absolutely."

Right as we came in the door, my auntie saw us.

"Hi sweetie! How are you?" She peered down at our joined hands.

"I'm good. This is Luke." I looked over at him, he was giving a charming smile.

"You must be the man she keeps talling about!" She was practically bouncing with excitement at the mention of me having a boyfriend. She was quick to crouch down to a lower level. "And you must be Roxy!" She was using her typical baby voice. Roxy sat quietly by Luke's side. "You are quite obedient."

"She's a trained military dog." He commented, petting her ears.

"How cool!" Jess stood from her previous position and began walking farther into the house. "Come meet the rest if the family Luke."

We were dragged into the livingrook as he gave me a worried look. Before I could comfort him slightly, we were already standing in front of my family. I started introducing everyone.

"That's my mom, uncle Jeff, my brother Mike, and my cousin Nick. These are the only people I will know here." I laughed, pointing to the large amount of people that were outside. "I will not know anyone outside. So we will be experiencing the same thing." This earned a chuckle from everyone.

"It's nice to finally meet you Luke." My mom came up and hugged him. He accepted and hugged back tightly. Everyone else just sat and waved and I could feel an awkward silence coming on so I interjected.

"Luke and I are gonna head outside with Roxy so she can meet the other dogs." I rushed us out the door and huffed. "I don't know if I can do this." A sigh slipped from my lips.

"What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?" He looked like a sad puppy, one that had just chewed up a pillow.

"No! No, I don't know, I feel bad that you have to lie."

"I really don't mind, I promise hermosa." He used the Spanish word for me a few times. *Beautiful*.

His hand grabbed mine and dragged us into the yard.

"Let's get Roxy to meet some new pups." As we entered the yard, I could see 2 dalmatians, 1 chihuahua, 1 pitbull, 2 Rottweilers , and a Husky. Roxy calmly walked to the other dogs, soon prancing around them. I looked over at Luke to see him pulling at his tie.

"This tie is tight."

"These heels are peeling off my **skin**. But yes, keep complaing about your tie you whine ass." I giggled, reaching up and loosening it for him. Time to go into a swarm of people I don't recognize.

-

I guess I was wrong, I *did* recognize some of these people. One of which was my distant great aunt who was a little nosy but meant well. We had all been talking for a few minutes before she dropped a question that Luke and I had not prepared for.

"How did you two meet?" My face paled, I sure as hell was not going to tell her the truth, which was that we met on a crime scene when my college roommate was murdered. I squeezed his hand, signaling that I would answer this. I'm going to have to wing it.

"I was dog sitting actually. When I was taking the girls dog for a walk, I stumbled upon a dog park and she got really excited. She ran straight into Roxy." I pointed to the happy German Shepard who was laying in the grass next to the other dogs. "They tumbled over eachother and I came over to apologize to him, and her."

"I saw her and I thought, 'wow, beautiful and a dog lover? Sounds like an angel to me.'" He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, kissing my forehead.

"How sweet!" She squealed. "I'm so happy for you dear. He's a keeper." She whispered loudly to me, walking towards her husband now. I elbowed his arm and gave him a playful smile.

"Well aren't you a master improviser!"

"*And* I'm a keeper." He teased, pulling me towards Roxy. Then we heard shouting.

"Alright everyone! If youbroght your swimsuits you are legally obligated to do the annual giant game of Marco Polo!" My mom shouted from the porch. I bounced a bit while dragging Luke to the lake.

"Take off your clothes!" I egged him on.

"This isnt the circumstance that I thought I would hear you saying that in." He replied, pulling his tie off. The tips of my ears were burning at this.

"Was there a circumstance that you imagined me asking you to take off your clothes." I wiggled my eyebrows at him and he just rolled his eyes.

"The world may never know." He was rid of his shirt now. His toned chest shone in the sun.

*Damn he is actually ripped.*

I could feel myself ogling but I couldn't stop myself. I was still fully clothed.

"Why do I have on less clothing than you." He complained. "Turn around." He commanded, I did so with confusion. He pulled the zipper of my dress down and pulled at the straps. Now I was the one thinking not-so-clean things.

*What did you get yourself into Y/n?*

I let the dress slide from my shoulders to show my bikini. It had a yellow sunflower top and plain white bottoms.

"No way." He deadpanned, not hiding how he was looking at my body.

"What?" He pulled his pants down to show sunflower swim trunks with a white background.

"Oh my god we look like a cringy couple." I held my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh like an insane person. Sooner we were in the cold lake, beginning the game.

"Alright, newest family member is it." Jess pointed to Luke and I shrugged. Everyone shifted around the area and the game began.

"Marco!" He shouted. A chorus of voices responded with Polo. "Oh God." I could hear him mutter with a snicker.

I swam silently beside him, hoping he wouldn't yell Marco.

But we know what kind of luck I have.

"Marco!"

"Shit." I whispered right next to him, attempting to go under to avoid being tagged. But his reflexes were too fast. He grabbed me with both arms, pulling me to him and opening his eyes.

"You're it." That's when I felt it, I knew I would remember this feeling for a long time.

The spark.

And before I knew it, he kissed my lips quickly. He pulled away and let go of me.

"Don't cheat! Close your eyes." He left me completely in the dark on the situation that just ensued.

I'm gonna kill this man.

-

The game ended after 45 minutes. I was it twice because I'm kind of a slow swimmer.

I jogged up to Luke, who was coming out of the lake. I pulled him aside, bringing him down to my level.

"What was that." I whispered exasperatedly.

"Well you said you felt bad that I had to fake this. To be truthful, not much of this is faking for me. Is it for you? Do you wanna keep this a fake thing?" His finger gestured between us. My brows furrowed at the question.

*Of course not.*

"Are you sure?"

"How many times are you gonna ask me that." He laughed, bringing me into another kiss.

*This is going to be quite the story to tell people.*

[currebunz]

Wearing Nothing But A Smile Ch.12: Autumn Feelings

[AO3 link]

Summer had gone by quicker this year for you. Usually, your summers involved helping your parents out and going on small trips with them.  But this year had been very different as you now had friends, ones who were eager to take you all over. Togata had a plan almost every week for you all to hang out and do something. It started as just going out for lunch and turned into full days of fun. Hado would invite you for a 'just girls' day, in which the two of you would talk about the other two or whatever Hado was currently interested in. The only thing that stressed you out was when she wanted you to try on clothing you weren't used to. But even those were fond memories you found yourself looking back to. She always meant well and backed off when you felt too out of your comfort zone. Togata had become more aware of your feelings, asking for your permission before acting. It was a bit funny to see him pause in the middle of something just to turn and smile at you. He always asked politely if he was overstepping or if you were okay. You found yourself growing used to his antics, being less surprised and more entertained with his goofy behavior. Amajiki was still the same, but he began to approach you more. He confessed to feeling more at ease with you around, which was mutual as you came to rely on him. Lately, your thoughts were full of reminiscing on the days you spent with your friends. It felt weird and clingy to be thinking about it so much, enough you felt embarrassed with yourself. Wasn't this how life was supposed to be? Enjoying your days and spending them with friends nearly every day?

But then, what were you doing up until now?

A chill traveled down your spine as you felt the intrusive thoughts began to speak loudly in your head. Up until now, you had been hiding away, living passively in hopes no one would notice you. Nothing to aspire for, nothing to hope for, only endless loneliness. But even that was a lie. You knew your parents were trying their best and they were doing more than enough. It made you feel worse for thinking this way, weren't you just pathetic? You inhaled sharply, holding your hands to your chest-

Your phone began ringing.

Without thinking, you quickly answered it. "Aha! My intuition was right!" Hado's voice playfully chimed in. "Intuition? What are you talking about?" you asked her. Hado hummed happily, giving you a bit longer to think about it. "You were feeling lonely again, weren't you?" she said suddenly. Like a ton of bricks, her answer hit you and made you go quiet. "I am right, aren't I? I think I know you well enough by now" she continued. The guilt ate away at you, was she that worried about you? "O-Oh, sorry" you began. It was very strange to think someone other than your parents was that concerned about you. Usually, your classmates were hardly aware you were there. A few people were more attentive, but they came and went as the weeks changed. But Hado, Togata, and Amajiki had spent the entire year on your shoulders. "What? Don't apologize! You sound like Amajiki!" Hado giggled. Hearing her voice had made you feel better, you were thankful that she called. "Was there something you needed? You don't usually call me out of the blue like this" you asked her. 'Usually', that word felt so weird. When did it become 'usual' for you to receive calls like this? "Ehh? Hmm, oh right! Togata had called me and asked if you liked crepes! He said there was a popular crepe truck in town and wanted to have everyone go try some" Hado explained. A small smile came to your face as you thought of him excitedly trying together everyone together. "What did you say?" you asked her.

"I told him to call you," Hado said.

You could hear the smile on her face as she said that. Immediately, your palms went sweaty and you felt your hand begin to shake. "You....said what?" you asked her. "I told him to call you dummy, I'm not a mind reader. Besides, isn't it nice to hear a guy's voice up close and personal like that?" Hado giggled. Of course, talking on the phone was innocent enough. But being the introverted person you were, it wasn't like you called much. Hearing voices through the phone just made you anxious to end the call. But hearing someone's voice that you liked? That would certainly be a new experience. "I can hear you panicking! It'll be easy, just like talking to me" Hado laughed. "Wait, you can hear me what? Oh god, did I really make a sound?" you asked her. But Hado only continued to laugh, her voice sounding soothing through the phone. You felt the phone vibrate as you got a text, no doubt from Togata. "Okay, I'm gonna hang up now. Enjoy your talk~" Hado hung up before you could say another word. Your cheeks burned as you looked at your phone. Togata had sent a smile sticker in your private chat. He always liked sending you silly images or stickers to fill the space when you both talked. Even when texting, it felt stiff and awkward. But now you were supposed to expect a call from him?!

Togata: [Hey this might sound weird but can I call?]

You let out a sigh of relief, he had at least texted you first.

You: [Yeah]

No sooner did you send your reply did your phone start ringing. You could have laughed at the agency he had or the fact you were getting a call in the first place. But your thumb had hit accept before you could react. Hastily putting the phone to your ear, you inhaled a sharp breath. "Yes?" you answered. You could hae beaten yourself up for answering with 'yes' instead of 'hello', but the lack of noise on the other end made you more nervous. "Togata?" you tried again. "Bahahaha! Sorry, I was surprised is all!" came Togata's loud voice. He loud even on the phone, but that wasn't what bothered you. After what Hado had said, it felt like he was super close to you. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine he was speaking into your ear. The sudden thought had you reeling from the phone and trying to wipe the thought from your mind. "Eh? Now you've gone quiet!" Togata laughed. You hadn't heard a word he had said since he had begun talking. Feeling bad about it, you made a sound in agreement. "Sorry, I-I don't know what happened..." you apologized. "It's fine, I just want to know if you like crepes" Togata replied. Just as Hado had said, he was looking to invite you out with them all. "O-Oh, yeah. I do" you said after some time.

"That's great! Want to meet up with us near the train station? There is a crepe truck in town" Togata explained. You looked at the time, it wasn't late so you didn't have to worry about telling your parents. "Sure, I'll meet you there" you agreed. "Alright then, I'll see you there," Togata said back. It then occurred to you that he had no intention of hanging up and you weren't the one to usually end calls. A brief silence hung between you both as neither had said goodbye yet. "Um, did you need anything else Togata?" you asked. "Hm? O-Oh! No, not at all! Uh, but you can just call me Mirio. Okay?" he said. You swallowed, your fingers drumming on the back of your phone. "Okay, see you soon," you said as your finger hovered over the end call button. "Mn! See you soon!" Togata said back. Even after ending the call, you could still hear his laugh. It was only a few minutes but it had felt like seconds. You had to pinch your cheek to get yourself in gear, everyone would be waiting for you!

After leaving your house, you sped walked to the station. By now, you knew the way by heart just from how many trips you had taken with your friends. Before them, you had hardly gone to the station. There was no need for you to venture out on your own anyway. It took only a few minutes for you to spot Hado's light blue hair. She was animately chatting up Amajiki, who looked anxious. He had gotten used to Hado's hyper mood and let her talk to her heart's content. Amajiki turned to you and a smile made its way onto his face. You couldn't help but smile too, approaching the two. Just as you were about to greet them, a shoulder bumped into yours. To your right, Togata had appeared. He had just arrived at the same time as you. "Oh, coming at the same time. Did you two have a secret meeting?" Hado giggled. Togata simply laughed, neither denying nor confirming her suspicions. You had frowned, knowing she was teasing you. "Nejire, you know that isn't true" you stated firmly. But she simply smiled at you knowingly. Nejire linked arms with you, smiling at Togata and Amajiki. "Come on, the crepe truck is gonna close soon!" she announced. All four of you began speed walking to the destination, jumping into the long line. You animately talked about what kind of crepe you were going to get. You hadn't had one in a while but had a vague idea of what you wanted.

The line quickly died down and all three of you had collected your own crepe. Everyone was satisfied with their choice, but Togata was looking at yours. "Hey, can I have a bite? I'll give you a bite of mine" he offered. While you didn't mind, you were interested in his crepe. His crepe had peaches with sweet cream and was dusted with cinnamon. "Sure," you said as you tilted your crepe toward him. Togata took a small bite, licking his lips happily. He tilted his crepe to yours and you nervously took a bite. Togata looked pleased that you did, a bright grin on his face. "How do you like it?" he asked. "It's good" you agreed. "Hey hey! Me too!" Hado bounced over and took a bite of your crepe. You were about to complain but she pushed her crepe to your lips. It was a blueberry jam with blackberries in it. You took a small bite and it tickled your cheeks. Hado looked like she wanted to say something but she kept quiet. Amajiki shyly looked at you and you could tell he wanted to exchange bites too. "Here," you sighed as you tilted your crepe toward him. He tilted his crepe to yours and you both had a bight of each one. His crepe had been a red bean crepe with matcha powder in the dough. You were nearly full and you still have half of your crepe to finish. Finally, HAdo decided to speak her mind.

"Wah! We all shared an indirect kiss with ____!" she exclaimed. Both you and Amajiki looked slightly mortified but Togata's smile only grew wider. "I guess we did huh?" he chuckled. "T-that's not why I did it, Hado!" you argued. Almost in desperation, Amajiki ate the rest of his and turned his head to the nearby wall. He was mumbling what you could only imagine was apologies for even being here. Hado and Togata looked pleased with both of your reactions as if they had planned such a thing. You weren't sure if they did or not, but you felt a lot better than you did before. Once everyone had finished their crepes, you began walking back to the station. Amajiki and Hado were walking ahead of you, she was talking his ear off again. You were walking with Togata, enjoying the last few moments of the day. "Hey, I just remembered something," Togata said after some time. You hummed in agreement, only half listening to him.

"Want to go on a date tomorrow?"

You suddenly stopped walking.

[aflower-exe]

The Night We Met

[a/n: oo this is a bit longer than usual so the author’s note is at the beginning. This lil collection of blurbs is inspired by The Night We Met by Lord Huron. If you look at the red words you can see that lol. Just an fyi the bold italic words are kinda a narration to the blurbs. Idk i had this idea while manic one morning and i refuse to change it. Anyways I literally wrote this at 12:53 am so enjoy and please forgive any errors.]

Falling in love while young can be a beautiful thing. So full of passion and romance and excitement.

It can start of so sweet;

“I had all of you come here today because we have an announcement” Lia said. Everyone at the dinner table was on the edge of their seat. A few of the people you knew but most of the faces at the table were completely unfamiliar. When you’d arrived, you quickly surveyed the room looking for someone you know to hide behind while Lia was busy.

After finding another friend of yours to chat with, you spy a tall dark haired man out of the corner of your eye. His crisp suit and regal posture sent chills down your spine. You did your best to look his way in hopes of getting no attention, but every attempt fell short. By the time you’d sat down, you’d completely forgotten about the savvy man. Instead, you focused on the news that your best friend and her boyfriend were eagerly waiting to unveil.

“We’re pregnant” Chen exclaims. “Well, she’s pregnant. I’m gonna be a dad!”

The table erupted with cheers. Of course you had already known. You were the one with your best friend in the bathroom as she cried over the two tiny red lines. But it was still nice to hear it out loud. The couple was young, foolhardy, and unwed but you knew their bond was stronger than anyone else's. You admired their compatibility and often envied their happiness. Nonetheless, you were happy for them. So you put a smile on your face and clapped and cheered like the rest of the lot

After the cheering and dinner were coming to an end, many of the guests found themselves congregating in small groups with friends old and new. In the midst of the mass chaos, you had found yourself standing alone in the corner of the room. Normally, you’d flock to your best friend, but she was caught up im the duties of a hostess. You watched her prance around the room eagerly accepting private congratulations.

“Is this seat taken?” You turn around to see a handsome looking man with a vaguely familiar mess of dark locks. At first, you were shocked that he would even look your way, but you shook off the brief moment of self-consciousness and tried to reply with a quip

“Well, I mean, there’s no chairs. So…” The confusion you felt had now transformed into amusement. His lines were cute, but you knew he could do better.

“Yeah you’re right that was stupid. Let me start over. I’m Chanyeol” Chanyeol stuck his hand out towards you, a lopsided smile planted on his face.

“I’m y/n” You said, taking his hand reluctantly. It wasas if electricity sparked from your hands as they touched His hands were large but seem to fit with yours perfectly. His lips were twisted in a wholesome smile. Gazing into his eyes was like looking into a warm cup of coffee and you swore you could get lost in them forever. At that moment it was as if stars had collided. You didn’t believe in soulmates before, but that was about to change...

And as you approach your lovers high you’ll seem unstoppable. It will be as if you could fight off the entire world with the power of your love alone;

“I can’t believe i planned a whole picnic and now it’s ruined” You frowned. You could see from the tree you were hidden under that your blue gingham blanket was now soaked and the food that you stayed up all night making was unsalvageable. “And then most upsetting of all, you don’t seem to care”.

Chanyeol only chuckled. “It’s only a little rain.” His response only deepened your frown.

When Chanyeol noticed your expression he tsked, “I think you need to learn to go with the flow.” Knowing you would give a cynical reply, Chanyeol chose not to wait for you to respond. Instead, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the rain. You squealed at the feeling of the cold droplets colliding with your skin. He pulls your body flush against his and places his hand on the small of your back.

“Care to dance?” He asks, a playful smirk appearing on his face.

“To what music?” The lack of music didn’t actually bother you, but you were always eager to tease. You were ready with quips about how cliché the moment was when Chanyeol dipped his head down so that his lips were inches from your ear and began to sing. You didn’t know what the song was and frankly you didn’t care. You’re feet synchronized with the rhythm of his song and you began to dance. Suddenly nothing else mattered. It was as if you were the only people in the world. You closed your eyes and took in the moment.

It’s memories like these that you wouldn’t trade for the world. Even now….

But then it seems to turn around;

The tension had almost become unbearable. And it wasn't good, sexy, fun tension that Chanyeol and you used to have. No. This was different. It was heavy with guilt and anger and accusations. Being the mature adult he was Chanyeol decided to feign ignorance in hopes of avoiding the inevitable. Your subtle slamming of the door and passive aggressive glances, he could look past. But the silent treatment? That he couldn’t ignore. “Alright, what’s going on?” Chanyeol asks. He watched as you leaned against the wall and fiddled with your fingers, doing everything to avoid his eye

“Nothing” You responded curtly. Chanyeol knew you were lying. He knew everything about you. After a year and a half of dating, Chanyeol could point out every freckle, birthmark, and scar with his eyes closed. Though he loved to study your curves and curls, Chanyeol also studied your little mannerisms. At this point, Chanyeol suspected he could register as a y/n-expert. While he believed he was perfectly attuned to your every thought, as he stood there in the living room of your shared apartment he could have been more confused by you.

“Why did you even invite me to dinner if you were going to flirt with all the other girls there. And why were there even other girls there? What’s the point of going on a date with me if you’re barely going to speak two words to me” The words spew endlessly out of your mouth.

“Wait, are you getting mad at me for taking you out to dinner? Because that’s bullshit”

“You didn’t take me out to dinner you invited me to join you for dinner. There’s a difference”

“And why are you nagging me about talking to other girls? It’s my job.”

“Oh so now it’s your job to flirt with everyone?”

“Yes. I mean no. It’s my job to be sociable”

“Oh sure. Just like last week it was your job to go out for drinks with those girls”

“Exactly! See the wouldn’t be a problem to any sane person”

“Sane? So, what? I'm insane now?”

“Well right now you’re insanely overdramatic”

”And you’re selfish, egotistical, and have no regard for my feelings”

“Oh my god you are so much work” Chanyeol was on fire now. You always managed to do that: bring out the worst in him. And once it was out it wasn’t going to stop. “Sometimes...”

“Say it.” You seethe. You know you shouldn’t push him. You know what’s on the inside of that soft, caring exterior. But part of you is just as egged on as he is and you wouldn’t stop until you’d won.

