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kilojulietsierra · 17 days ago

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I Don't Have A Best Friend (Dr Abbot & Dr Robby and their 'not friends' friendship)

Summary: The universe put them together in this hell hole and they made the best of it. They are like brothers/best friends... that doesn't mean they always have to be happy about it. Especially when Jack's wife decides she needs to set Robby up with a cute nurse friend.

(Honestly this one is for fun because I love them both, but ALSO this one sets up my next fic which will be Dr Robby x Reader.)

TW: this one is honestly pretty fun, tame and fluffym sarcastic doc bros, mentions of age gap, male friendships, Jack and his wife have basically, taken Robby in like a stray puppy, nerves about being set up on blind date, Dana and Jacks wife are in cahoots, some allusions to smut, healthy established relationship, alcohol

Features Dr Jack Abbott x nursewife!ofc from "Send Me An Angel" if you would like to check that out CLICK HERE!

~~~~~

Jack and Robby stood on opposite sides of the counter as Jack packed up his bag, "Chairs is packed, no shocker there. You got homeless guy vs car in South 7 waiting to go up, West 2 is a college kid, pumped his stomach, just gotta wait for him to come back around, PD should be here soon to talk to the guy in Central 7. Strange case of selective amnesia." When Robby cocked an eyebrow Jack looked up from his phone, "Can't seem to remember how he ended up to two nine mil slugs in his leg."

Robby shook his head, "Hate when that happens. What else we got?"

Jack checked his phone again and then shoved it in his pocket, "Oh yeah, North 5, surgery should be hear any minute for him. Was cleaning the ceiling fan, naked,"

"As one does." Robby interjected.

"and fell on the TV remote."

Robby gave a low whistle and shook his head, trying not to chuckle. "Perf?"

"Lucky for him, no." Jack grabbed his truck keys and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "If the wife shows up, have someone show her up to the surg floor waiting area. He can explain it to her when he wakes up or surgery can."

"Can't wait." Robby took probably the last drink of his still hot coffee he would get then called after his colleague, "See you Sunday right?"

WIthout turning around or even slowing down his steps Jack called back a simple, "Yeah."

~~~

Robby parked in the driveway behind Jacks truck and walked in through the garage. He let himself in and called out, "Knock, knock!"

Almost immediately Sam called back, "Hey! come on in!" He found her in the living room folding a blanket and tidying up,

"Hey sweetheart." Robby walked over to her and gave her a hug which she gladly returned. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too." She tossed the blanket over the back of the couch, "Jack's out back. Make yourself at home, beer in the fridge in the garage, think he opened a bottle of bourbon too." Then she was off to some other room like she was on a mission.

Robby smiled. He had always liked Jacks wife, God knew how he found the one woman on the planet that would put up with him but he did it. He knew the way around their house so he walked to the patio door and let himself out.

The patio had a stone fireplace and a TV, some monstrosity of a grill, bbq, smoker combination and an outdoor couch and chairs. The TV was on the pregame, commentary already going, and Jack was stretched out on 'his' corner of the couch.

He looked tired, annoyed even at having to be awake while the sun was out. "Hey brother," He spared Robby only a glance then went back to the TV, "Grab a drink." Jack motioned to the bourbon on the table and the lone empty glass.

"How was last night?" Robby reached for the bottle, read it with a nod and popped the top off to pour himself a couple fingers. "Fuckin' sucked." He sipped his bourbon and sat up a little straighter on the couch, "Shen get's on my fuckin' nerves some days."

Robby lauged as he dropped down into one of the chairs, "I can see that."

"If he wasn't so damn unflappable I'd hate him." "

You hate everyone."

"I'd hate him extra."

He chuckled again and let his gaze shift to the TV, "House smells good."

Jack finally looked his way, "Sam started some chilli last night, she was off."

"Oh hell yeah." Not only did his wife have the patience of an angel and the backbone of a strongside linebacker, she could fucking cook. "Is it the one with the brisket and venison and all that?"

His friend slowly nodded.

"Hell yeah." Robby repeated himself and sipped at the bourbon.

The patio door swung open and Samantha appeared dressed in scrubs. "Alright you two play nice, don't wreck my house."

"Yes ma'am." Jack and Robby mumbled in unison.

She chuckled as she came around the couch and braced a knee on the cushion so she could lean over Jack and give him a kiss. He reached up and put a hand on her hip and chased after a second kiss. "Have a good night."

Robby had to avert his gaze to avoid feeling like a creep. "I'll try." She gave him one last kiss then stood up, Jacks hand slipping slowly from her hip as she pulled away.

"Text me when you get there." He added as he watched her walk around to the back of the couch.

"I will." She combed her fingers through her husbands curls once as she passed behind him.

Robby had to look away again to focus on the TV. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder as Sam gave it a squeeze. He gave her a smile, "Have fun." He gave it a teasing, lilty little tune as he said it and earned a grin back.

"You know I try." She gave his shoulder a last squeeze and was gone.

~~~~~~

A short while later Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket as it chimed. Sam must have made it to work. He snorted and put the phone down on the couch next to him.

"What?" Robby knew him too well, he had a bad feeling.

Jack sighed, sipped his bourbon, and never looked away from the Steelers playing. "She wants to set you up with someone."

"Jesus Jack."

"Don't bitch at me. I said she wants too, you can stay miserable and alone for all care."

"Does she really think i'm that hopeless."

"Apparently."

"Do you two, just, not remember what happened last time?" Robby kept his eyes glued to the TV, but couldn't even tell who hod possession of the ball.

Jack scoffed, "You and Collins were good." He took a sip of his drink and smirked into the glass, "Until you weren't."

"Fuck off. Besides, that ship has sailed." Robby looked down at the glass in his hand, "Just, give it a rest brother." He paused to take a sip, "We can't all find the love of our life in a war zone at 29."

His friend actually laughed, though it had a little darkness behind it, "Like a God damned fairy tale." He knocked back the last of his bourbon and sat up to stretch for the bottle.

Deciding they were committed to this conversation, because he knew good and well Sam wouldn't let it go, therefore neither could Jack, "She get's it though. Any woman I've ever… got close to… this fucking job…"

Jack looked his way with his usual frown and nodded, "This fucking job." He leaned back into the cushions, "Just let her try man. You know she won't let it go."

"Fuck me… She really thinks I'm hopeless."

"She's wanted to do it since you and Janey, but I've been holding her off."

"Gee thanks." Robby scoffs and scratches at his beard.

They were quiet for a long moment. The Steelers actually ran a touchdown, so they had something else to focus on.

Jacks phone dings again and he looks at it, his lips twitch up for barely a second as he texts her back. No doubt it's Sam. "It helps you know."

The softness in his voice catches Robby off guard. That tone is reserved for students, for kids that come in to the ER scared and hurting.

He expounded, "Havin' someone, it helps."

Robby thought long and hard, finished his own drink, and responded, "Not in my experience."

~~~~~

"What'd he say?" Sam's voice carried over the running water of the shower.

"Leeave the guy alone." Jack picked up his razor and waited before he turned it on, stood with it raised halfway to his face.

"Well, not like he's gonna do it himself."

"Babe..." He warned as be flipped the razor on and cleaned up the stubble from a couple days off in a row.

The shower shut off, "He's a great guy. He's good looking, he's intelligent, he's sweet and funny, a badass doctor.

Jack tipped his chin up to get his neck, "Somethin' I should know?" He watched her in the mirror as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel.

She gave him a look as she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Shut up." She bit the back of his shoulder a little harder than necessary, then pressed a kiss to the same spot. "Do you know how many hours