“Sometimes I want to just leave. Take my shit and go. Sometimes I wish we’d never met.” Chanyeol knew he shouldn’t have said that. He knew as it rolled off his lips and he knew as he stormed out of the apartment. He knew it probably hurt your feelings. Not because it was mean, but because it was true. And he knew you could tell it was true. And the worst part of it all was that he didn’t regret saying it one bit.

While Chanyeol was out at who knows where doing who knows what, you had found yourself staring at your bedroom door, waiting. Usually your fights would end in glorious make-up sex, or passionate i-love-you-please-forgive-me-kisses. So you waited. You watched the door, waiting for him to come barging in, ready to take back the things he said. When your eyes got tired of waiting you let your ears take over. You jumped at every little sound only to feel slight disappointment when it didn’t end up being the sound of a turning door. You waited, and waited, and waited. Until eventually your tired body didn’t feel like waiting anymore. And for once, neither did you.

And as you come down from your high you’ll realize why love is such a dangerous drug. Because now that you’ve had a taste you need more, and that same old love just doesn’t do it for you anymore...;

In the beginning of the relationship when you two would fight, you could feel your blood boiling. You felt so many emotions. And now, as you aimlessly twirled the engagement ring on your finger, you felt none. Part of you was scared of what that meant. The other part of you knew. The well had run dry. You were out of patience. Out of cares to give. Out of love.

The Chanyeol you once loved was seemingly dead and gone and he was now replaced by a mature shell of his former self. Occasionally you could see the fun-loving, playful man you fell in love with. You could see it in his smile. You could hear it in his laugh. You could feel it in his soft touches. You could taste it in his lingering kisses. But once the smile faded, and the laugh subsided, and the touches stopped, and the kisses ended, the man you knew was gone like a ghost in the wind.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.” You had finally found the courage to say what you had both been thinking. After months of “it will get better” and days of “maybe he’s tired” you finally decided it was time for your relationship’s timely end.

Though Chanyeol said nothing his silence spoke for him. He agreed. The room was quiet. And the only thing that could be heard, was your record playing in the background,, “Take me back to the night we met…”

Falling in love while young can be a beautiful thing. For you it was a beautiful thing: full of stolen glances and dances in the rain. But it was also full of missed calls, and slammed doors. See that’s the thing with young love. You fall in love with someone before they even know who they are. Before you know who you are. The two of you fell in love before you had the chance to find out what love was. When all is said and done you wouldn’t dream of taking back those moments. So while you may never again have the the feeling of Chanyeol’s hand in yours, or the sound of his laugh echoing through your apartment, or the taste of his kiss on your lips, you’ll always have the night you met.

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Mine

Happy Day 4 of @shikakuweek ! I didn’t originally have a plan to write for today but I got hit by a burst of inspiration.  There’s so much to explore in Shikaku/Yoshino’s relationship.  I loved writing this story, I hope that you all enjoy it too.  There are parts of this that reference the events from another story/chapter, “Meant to Be,”  but you don’t need to have read it to understand what’s going on.  My headcanon is that Shikaku and Yoshino knew each other when they were really little and she’s loved him since then.  Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.  Enjoy!

Prompt:  Romance

Summary:  He wasn’t bothered by it. Not at all. 

*

**

Mine 

“I don’t like her,”  Shikaku repeated once again while his teammates looked at him unconvinced. 

It was a typical evening out and his team had decided to spend it at their favorite restaurant.  Yoshino and her friends had also been there and this led to the inevitable discussion about their relationship.  

Inoichi stared at him with a challenge set in his eyes.  “So you’re saying that if I asked her out, it wouldn’t bother you.” 

Shikaku shrugged in response.  “By all means, you wanna saddle yourself down to someone like her that’s your funeral”

To his surprise, the blonde man made his way over to her with a grin on his face. 

*

**

“Hey Inoichi! How are you?”  Yoshino greeted him warmly.  She loved Shikaku’s teammates and she was forever grateful that they watched over him.

“I’m good, your future husband is being a nightmare.” 

Yoshino smiled at the thought.  “Why?”

“He said that he wouldn’t care if I asked you out, which we both know he most definitely would.”   Yoshino laughed at the explanation, understanding Shikaku’s glare from the other side of the room.

“He’s still far too stubborn. It’s alright, I think I’m starting to wear him down.” 

“How’s your medical ninjutsu?”  The blonde asked curiously, feeling Shikaku’s cold stare on the back of his neck.  

“Pretty good, why?”

“I might need it if he stabs me for this.  Come on let’s get a drink.” 

Disbelief and shock were keeping Shikaku restrained to his seat in the crowded restaurant.  The look on his face caused Choza to worry about breaking up a fight. 

“So you’re really just going to let this happen,”  Choza asked his friend who had been silently stewing in his seat.  

“They’re free to date whoever they want.” 

Choza shook his head annoyed at his teammates.  “One of your best friends slash teammate is asking out the girl that you won’t admit you love and you’re just going to sit here.”

“Yes.”  

Choza dropped his face into his hands. “We’re doomed.” 

“Why?”

“Because clearly I’m the only one with brains on this team.” 

The rest of the night Shikaku just glared at them watching as she smiled and laughed in his friend’s direction. 

‘What the hell could she be laughing at?  Inoichi isn’t that funny.’  Shikaku grumbled to himself.   

“Stop being so stubborn and go over there.”  Choza tried to reason with him. 

“I’m not being stubborn and I don’t need to go over there.  I mean she’s obviously just being polite.”

“Jealousy is an ugly emotion.”

Shikaku’s mouth was pulled in a tight line.  “Well, then it’s a damn good thing that I’m not jealous.”

Choza shook his head with a frown of disbelief.  And yet Shikaku complained that Yoshino was the stubborn one.  He threw back another drink.  Tonight’s tab was going to be on them. 

*

**

Yoshino swirled her drink, an uncommon look of defeat in her eyes. “It’s tough Inoichi. I don’t know if he’s ever going to want to be with me.”  They had many conversations about his teammate and she appreciated how supportive he had always been. 

Inoichi looked at her surprised.  Recently, it felt like something had changed between the two of them.  Even now she was wearing the hair clip that Shikaku had given her weeks ago.  

“Where’s this coming from.  Since I’ve known you, you’ve been on this path to becoming a Nara.”

“After he gave me this I honestly thought things would change.  It’s been weeks and he feels even more distant than before.  He hasn’t acknowledged my existence once tonight.  We’re getting older, it hurts getting rejected all the time ya know.  You know how stubborn he can be, if I keep pushing he’s just going to move further and further away from me.  If I want any chance then maybe I need to back off a little bit.”  She rested her head tiredly against his shoulder. 

“Hey, he’d be lucky to have a girl like you.”

She’d been thinking about this for a few weeks now. Those precious moments in the cherry blossom grove seemed almost like a dream.  It might be time to wake up.   “He deserves the best, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.  Maybe though, that’s not me.”  

Inoichi patted her head comfortingly, annoyed with his friend.  “Don’t give up just yet.  Come on, let’s get you home.”  They made their way over to his teammates to say good night. Just being this close to Shikaku was breaking Yoshino’s heart. 

“It’s getting late, I’m going to walk Yoshino home-“. Inoichi was cut off by Shikaku standing up to his full height. 

“No problem. I’ll walk with her.”  Shikaku announced moving to her side protectively.

Inoichi had to hide his grin. Shikaku was pissed. “It’s okay buddy, I’ve got it.”

“I insist.”  He took her hand in his, leading her outside.  “Come on Yoshi time to go home.” 

Inoichi and Choza watched the couple leave with a smirk. 

“Well, my work here is done.”

If Shikaku was as smart as everyone thought he wouldn’t let her go so easily. 

*

**

It was a chilly, starry evening in Konoha.  Shikaku instinctively pulled Yoshino closer to his side to keep her warm.  Her hand was still clutched in his.  He was purposely taking her the long way home and if she noticed she didn’t mention it.  

“So, when are you two going out?”  He asked curiously trying to keep the look on his face passive.  He knew it probably wasn’t his business but he needed to know.  

Yoshino smiled at him with a shake of her head.  “Come on Shikaku he would never actually ask me out. Besides, he knows where my heart is. I would have never accepted.” 

“Yoshino…”

Tears began to appear in her eyes.  It was now or never.  “Look, you know how I feel about you.  How I’ve always felt about you.  I’ve held onto a lot of hope that we’d end up together eventually but maybe I was just trying to force my own feelings onto you and that isn’t fair.  I saw how many girls were staring at you in there.  You probably don’t realize it but they’re always watching you.  I’ve just selfishly tried to keep you all to myself.  But, I think that the best way to show you how much I love you is to let you go.”

Shikaku’s heart dropped, confusion clouding his face.   “What?  What are you saying?”

“Shikaku, I love you.  I’ve loved you since you foolishly tried to defend me from those bullies then I knocked them out myself.  But love without freedom isn’t love.  So after tonight, I’ll keep my distance.  I’ll give you space to find whoever it is that you think deserves your heart.”  She reached up to kiss his cheek.  

“Goodbye, my dear.”  His hand lifted to touch where she kissed his cheek watching her walk further and further away from him. 

“Wait!”  Yoshino felt herself still seeing shadows trapping her in place.

“You can’t just say that and decide the future of our relationship like that.”

“What future?”

He paced back and forth trying to get his thoughts in order.  “For years you’ve been telling me that we're supposed to get married, that you knew that we belonged together. Don’t I owe you trees in the forest?  How can you just give up?”

Yoshino’s shoulders dropped in defeat confused by his frustration.  “I don’t know what you want from me Shikaku.  I can’t have anyone else but you.  You’ve always said that us together isn’t possible.  You could easily just walk away, leave me here and move on but I can’t do that.  I’ll never be able to just stop my feelings for you but if I know that your heart is safe with someone that you want then I think I’ll be okay.” 

He reached up to grip at his hair.  “God, woman it’s you I want.”

Her eyes widened at the declaration  “Shikaku?”

“I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.  Time and time again you’ve offered me your heart and I just kept rejecting it but you stayed.  I guess that I never allowed myself to believe that how you felt about me was real.  I’m so sorry.  Despite how I acted and what I might have said I think that I was selfishly keeping you tied to me.  So that you would always be mine.”

He took a deep breath resting his forehead against hers.  “All night I was watching you with Inoichi, really fucking upset and jealous.  He’s one of my best friends and I wanted to knock him out cold because he got to see your smile.  The one that I always work so hard to earn.  I began to panic because even if it wasn’t him someone else could steal you away from me.  Until tonight, I never imagined that could happen.”

A warm hand cradled her face, his thumb brushing away her tears.  “Yoshino I love you.”

He felt her tears raining between them while they kissed his arms wrapped around her tight.  He spent years denying how he felt, how much she meant to him and just how much he loved her.  His demanding, beautiful, wonderful Love.  

She gazed up at him with a watery smile. Her heart was whole and complete.  “I love you too Shikaku.” 

Yoshino hugged him tightly, her head resting against his heart.  She shut her eyes tightly overwhelmed and relieved.  He loved her.  She had always believed that this was the path that their relationship would take but she wasn’t prepared for how wonderful it felt.   

“Why are you still crying?”  Shikaku asked worriedly, brushing her tears away. She reached up to kiss him, relishing in the fact that she could do so freely. He was relieved feeling her smile against his lips.

She curled into his chest, his strong arms wrapping her up securely.  “I'm just really happy.”    

A lifetime of shared memories ran through her head knowing they had many more to look forward to.  He had been, and would always be hers.   

*

**

Always:  A Shikaku/Yoshino ficlet collection

My Dear

My Love

Meant to Be

Mine

*

**

The Yamanakas are the best wingmen.  :D  every incarnation of InoShikaCho is precious.  I need more stories about the InoShikaCho daddies.  

That’s all I’ve got for the week!  Thanks for celebrating with me.  I’ll enjoy seeing everyone’s submissions for the rest of the week.  Thank you especially to @shikakunaras for moderating and a special shoutout to @temarihime ! Go read and love all their stuff!!!   Love to everyone in the Nara Clan!  

[amusedyan]

I'm loving your blog. So listen, I'd die for some Ouran content. Maybe a Kyoya falling for a guest at some Ootori party, she was brought along by some wealthy friend of hers and is not into the wealthy elite at all, something that bothers but intrigues Kyoya. I'd love to see him try to woo her, become protective of her, because she lives such a dangerous regular commoners life without body guards. Then try to save her from that life. How would he react to her misbehaving or being generally 1/2

Unhappy with the situation he’s put her in? Whether it’s him micromanaging every aspect of her life or him having actually locked her up in some corner of the Ootori manor? Personally, I always saw Kyoya as someone who enjoyed old-fashioned punishments. Like a spanking over the knee. But it’s totally up to you. I love where you took that Bakugo fic, so I trust you to take this where ever. Honestly, I’d just be so grateful if you had any Ouran content to offer. Again, love your work so far 2/2

Yay my first Ouran request! Thanks so much nonnie for requesting this, I love Kyoya- his deadpan humor and general attitude just give me so many ideas and make him such a great character! And those same traits make him terrifying as a yandere!

Bitter

You hated fancy parties.

You picked at your collar and tried not to look like you were bored out of your mind as all the rich people mingled and laughed discussed business over food and drinks more expensive than your family’s monthly grocery bill. 

It was funny. You could write off your friend’s eccentric behavior, but in a group of rich people? Well, the bitterness crept back in and left a sour tang in your mouth. 

You glanced down at your flute of champagne. It would be, what, your third? Reluctantly you returned it- you were a guest, getting blackout drunk was not on your shortlist of ‘great ideas for parties full of rich people’. So you just mingled politely, staying close to your friend.

“Mr. Ootori!” She declared happily, waving over a dark haired man with a calm smile and glasses. There’s half a moment of hesitation on his part before he approaches- you can’t blame him; a brief word with your friend turns into half an hour with her.

“Glad you could make it,” he offered dutifully, and oh that was interesting- he had that same look in his eyes you did- like he couldn’t stand his own kind. It had to be some kind of joke.

You found yourself smiling for the first time that night, and caught the way his eyes flashed at you for the briefest of seconds before it was gone.

Maybe you’d imagined it.

“I see you’ve made use of the plus one on your invitation.” He remarked, and your friend laughed and introduced you.

Ootori nodded and looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t believe I’ve heard of you.” His tone was just detached enough that you couldn’t be sure if it was a joke or an insult.

“You wouldn’t- I’m not pedigreed.” You wished you could take a drink as a mic drop. Instead you just had to content yourself with your friend’s horrified look.

But Ootori just looked amused.

“Man people prefer mutts to purebreds,” he said in that same level tone.

As a person who’d had several mutts growing up, you could confirm that they were better. Less health problems. 

He asked what your job was and you mentioned the field, notwanting to stray into talk about work. Work was work, and frankly here wasn’tthe place to talk about it. Thankfully Ootori accepted it and didn’t push,instead managing to draw you into aconversation that didn’t make you want to beat your own head in. It was nice.

Finally, he had to excuse himself and see to his otherduties as host, but before he left he caught your hand and brought it up to pressa gentle kiss there. It stopped you short, as did the small smile playing onhis lips.

“Until we meet again,” he promised cryptically, before goingoff to join his people.

Your friend was gawking at you.

You decided maybe one more glass of champagne wouldn’t hurtyou.

Two weeks after the Ootori party Kyoya Ootori himself walkedinto your favorite coffee shop, saw you and invited himself to sit at yourtable after taking his order. The man was far out of his element but didn’tseem in the least bit uncomfortable, exuding a calm confidence and sense ofcontrol that made clear why he was so good at his job.

(And yeah, you had gone the creepy route and looked him upon the internet, rather than just asking your friend; they might have gone toschool together once upon a time but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t misreadyour questions as interest and let him know about it on a lark.

Despite being the youngest Kyoya had managed to earn hisplace as heir of Ootori conglomerate. He was ruthless in business but one hellof philanthropist, setting up multiple scholarship programs for elite schoolsthat lower income students wouldn’t have access to, on top of the dozens ofother charities that the company donated to on the regular. And that was whatyou could track down in maybe 45 minutes)

“Pretty far from your side of town,” you observed, addinganother packet of sugar to your coffee.

“I had business in the area and needed a coffee.” You hummed and watched him watch you.

He was quiet for a minute and you took the time to drink your coffee. His was pure black, you’d heard him order it.

“You remind me of a friend I had.” He said suddenly, and you stayed quiet, although you were a little confused because he didn’t seem like the type to have friends. “She wasn’t impressed by money either.”

“Smart of her.”

He chuckled a little bit, no more than a huff. 

“I’d like to take you out for dinner sometime.” Now that actually made you look at him properly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you yet.

“Because I’m not interested in money?”

“Because I find your conversation relaxing and I’d like to think you feel the same way.”

It was a bit weird; you’d had maybe 20 minutes total of talking with this man. Technically those twenty minutes were enjoyable. Kyoya was blunt and composed and intelligent; you could appreciate that in a man.

“Alright.” You agreed, surprising yourself.

Kyoya’s smile unfolded into something a little more open. You wondered how often people saw this one.

You exchanged numbers and the promise of detail exchange later; you had to get back to work soon, and even though he didn’t say he needed to leave you were sure that he needed to get back too.

There were flowers on your desk at work the next day.

The bouquet was gorgeous; lavender roses and baby’s breath- you didn’t even know that lavender roses this nice were in season.

The card on the vase (a very nice, very expensive looking vase) confirmed your suspicions.

I saw these and thought of you.

                                        �� -Ootori Kyoya

And you smiled because it was really thoughtful.

But…how did he know where you worked?

Ootori: Did you receive the flowers?

Me: Yes I did! They’re beautiful, thanks!

Me: How did you know where I worked?

Ootori: You told me at the party, remember?

Me: Ah, sorry, I must have forgotten!

Me: Thanks again, Ootori.

Ootori: Call me Kyoya, please.

You work out a good night for the both of you to go out. It took some shuffling on your part, but at least Kyoya seemed willing to work with you.

He meant what he said at least- he was serious about dinner.

And it was dinner at a really nice restaurant; one that had a really long wait list ordinarily and didn’t have a price on the menu.

Well, you get to break out your formal clothes again, and it was nice to watch the way Kyoya’s expression changed when you entered the dining area. The softening of his mask maybe. 

“You look nice.” Was all he said about it, though, even as he stood up to pull out your chair for you.

“Thanks, so do you.” And he did. Kyoya could have worn anything and pulled it off, probably.

The server came by moments later with wine and glasses. That was nice at least, but again…

“You ordered for me?” You asked, smiling. He nodded.

“I thought it more convenient.” 

Pushy, but whatever, he meant well.

Except…

The pushing didn’t stop.

It started with the wine, yeah, but it just got worse.

Kyoya didn’t understand how to not overstep his bounds, and he always looked amused when you started to point out that looking up your girlfriend’s home address was still creepy, even when the intent was to send you flowers. And he sent you a lot of flowers.

But no, Kyoya, having several bodyguards walk you home from work didn’t make you feel safe, especially when they weren’t allowed to talk to you.

And he just…he didn’t get it.

You wanted to break up with him, but the problem was Kyoya, when he wasn’t disrespecting your boundaries at least, was charming, intelligent, and honestly you liked him a lot. You just figured it was one of those things you would work out with him, or maybe it was new relationship jitters.

When Kyoya tried to give you a watch more expensive than your apartment, you finally, firmly, put your foot down.

“It’s too expensive,” you argued firmly.

“I already bought it.”

“Then return it, because I can’t possibly accept it.” It made you uncomfortable, how willing he was to drop so much money on you so fast.

“I can’t return it, it was personalized.” He said, frowning. And…okay, touching, but still…

You turned it over in your hand and blinked at the elegant writing

For my darling

“That’s…really sweet, Kyoya.”

He hugged you gently, awkwardly. You got the feeling he wasn’t used to initiating, but that was fine.

“I just want you to have the best.”

“I know.”

(Your first time with Kyoya is…wonderful. He worships you and breaks you apart gently and puts you back together with his touch. The whole time he looks at you like he’s having a religious experience, doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t close his eyes.

For a minute you could have sworn he was crying)

Kyoya started inviting you to parties and events with him three months into your relationship.

The idle speculation and blank smiles from your time as a normal guest were gone, replaced with biting comments and passive aggression. It sucks, but it gave you an excuse to stay with Kyoya, and he didn’t seem to mind. 

It was nice though, watching that dark look flash in his eyes when someone made a comment.

But he kept your hand in his and doted on you in his own way all evening.

You split away from him, briefly, to use the bathroom and check how you looked in the mirror. Not a hair was out of place and you didn’t look a thing like yourself.

On your way back, not 10 feet from your boyfriend, a guest flush with bourbon and bolstered by his friends inquired “how much the Ootori runt paid for you” because he’d “pay double”. You flushed with rage, but before you could get a word out Kyoya was the one to appear and drag you out of his sight.

“I could have handled it, Kyoya.” You promised, but he shook his head.He didn’t stop, handing over the tickets to get your coats. “The party isn’t over yet, don’t you still have business-”

“They don’t deserve to look at you,” he snarled, and it was with a vehemence you never would have expected from him, it startled you so bad.

“Kyoya-”

“No. We’re going home and they’re never going to see you again.”

Oh.

You took your coat, quiet, letting Kyoya guide you to his car and opened it for you, sliding into the backseat with you.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You asked quietly, watching him roll up the tinted divider between you and the driver.

Are you going to leave me? Went unasked. That fear just…it crippled you. He wouldn’t, would he? Just because his associates didn’t like you?

“Never.” He promised firmly, pulling you into his lap. You hesitated but moved to assist, curling up against him. “I would never be ashamed of you. You’re mine.” And those words were so cold, despite the warm look in his eyes.

“But you said-”

“They’ll never set eyes on you again because they don’t deserve to look at you. I’m going to take you home and you’re going to stay there where I can keep you safe and away from their filthy eyes. Alright, darling?”

His lips were on your neck, his whisper made your bones warm. But you shook your head no.

“Kyoya, it’s fine, people are going to be rude-”

“They don’t have a right to be that way to you, not when you’re mine.”

You laughed a little, trying to diffuse the tension, squirming, trying to get off his lap. Kyoya’s arms were iron around you though, holding you tight, so tight you couldn’t breathe.

“Let go of me, Kyoya,”

“No, we’re going home and I’m going to show you how much you’re worth.”

“As romantic as that sounds, I really have to get back to my place-”

Kyoya’s grip on your jaw was punishing, his nails digging in and bruising you for for sure. 

“Shut up.”

“Kyoya-”

He kissed you harsh, it was biting and angry and you were sure that you tasted blood.

“You are mine. I’ve let you wander long enough, so be quiet and be good and everything will be fine. If you don’t then I will have to hurt you, do you understand?” When you didn’t answer right away he shook you. 

“Understand?”

[weirdochick56]

Oblivious - Thomas Shelby Imagine

Thomas Shelby X Reader

Warnings: Explicit Language. (always lol) Angst (??) 

Disclaimers: I don’t own TS or any Peaky Blinders plots/characters.

Word Count: 5, 205 words

Summary: The reader is an old family friend of the Shelby’s and completely and utterly in love with Tommy. She thinks he doesn’t love her back, but she couldn’t be farther from the truth. Sometimes, a few drinks are just what someone needs to break years-long silence. 

“Do I look like a bloody fuckin’ chicken Arthur?” You raise your brows challengingly then you point at him.  “No. You, on the other hand, do.” 

The Blinders around you whoop and pat your back as you smirk at the eldest Shelby triumphantly. He grumbles something under his breath but ends up standing up straighter and looking you with a smirk of his own, his mustache lightly curled up at the corner. 

“Alright, alright!” He holds his hands up and down to calm the men gathered down. Then he looks you evenly in the eye. “I’ll do this, eh? And you,” he steps closer, pointing a finger at you. “Are gonna owe me,” he points to himself aggressively then grins. “A favor, sweetheart.” 

You don’t even flinch, keeping your face straight. “Fine by me then, sweetheart.” You taunt the pet name he uses then turn back around to face the bar. “Oi! A round then, please Harry!” 

The older man shakes his head at you with a huff but complies nonetheless, tugging glasses from the back and then the amber liquid-filled glass bottle. 

You turn to face Arthur, ignoring the buzzing and excited Blinders surrounding you, and grin mischievously. “You’re on, Arthur fookin’ Shelby.” 

Blinders around you snicker at your quite blunt mock at the name. Arthur smiles at you with a scoff but doesn’t say anything. You were a good friend of the family so you knew he wouldn’t take offense to the playful jesting. 

Not many people outside the family had the pleasure of saying that. But since your parents had known the Shelby’s for quite a long time, you’d practically grown up with them. Which meant you were family. A younger sister to Arthur, Tommy, and John, if you will. And an older one to Finn. 

The mere thought made you queasy. Your stomach churned with aching and your heart breaks. You were well aware of how Thomas Shelby viewed you. As his a little sister. Meanwhile, you were hopelessly in love with him. You wanted nothing more than to become something else for him, for him to notice you in a different light. 

But just as you were aware of how he saw you, you were well aware of how he wouldn’t see you. As a lover, a potential wife, or hell- not even a good fuck! 

There was no hope for you and him. 

*

The contest was simple. You and Arthur would see who could hold their liquor the best- the longest. And that was measured by whoever began stumbling first or who was in worst condition generally.

You checked in every few rounds to see who had better balance, and so far you were losing. Arthur was a bit buzzed but was downing the shots like a mad man and didn’t seem to be as affected as you. 

Your legs felt relatively wobbly by the tenth round of shots and your mind was hazy, blurry with the alcohol that coursed through your system. Although, on the brighter side, your shoulders were less tense and an easy smile had formed on your lips as your giggles echoed all over the Garrison walls. 

For once, you felt...free. Your smile wasn’t forced and your heart sang instead of attempting not to keep its head above and swim and not drown in a sea of sadness. Well, I mean, your heart would always do that, but right now you couldn’t seem to remember the last time you’d felt this carefree and you figured it was because you also couldn’t remember the last time you drank this much. 

You needed a good head on your shoulders if you were to always worry for the company’s numbers, whether or not any of the brothers would die once they walked out the door...Tommy. You were involved in everything that had to do with that family. Because they were your family. You had nothing left but them. So you clung onto them will all your strength and they graciously accepted you and treated you as their own. But with protection and love from a family like the Shelby’s, there was always a price to be paid. 

Constant anxiety and heartbreak was yours.

You downed another shot of the alcohol and let it travel down your throat smoothly, allowing it to burn your esophagus lightly and offering a woozy kind of comfort to your soul as you slam the glass down on the counter. 

“Woohoo!” You whoop loudly, throwing your hands above your head with a drunken smile.  The world spins for a second and you almost trip on your own clumsy feet before strong arms shoot out and catch you. 

Tommy’s large warm hands, grip your shoulders firmly to hold you upright. You were unaware of his presence but were pleasantly surprised.

Giggling like a child, you look up at him. “Arthur, look! It’s Tommy!” 

Arthur doesn’t even look your way, fully drunk beyond his senses. You were in better shape than him, so you’d clearly won.

Tommy sighs at you, his face stoic as always but giving away a hint of a smile as he shakes his head.

“Okay then, let’s go, love,” he grunts as he throws your arm over his shoulders and slips his hand on your waist. Your body is pressed right I to his and it makes you nibble on your lip.

“Finn!” he yells over his shoulder, as he leads you out of the Garrison. “Take Arthur home, will ya’?!” Finn yells back some response you don’t really bother listening to as you’re too busy admiring Tommy’s striking facial structure with a soft smile. 

But you assume it’s a yes. 

Tommy begins dragging you to the car, but you stop him, shoving his arm off your shoulders harshly. He stares at you with a frown and you snarl, anger bubbling inside of you with the turn of a mere second. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Thomas?!” You try to seem menacing with an aggressive jab of your finger, but sway instead as your voice falters slightly. You end up having to lean up against the outside of the Garrison. 

Tommy sighs heavily, approaching you briskly. You, however, hold up a perfectly-manicured hand, bringing his movements to a complete halt. “Don’t fucking touch me, Thomas. I’ll walk myself home,” your last sentence is a grumble as you promptly push yourself off the cold wall and begin to pathetically stumble your way home. 

“Y/n!” Thomas yell causes you to look over your shoulder with dizzying velocity. 

“What?” 

He clears his throat. “Your house is that way, love.” He points in the opposite direction. 

You grumble drunkenly under your breath, stomping your heels into the wet ground as you manage -somehow- to whisk past him without swaying too much. “Fucking hell.” 

Thomas heaves another exasperated sigh and quickly runs right in front of you. “Y/n, fuck’s sake. Just get in the car will ya’? You’re not walking home alone.” 

A soft scoff escapes you. “Says who? You?” You point at him with a wry smirk and then it slowly melts off as you shake your head incredulously. “Oh piss off Tommy will ya’?.” You go to walk away, but his hand firmly grips your elbow.

“Right, get in the fuckin’ car Y/n, if you don’t want me to put you on there meself.” 

Your passive aggressive gaze locks on his hand gripping your arm and then into his piercing blue eyes, so near yours. More anger and resentment pulse through your bloodstream, pulsated by the alcohol mixed in there.

You clench your jaw. “Will you just let me go, Tommy? Right, I don’t want to get in the fuckin’ car and you can’t fuckin’ make me!” You tug at your arm but he doesn’t budge, only looks down at you blankly. Although you can tell by the barely-noticeable twitch of his lip that he’s frustrated by your reaction to him. 

He leans in closer, placing his soft lips near your ear, simultaneously sending an involuntary shock of electricity crackling through your heated skin at his intoxicating proximity. 

“Right then love, this what’s going to happen. And I say ‘going to’ because in the next fuckin’ second you’re going to get into the car and I’m going to drive you home. Now you may moan and cuss and whine all you want,” he pauses, leaning slightly away so that his nose is now brushing against yours, his warm lightly cigarette and alcohol-tainted breath fanning your face and his icy blue eyes staring directly into yours. “But that’s not going to stop it from ‘appening, hm?” 

You clench your jaw even tighter, gritting your teeth and fisting your hand. Harshly, you rip your arm from his grasp and wordlessly stomp your way to his car, throwing the door open and slamming it shut way too hard. 

You can hear him sigh, but don't give him the satisfaction of knowing you can see his pursed lips from the corner of your eye. 

He climbs in soon after and turns the car on, peeling away from the murky ground in front of the Garrison and heading for your house. 

The short ride home is silent except for the occasional sigh from either you or Thomas. You still refuse to so much as glance in his general direction, arms crossed defensively over your chest and the secret information of his constant brief glancing your way also being held tightly to your chest. 

Your brain was blurry and the hot white sizzling anger still lived and swayed and grew and spread. You really had no idea what’s caused the mood swing, but seeing Tommy look at you with a small glint of concern- somewhat of a rarity for him after the war- your heart’s temporarily-sedated yearning came back full force and you were forced to remember he only saw you as a sister. Maybe that’s what made you so angry. At yourself for being so in-fucking-capable of stopping your feelings for him and at him because he was incapable of loving you back the way you wanted- needed- him to.

Suddenly, the car comes to a halt and you look out the window to see the familiar building you lived in. 

You all but jump out, slamming the door shut behind you.You then round the vehicle to Tommy’s side but don’t even spare him a glance, stalking your way home, a desperate desire to fall into your soft bed and-

“Oi, Y/n! Hold up!” Tommy runs after you, the car still running. 

You sigh heavily through your nose, grasping at straws in order to remain calm at this point. You were nearing your boiling point with him and with a drunken head like yours, it was a dangerous mix, to say the least. 

But Thomas Shelby was a stubborn bastard. 

His hand finds your arm once again and you wince at the touch, hissing audibly as he spins you round to face him. You don’t dare lift your head when you feel him immediately loosen his grip in you, instead keeping your head neatly tucked under your hat and hidden by your hair. You were well aware of the fact that looking at his face would be the last straw for your paper-thin patience. 

“Y/n, will you just tell me what the fuck’s wrong already? What the bloody fuck have I done this time, hm?” 

His touch burned on your arm, his distinct scent of cigs and rum and street but also something sweet and masculine wafting into your nose promptly. There was no other word to describe it except Tommy. It smelled like Tommy. The scent that clung to his clothes gave you the urge to sink your nose into the expensive fabrics of his jacket. To feel closer to your impossible love. 

The air gets heavier to breathe in. The man you love, Tommy, is so nearby.

He was holding you so close to him that if it weren’t for the fact that you knew he didn’t like you like that, you'd think was doing it simply to have you close. 

But you knew he wasn’t because Thomas Shelby only viewed you as a sister.

That’s it. 

A sister. 

The air was so heavy your lungs couldn’t take in any more. 

A sister.

Your breathing is labored and Thomas gently shakes you. 

“Y/n?” 

And oh fuck, that silky smooth yet masculine voice of his it-

His thumb cups your chin and his forefinger forces your gaze to meets his. You’re so angry, you tremble. Your eyes are barely holding back tears but that simple touch, move- it’s enough. 

You push his chest away from you with as much force as you can muster. He stumbles back as hot tears trail down your face and blur your vision. “Nothing you haven’t done anything okay?! Now fuck off!” You exclaim loudly and point at him with enragement. 

He doesn’t move at first, his face unshifting but his lips lightly part and that’s enough of a tell. He didn’t know what you were on about. 

Holding his hands up defensively, he holds your gaze. “Y/n, what the bloody hell do you think you’re-”

You interject him abruptly, stalking dangerously close to him. “You wanna know what the bloody fuck’s wrong eh?” You lick your lips, looking up at him through tears. “What’s wrong is that you’re fuckin’ blind Tommy, yeah?!” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but you don’t allow him to say anything. “You’re so fucking blind that you can’t fuckin see that I’m dying here.” Your voice trembles as light sobs leave your salty lips. You claw at your chest through your dress and growl in his face. “What’s fuckin’ wrong is that my fuckin’ heart’s broken! And i-it’s dying- inside me. I-I can’t think, I can’t fucking focus. Hell- I can’t even fucking breathe. Bloody fuck, Tom, it’s killing me slowly!” Your heart cracks and so does your voice. You can feel yourself falling apart at the edges, the alcohol no longer functional enough to numb anything. It all felt too real. Like every nerve in your body was awake and alert and someone was poking needles into you.

For the first time after the war, Tommy’s face twists into a concerned frown. “What are you on about Y/n? Who the fuck has broken your heart? Look if you need me to kill the fucker-” 

You laugh sardonically. “Fuck’s sake,” you shake your head and furiously wipe at your tears with the backs of your hands. “You think everything has to be solved with fucking violence, don’t you? You know what, Tommy? For someone so bloody smart, you’re the most oblivious fuck I have ever met.” Your voice is dry and raspy from all the screaming and exasperation and your head throbs painfully against your temple. 

You’re exhausted as you spin on your heels and walk towards your home, waving dismissively at Tommy who begs you to come back. 

What an oblivious fuck, that one was. 

*

The next morning you wake up with an excruciating pain splitting your head in half. Or so it seemed.

You remembered everything you’d done the night before- unfortunately- and just thinking about it had your cheeks aflame with embarrassment. 

With a groan, you push yourself off the bed and make haste out of cleaning yourself up and brewing tea for your horrific headache. 

Whilst sipping on the steaming mug in your hands gratefully, a knock comes to your door. 

With a sigh, you get up and drag your feet to your door, calling through the wooden material.

“Who is it?” Your voice was cracked and groggy. 

“Thomas,” his voice, ever so elegant and silky smooth, responded without a second’s hesitation. 

You don’t respond at first, your face red with shame, but decided to open it wider for him. Maybe you could act ignorant and he’d eventually forget about it all. Never question the words or who they were directed to. 

He stands there, hands shoved casually inside his pockets, stoic face and slightly-parted lips. “Can I come in?” his piercing blue eyes scrutinize your soul. 

You smile lightly- innocently but tiredly- and step aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. He eyes your tiny apartment the way he always does when he comes over. Not with maliciousness or even disgust. But with a bit of fondness, you think, and sits across from your steaming cuppa with a clear of his throat. 

You softly pad your way towards him, ignoring his eyes dead set on you. “You want some?” 

He shakes his head, motioning you to sit. Wringing your hands nervously you sigh and comply, sliding down on the seat. 

“I see you have a hell of a hangover now, eh?” 

With that emotionless face of his, it’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not. But you knew he was. Spending the amount of time you did examining his expressions- even the slightest shift in his face- meant you’d picked up on the small quirks- the tells. And by the way he looked now, you knew it was a tease. 

You smirk a little, running your nail lightly along the rim of the mug. “I totally beat Arthur yesterday. How’s he doing by the way?”

Thomas’s gaze never wavers. “He’s fine. But that’s not why I came here Y/n.” 

You clear your throat, finally looking up at him with the most oblivious look you can muster. “Why are you here then, Tommy?” 

He licks his lips and leans closer to you, almost like he was about to tell you a secret nobody else could hear. “Last night- you- it was a bit odd, I think. But you said something and,” he clicks his tongue lightly, shaking his head. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You just looked so-” his eyes meet yours. “Heartbroken.” The word leaves his lips as if it were prohibited. 

You suck in a sharp breath and your facade slips for a second, but you bounce right back. “What did I say, Tommy? I-I can’t seem to recall.” 

His gaze, still plastered on your eyes, unnerves you endlessly and you find it hard not to fiddle with your fingers. Tommy was good at reading people and you most definitely weren’t the exception. He’d always been especially good at reading you so you had no doubt he could see you were lying right about now. 

Slowly and an awfully nonchalant manner, he leans back on the wooden chair. “Well,” he grunts. “You said your heart was slowly killing you and then quite randomly stated that I was blind and oblivious.”

You gulp but manage to remain relatively calm. “What is it you need to know then?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I need to know who the fucker that broke your heart is.”

You grin incredulously. “Ah! Why’s that? So you can cut him?”

He doesn’t flinch. “Precisely.”

You laugh exasperatedly. “Jesus fuck Thomas! Do you really have no other way of-”

“I do,” he cuts you off calmly. “I can use words. I’m great with them. But the way you spoke to me last night- your eyes...I realize the bastard who did this to do you is pure evil and deserves it. You’re a Shelby, love. And no one fucks with my family.” 

You almost burst out laughing at the irony, but the word ‘family’ echoes around in the darkest pits of your brain. 

Of course, that was what this was about. You were so damn tired of being overlooked by him. All those whores, all the times you nearly died when he’d come back half-dead, beaten to a pulp and bleeding profusely...You had been the one to patch him up. Took care of his wounds. There were nights, after he’d come back from the war, where you’d just stay up late and talk. Well, he’d talk and he’d tell you things- horrors he’d experienced at the war. Things he didn’t dare tell anyone else. You felt an honest-to-God connection that ran deeper than any other physical attraction and the way he looked at you during those nights where he’d be suffering silently otherwise, you could’ve sworn he felt the same too. Guess you were wrong. 

Without looking at him, you mumble. “Well, guess you’re pure evil then.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a second, processing you assume, and you don’t dare look up at him until he dares speak again- breathlessly this time. “What?” 

“Oh for fuck’s-” you sigh impassively. “You’re the pure evil bastard who deserves to be cut for my heartache! It’s fucking you, Tommy! Jesus fuckin’-” you sigh heavily, throwing your arms up. 

He doesn’t respond, just stares at you blankly, the wheels turning in his head clear as day. “You’re fucking joking.” 

The way he says it- like it was a joke he was taken aback by, it breaks you. 

“You know what?” Tears prick your eyes, as you stand up. “If you’re going to humiliate me like one of your little whores then just fuck off, yeah?” You point to the door with blurry eyes. 

And he opens his mouth to speak. “B-”

“I’m not fucking joking Thomas. If you think you’re going to make fun of me in my own home, you’re sadly-”

He stands up abruptly and you jump a little as he stalks closer to you. His eyes never leave your face and you feel tiny, looking up at him with a phony frown. “Tom what the bl-”

You don’t get to finish when he cups your face in his hands and yanks you to him. Your body shuts down completely as your lips and his soft ones meet. Not because of the kiss itself, but out of shock. Complete and utter shock.

Your brain scrambles to connect all the dots as Thomas’s lips move roughly against yours. It’s passionate and a shiver travels up your spine. 

You’re unresponsive for the first few seconds, but finally manage to pull yourself together, pressing yourself closer to him with a light moan, hands shooting up and gripping at his heavy jacket-clad shoulders. 

Your tongues intertwine in a battle for dominance and if it weren’t for Tommy’s hands hold you by your waist to him, you were sure your weak knees would give out beneath you. 

He tasted like rum and cigarettes and you can’t help but moan a little again at his intoxicating proximity. 

It all passes in a haze, your lips moving against eachother with passion, adoration and utter frustration. Like he was angry at you but filled with utter lust and want all at once. His lips were pressed so harshly against yours, you almost considered bruises as an option. 

But there was also something so raw, utterly natural and pure instinct about the way you went about eachother. The way his hands roamed your body, barely brushing past your most achingly-heated parts but never actually touching you there. It was as if he knew the teasing would drive you absolutely insane. 

Just as you knew that he’d like you to kiss him back, touch him like he was a threat to you. With a kind of aggressive passion. 

The sexual tension between you two finally reached a boiling point and you found your hands wrapping firmly around his neck and tugging his body closer impossibly to yours. He growls a little and bites he bites your lip briskly. 

You yelp into his mouth and then briefly break away so that his big hands can quickly wrap around your hips and hoist you up onto the table like you didn’t weigh a thing. You barely notice when the mug of tea topples over and breaks into a million pieces on the ground, your lips and hands finding and attacking eachother again with fierce yearning once more. Your stomach flips, your heart hammers, and your head spins, but somehow you move around his body with unknown expertise.

Tommy slides in between your legs and grips your knees at either side of him, hiking your skirt up only a bit. You whimper at his touch and his thumb caresses the skin of your knees lightly.  

You part from the breath-stealing kiss a little to peck his lips in between hard heated pants. In between kisses, he growls. 

“You have no fucking idea how much I’ve been wanting to make you bloody mine love,” he says this in a mere whisper and your skin -not that you thought it was even remotely possible- heats up even more. 

 You smirk at him lightly, staring into his icy blue eyes and feeling your chest swell with pride when he doesn’t flinch away, eyes full with lustful sincerity. Leaning down so much your lips brush, you wrap your legs around his waist and yank him closer to your center, whispering hoarsely. “Then why don’t you?” 

He doesn’t respond, only kisses you with even more fervor than before, which, again, you didn’t even think was possible and hold tightening on you and hands clawing at your thin stockings. You gasp into when he rips them off, but he quickly swallows the hocked sound, kneading at your now-exposed skin with even more animosity.

Mixed in with this new kiss you taste a hint of something metallic. 

Blood. 

That fucker. He’d bitten your lip so hard he drew blood! 

And yet, the idea only seems to fuel the fire burning insistingly in the pit of your stomach further and you only find yourself sucking a sharp breath, kissing him harder, lips enveloping his roughly. Your hands ran over his hair and then down to the base of his skull where your thumbs quickly made their way to his ridiculously high cheekbones. Your tongue quickly flicks over his plump bottom lip and he groans a little, hands roaming daringly higher on your legs, hiking your skirt up to your mid-thigh. 

You pant hotly against him and with a wince quickly pull away, building your resolve. His eyes are still fluttered shut and his face is slightly chasing yours when you push his hands away. 

Slowly, he looks up at you, a confused frown instilled on his face. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest, your body missing his warmth and scent almost immediately after.

You sigh deeply, though, forcing yourself to remain strong and looking him sternly in the eye. “I’m not going to become just another one of your whores Thomas.” 

He lets out an irritated mixture of a groan and sigh. Bowing his head so you can’t see his face, he laughs softly under his breath. The laughter isn’t genuine, it’s sardonic. Sarcastic almost. 

You furrow your brow and cross your arms over your chest, bothered. “What’s so funny?” 

He pauses his laughing and raises his head to look at you, face the most serious you’d ever seen it. You’re taken completely aback by the force of his piercing gaze when he speaks lowly, eyes dead set on your own. 

“The fact that you think that is what’s funny, love.” 

“What?” 

“The fact that you think that you're just another whore to me is utterly hysterical. I thought I’d made it clear enough.” 

You shift a bit, clearing your throat. “Made what clear?” 

He doesn’t seem annoyed by your slowness to comprehend what it was he was hinting at. In fact, he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying seeing you so clueless. But that was just who Tommy was. He enjoyed this kind of thing. 

“That, unlike every other woman I’ve been with...” he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Then he steps back a bit to look you in the eye, hand cupping your cheek. “You are the only one I love.”

You barely bite back a gasp at his words, heart pounding. 

“You make me feel whole.” He laughs incredulously, talking more to himself than you. “It’s bloody fuckin stupid, alright? But y-you make me heart race whenever I see you. And it’s so bloody fucking stupid that I sweat like I’ve run five miles when you look at me with those big, y/e/c of yours.” His eyes are soft, for once; unguarded, full with adoration as his thumb glides softly over your cheekbone. 

You find yourself unable to formulate anything other than shaky breaths, as you lean into his touch. Luckily, you don’t have to speak. 

“You make me feel, Y/n. Y-you make me feel alive and peaceful and when you’re near me I feel everything’s going to be alright.” He presses his forehead to yours sweetly and sighs. 

You smile up at him, opening your mouth to confess your own love for him, before his cold tone cuts you off as he takes a huge step back, head bowed low. 

“But that’s exactly the problem, love.” His voice is quiet. 

You gulp, your heart-shattering. He looks you in the eye.

“Nothing in my life is ever going to be alright. And having you near me in that way-“ he inhales sharply. “It’s a distraction. One that could either end with me and my family, you, or everything.”

You open your mouth to protest fiercely, but he silenced you, eyes sad. “I’m head of this operation Y/n. I can’t have anything ruining my ability to think clearly and make decisions.”

You can feel yourself grow and more frustrated with him as his words progress.  Your body is flush and red with humiliation and anger. You wouldn’t have had let it progress this far and expose yourself to him like this if you’d known he’d get your hopes up just to crush you all over again. 

“Fine then, Tom.” You gently shove him away. “Do whatever you need to.” 

He scoffs out a shocked sound as you push yourself off the counter and shove past him. 

“Fine? That’s it?” He almost sounds disappointed. 

You try to keep walking. You really do. But he’s just so...

You whirl around briskly, fists clenched tightly by your sides. “What Thomas?!” 

He jumps at the sound of your voice. 

“What do you want from me? You came here, kissed me, told me you loved me, got my hopes up and then made it crystal clear that it can’t happen between us. What else do you want from me, hm?” You clench your jaw so tightly, you wonder how your teeth aren’t shattered. 

He opens his mouth as if to say something then closes it again. 

You sigh, rubbing your temples tiredly. 

“Just go,” you mumble hoarsely, turning your back to him. 

You were just so tired and heartbroken. Or maybe just tired of being heartbroken. Either way, both your bones and heart ached and seeing him standing there with his messy hair from you running your fingers through them and his pink lips wasn’t exactly helping you.

He stumbles over his words from behind you but ends up sighing and saying nothing. You hear shifting and the door opening.  

“This isn’t over. We need to talk more about it.” And then he shuts the door behind him. 

You blink away tears and shake your head, running your hands through your hair frustratedly. 

Thomas Shelby was one complicated man. 

***

YAYY!! I think I want a second part to this one! Hmm...what about the reader making him jelly?? Omg yassss!! That is totally a possibility, but I need to know if you guys want it.  

A Special Thanks To:

@sherlockedtash88

@lilypalmer1987

@jessikared97

@mogaruke - my lovely forevers 

And 

@kaliforniacoastalteens -my only PB peep. 

[illfoandillfie]

Rough Day

*This was requested by @bellacardoza16 who asked for kitten play + coming home from a bad day at work (actress) and Roger cheers you up*

Pairing: Roger x Fem!Reader 

Summery: Roger cheers you up after a rough day at work

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Kitten Play (including ears + collar), drinking (roger + reader), smoking (roger), dom!roger, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, orgasm control, and 1 (bad) pun based on a brand of cat food

Words: 4352

A/N: This was fun!! I haven’t written any hurt/comfort fics before but I enjoyed trying to capture that and also make it naturally flow into smut. Also haven’t written kitten play before but I think I have a new kink lmao - I did some research, watched a few videos on youtube and read some articles that explained kitten play, to try and get a better understanding of it, so I hope I’ve done it justice! And I hope this was the sort of thing you were looking for when you requested it!

Tagslist: @idontbelievethiss

Fuck, no keys. “FUCK!” You screamed as you desperately felt around yourself, checking all your pockets and your bag for the third time, trying to find a key that was clearly not there. Praying that Roger was home you started pounding on the door, trying to knock loud enough to be heard over the rain. “Rog! Rog are you in there?!” You yelled as you furiously knocked, your knuckles starting to sting. It took a full minute before the lock clicked and the handle turned, bringing you face to face with your, very apologetic, boyfriend. “Sorry love, I was making tea and didn’t hear you.” he said as he pulled you through the door. The fresh mug steaming by the sofa confirmed his story. “‘S alright. I’m the idiot who left my key in my other bag.” you said, taking a deep breath to try and steady your emotions. Roger took one look at your trembling lip and scooped you into a hug. You buried your face into his shoulder, releasing the sob that had been building all day. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” Roger asked, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as he held you. It took you a moment to stop the flow of tears, but once they were under control you took a step back, wiping the mascara from under your eyes as you replied. “I’ve had the worst fucking day. Nothing went right. I couldn’t do anything right.” Roger’s fingers replaced yours, wiping fresh tears from your face. He pressed his lips to your temple and resumed rubbing your back as you leaned back into his shoulder. “Oh love, it’s alright now, I’ve got ya.” He let you cry into his shirt, whispering comforting things into your hair, until you were ready to stop. “Sorry,” you pulled away from him, but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting too far. He placed his fingers under your chin and tilted your head up till he was looking in your watery eyes. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Fuck, you’ve listened to me bitch about the band so many times I’ve lost count.” “I got mascara and snot all over your shirt,” “Okay, that’s one apology I’ll accept,” he said with a smile, “Why don’t you go wash your face and I’ll make you a cuppa.” You nodded and he laid another kiss to your temple before he let go of your wrist.

When you reached the bathroom you took a moment to examine your reflection in the mirror - eyes red and puffy, makeup smudged and running down your cheeks, lip still trembling a little. You ran a sink of cold water, dipped the corner of a flannel into it and began rinsing your face, trying to keep your breathing calm and steady. Finally, you felt okay enough to leave the bathroom, taking a box of tissues with you just in case. Roger was waiting for you in the lounge room, wearing a fresh shirt, and holding his mug of tea. Yours was on the coffee table, a swirl of steam rising into the air.

“You wanna talk about it?” Roger asked tentatively as you settled on the sofa next to him, back leaning against the arm of the chair, legs crossed under you, cradling your mug. Roger shifted so he was facing you, and brought his hand to rest on your knee, his thumb rubbing over your skin. You tapped your nails anxiously along the mug as you blew on it before taking a sip. “It was just a really rough day is all Rog,” you finally said, playing for time by drinking more of your tea. Roger remained silent, waiting for you to continue. You let out a slow breath, your eyes focused on Roger’s thumb as you continued. “There must have been an accident or something this morning because the road was closed and I had to go round the long way which meant I was an hour late to set which meant Mike, the director, was pissed off at me all day cause I put us behind schedule. He kept picking apart everything I did, giving me passive aggressive notes on my acting, which I could’ve handled except then I overheard him badmouthing me to some people and it completely threw me. So much so that I kept forgetting lines and messing up for real. Tim tried to stick up for me. He was with me when I overheard Mike and he tried to call Mike out for being such a fucking arsehole. Mike, in front of everyone, told him not to bother defending a ‘talentless, brainless bimbo’ who was only hired because of the way ‘her tits bounce in a tight top’.”  

Your voice got quieter as you spoke but Roger’s grip on your knee got tighter. You choked out the last words, tears stinging your eyes again, and Roger stood up abruptly, fist clenched by his side as he began pacing.   “Rog,” You said quietly, wiping your eyes on a tissue.   “When I get my hands on him,” He was shaking with anger, his hand holding his mug so hard his knuckles were turning white. “Rog, please,” your voice cracked as another wave of tears hit you. He turned back to face you, looking ready to break something, but his demeanour softened when his eyes met yours. “Shit, love, ‘m sorry,” He said placing the mug on the table as he dropped to the carpet in front of you, grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles, “what a fucking wanker. I hope Tim knocked his fucking teeth in.” “He would’ve if I hadn’t stopped him,” you said with a small, watery laugh. “Should’ve let him,” “I was tempted to, but Tim would’ve been fired and Mike isn’t worth that.” “Well I hope someone gives him a good hard kick up the arse.” “Wouldn’t be surprised. He’s been a wanker from day one.” Roger tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “I’m sorry he said those things about you.” “It’s okay,” “No, it’s not. They aren’t true. You’re an incredible actress. I’ve watched you work and you are brilliant. Maybe I’m a little biased, but the way people were raving about your performance in Twelfth Night last year I don’t think it’s just me who thinks you’re talented. And you’re smart as a whip too! Y’know I only like smart girls, and I love you more than anyone. It’s one thing for Mike,” he spit the name like it was poison, “to be a knob, but he’s also just flat out wrong. Knowing that you have to deal with this shit at your job makes me want to break things.” “Thank you,” you said, leaning into Roger’s touch, “I know he’s wrong and he was in a filthy mood all day and I shouldn’t let him get to me. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. A few weeks ago he made poor Annie cry when she messed up his coffee. Just wasn’t expecting it when I got up this morning y’know, having my biggest insecurities publicly attacked.” “God, I want to kill him for making you feel like this.” “Breath, Rog,” you said pressing your nose to his, “he’s a pathetic worm who gets off on making girls cry. Nothing to go to jail over.” Roger laughed, “There you go again, being smart. Proves you’re not a ‘brainless bimbo’, doesn’t it?” You nodded, giving Roger a small smile, “He was right about one thing though.” Roger looked at you, disbelief clouding his eyes as he waited for you to continue, “My tits do look good in a tight top”. Roger sighed with relief as you broke out into a laugh. He shook his head and pushed you playfully into the back of the couch. “Alright, you got me,” He said as he shifted off the floor, flopping down next to you, “good to know your sense of humour is still intact. You feel alright though?” You nodded. “I'm going to have to bake Tim a cake or something, to say thanks.” “Y/N, if you don’t then I will. I’m glad someone there has my girl’s back.” “Later though. When I don’t feel so drained.” “Why don’t you go have a warm bath and relax for a bit? I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” You shook your head, “Actually, I had something else in mind,” You looked down at Roger’s hand, reaching out to play with his fingers, not entirely sure why asking for this was making you so nervous, “Can I have my collar, please?” You bit your lip, waiting. “Your collar?” Roger repeated. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that. “Yes.” Your eyes stayed glued to where your hands were connected, even as you tried to explain yourself, “Today was hard, Rog. I spent all day trying to stay in control. With traffic, with the director. I had to control Tim so he wouldn’t beat Mike to a pulp even though I wanted to throw a punch myself. I had to fight back my own emotions so I could finish the work, because there have been people counting on me and looking up to me all day. I need someone else to take control for a little while. I just want to be looked after for a night.” You raised your eyes as you finished speaking, watching as Roger absorbed your confession.   "Of course, love. Anything to make you feel better. Why don’t you go and get changed and then bring your collar out to me, okay?” “Thank you,” you said softly, leaving an equally soft kiss on his lips before you stood and headed to your bedroom.

Once you were in your room you began undressing, tugging your dress over your head and removing your bra before slipping into your black silk nightgown. You fingered the decorative lace around the low-cut neckline, it made you feel regal. You sighed, already feeling more relaxed than you had all day. You moved over to the mirror and began reapplying your eyeliner in an exaggerated wing, making the line thick and bold. You followed it with a generous brush of mascara and a quick swipe of dark red to your lips. You brushed your hair out until it was soft and free of tangles, and then slipped on a delicate black alice band with two pointy ears. Finally, you opened the draw on your bedside table and removed your collar – a black velvet choker – running your thumbs over the material. Roger had given you this choker as gift, but you didn’t start using it as a collar until later. You liked its subtlety. You’d lost count of the number of times you’d worn it to parties and events you were attending solo. It made you feel safe and loved and less anxious when Roger couldn’t be there. You took one last look in the mirror, smoothing out your nightgown, before leaving the room.

As your padded barefoot down the hall, you heard music growing louder with every step. Pausing for a moment in the doorway, you took in the scene – Roger standing with his back to you, flipping through a box of records, foot tapping ever so slightly as he kept time with the music. A glass was resting beside him, two fingers of whisky lining the bottom, and a scent of smoke tinged the air, a cigarette freshly stubbed out in an ashtray. You didn’t recognise the album he’d put on but it was soft and sweet, the kind of music you could easily slow dance to. “You should be crawling, kitten,” his voice interrupted your thoughts, a smile instantly forming on your face at the last word. Nothing else in the world made you feel the same way that hearing the word kitten roll off Roger’s tongue made you feel. “Sorry Roger,” you said as you quickly dropped to your hands and knees. You placed one side of the chain of the choker in your mouth and began crawling towards him, your nails gently clacking on the floorboards.  When you reached him, you settled on your knees, your bum resting on your heels and your hands in your lap. The choker dangled from your mouth, swinging slightly from the motion of your movement. Roger didn’t so much as look at you, his attention remaining on his records as he pulled one from the box, examined the back cover and then put it back. Your knees were starting to get a little sore from the hard floor but you remained, looking up at Roger from your position at his feet. His hand moved and your heart jumped but he only picked up the glass and took a sip before putting it back down. Finally, he looked down at you. “Alright kitten, you’ve been very patient,” He said as he bent down, holding his hand under your mouth. You let the choker drop onto his palm.   “Sit up nice and tall for me,” You pushed up onto your knees, keeping your back as straight as you could, as Roger walked behind you. He ran his fingers through your hair, gently pushing it over your shoulder before he looped the choker around your neck and fastened it at the back. His hand remained on your neck as he walked around to face you, thumb brushing over the soft velvet, sending a slight shiver down your spine, and a heat pooling in your stomach.   “Better?” “Much,” you nodded and released a breath it felt like you’d been holding all day. “Good,” He said, kissing the top of your head.  

Roger picked up his drink before seating himself on the couch, legs stretched out so his feet rested on the coffee table.   “Come here kitten,” he tapped the seat next to him and you eagerly crawled over to join him, climbing up onto the couch. He took another sip of his drink as you got comfortable next to him, the couch much softer on your knees than the floor had been. “Does kitten want a drink?” He asked tapping his finger against the glass. You nodded, eyeing the brown liquid. Roger held the glass out to you, tilting it so the whisky ran towards the brim. You stuck your tongue into the glass, lapping at the drink. You licked your lips, savouring the rich and faintly smoky flavour.   “Have a proper sip, love,” Roger laughed, offering you the glass once more. You gladly took him up on the offer, enjoying the burn of the alcohol in your throat. He took the glass back, downing the last of the drink before standing up to get a refill. You repositioned yourself, letting your body slip to the side, your legs folded up under you as you leaned into the back of the couch, watching Roger walk around the room. When he returned, he had a fresh drink in one hand, the ashtray and a pack of smokes in the other, and a magazine rolled up under his arm. He sat back down, feet flying straight back to the coffee table as he sat his items on the arm of the chair. “Does kitten wanna cuddle up here?” he asked, patting his thigh. You nodded and shuffled closer.

Lying, curled up on your side, with your head in Roger’s lap, you finally felt like you could put your day behind you. You watched Roger’s foot bounce along in time with the music, his fingers running through the hair around your scalp over and over, and purred at the sensation. Your breath was steady and deep as you relaxed into him. The occasional plume of smoke spreading slowly through the room indicated Roger had lit another cigarette and you could hear the pages of the magazine turning as you lay there, losing track of time. Every time you moved or swallowed you became aware of the choker, your collar, and felt a rush of gratitude and love in your chest.   “Rog?” You said softly from his lap. “What is it kitten? You okay?” “I love you,” “I love you too,” You relaxed into him again, settling back into your comfortable silence. Your mind remained on Roger as you stared out across the room, suddenly very aware of where your head was positioned. The heat you’d felt as he’d fastened your collar sparked to life and you bit your lip.

You shifted slightly, snuggling further into Roger’s lap, and felt him pause. After a moment his fingers resumed their movements on your head. You waited a little before doing it again. Once more Roger stilled. From your position on his lap you could feel him getting harder every time you moved. Your own desire was growing as you lay there, pressed into his lap. “What ya reading, Rog?”   He cleared his throat before he answered, "A magazine.” “What’s it about?” “Cars and stuff,” You rolled onto your back, knees in the air and feet flat on the couch, and looked up at him, “That what’s got you so excited?” “You noticed that, did you kitten?” “Kind of hard not to,”   “HA HA,” he said poking his tongue out at you, “just ignore it kitten, put your head here instead.” He tapped his stomach. You continued to look up at Roger, pouting slightly. “Y’know I’m not expecting anything like that. Tonight is all about making you feel happy and loved.” He smiled softly at you, playing with a strand of your hair. “I think sucking your dick would make me happy though,” you said playfully. “Well, can’t argue with that can I kitten?” Roger laughed as he leaned down, bringing his mouth to yours. He still held the strand of hair he’d been playing with, tugging on it slightly, as his other hand roamed up your leg. He pushed your knees apart as his hand moved steadily higher, slipping underneath the hem of your night gown and tickling your inner thigh. Small noises fell from your mouth to be swallowed by his as his fingers traced over your damp underwear. “My kitten’s feeling frisky, is she?” he asked as he toyed with the leg of your underpants. “Y’know that joke gets less funny every time you say it,” You jerked slightly as he pinched your bum, tutting at your response. “That was very cheeky, kitten.” “Sorry Roger,”  His fingers found their place over your underwear again, running up and down teasingly. “Who’s in control kitten?” “You are,” “Are you gonna be a good kitten and do what I say? Or are you gonna be cheeky?” He pinched your bum a second time. “A good kitten, I’ll be good,” you whimpered as he pushed your undies to the side and ran two fingers slowly up your slit, quickly becoming coated in your wetness.   “Good girl.” He removed his fingers from you, pushing them into your open mouth instead. He let you suck on them for a moment before he continued speaking, “Now I believe you said something about sucking me off. Best get started kitten.”

You rolled onto your hands and knees, as Roger moved to stub out his cigarette. You let your chest and arms drop to the couch, your bum pressing high into the air. You stayed like that for a moment, relishing the stretch in your back, until Roger’s voice interrupted you. “As cute as you look right now, I thought I gave you an instruction.” You raised yourself out of the stretch and positioned your head over his lap. His feet had dropped to the floor and his legs were spread slightly. Leaning down you began trailing kisses over the visible bulge in his pants, running your lips and tongue softly over his jeans. Roger laced his fingers into your hair and tugged, a clear message for you to get a move on. You took the hint, undoing his fly and tugging his jeans down until his hard cock sprang free. Looking up, you flashed him a quick smile before you took his tip into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his head, delighted by the soft groan he made in response. Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock you withdrew your mouth to summon as much spit as you could muster. You let it fall from your lips in a long string before lowering yourself back down, taking more of him this time. You bobbed up and down, his tip hitting the roof of your mouth over and over, as you stroked and squeezed his base. You hand and mouth worked in tandem, picking up speed as Roger grunted above you. You were completely focused on drawing more noises from him, loving being able to please him like this. He had one hand tangled in your hair, tugging it every time you dragged your tongue along his length or paused to lick around his sensitive tip, his other hand was roaming over you, running up and down the back of your legs, occasionally squeezing your bum. “Fuck, kitten, you’re so-o good at this,” He gasped out as you hollowed your cheeks, “Th-that pretty little mouth was made to suck cock.” You moaned around him as spanked you suddenly, only encouraging him to do it again. “Oh, kitten – fuck – kitten likes that,” he growled as he continued to spank you. You sunk down, taking him further, pushing back into his hand, “you gonna be good and swallow for me?” You bobbed up and down faster, pulling more groans and grunts from Roger as his grip on your hair and thigh got tighter. “So eager for my cum, aren’t you kitten,” you moaned again, pulling back to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. That was enough to send him over the edge, filling your mouth with his sticky cum. You swallowed and licked your lips before licking Roger’s cock clean. When you were sure you’d gotten every last drop you leaned back, resting your bum, now stinging slightly, on your heels again.  

Roger had his eyes closed, leaning his head on the back of the couch, as his breathing returned to normal. You leaned your head next to his, watching him come down. He slowly blinked his eyes open, immediately meeting yours. “Fuck,” he breathed out softly and you giggled, “no, really. Fuck. You are ridiculously good at that.” He reached out for you, pulling you over his lap, one knee on either side of his legs. You melted at his praise, leaning into his shoulder and beaming. His hand once more found its way to your thigh, slipping under your night gown again and drifting steadily higher. “Well what d’ya know,” he said as his fingers slipped into your underwear again, “kitten likes sucking dick and being spanked. Makes her all wet.” He teased your entrance, pushing one finger in and drawing it out again slowly making you whine into his shoulder. “What d’ya want kitten?” “I want you to make me cum, please,” You whined as he continued to slowly work his finger in and out of you. “I’ll make you cum, but you wait till I say you can. Is that clear, kitten?” “Y-yes,” you moaned as he pushed a second finger into you, his thumb making small circles on your clit, building your desire. It didn’t take long before you were a desperate mess, dripping as he continued to finger you slowly, making you whine and moan with every movement. He added a third finger before he began to speed up his thusts, his thumb still rubbing your clit. “Please,” you whined as his fingers pumped into you. “Not yet kitten.” You bit down on his shoulder as his other hand laid another slap on your bum, making you jolt so his fingers hit you at a slightly different angle.   “Please, Roger please,” your eyes were screwed shut, tears leaking from them. “You’re not in control here, kitten, so stop begging. You cum when I say so.” You wailed into his shoulder as he continued to torment you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, but you were determined to obey, doing everything you could to hold off your orgasm. Finally, you were rewarded.” “Alright, kitten, I’m gonna count down from five and when I get to zero you can cum okay?” You nodded, incapable of speaking for fear of falling apart. “Five.”   His thumb rubbed your clit faster and your legs began to tremble. “Four.”   You grabbed onto his shirt, balling it up in your fist. “Three.”   Fresh tears ran down your cheeks at the effort to hold off just a little longer. “Two.”   Your breath was coming in short gasps. “One.”   You clenched around his fingers, barely holding on. “Zero, cum for me kitten.”   You screamed into his shoulder as you were finally allowed to reached your peak, legs shaking as he continued pumping his fingers into you.   “Good girl, doing so well kitten,” Roger’s voice sounded far away as you rode out your orgasm for what felt like hours, twitching as you became over sensitive.

Roger wrapped his arms around you as you collapsed into him, whispering praise in between pressing kisses to your temple and forehead. You shook slightly as he held you, breathing hard. “Fuck,” you said as you blinked open your eyes. Roger chuckled against your hair. “No, really. Fuck.” Your hands shook slightly as you stopped clutching Roger’s shirt, pushing yourself up so you could slip off his lap. “Where do you think you’re going, kitten?” He grabbed your waist, holding you on his lap. One hand reached up to brush your damp hair behind your ear, “Pretty sure I’m still in control, so you’re going to stay here and cuddle for a while. Gotta make sure my girl feels happy and loved.” “I do, Rog,” you sighed contentedly, falling back against his chest and closing your eyes, “I really, truly do.”  

[electricbluebutterflies]

control

“Want isn’t the problem”

Post-s2-grayspace Kabby smut with feelings, aka I haven’t written them since certain things happened and I still have a LOT of feelings. Blame @to-hell-with-oblivion for where this ended up. Also on ao3.

He's being too nice and it's a damn problem.

Abby Griffin likes routines. Even in light of the past few months, even with so much changed around her, she has tried her hardest to maintain them. Unfortunately, it turns out quite a few of her routines rely on a particular someone else's tendency to be a complete asshole at all possible times, and lately, well…

Lately, Marcus has skipped right past the "basic human decency" stage that was once her wildest hope for him and instead started going out of his way for her. For a week or so, she let it go. Trauma makes people do strange things, and the Bad Thing was certainly within that range for both of them. But then she was able to move comfortably on her own and he was still gentle, and for the past few weeks since then their dynamic has been off.

By unspoken decision, they're co-leaders as things attempt to settle down. In theory, it's no different from the routine they had for years up in the sky. Except it is, because there's no sparring. No passive-aggressive death threats, no unsaid fuck-yous, none of the sharp details that made their dynamic the only thing keeping her sane that last year in particular when it became the only real thing she had. Can she admit that, now that they're changing? Is she allowed to say that he became her release valve, that she sought him out a few times because yelling at him about things that probably didn't matter in the grand scheme of things was a reminder that she was somehow still alive?

She doesn't know. She's not sure how much she cares.

What she is sure of is that where they are now is inexplicably different in ways that cannot be blamed on their respective recent injuries. That may have been how this workspace thing happened - neither of them could move well for two weeks after the Bad Thing, hers was objectively worse but he'd walked miles both ways on a bad leg - but they still drift together without that  concern. It makes sense, as they redefine systems, to be in the same place for all the tiny but necessary decisions that land on their shoulders.

The downside of this is, well, they're together. A lot. Which means she has to look at him and watch the slow changes of giving-up have their way, and she is appreciative of this physical transformation, and…

"You got that?"

Her big project for the day, apparently, is figuring out where to put a nice chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere this morning. Like most of their generation, Abby's aesthetic preferences begin and end with "does it work", but apparently working a new piece of furniture into the layout of a small enclosed space requires moving literally everything else in the room. Including a table that is perfectly within her abilities to maneuver, even with the piles of papers currently upon it.

She could, in theory, accept that this would all be a hell of a lot easier if Marcus helped her. She's not actually sure how long he's been standing there watching her efforts, and… it's weird, this asking for permission. Six months ago, had they somehow ended up in this sort of a situation, he would've stepped right in and arranged everything to his own preferences and not even spoken to her until it was all over with.

Is it wrong that she misses that side of him? Is it wrong if she wonders how long this current gentleness will last?

She could accept his help. Or she could push and see if she can find his limits. She decides she likes option two a lot better.

"Yeah," she mutters, almost growling. "I've got this."

And sure enough, with appropriate physical effort that she is more than capable of thank you very much, Abby shifts the position of the table so it's a little more in the center of the space. The goal, she's decided, is to eventually get this not-quite-armchair into that newly vacant corner. But for that to work, she has to move the couch. Dammit.

Frankly, Abby is not sure how someone else got that couch through that door during the few days she was immobile and catching up on two decades of bad sleep. She's assuming that's when it happened, because if she'd been lucid and present she would remember something that ridiculous. It got nested in that corner over there, and she's not inclined to move it, except… that would be the easiest way to make all of her other plans work. Temporarily move couch, place chair, put couch back where it started.

Ah. Yes. Maneuvering something of questionable structural integrity, which is big enough that she's taken a few naps on the damn thing. Twice. Yeah.

Screw it. Time to see how well Marcus can handle her in full fire.

She turns her head and yep, he's still standing by the doorway with that obnoxious amused look on his face like this is the best thing he's see all week - and it probably is for reasons that have nothing to do with her shirts riding up - and she can't deal with this man right now. He is too much, and she's gonna tear all of that down and remind herself that she used to get wet thinking about his hypothetical death.

And shit, now she's thinking about that. No, bad, do not want.

"Now you can help," she hisses, making sharp eye contact. "But if you try anything…"

"What are you implying?" he counters, taking a place at the more accessible end of the couch. This, she gets. She's quite a bit smaller, slightly more capable of slipping into a small space between couch and wall and lamp.

It hits her, as she does so, that there are a lot of things that could happen with this kind of energy and some of those could be much more fun than others. But she can't fixate on that. She won't. She can't.

"You've let me rearrange every goddamn thing in this space without so much as a 'leave those papers there'," she replies. "I know you. What do you want?"

"Maybe my ability to do my job doesn't rely on the specific placement of objects within our space. You didn't take anything out. The rest is detail."

Abby rolls her eyes. "I have known you since we were children, Kane. You are obsessed with detail."

"People change."

"You never have."

"Can we just move the damn couch where you want it?"

"Take four steps back. There. Yes."

The weight is imbalanced, she sees it as they move together. He's stronger than her, she knows that, but he's doing more than he has to because that's just what he does. Because god forbid she ever be capable of anything, god forbid he let her be all that she is, god forbid-

"Alright. Now you can try to pick a fight."

Yeah. There's a breaking point in there somewhere, and she's gonna find it if it's the last thing she does. They've known each other way too long for her to believe this is real.

"Or you could just tell me what you're trying to get out of me," she counters, hand on her hip and perfect do-what-I-want face that has gotten results out of everyone else she has ever tried it on. Despite the rest of her look, Abby has learned how to be absolutely terrifying when she needs to be, and it works. Except on him. Never on him. Dammit.

"Does everything I do have to have an ulterior motivation?"

"I know you too well. Has there ever not been?"

"Maybe I just want to help you."

"There are multiple words in that sentence I'm not sure you even know."

"How are you the only person who doesn't believe I'm changing?"

"Because I'm the only person left alive who knows you're not capable of it."

This, she is well aware, is a conscious and intentional lie. For years on end, she hoped for this kind of transformation. There was a long stretch of time when she tried so hard to see some kind of light in him, this man who seemed to exist for no other purpose than to challenge and undo her. Even at their worst, she had hope for him. But now that she's gotten what she wanted, it's different. A reality she never prepared for and refuses to trust. Because she knows him, and she knows what darkness he's capable of, and she knows-

"You made this happen," he breathes, and this may be that breaking point and oh how she did not expect it like this. "I almost lost you, and I… I cannot let that happen. I need to be better so I can keep you safe."

A different woman would accept the awkward confession, maybe kiss him or something, feel all warm and sweet about it. Abby is still burning, and she's not ready to sheath her claws just yet.

"You tried to fucking kill me," she hisses. "You would've tried again down here, and maybe even done it, but you needed me too much so you did the closest thing and had me electrocuted while you watched and you didn't even flinch. You do not get to say you love me."

Marcus takes a few steps closer - clearly the death wish she's started seeing in him isn't going anywhere. He's close enough she could hit him if she were so inclined, and she's halfway tempted, and she wants, and-

"I know. I don't expect… this is because of you. Not for you, if you don't want it."

There is pain in his eyes, spreading across his body, and here is that moment of regret that she's always dreamed of. They haven't really talked about certain events before, always brushed past and moved onto the next crisis because neither of them knows how to be vulnerable with another human being, but here they are two feet apart in a small room behind a closed and probably locked door and here they are and-

"Want isn't the problem," she mutters, and then she kisses him.

She's not sure what she's doing, in that half-second she tastes his shock. This here, all of it is an experience Abby never prepared for. Only the second person she's ever kissed, and she loved the last one for twenty years and meant for a lot longer before tragic fate had its way. She has never thought of casual encounters for herself - never judged those who did, but kept her own preferences on the subject. She knows, in that half-second, that there is no coming back from what she's doing right now.

Then it sinks in, and he moves, and she is reminded of why they have been like magnets for so long.

Marcus has never done anything halfway, and apparently this applies to physical involvement as well. He kisses hard, biting her lip as his hands tangle up in her hair, and the difference in size between them feels like nothing at all. She'll hurt from this, they both will, she does not care.

"Tell me if I go too far," he breathes against her lips when they break for air.

"I don't think you ever could," she counters.

"Still. As you said. I've hurt you before."

"Don't leave bruises anywhere my clothes don't cover. Otherwise…"

She likes kissing him, she decides as they continue. She likes running her tongue over his skin, the feeling of his scruff against her, the sharp contrast against her past experience. (She cannot fault herself for this comparison. Only her second lover, or he will be before this is over, and she will allow herself this innocence.) He has become new and made whole this past month. Perhaps it's her turn.

"May I?" he asks, pausing with hands at the hem of her shirts.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

She raises her arms to make the removal easier, not sure what she expects him to do once the fabric falls to the floor. Not sure, but surprised when his fingers trace patterns on her hips and slowly climb. An exploration, mapping her, learning details she herself is too familiar with to note. Hesitant on the small of her back, hesitant as he ghosts over the scars he helped inflict. A month and a half after the incident, they don't hurt anymore, but they are still visible and stubborn and-

"You're strong," he breathes, a certain reverence as he kisses her forehead.

"You knew that long before you hurt me."

He nods and continues, working his way up her body until he reaches the clasp of her bra. No permission asked as he undoes the clasp and slips it off her shoulders, no hesitation as he presses his lips to the hollow between her breasts and she flinches because scruff against sensitive skin is new and foreign. Yet not unwanted, she thinks as he traces patterns and switches between hands and mouth without warning. Were he to rest his head between her legs for a while, she could accept it. But she doubts they'll go there today. Exploration and examination is a safe enough set of acts; thorough ravishing is more dangerous, to be saved for a quieter day and a mattress.

"Your turn," she murmurs after a while, pushing him back and slipping her hands up his shirt.

She's seen more of his skin over the years, roles as they were, and little of this is new to her. He has less scars than she does; she fears, as she traces the badly healed line on his forearm from a day he won't talk about, that this will soon change. Someday, and she hopes she gets to see it, he will be a map of deaths that didn't stick. For now, though, he is relatively untainted and completely still before her, allowing her hands to wander. Allowing her to step closer for a moment and rest her head on her shoulder, as she did a month ago when all she could fixate on was her pain and the person who caught her, as she did several days before that beneath a destroyed building. Different, skin-on-skin, but the same.

He could anchor her, if she let him. She wants to see what that could look like.

She undoes his pants because she can, because her hands are on his hips and she wants him. There's some maneuvering to be done, kicking off boots and creative balance, and then he is exposed and still not fighting her. Not lifting her up and fucking her against the wall, not testing her limits. Allowing her fire to have its way.

"You can…" she starts before realizing she doesn't know what permission she wants to give him.

"You want control, Abby," he murmurs. "You need control."

Next time, if there is a next time, will be different. Next time, she suspects, she will learn what their sparring is like without barriers. But here and now, she will take this proof of his changes. Her hands start on his inner thighs, working up. No scars to be found here either, only skin that responds so well to her cautious touch. He wants her. He is willing to let her choose how that happens. She is adrift. She could spiral. She could-

"You have control," he says again as he steadies her. How long has it been since another person has held her? How long since she's been pulled against someone's chest and told that she will be alright? Longer than she wants to admit, and-

"I never knew you could stand that still," she laughs.

"You're good motivation."

"Who the fuck are you and what did you do with my lifelong nemesis." She rolls her eyes, kisses his neck, breathes. Maybe fire isn't all they are. Maybe…

"I might be in shock."

"Me too."

And there's a warmth to it, as she takes a half-step back and sheds her own pants because she doesn't trust him not to damage her best pair of underwear. There's a warmth in how he looks at her, and it is not the first time either. Weeks ago now, when they were the first actual adults of their people to see sunlight in a hundred years. She should've seen it then, this transformation that is in full force now. But at least she has now, accepting the reality of their changes as she braces for a lifelong inevitability.

It's real. All of this is real. And she's never wanted anything more.

His hands put just a little too much pressure on her hips as he twirls her around and half-pushes her onto the couch. Out of their options, that's the obvious best spot for this - not ideal, god no, but it'll do. He kisses her again to be thorough, kisses her as she maneuvers her body for best access, kisses her as he positions himself, and then he drops.

This is her moment of shock, that heartbeat as they collide. Her body responding, circumstances enough to prepare her, overwhelmed as they become one. How often she wondered about this, and reality is so different and so much more beautiful.

"I don't-"

"You talk too much," she mutters, kissing him to shut him up.

She could love him, maybe. Given time to watch what else this transformation brings, she could get attached so easily. Marcus has always struck her as someone with a lot of raw potential, more than most people are given, and perhaps this here is the wrong time to realize he's starting to do something with it but oh, he is and fucking her on this godawful couch is likely just the start of what he will become.

Wherever that leads, whatever choices he makes, she will stand by his side. She makes that decision with eyes closed, pressure building and then breaking, the sweet giving-up of being loved. She is so, so good at being the loyal woman. She will make those choices again, and this time she will stay enough. There is no other fate.

He finishes and collapses above her, shifting weight as best he can but still more skin-on-skin than she wants, and they stay there and recover for a few moments.

"So that happened," she breathes.

"It doesn't have to change anything, Abby. You can go back to hating me once you get dressed."

"What if I don't want to hate you?"

He's quiet for a few heartbeats, quiet in a different way as he shifts off of her and sits down beside her.

"That would be a bigger surprise than anything else I've seen down here," he finally says. "And a better one."

"I'm not saying… I don't know how to move forward with another person, but… I believe you now."

"I can accept that."

She gets to her feet and starts getting dressed, unsurprised when he is right there for her to lean on as she needs. Their dynamic will change again after this, but perhaps they were headed that way all along. Now sooner than planned, but still just as good.

"So what's the next part of this redecorating scheme?" he asks once they're both decent again.

"I am not decorating," she laughs. "Just moving furniture. There's a difference."

"If you say so."

"If you tried that line at any other time…" she sighs. "Alright. So. Chair goes in empty space, couch goes back where it was, we do not talk about what just happened until I have time to process that it did. Good?"

"So this means I can't kiss you in front of everyone we know?"

"Not if you like being alive."

He takes the hint, shuts up, and moves the damn chair without further stupid questions.

He's gotten nice lately, and it is the exact opposite of a problem.

[erintoknow]

Jamais Vu: fire, never consuming

fallen hero: rebirth fanfic, chargestep / puppet/ortega ~1.3k words feat.: kissing

another adaptation of an in-canon scene to finish this series out. so, apologies to malin again. i just love the original sequence of events too much to not resist mangling it apparently... .-.

previously: follow that thread

––––––

     It’s not quiet.

     It’s the low rumble of a hospital in the middle of fielding a crisis. The wooden door can only muffle so much. It’s quite feel real, knowing that you caused this. No suit to insulate you now, no puppet to keep the world at remove. Just you wearing some random garbage clothes, and the woman you put in a hospital bed staring up at you. How many other people did you put in beds like this?

     Why is this bed the only one you care about?

     “I haven’t even said thank you yet.”

     “For what?”

     “For coming here. There’s no reason for you to.”

     “What?” You look at her, wide-eyed. Guilty. But she can’t know that. You jab Ortega in the arm. “I do care about you– you idiot.”

     “Ow! Remember that I’m hospitalized?”

     “Just– just look at you…” You push up from the seat, nervous energy making your hands shake. You grab the handle of the cart holding the machine Ortega’s hooked up to, suddenly not confident in your ability to walk.

     You need to let go of this, let go of her. This isn’t going to stop happening. You’re burning your past tonight, and that past includes Julia.

     “Hey,” Ortega whispers, you don’t look at her. “Are you all right? I’m not dead– are you…?”

     “I am not crying!” You raise your voice, willing it to be a factual statement. Rub your eyes with one hand, blinking furiously. You slump back down in your chair. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at what you did. “You’re an idiot.” You choke out. “You’re an idiot with no sense, and I don’t even have any idea why I should ever care what happens to you, and yet here I am and– and–“ You pound your first into your lap, dig your nails into the fabric of your pants.

     “And I’m grateful you are. I just didn’t…” Ortega’s voice is quiet, bordering on awe.

     You don’t look. Can’t look. You want to die. You want her to reach out from that bed and pump you full of lightning until you’re a pile of ash on the floor, grab you by the neck and throw you through the window.

     Something.

     Anything.

    Just touch you, please.

     Your hand digging into your leg has shifted into tracing patterns, you focus on that instead. Something familiar. Damn, why are you so warm? You wish they’d pump the A/C up, aren’t hospitals supposed to be freezing?

     “I don’t– I don’t know what I’m– what I’m feeling–“ You blurt out. Try. Try to stop shaking. Get a grip, chickadee. “This isn’t the right time, and–“

     “Okay, okay. I get it. I think.”

     You force yourself to look up at her. What is that expression on her face? Is she dazed from the fight? Your heart breaks again seeing the stitches holding her lip together. You let out a long, shaking breath, rub your eyes again. Try to smile, it feels hollow. “I’m glad one us does. I don’t get anything anymore.”

     “We’ll… talk about this later?” She looks at you, searching. Lost? You can only guess. Can only ever guess. “When things are less messed up?”

Later, but not by nearly enough…

     Ortega reaches out to the elevator pad and pushes the STOP button. The two of you jostle as it comes to a sudden halt.

     You swallow a lump in your throat, “What are you doing…?”

     “Getting us some time to talk. There’s something I need to find out.”

     You look away from her, shrink back against the wall opposite from Ortega. “Then… talk.”

     “I just… wanted to say thank you, I suppose.” From the corner of your eye you can see Ortega is also avoiding looking directly at you. “I didn’t expect this.”

     You relax a little. “Nobody ever expects to be beaten up,” you whisper. Ortega’s just… being thankful.

     You can handle that.

     “No, I meant you being here.” You manage to look up just in time to see her staring at you, full-focused.

     Oh.

     You can’t handle that.

     “We– We’ve been over this.” You protest.

     Don’t think about what’s happening. Don’t think about how she’s looking at you. Don’t think about how you just put her in a hospital bed. Don’t think about how you kissed her while wearing a woman’s skin.

     “This was a one-time thing,” you voice is low, barely even a whisper. “This… this isn’t my life anymore.” Why is is always so warm in these buildings?

     It’s not fair, frankly. You’re a villain now. You shouldn’t have to keep hiding what you want from everyone, including yourself. You absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about that moment in the Gala where Ortega wrapped her arms around Jane.

     Why are you jealous of her? She’s you.

     Isn’t she?

     Before you realize what you’re doing, you step forward, like Jane wanted to. It doesn’t feel real. Like you’re back in the middle of a life-or-death fight, where the seconds stretch out around you in slow motion. You can see yourself in the elevator mirror, grabbing Ortega by the shoulders. She’s staring at you, a look of dawning surprise.

     She’s taller than you, but not by much, you just have to tilt your head up, you’re not in heels this time so you have to lift up ever-so-slightly, and you can press your lips against hers. Her soft skin is intercut with raw stitching and scabbing blood. Kissing her is strange.

     You’ve never done this before–

     –except that yes you have literally just done this.

     Sort of.

     As a– as a different woman.

     That kiss had been intense, Ortega took the lead, with her arms wrapping around Jane, pulling her close. Jane reaching back, tossing her purse to the ground so she could run her hands through Ortega’s hair, draw circles on her back.

     Kissing Ortega now, as Ariadne Becker, it’s the same face Jane touched alright. But marred now, by your own handiwork. You aren’t Jane. That’s inescapable. The two of you might seem alike at a passing glance, similar hair, similar eye color. But it can’t hold up under close inspection like this. You have thinner, extremely chapped lips, for one, you haven’t bothered to comb your hair in weeks – a stray strand gets stuck between you two as you kiss – for another. Your nose sticks out more so you have to tilt your head to maneuver around Ortega’s. Jane is real in ways you never can be. Everything’s just off enough to emphasize the alien inside the familiarity.

     Ortega doesn’t quite kiss you back this time around; passively accepting your touch with a stunned, breathy awe.

      Too soon you have to pull back. There’s a taste of copper lingering on your tongue. Your heart is pounding, your adrenaline crash being flushed away with a fresh shot.

     “I thought I was…” Ortega licks her lips, expression unreadable, “…imagining things.”

     You let go of her shoulders, feeling a strange mix of glowing calm contrasting against your heart trying to escape your ribcage. You can feel a smile threatening to escape. “Should... Should I worry about you having a concussion too?”

     “Very funny.”

     “It’s…” You lick your lips, mouth suddenly dry. “Ah– call it trying– trying out a missed opportunity.”

     You actually…

     You did, not Jane.

     You touched someone.

     Willingly. Without prompting.

     Moreover, you touched her.

     And you don’t want to throw up.

     “It’s not that I’m complaining but…” Ortega looks completely lost at sea. “I mean, I…”

     You can feel your brief calm dissolving already. You’re trapped in a box with no outlet other than Ortega. You grab your arms, hugging yourself to try and keep from shaking again. You feel warm, hot like a fire, and Ortega looks an awful lot like tinder right now.

     “Ari… what does this mean?”

     “We’ll…” You take a breath. “We’ll talk about it later.” You reach out and slam a button on the panel, get the elevator moving again.

     Ortega touches her lips, “Later? What are you talking about? Why not now?”

     You don’t respond. You don’t have an answer that even to you doesn't sound queen supreme of fucked up. You don’t meet Ortega’s gaze as the increasingly awkward seconds drag by until the elevator chimes and the door slides open. “Because this is my stop.” 

[starwroughtchild]

Her annoyance was palpable.

Snow crowned the black of her hair as his twin stared at him with gently pursed lips and the smallest of scowls but he wasn’t fooled. The rush of affection and relief that had come over her when she’d seen him not but minutes past was gone now and that scowl was no more than the cloud that promised a storm. Unlike himself Heliaux had never mastered the art of the mask, the passive gaze and the stillness of emotions. She was a sun creature, a woman of fire and heat and all things passionate. She showed how she felt and when she felt it and, watching her, Silene couldn’t help but admire and envy such a freedom now as he had countless times before. “Are you going to say anything?”

“You grew a beard.”

“Yes.”

“And cut your hair.”

“Apparently.”

“You actually look like a man now.” There was concern behind the scorching tone of her voice but it did little to lessen the burn. The letter that had reached her the day before himself was crushed as her hand curled into a fist around it.

“Heliaux--”

“Three. Years. Three years! You couldn’t have, oh, I don’t know- written before now? Visited. Come by Aetheryte, sent a raven, magicked me a Gods damned blood note to tell me you were alright?!”

He withheld a sigh and leaned back against the stone banister behind him. Honestly it was best to let her get it all out. Her concerns and her angers were valid and really there was no talking to her when the sun in her flared like this. “I know.”

“Yes, you know. You know everything, don’t you Silene. Well did you know how worried I was about you? Did you know no one had any idea if you were still alive? Did you KNOW I’ve been wearing mourning black for TWO YEARS?!” 

Shame was not a strong enough word. “...no.”

“I’m SHOCKED. REALLY.”

“Heliaux-”

“Who would have thought.”

“Heliaux-”

“NO! You let me rage, Silene Charbonneau! Gods dammit I deserve it!” He couldn’t argue with that. “Our mother..my husband, -your- brother, my -kids!-. My kids, Silene! When they asked me ‘what happened to Uncle Silene’ I couldn’t tell them. ‘Oh don’t worry Luna I’m sure Uncle Silene hasn’t been eaten by a dragon or died in a DITCH! “

“I wasn’t -dead-, Heliaux.”

“I didn’t know that!” 

“And I did come back once or twice! On business.”

“Oh, BUSINESS! Thanks for dropping in while you were here. Anything! I would have accepted anything to have seen you again even if it meant visiting our father!”

“I would never have asked you to do that.”

“But you never asked me anything! Never told me anything!”

"..what do you want to know.”

“The truth! Do you really think writing me a letter is going to cut it?” She raised the hand curled around the crushed yellow parchment. “I know you! I know there’s more to the past three years than ‘I was busy’. I’m your sister, Silene! I’m your twin! I know you better than anyone! I’VE WORN BLACK FOR YOU FOR TWO YEARS!”

“You hate black.”

“I HATE BLACK!”

She wasn’t and had never been the type of woman to cry easily, and yet the gold of her eyes was too bright, too wet and full of anger to dismiss the possibility of tears. She waited as he considered what to share with her and what to hold back, what truths to admit and lies to create to keep her safe. “...dragons.” The word came from him before he could stop and consider the consequences. 

“....do I get any CONTEXT or-”

“I was with...the dragons. In Dravania.”

“...Were you -trying- to get burned as a heretic?!”

“You ASKED!” He looked nervously around the Crozier and, save for the heads of two Hyur that had turned to look at his outburst, had not drawn any more attention. “After the War ended I...I left. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t want to tell anyone because-”

“Because if you had..” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone that lived in Ishgard knew the power of the Fury, the zealotry of the Inquisitors and the location of the Witch Drop. “But...why? The war was over!”

“The war was over in Ishgard... but not with me.”

“Fury save me from your poetic martyred soul, Silene.”

“LISTEN!” The bite in his voice was enough to draw her full and surprised attention to him at last. Silene never raised his voice. Never. “I know what Ser Aymeric and the Warrior of Light told us, but if you know me like you claim you know me you’d know I wasn’t satisfied with the answers! There were too many unanswered questions left, too many truths unsaid. A war that had been lasting for a thousand  years, suddenly over in a span of weeks? Dragons that were once our enemies suddenly appearing in the city to save lives instead of taking them? Why? How? Did they expect everyone to stay content and take the word of three people? So I left! I left to find out for myself the how and why!”

Her scowl was deeper now, her brows knit. Her silence was her acquiescence to the plea she could hear in his voice as he talked. Arms crossed she leaned back against the stone banister behind her, golden eyes fixed expectantly on her twin.

“I found my answers. Too many of them! Everything we were taught..everything we’ve ever known about the Dragonsong war was a lie. Who started it and why, about the Dravanian Horde and Shiva and....and everything! I’ve been there, Heliaux. Anyx Trine. I’ve seen the stones myself, I’ve learned the history from dragon song with my own ears and gazed upon the old Ishgardian colonies in the dragon lands with my own eyes. Sohm Ahl. Shor Kai. Zenith..I’ve been there. I’ve seen them. A thousand years of truth and lies written in stone and the dragons, Heliaux...I’ve talked to them. Yes!” He could understand the shocked expression of her face even if she looked at him like she would a rambling madman. “Did you know when they talk...they sing? And it’s beautiful.”

He turned from her and began to pace in low and slow strides, his eyes downcast to the ground and his hands gesturing at thin air. He was full of a nervous, excited yet angry energy she rarely ever saw in her usually still and serene sibling.

“I couldn’t come back and tell you this. Sending you a letter? Impossible. Even standing here now years later it is dangerous for me to be telling you this. I wanted to tell you, I did, but..” He looked at her, read her as she was surely reading him: in the stiffness of her body, the tightness of her arms, the bright intensity of her stare. She had wanted to truth. He would give it to her. “I didn’t want to share it with anyone. Not mother. Not Jacques. Not you. Even if I had died I would have done so on my own terms, from my own mistakes and inexperience. I wasn’t under anyones shadow, anyones thrall but my own. And you...you don’t know. You can’t possibly know..how that feels for me. You had as much trauma from our father as anyone but I...I was my fathers creature. You got out. You got out and...and I was still trapped.”

It was her turn to turn her gaze from him, her turn for her cheeks to darken in shame. Words unsaid, a conversation unspoken nevertheless moved between them and settled down with a heavy weight.

He moved to her side then, his hand gently enclosing one of hers that was just as pale. “I needed my own life, Heliaux. I needed to get out. To make mistakes. To eat spicy foods and sweat in a deserts heat. To wear something other than wool. To see things that were more than shadows and knives in the dark. I needed to meet people, to make real friends and develop real feelings. To be confused by those feelings. To walk in a forest with sunlight on my skin. To sleep under starlight. And I needed to have that, all of that without you, just as you had your family without me.”

There were very few people he allowed to touch him and two were far away from Ishgard. The Lady lit from sunlight was in the green shade of the forests in Gridania and Suna was in a sun baked Kugane with the troupe that was his family. The other was here and it was she that leaned against him, hand clenching his so tightly it hurt. “I will not apologize for getting out of that house..from our family. From that man.”

“I know.”

“And...I’m sorry for what he put you through both because of me and not. I would take it back if I could but Silene, you have always had a place in my family. You stayed away from me.” She looked at him, her expression fierce and unforgiving. “I’m your sister. I love you. I would kill for you. So I’ll be your support, mon frère, but you have to let me. You have to let me and others in...like you used to.”

He gazed at her a while, she who was so like him and yet not. Slowly he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead and a squeeze to her hand. "I missed you. Ma coeur du soleil.”

"Mon frère de lune. How long are you staying in Ishgard?”

"As long as you want me to.”

“Good. You owe me three years worth of a story.”

He followed her as she turned and made her way towards the steps leading into the Foundation. “That’s a long story.”

She turned to smile at him, lamplight playing on the same ash gray highlights in her hair that was in his own. “Probably, but I bet it’s a good one.”

--------------------------------------------

@varae-ver-you-are and @ladyrivienne for mentions

[selisekinsolving]

Deals and Deadlines

Jazimina, Sky, and Selise had been conversing for some time about their current dilemma when the chimes on the door sounded. The three looked up and were greeted by a view of a very smug and very blonde Cherysa.

“Chery?” Jazi gave her sister a confused look.

Cherysa opened her mouth to respond then caught sight of Sky and her expression fell.

“By all means...pull up a chair, make yourself comfortable.” Selise offered with a glare meant for the man that she was now sure was inhabiting Cherysa’s body.

Chery, now Fox, smiled. “No thank you. I’m more than happy to stand with my back to the door.”

Jazi gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing, but she stepped back to an area wide enough where she could draw her bow if needed.

“No hug for your sister?” Fox offered to Jazi. “I must say, it’s been a long time since anyone cooked me a meal as good as the one at your home.”

Jazi immediately shook her head, standing in an ‘at rest’ position. “I’m good.”

“And your husband...what an interesting fellow,” Fox continued to smile at Jazi for a moment before addressing the three of them. “I recommend none of you make a move if you’d like to see Cherysa again...even more so if you’d like to see her back in this body.”

Selise had moved her hand under cover of her desk to rest over top of her communicator. She shot Jazi a look at the mention of her husband before focusing on Fox. “Back in her own body? You’re putting that option on the table...what do you want?”

“I want a cure,” he replied. “I want to be able to use this magic to change bodies and stay in the host for more than a few weeks.”

Jazi’s stance tightening was the only indication she had heard Fox’s words. Her gaze flickered to Selise and Sky.

Sky took a small step forward, her hands open passively, clearly not about to cast a spell. “Look, if there was a cure, you’re smart, you would’ve found one already. Maybe you should come to understand that death happens.”

A look of disgust made its way onto Selise’s face, despite her best efforts. “She’s right. What makes you think a cure is possible? You’re talking about rapid cellular degradation. You’re asking for someone to stop death-”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m asking.” He cut her off, then turned to Sky. “Come now, you used to be after the same thing. Aren’t you at least curious if it could be done? Not should, but could. I’m not getting into moral bullshit with you all.”

Sky shook her head. “Not after that, Fox…”

“Where is Chery?” Jazi finally asked.

Fox simply regarded Jazi in silence, then looked to Selise. “Take my blood sample. Give me the notes you have on file from my case. If anyone of you knocks me out, I won’t give you anything.”

Selise had gone silent as they spoke, leaning back in her chair with a curious look in her eyes. “Hear me out a moment. Let’s say I’m curious enough to agree to research a cure as opposed to just handing over my notes and you trying to figure it out yourself. I’m willing to work with you, but not without some assurance that Chery is still alive and well. I want to see her, talk to her, know it’s her. A public place, full view of the guards. If either of us attacks the other or tries something hostile, the guards are sure to intervene. We’re both protected and we both get what we want.”

“A trade,” Fox offered.

“I suppose...though if you want all of my resources in the matter, then I want Cherysa back in her own body. Do that and I’m willing to work with you.”

Fox paused in thought a moment. “I won’t send her back in her own body, but I will send her back to you. Then you, her, and my old lover here can work on something more concrete in terms of a cure while I keep the body as collateral for a week.”

Selise scoffed. “What are you expecting in terms of results after a week? As Sky said, if a cure was that simple, you would’ve found it already. This leaves us no assurance that you won’t body hop anyway.”

“I am a man...well...woman of magic, not science and my time is limited due to the stress and strain of the hops. Progress and your notes is all I am going to ask for. Unless you think Cherysa would rather stay in her current body. I did pick one that would last a while…”

“Just so we’re clear, you’re going to accept any form of progress after a week in exchange for letting Cherysa get back to normal?” Selise didn’t seem convinced.

“Provided it’s real progress and you provide a new body for me to swap into afterwards. Not Sky and not Dunn, who is brilliant. You should all be ashamed, how are you not reading his works? Oh, and blonde if you can manage it.”

Selise’s patience was wearing dangerously thin and it was starting to show. She said nothing and looked to Jazi instead for some sort of opinion or approval. Afterall, it was her family they were talking about.

“Will she last a week?” Jazi’s question was directed at Selise and Sky. Not giving them a chance to answer though, she turned and gave Fox a steely look. “Take me to see her. No tricks from either side. I want to know she’s safe, alive, and herself, even if she’s not in her own body. I want to hear her say it’s okay to wait a week and then I’ll come back and they can get to work.”

“Alright. So lovely she has family…” he looked at Sky. “Is that what you think you’re building here? Do they know who you are?” The smirk he gave her was horrid. “Doc, draw a blood sample and you and Sky can get to work. As for you, big sis…” he set down the packages he had been carrying, took off the coat, and rolled up a sleeve. “Go wait at the inn nearby. She’ll come.”

Sky hadn’t responded nor moved from her spot, but her hand had become engulfed in fel flame.

Fox laughed at the display and held out his arm towards Selise. “Tick tock, you have a week and two days. You better stop your friend here. If she touches me with a hint of that magic, I’m gone for good.”

“Sit down.” Selise stated bluntly to Fox as she got to her feet. “It’s not worth it, Sky,” she added quietly as she passed and went into the back for her supplies.

It took Selise longer than normal to come back into the front room. Her sleeves were rolled up and she set down a small tray on her desk by Fox before pulling on a pair of gloves. She said nothing as she worked.

“Your hands are cold.” He smiled.

"You didn't seem to mind before." She stated and had the needle and vial in place within a minute. She kept her eyes on the level of the sample.

"Maybe I like it? Come now, Doctor, you can’t say that this research doesn’t at least interest you."

Selise glanced up briefly as she switched out a fresh vial. "And why did it interest you originally? Or did you simply need a solution once you realized your experiment was backfiring?"

"Well, in a way, this is all Sky’s fault. You see she was looking for a way to prolong her life.."

The doctor laughed and shook her head. It wasn't the first time she had heard such a pathetic excuse, but it did explain Sky's professions of guilt over their last encounter. "How convenient for you. And rather weak."

"How is that weak, for one researcher to inspire another! " he laughed a bit.

"I was referring to you implying that anyone besides yourself is responsible for the things you've chosen to do."

Fox stiffened at that.

Sky folded her arms across her chest. "Doc, how much longer to take the samples?"

"This should be fine for now." She secured the samples and removed the items from Chery's arm, placing a bandage over the area.

He stood and bowed. "Now, I am going to go and I want you all to stay put. If you do, I'll bring Chery to the inn. If I find out anyone has followed me, I'll hop bodies and skip out." He backed out to the doorway, picking up his packages along the way, before blowing a kiss, of all things, and then departing.

((Written with @skystoneseat and @jazi-stratford , edited for flow. @drahs @laivindur @cherysaamberstill @latildarommel))

[ryik-the-writer]

Rumbelle Fic: Lipstick (Chapter 7: The Breaching)

Rating: M (rating may change)

Something’s wrong with Gideon ~ Belle begins to question her husband's truthfulness. Meanwhile, another incident at school leads Gideon to make a decision.

a03

Geez it’s been forever since I’ve updated this. I’ve missed it *kisses fic*

Special thanks to @RoyaltyLaine who took a liking to my fic to the point of nominating it in the TEA awards back in January ^-^. It meant the world to me!

-,-,-,-,-

The day Gideon had revealed himself to his mother had been the happiest day of his life. For years he wanted to tell her, wanted to shop for clothes and talk about girl-related things with her.

Yet his father wouldn’t allow it.

Up until he was thirteen he kept his activities in one of the guestrooms, which he would be shooed from when Belle was on the way home, there was a strict rule never to dress up when Belle was in the house. It had pained Gideon to limit his entire being into a single room, but he did because his papa told him to. Then the single room turned into a single box when Belle decided to turn the room into an expanded library.

“It’ll be alright.” His father had promised as he hurriedly packed away Gideon’s makeup and clothes.

Yes, he let Gideon dress up when he wanted to, let him experiment with makeup colors and shoes. He would even bring him garments and accessories from the auctions and yard sales he used to stock his shop. He never shamed him for what he did, never told him what he was doing was wrong.

But he never let him tell his mother.

For years, it had been enough, the deep-seated secret between father and son.

But Gideon didn’t want to be his son anymore.

He didn’t even want to be Belle’s.

He wanted to be their daughter.

Yet the next morning he hesitated as he chose out an outfit. On the right side of his bed was a pair of fitted jeans and a freshly-ironed plaid shirt. On the left were a long brown skirt and a white suit top.

His fingers itched to take the skirt, yet his eyes never looked up from the jeans.

This all felt like a bizarre dream. He was ready to come out for the world to see, but he was hesitating to put on a damn skirt.  So long he wanted to come out, to be free of the confinements of his male-hood, and yesterday he had given himself the chance.

It was hardly the mass rejection he had received from his peers that was causing his hesitation. He had been expecting that, and would have been more shocked had they accepted him immediately. Even his parents’ reactions of finding him in the principal’s office in full-makeup had stung less than he thought it would.

Perhaps it was the way Neal had watched him all day, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. He hadn’t told his friend that he knew of his voyeurism when he visited him yesterday. The entire school had been watching him, and Neal’s gaze had been the kindest. It was really his reaction from when Gideon had showed him his box of feminine products that had him uncertain. It wasn’t scorn or even disgust. Just uncertainty and confusion, and a strange twinge of realization that had just then settled in.

Had Neal really never noticed that he was different? Had he not seen the way he looked at other women—with that sense of jealousy and need? At the lingerie shops or the women’s section of every store they’ve ventured into?

Had he ever noticed the side-ways glances he sent his way?

Gideon shook his head, not quite ready to delve into the attraction aspect of his transformation. He needed to deal with the physical and mental aspects first.

So skirt or jeans? Boy or girl? Happiness or numbness?

His finger grazed over the skirt, an old piece his father had bought at an estate sale and then worked on to match Gideon’s size. His father was always doing that; pushing his identity into a small space but appeasing him with little things. Clothing, makeup, jewelry. Things that would make him happy for a short time.

Gideon clutched the skirt, the fabric smooth and soft in his hand.

“There are people out there who will destroy you for being different! They’ll go after you, and they’ll go after your mother! You’ve put both you and her in danger!”

He released the skirt as it had burst into flame. His father’s word’s clung to the lining of his brain, spreading farther and deeper even months later. Gideon could handle the world hating him; he recognized a long time ago that disgust from society was part of the deal.

But towards his mother…sweet, beautiful, understanding Belle Gold who looked at him like he was her entire world, could he risk her safety? Could he decide between being who he was—and between his family’s health and happiness?

He looked down at the clothes again and his decision was finalized.

-,-,-,-

“Gideon, come on honey you’re going to be late!” Belle called upstairs as she slid back to the kitchen, her pantyhose feet nearly causing her to slip as she moved across the hardwood floor.

At the stove her husband was flipping fried eggs and placing them on toast; a quick and easy breakfast for a hectic morning.

After yesterday, the entire family needed more rest. So much so that the Gold’s had slept through their respective alarms. Luckily Belle didn’t have to open the library until 9, and likewise with Reid’s shop. Still, they had been up long after their usual bedtimes deciding on a course of action, on a plan to help their son, and they wanted to discuss their idea with him.

They were both quiet as they waited for him to descend down the stairs, unsure of who exactly would be meeting them for breakfast.

Belle was uncertain of all of this. Her son liked to dress up as a woman, that much was clear when he revealed himself to them earlier that summer. Yet there was something else to all this, something was taking root in their son. It wasn’t just a fetish or a curiosity like Belle had thought it was; it was turning into a lifestyle, a need for survival.

Belle glanced at her husband who was slicing an orange to go with their breakfast. Something was different about him too. She had felt it when she had held him in her arms last night. She felt it in the tenseness of his shoulders, and saw it in the way his eyes kept looking past hers. He knew something that he wasn’t letting her in on, and it both scared and infuriated her.

When she married Reid Gold, she knew he had a past with bits of filth thrown around. He told her about most of it, and a lot of it didn’t make her stomach hurt, but it was in his past, and she was more concerned with their present and future.

Their son was part of their present and future, and thus secrets were off-limits.

She was going to find out what he knew, even if she had to beg it out of their boy.

A round of footsteps echoed through the living room, and the moment Belle Gold had both anticipated and dreaded had arrived.

When Gideon entered the kitchen he found both his parents staring at him, their expressions mixed with relief and confusion.

Gideon was clothed in the blue jeans and plaid shirt. Gender-appropriate and constricting.

“Morning, mum.” Gideon greeted, moving stiffly past her to sit at the table, avoiding his father’s eyes.

Belle stared at her son, so clean-shaven and masculine, an unusual site after seeing him in bits of femininity that had taken over his features in the past few months.

“Morning…” Belle returned, her eyes lifting to search for her husband’s. They didn’t meet her’s, but instead stayed focused on their son’s lowered head as he chewed on his toast. It felt odd, being so out of sync with him. This whole thing with Gideon had thrown them off.

She had to clear her throat to gain his attention, and blinked back tears when she nodded and they set their discussion from the night before into motion.

“Gideon, sweetheart,” Belle began, earning just a flash of his light brown eyes before they lowered to his plate again. “Your father and I were talking, and we were curious if you might be interested in…talking to someone.”

Gideon paused, a twinge of fear and uncertainty running down his spine.

“Miss Mills gave us the information of a therapist she knew.” Gold provided. “We think talking to him might help you come to terms with all of this.”

Gideon’s jaw locked. “I have come to terms with this, father.” He growled. “I know who I am.”

“Really?” Gold fought, “Then why are you dressed like that.”

Gideon’s face turned a dark purple, his nails digging into the soft wood of the kitchen table.

“Because of you, you bastard!” he screamed, jumping up and grabbing his backpack before he ran out the front door.

“Gideon!” Belle screamed after him, her desperation spiraling.

“Let him be, Belle.” Her husband soothed. “We can talk more about it when he gets home.”

Belle nodded, sinking into her husband’s loving embrace. However, she didn’t let herself become too relaxed. She still had questions for him, still had gaps of information that needed to be filled.

“Reid,” Belle began softly, turning in his arms to hesitatingly meet his eyes. “Did you and Gideon talk about any of this before?”

She watched as his pupil’s dilated and his lip twitch, his thumbs rolling in small, tight circles on her shoulders.

“Before when, dear? This morning?”

“Before he told us about his change.” Belle breathed, watching him carefully. For his credit he kept his expression passive, but the grip on her shoulders shook, his fingers fidgeting.

“I’ve known about this as long as you have.” He answered, his tone solid, unwavering.

Belle stared at him for a long moment, her heart dropping.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to work on a few things before I head out.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“No, go ahead.” Belle said, keeping her tone chirpy and calm. “I’ll see you tonight.”

A moment of silence followed before he responded, and Belle didn’t move until she heard the front door open and his footsteps retreat outside of it.

Tears leaked down her cheeks as she took a shaky seat at the table, willing herself to remain calm.

For the first time during the entire duration of their marriage, Belle did not trust her husband. He knew something about their child, and it hurt her down to her core that he was keeping it from her.

Her baby was hurting, and if Belle found out her husband was part of the reason for it, there was going to be hell to pay.

-,-,-,-,-,-

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Robyn barked as she and Neal waited outside the school. “He’s going to show up, just chill.”

“He said he’d try.” Neal breathed, stretching to see the furthermost point of the street in hopes of seeing Mr. Gold’s Cadillac. “Or…she…oh my god this makes no fucking sense!”

Robyn snorted, rolling her chair back and forth. She couldn’t wait for the day when the doctor would give her the okay to use crutches, though she had been practicing walking on her own each night without her mother’s knowledge.

“Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense.” She shrugged. “Why should it? If this is who Gideon is then let’s just roll with it.”

“Sure, but what if things change too much? What if…Gideon just disappears and all that’s left is this stranger he’s turning into.”

“Okay, a quick Wikipedia search told me that if Gideon is transgender, then he’s always been that way. So nothing’s different. Gideon’s still Gideon, or whatever they decide to call themselves.”

“They?” Neal inquired.

“The site said we should refer Gideon as that until he tells us otherwise.” Robyn said. “Don’t understand it, but I’m going to give this my best.”

Neal nodded, wishing he could feel as confident about Gideon’s situation as she did.

“Oh, there he…they are!” Robyn exclaimed, rolling closer to the sidewalk. Neal followed suit, his heart pounding and nearly seizing when he saw Gideon in much more gender-appropriate clothing than he was expecting.

“Hey.” She greeted.

Neal eyed Gideon’s pale face carefully for any signs of makeup. There was none, and Neal couldn’t help but see how pale he looked without the additional color.

Gideon noticed Neal’s roaming eyes and managed a small smile.

Robyn looked between her friends, wondering what each of them were thinking, and more importantly wondering why Gideon was dressed the way he was. Did his parents make him come to school this way?

“Do you want to talk about it?” she said instead, the question opening a slew of possibilities.

Gideon turned to her, gratitude reflecting in his large brown eyes. He looked to Neal, hoping for the same acceptance, but instead found him staring at him blankly, like he was lost in thoughts of his own. Strangely, it took the courage right out of him.

“A-actually,” Gideon spoke after clearing his throat. “I rather talk about last night’s homework. I didn’t do it.”

Robyn snorted, relieved but also disappointed. “We got ten minutes, come on.”

Gideon began to follow her but paused when he saw that Neal wasn’t coming with them.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Gideon turned to him, taking in a nervous breath.

“Neal, I…”

“Just go.” Neal said firmly, turning from him to pace the school yard.

Gideon stared at the back of Neal’s head, his chest constricting with emotion. Neal was trying to avoid him, and that hurt more than anything his parents could say.

Neal waited until he heard the doors close before he released a snarl, kicking at the dirt and grass keeping it intact. Why had he done that? Why didn’t he try to speak to Gideon, make everything okay?

He took a moment to gather himself and come up with a course of action. Gideon needed support right now, his support, even if he had no idea what to do.

He headed into the school house, pausing when he saw the small crowd gathered around the lockers. A closer inspection revealed the worst-case scenario: Gideon was being pinned to a locker by one of Storybrooke High’s infamous jocks.

“Let him go dickhead!” Robyn yelled at him as she tried to wrestle her wheelchair out of a participating jock’s grip.

“What you going to do, Mills? Roll over my big toe?” he scoffed.

“No, I’m going to break my other leg kicking your ass!”

“Leave her out of this.” Gideon warned lowly.

“What you going to do if I don’t, fag?” the jock spat in his face. “Huh?”

“Robinson!” Neal yelled as he broke through the group of onlookers. He and the jocks were on the football team together, but that was as far as their relationship went. “Let him go, now!”

“Oh it’s him today?” Robinson scoffed, his hand sliding from Gideon’s shoulder to squish his cheeks, making his lips pucker.

Neal reached out and slapped his hand off of Gideon. “Get away from him or so help me…”

“You’ll what?” Robinson sneered. “You gonna defend your girlfriend’s honor?”

Neal’s fingers curled together, and before logic and reason could kick in, he slammed his fist into the football player’s face, sending him into the crowd of onlookers.

“Shit.” Robyn gasped, jerking when she felt the jock holding her back release her wheelchair to go after Neal. With a quick twist, she turned her chair at just an angle to send him flying into the ground.

Before Neal could ask the conditions of his friends, Robinson and the other jock were back on their feet and heading Neal and Gideon’s way.

“Son of a bitch!” Neal managed to exclaim before Robinson ran into his stomach and pushed him into the lockers.

“No!” Gideon screamed, jumping onto Robinson’s back. He tried to constrict the jock’s throat, but the jock had just enough room to elbow him in the eye and fling him off.

Neal pushed himself back and found just enough space to kick Robinson just above his groin, picking himself up before he could recover.

“I don’t want to fight you!” Neal begged as he recovered.

“Then why the hell are you defending this fag!” he boomed, sending a dark glare Gideon’s way. The other jock had him pressed into the floor, his face bloody from Robinson’s impact. “He’s always been a freak! How could you not see that!”

Neal leapt for him with a snarl, grabbing him by the collar to drag him to the ground. He managed a punch to his jaw before Robinson flipped him onto his back.

Meanwhile, Gideon was trying desperately to get to Neal. Blood was pooling into his mouth and his eye was swelling shut, hindering his ability to get out from under the other jock’s shoe. He searched around for Robyn, hoping she was out of harms way.

“There are people out there who will destroy you for being different!”

“Get off me!” Gideon screamed.

“Fuck off, fag.” The other jock sneered at him. “You’re right where you belong.”

Before Gideon could retort, the fire alarm began to shrill, causing the onlookers to scurry before they were discovered in the chaos.

Robinson pause mid-punch to look up, glaring at the source of the alarm.

“You better run asshole!” Robyn yelled at him, flipping him off.

The brief distraction allowed Neal just enough reprieve to push Robinson off and crawl back, blood leaking in rivets down his face.

“Let’s go!” Robinson yelled to the other jock, who nodded and slammed his foot into Gideon’s back, leaving the slighter boy wheezing in pain.

“The hell is going on!” Principal Regina Mills screamed as she rounded the hall to turn off the fire alarm. With her ears still ringing, she addressed the site before her with a gaped mouth.

Her niece had rolled to the side of a bloody Neal Nolan and helping him stand. Not to far away from them was Gideon Gold, beaten and bloody, and clothed in gender-appropriate clothes that should have kept him safe.

-,-,-,-,-,-,-

Gold texted Belle as soon as he got the call from Regina. They met up at his shop and raced to the school.

“Sweetheart, slow down!” Gold begged as Belle swerved hazardously into the parking lot, narrowly hitting the sickeningly green car parked in the spot next to them.

“Watch it!” the driver of car yelled, jumping out and pausing when she saw the Golds.

“Oh no.” Gold groaned. “Zelena.”

“Well well well,” Zelena scoffed. “You two. Why is it every time I get a call from this school you show up right behind me.”

“Because usually our children are in kahootz.” Belle answered, stepping out of the car. “What did Regina tell you?”

“Just that there was an incident with my daughter.” She snipped. “No doubt your brood’s fault.”

“Watch it.” Gold growled as he locked up the car.

“Or what you’ll evict me?”

“Enough!” Belle exclaimed, grabbing her husband’s arm and jogging into the school (in heels no less). On any other morning she could deal with Zelena Mills spitefulness, but right now something was happening with her son and nothing else mattered.

The three adults made their way through the halls, pausing at the lockers. There were streaks of blood on the otherwise polished school floor.

“Oh gods no…” Belle muttered, wobbling on her feet. Gold held her up and pulled her the rest of the way, blinking back tears and holding his breath so that he wouldn’t start screaming.

Blessedly, they made it to the principal’s office, Zelena brushing past them to locate her daughter by the office door.

Gold’s scream came out as a weak cry of terror when he saw Gideon’s split lip and black eye.

“Oh my god’s.” Belle sobbed as she ran to him, her fingers hovering over his bruises, afraid to actually touch him.

Gideon looked away from her, knowing he’d burst if he saw the tears in her eyes.

“Who did this?” Gold snarled when Regina stepped out of her office. “I want them expelled.”

“We’re taking care of them.” Regina sighed, turning a side-ways glance to her sister and niece.

“For once I agree with him.” Zelena remarked as she obsessively looked over her daughter for injuries.

“Mom, please.” Robyn complained, pushing her mother’s hands away. “They didn’t touch me, just held me back when they attacked Gideon.”

“Attacked.” Belle gasped. “Why did they do that he’s not…” Belle stopped, feeling her son’s eyes on her then.

Muttering just outside redirected the attention from Gideon, giving him a moment to wipe a stray tear from his eye just as Neal entered the room.

“Shit dude.” Robyn gaped.

Neal’s face was swollen and purple, bandages covering his lip and eyebrows. It was amazing he was still conscious.

He quietly made his way across the room, his posture obscure and his jaw set in a vengeful line. He took a stiff seat between Robyn and Gideon, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“You’re mom’s going to freak.” Robyn whispered to break the tension, earning no response.

“If there’s nothing else, then I’ll take my daughter home for the day.” Zelena miffed.

“No.” Robyn stated firmly, reaching down to lock the wheels of her chair. “I’m not leaving until there’s a guarantee that Gideon and Neal not going to get in trouble.”

“Why on earth would…” Zelena paused when the Nolan’s rounded the corner, entering the office with gasps.

“Sorry we’re late.” Mary Margaret apologized. “We…oh my god Neal!”

Neal winced when his mother pushed past the Golds and the principal to get to him, her hand going under his chin

“Ow, mom…” Neal cried when she pressed on a bruise on his jaw.

Mary Margaret’s eyes turned to Gideon, who pressed against the wall from the physical force of her glare.

“What did you do?” She hissed, the malice in her voice creating a cold, quiet silence in the room.

Belle pulled away from her husband’s protective hold and walked stiffly to Mary Margaret’s side, using her body to persuade her to step away from the boys.

“He didn’t do anything, Mrs. Nolan.” Robyn insisted, her voice quieter now that a fight could be underway. “It was Kyle Robinson and Stewart Mattews. They attacked him, Neal and I were just trying to help him.”

“An attack?” David’s voice rang out. “Regina, why wasn’t I called?”

“There were no weapons involved, thus by school policy the fight didn’t warrant police interference.” Regina explained.

“Didn’t warrant it? Look at my son’s face!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “What were they fighting about that was so insignificant that you didn’t call the police?”

The room went quiet once more, the secret between the Gold’s that had been fully revealed to only three of the eight additional people in the room.

“Me.” Gideon spoke out, breaking the silence, and subsequently creating another chapter to his tragic story. “This whole thing was about me.”

Neal took in an unsteady breath, his legs itching to jump up and run away. From the corner of his eyes he saw Gideon stand, and unlike Robyn who scooted to the edge of her seat, he didn’t move at all.

“I am transgender.” Gideon stated simply, keeping his eyes forward and off of the gaping parents around him. “I’ve been like this my entire life and due to…” he glanced quickly at his father, “circumstances, I’ve kept it secret until now.”

“Alright, what the hell is this?” Zelena barked, looking around. “Is this a joke?”

Belle moved to Gideon’s side and looked into his soft, brown eyes, so full of hope and fear. She wondered if as he changed into the woman he stated he was, if they would still be there. Would Gideon exist at all?

Maybe he never had. Maybe the son she had created and raised and loved more than her entire being just never existed.

And she had never noticed.

But she was noticing now.

“No…” Belle smiled, grazing Gideon’s cheek. “She’s not joking.”

For the Nolan’s, the pieces of the puzzle their son refused to offer them had been laid before them. They looked to their bruised son. He was still looking down, his hands rubbing together in slow circles.

Something’s wrong with Gideon.

“Alright.” Zelena exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “This obviously doesn’t concern me or my daughter, so we’re going home.”

“No, this does concern me, mom.” Robyn fought.

“No it doesn’t!” Zelena shouted, causing her daughter and onlookers in the room to jump. Without another word, she reached down to lift the breaks of Robyn’s wheelchair and began wheeling her away.

“For God’s sake, mom!” Robyn argued. “Gideon, I’ll call you later!”

“No you won’t!” Zelena’s voice echoed as she rolled Robyn further away.

“Oh God.” Regina groaned. “Look, you’re all free to go. Neal and Gideon won’t be punished. I’ll email you all later.”

The parents watched the principal run after her sister and niece, leaving them all in a space of confusion and uncertainty.

“We…we should go.” Mary Margarete said, more to her husband than to the Golds. “Come on Neal.”

After a moment, Neal stood, and Gideon reached out for him but he dodged his hand, pushing past his parents. His mother followed with a half-hearted look to the Golds.

“We’ll…if you need anything…or to press charges…” David said, understandably unsure what to say after such a reveal.

“Thank you, David.” Belle smiled. “We’ll keep in touch.”

David nodded, sparing a look at each of the Golds. His friend Belle, who had always put a roof over his son’s head when he and Mary Margaret had to work late. His sometimes friend Gold, who’s expression was unreadable. And then Gideon, who was going through something David could never understand. His own son seemed just as unsure of what to do. This was going to be a journey for all of them.

Belle and Gold escorted Gideon from the school, heads held high but eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Mom, Dad.” Gideon said quietly as they drove home.

“Yes dear?” Belle responded cheerily, blinking back tears.

“I’ve thought about what you both said this morning, and I’ve decided that I would like to go to therapy.”

“That’s wonderful honey.” Belle agreed. “Well call him in the morning and go from there.”

Mr. Gold looked into the rearview mirror to meet Gideon’s determined gaze. Everything, from their relationship to the way the town would view Gideon, was about to change. In truth he had wanted this —he truly had—but he had selfishly wanted it to come later rather than sooner. He had wanted to hold on to the bits of his son that hadn’t slipped away yet, to keep them safe from the rest of the cruel world.

For a moment Gold couldn’t breath or think, the idea of anything happening to Gideon sucking the essence of his soul clean out. He could no longer protect his son—or really his daughter now—from the close-minded cruelty of some of Storybrooke’s residents.

Gideon was out now, and he was more danger than he could begin to realize.  

[stupidfanfics]

Till Death Do Us Part: A Barry Allen Fan Fiction

Chapter 7: Mist-ery

Word Count: 4,391

“Regular movie scale that was a seven or an eight. Zombie movie scale, it was, like, a four, tops.” Barry exclaimed walking out of the theater.

“There’s a zombie movie scale?” Iris asked.

“Of course there is Iris. With Barry there’s also the ‘romance movie scale’, ‘comedy scale’, ‘action movie scale’, the list goes on and on.” I said bumping shoulders with Barry.

“Did you know that zombies exist in nature?”

I gasped, “That species of fungi that infects ants.” Barry nodded his head vigorously,

“Mhm, which causes those ants to attack plants that can release spores,”

“-which in turn infect new hosts.” Barry and I finished together.

“We went full nerd again, didn’t we?” I asked looking over at Iris.

“Yep.” she answered with a grin on her face.

“Yeah,” Barry muttered looking at the floor.

“It’s okay though. You two are still the cutest nerds I know.” Iris continued.

“Wait, does that mean we’re tied or…”

“Monica you’re obviously in first place,” Barry let out a groan. “Sorry Bare, you just can’t compete with a blonde.”

I let out a hum as a smile spread across my face. “I missed this.”

“Me too.”

“Me three. Anyways,” Iris continued blabbering, “I’m a lot more interested in the amazing as of late.”

“You mean cause of this “Streak thing?” Barry asked unimpressed.

“He’s out there. People are talking about him.” Iris pushed.

“How do you even know he’s a he? Maybe it’s a she” Barry retorted.

“A female superhero? I like the sounds of that.” I added.

“It’s a man, okay?” Iris stated.

“Yep, definitely a man.”

Barry turned to face me. “And how would you know that?”

I smiled, “Cause, I’ve seen him before-”

“Really?!” Iris exclaimed.

“Mhm.”

“I knew I was intuitive about this kind of stuff! And besides even if you don’t believe Monica there’s plenty of pictures online.” Iris pulled out her phone, “Here, what do you see?” Iris flipped her phone so that its screen faced Barry and I.

Suddenly a somewhat familiar face popped up on the screen, according to the contact list on Iris’ phone it was Eddie Thawne.  That officer from the news… I thought to myself.

“I see your boyfriend’s calling.” Barry bluntly stated.

Iris looked at her phone, “Oh, I should probably get this. I’m crashing at his place tonight he’s supposed to leave a key for me somewhere.” She said accepting the call and walking away.

“Boyfriend?” I whispered to Barry, “Isn’t he Joe’s partner. How is he okay with this?”

Barry turned to me with a tight lip smile, “Well, technically Joe doesn’t know, really I shouldn’t know either, and now you do so-” Barry’s rambling was caught off by his own phone ringing. “Hello.”

I stared at Barry as I tried to listen in on the conversation, apparently along with the ability to fly I also have super-hearing.

“Code 237 on Waid Blvd.” Cisco’s voice said through the phone.

“Public indecency?” Barry asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Wait I think I meant 239.” Cisco mumbled.

I couldn’t help but laugh which caused Barry to stare at me, “Dog leash violation?”

“Bad man with a gun in a getaway car.” Caitlin explained interrupting Cisco.

“Go.” I said, raising my eyebrows. Barry flashed off, leaving me to make sure Iris would not find out about his absence. Anxiously I tapped my foot. What if he doesn’t come back before she hangs up. What if she realizes he’s gone. What if she founds out he’s ‘The Streak’! Suddenly a gust of cool air blew my hair around and Barry was by my side.

“I’ll see you later. Bye.” Iris hung up and turned to face us. “Eddie says Hi.” Barry shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Nice of him.” Barry replied almost a little too chipper, “You guys wanna go grab a bite? I’m feeling a little famished.” Barry asked.

“After the mongolian barbecue we had before the movie and the extra large popcorn you had during the movie?” Barry shrugged his shoulders at Iris’ comment.

“It’s a- um- side effect of being struck by lightning.” I explained to Iris, “Yup, sometimes after going into a lightning induced coma the body feels the need to make up for lost time.”

“How are you not fat?” Iris exclaimed staring at Barry.

“I’ve been… jogging.” I snorted at Barry’s statement before all three of us walked away from the theatre.

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have invited us to the movie.” Cisco whined.

“Well number one, you and Cait aren’t my only friends. And number two, Iris doesn’t really know that Barry’s still coming here. As far as she’s concerned, you two don’t exist in Barry’s life anymore.” Cisco frowned at my response.

“Woah, way to be gentle with your delivery.” he spat.

“Aww, sorry Costco.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“Monica?” I turned my head to face Caitlin, “Mind if I use some of your knowledge for… research?”

I crossed my arms, “Lay it on me.”

Caitlin giggled, “Barry, what was he like in high school.”

I rolled my eyes, “You know, whenever you asked for my help I thought you wanted to hear something worthwhile.”

“This is worthwhile so spill.”

“Ugh, fine. But you’re not getting anything else out of me. Understood?”

“Mhm”

“Well you know that windswept, gelled up, quip-of-a-hairstyle he has now?” Caitlin nodded. “Yeah I have no clue when they came into existence, because the last time I saw him before I left for college he had the worst shaggy hairstyle.” Caitlin cringed. “Exactly.”

“Anything else?” She pressed.

“Nope, besides the hair and the speed nothing has changed about Barry. At least that I know of.”

“Talking ‘bout me?” A voice asked from the entrance of the cortex.

“Of course, who else would we be talking about.” I teased Barry as I turned to face him.

“Well good thing you guys aren’t busy cause I really need your help.” he said.

Barry spent about fifteen minutes explaining the case and everything he knew about the new meta we were about to face. “Fascinating, a metahuman that can manipulate poison gas.” Dr. Wells spoke.

“Is it just poisonous gas, or can he control all aerated substances?” Cisco questioned.

“And how is he able to formulate the connection?” Caitlin inquired as I looked over at her, “Is it physiological or psychological?”

When I looked up from my computer I saw Joe give Barry a confused look to which he just shrugged his shoulders.

“This individual can create a mental nexus using gaseous substances.” Dr. Wells continued. Suddenly, Cisco’s ‘geeky smile’ appeared.

“You mean connect with gases on a molecular level?” Cisco chuckled.

“Yes.” Dr. Wells replied excitedly.

“That’s really cool.” Cisco and Dr. Wells’ exchange seemed to confuse Joe even more.

“They, or should I say we, get really excited about this stuff. I mean how could you not get excited about science?” I exclaimed.

“The only thing I’m excited about is putting criminals behind bars.” Joe stated bluntly, “Except Iron Heights isn’t exactly equipped to handle metahumans.”

“Then I guess it’s fortunate the ones you've encountered so far are no longer with us.” As usual the room tensed up once Joe and Dr. Wells began going back and forth, passive aggressively arguing with each other.

“Well, unless we’re planning on executing every super criminal we stop, you geniuses are gonna have to come up with someplace else to hold them.”

“A metahuman prison. Sweet.” I rolled my eyes at Cisco’s enthusiasm.

“Until we figure a way to remove their powers.” I added.

“There is one place here that might hold them.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I mean we haven’t been down their since the-” Caitlin cut herself off, trying her best to not remember anything, “It’s cordoned off.”

“Cisco’s right, it could be modified to act as a makeshift prison.” Dr. Wells interrupted.

“Great, I can't wait to work right above an albatraoz of super-criminals.” Apparently my sarcastic comment was not welcomed by Dr. Wells, he glared at me for a few seconds before Barry spoke.

“What could?”

“The Particle Accelerator.” Everyone fell silent. These days using the words particle and accelerator together is basically tabu. I looked over to Caitlin who was staring at the wall in front of her with a blank expression.

“Caitlin.” I shook her shoulder, “Cait.” Caitlin shook her head and looked towards us.

“Did you hear me?” Dr. Wells asked, “We’re going down to the accelerator ring.”

“Actually Dr. Wells,” Barry interrupted, “I could use Caitlin’s help identifying the poison gas.”

“Okay. Monica will you be heading down with Cisco and I?”

“N-no, I’m alright. I, um, I actually need some fresh air so I’ll get go-” as I stood up from my chair and turned to walk away, a hand grasped around my wrist.

“Monica, come with us.” Barry pleaded, but I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, but I really should get going I have a few errands to run.” I slid my hand out of his and walked out of the cortex, flying off once I reached the parking lot.

I landed on a street a few blocks away from the Central City Mall, strolling over and stopping in some of the smaller shops on the way there. About thirty minutes later I was standing in a flower shop when a distant voice rang through my ears. “May god have mercy on your soul.” Then there was gasping. Someone’s dying, I have to call Cisco, or Barry- Then it dawned on me, Barry wouldn’t get there on time. And from the sounds of it I was only thirty seconds away. So, I dropped my bags and ran out the store, flying as fast as I could towards the gasping sound. I found myself floating in front of a glass elevator filled with a green gas, inside a woman was slowly falling to the ground. “Come on Monica, think fast, think fast.” I punched the glass creating a decent size hole allowing the gas to escape once the elevator let out a bing, reaching its final destination. I landed on the platform rushing into the elevator once the doors opened, rushing over to the woman who was laying on the floor. I checked for a pulse. Then a gust of air tickled my neck. “Barry, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same about you.” He whispered back while looking around the mall. Then, he flashed off leaving me alone surrounded by security and customers. Security and customers! Damn it Monica! You messed up again! I thought to myself as I tried to find a way out. Carefully I rummaged through the woman’s bag to find a pair of black reading glasses. “Perfect.” I put the glasses on as I stood up and slowly strolled away, whispering to one of the security guards that the women was still alive and needed to be sent to the hospital. Once I was far enough from the mall I let my feet leave the grown and slowly flew home.

I kicked off my flats once I walked in the door and ran into my bedroom to change clothes. For all I knew somebody would've taken a picture of me, and with the reputation of most superhumans at the moment in Central City if anyone found out that was me I’d be the city’s newest enemy. I slipped on my STAR Labs sweatshirt and a pair of leggings, throwing my hair in a bun while I wiggled my toes into a pair of flip flops. This time I drove to work for the first time in nine months. It was different and kind of nice, but nothing can beat the feeling of cool city air rushing against your face. I parked my car as close as I could to the entrance and strolled over to the cortex.

“When do you think he’ll wake up?” I heard Cisco ask before I rounded the corner.

“I don’t know, it could take-” Once I made it to the entrance of the cortex I was met with the sight of Barry sound asleep in the same bed he was stuck in for nine months.

“What happened to him?” I yelled, looking around at the other scientists in the room.

“Barry inhaled some of the gas so we could get a sample.” Dr. Wells explained.

“I had to perform a pulmonary biopsy on him but we couldn’t put him under anesthetics so he-”

“Passed out. I get it. It’s just hard to see him like that again.” I whispered walking up to Barry, “You know what I mean?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at Caitlin.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean.” She murmured with a tight lip smile.

I looked back down at Barry. As much as I hated seeing him like this, he looked so peaceful. Like all the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he wasn’t running around Central City trying to be a superhero. Like he didn’t have a dark past.

Suddenly his eyes started to flutter open, and he let out a groan.

“The streak lives.” Cisco said cracking a smile.

“You’d be dead if your lung cells didn’t regenerate so quickly.” Caitlin spoke in a monotone voice.

“My chest feels like that one time I had a cigarette.” Barry muttered as I let out a giggle.

“Teen you did live for danger, didn’t he?” I joked as I ruffled Barry’s hair.

“And apparently you do now.” Barry stared at me with a knowing look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cisco asked, barging into the conversation.

“Barry, we can talk about this later.”

“Well, now that we have the sample, we’ll get to work analyzing it, figure out the makeup of the poison, maybe get a clue as to his human identity.” Dr. Wells said attempting to get us back on task.

“Or at least a way to stop him from turning into a mist.” Cisco continued, “The Mist. Okay that’s his name. End of discussion.”

“Great. Monica,” I turned my head to face Barry, “You and I can talk about that thing.” Barry started to get out of the bed.

“You should be resting.” Dr. Wells said scolding Barry.

“I have work to do at the station too.”

“Don’t worry Dr. Wells,” I gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll go with him. I know who to call if anything happens.”

Once Barry and I walked out of the back doors of STAR Labs a gust of cool night air hit me, making me shiver.

“So, how’d you get on a crime scene?” Barry questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“I saved that lady’s life.” I exclaimed letting out a chuckle.

“You saved her life? Monica, you were on a crime scene then left without being questioned. Do you know what that makes you?”

“A hero?”

“No! No, it makes you a suspect.”

“Well you always leave crime scenes without being questioned and you’ve earned the title of  ‘The Streak’.”

“That’s because I hide behind a mask! That’s because I have a reputation!” “You sir, need to calm the hell down.” I said poking Barry’s chest, “You’re at a fifteen and I need you at like, a seven. Especially if we’re going to talk to Joe.”

Barry rolled his eyes at me, “Fine, but please, don’t do that again.”

“Ok, deal.” I said shaking Barry’s hand.

“Need a lift?” he asked stretching out both of his arms.

“Why not?” I exclaimed as he scooped me up and flashed us over to the Central City Police Department.

“So, all that hard work paid off, didn’t it?” I asked Barry once he set me down in front of the station.

“You could say that,” he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, “Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour and then we’ll go talk to Joe.” Barry started walking towards the front doors but I just stood there staring at the tall building in front of me. I was so proud of Barry, ever since his mother’s death Barry has been so passionate about cracking cases. Using his knowledge in the field of science to find clues and piece them together. And now he’s here, getting ready to give me a tour of his office.

“You coming?” He asked pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I skipped over to him as he pushed open the front doors. Stepping in I was met with rooms crowded full of desks and employees. Chatter and phones rang throughout the building.

“Okay, there’s where the calls are received, that’s where cases are filed, interrogation room is right through those doors, Captain Singh’s office is right next to it, and if you head up those stairs, go down the hall, and make a right you’ll find my lab.” Barry chirped pointing rapidly in different directions.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said a quick tour.” I chuckled.

“I have to take advantage of my new abilities.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Now can we get to work.”

“Come on.” Barry grabbed my hand, leading me to the set of stairs he was pointing at a few moments ago.

“Joe. I had him.” Barry bounded into the room where Joe was leaning on a desk reading some sort of a document, “The metahuman, we were wrong. He’s not controlling airborne toxins. He can literally transform himself into poison gas.”

“That’s new.” Joe said standing up.

“Isn’t everything new these days.” I pointed out.

“The target,” Joe continued, nodding his head, “is a judge. We’re going through some of her old cases to see if there’s a connection.”

“It’s too late,” Barry said shaking his head, “I didn't catch him. I should’ve been faster.”

“Focus on the job. Don’t think about that right now.”

“Yeah Barry, and besides the woman’s still alive. I mean she’s in critical condition but maybe you can get some sort of information from her.” I said beginning to side with Joe.

“You guys don’t want to know what I’m thinking about.” Barry murmured shuffling off towards one of the windows in the office. He placed his hand on the ledge and let out a sigh, “My dad has spent the past 14 years in a 6 by 8 foot cell for a crime he didn’t commit.”

In that moment I expected Joe to go off on him. To tell him that he needed to face the truth. The truth being that Barry’s mom is dead and his father is to blame. But he didn’t. In fact he did the opposite. He stood there and listened as Barry went on and on about how he couldn’t save his mom but now he has the chance to save his dad.

“Didn’t I promise you that we would get your dad out of prison together?” Joe’s question tore me out of my thoughts.

“You two,” I said pointing between the two men, “are getting his dad,” I pointed to Barry, “out of prison without me?” the sentence ended with my right index finger poking my chest. Barry swiftly turned around to face us.

“I don’t need your help, Monica. Yours either, Joe. I could be in and out of there with him before anyone even sees me.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do, Barry.” I said lowering my hand.

“Say you break him out of there. Then what? He’s on the run for the rest of his life. And something tells me he’s not as fast as you are.”

“You don’t know what it’s like there.”

“You think we don’t understand what you’re feeling? I have been a cop for almost as long as you’ve been alive. And Monica has been your best friend ever since your mom died. So you should know, putting on that suit does not make everyone safe. Every person you save, there’s going to be somebody you can’t.” Joe’s words began to fill my head.

Barry can’t save everyone. He couldn’t save that woman. But I could. And I did. All the puzzle pieces fell into place, the ones that have been scrambled for the past ten months. I need to save people.

“Moni-”

“I am not a human!” I blurted out as Barry tapped my shoulder.

“Woah, ok, what?”

“I-I I’m sorry. Did you say something? Where’s Joe?” I started to search the room, trying to distract Barry from thinking about the words that just exploded out of my mouth.

“He just left… are you okay? Do you need to talk or-”

“Yup, I’m fine,” I said shaking my heading vigorously, “Never better.”

The next morning I decided to walk to work, just to “Stop and smell the roses.”. As I strolled into the cortex I was met with Dr. Wells and Cisco both with very confused looks on their faces. I looked up at the monitor they were focused on which showed a molecular model.

“Why the puzzled looks boys?” I questioned waking them from their haze.

“Ms. Bell, take a look at that screen for us.” Dr. Wells ordered.

“Of course sir,” I said taking a step forward to get a closer look, “Is that-” I turned to face Cisco.

“Yup.”

“But why would it-”

“We don’t know.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“They’re in the pipeline.”

“Call them up here. I think we’re going to need reinforcements.”

“Hey check this out.” Cisco called out to the pair as they entered the cortex, “It’s a 3D molecular model of the gas we retrieved from your lungs.”

“We have identified the toxin as-”

“Hydrogen Cyanide?” Barry asked cutting me off.

“What's interesting is what’s mixed in with the cyanide… a sedative,” Dr. Wells continued the conversation.

“Of course,” Barry exclaimed, his right hand flying to his forehead, “The night of the explosion, find out if anyone was executed.”

“Why?”

“That sedative is given to criminals on death row before they go to the gas chamber and breathe in hydrogen cyanide.”

“CSI, Barry Allen cracks yet another case with the help of his team of cunning scientists.” Everybody stared at me once I finished my narration. “What? I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay, cute nerd.” I felt a blush begin to swell onto my cheeks as a cause of Barry’s comment. Cisco let out a chuckle. Dr. Wells had a face that only read disappointment. And Caitlin could care less.

“There was someone executed. Kyle Nimbus.” Caitlin pulled up his mugshot on the monitor.

“That’s him.” Barry clarified.

“He was a hit man for the Darbinyan crime family.  They turned on him and testified.” I walked towards Caitlin as she gave us a run down of Nimbus’ history. “Judge Theresa Howard was the judge at his trial. She sentenced him to death.”

“He must have been affected by the explosion while he was being gassed.” I concluded.

“Records indicate the execution was completed.” Cisco pointed out.

“That’s why there wasn’t a match. The DNA database only has records of the living.”

“Right.” Dr. Wells said agreeing with Barry.

“He said there was one person left on his list. Check the arrest record. Who caught him? That could be his next attack.” Caitlin followed Barry’s request scrolling through the information, then turning to face me when she read the name. I looked up at Barry who was now standing in front of me.

“Barry… the lead detective… J-Joe West.” Barry stared into my eyes, his flooded with fear, and anger, and disgust. Quickly he scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, quickly tapping on the screen once it was in his hands.

“Eddie...Hey, do you know where Joe went? He’s not picking up his cell…. Eddie, it’s really important I speak to him. I need to know where he went…”

“Barry,” I interrupted as he hung up the phone, “Cait and I reverse engineered an antidote to the toxin. I hope you won’t need it.” I handed the syringe like device to him. And like magic he was gone.

“Barry I pulled up the specs on Iron Heights, it’s maximum security but I think I can talk you through breakin in there.” I turned to face Cisco.

“Don’t bother Crisco, he’s been trying to break in there since-”

“I was 11.”

After the a few minutes of the sounds of Barry rushing around Central City and Iron Heights his voice was finally heard again, “You’re going somewhere you can’t hurt anyone ever again…”

“He used the antidote on Joe.” Caitlin whispered.

“Of course he would. He’s Barry Allen.” I exclaimed, “You need to stay away from him Barry, do not breathe him in.”

Suddenly the sound of air rushing past Barry’s mic filled the cortex.

“I’m not sure how that helps me, guys.”

“You can’t fight him Barry… Just keep him coming at you. That should sap his strength.”

“Gas is the east stable form of matter,” Dr. Wells explained, “This metahuman will not be able to stay in his mist form for long. His particles will need to reform.”

Then the wind picked up again, faster than we had ever heard it before. Then Barry let out a grunt, as wheezing could be heard in the background.

“Barry. Barry.” Dr. Wells attempted to gain Barry’s attention.

“We win.”

“That’s one save in your book, Allen. The next one goes down in mine.” I joked as Barry walked out of Joe’s hospital room. Barry looked down at me, a smile on his face even though it was obvious he was confused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” I said looking up at him, “But while we wait for an explanation how about Big Belly Burger? On me?”

“I could go for about twenty of those burgers right now.” He chuckled.  

“Okay then, come on fat ass. I’m driving.”

“Rude!”

“But for some reason I’m still your best friend.”

“I guess that will always be the real mist-ery.”

I laughed at Barry’s corny pun, in fact I laughed so hard I began to choke. And that’s how life was at the time. So good that at one point the vase would overfill with joy, spilling over, pouring into our throats, causing all of us to choke.

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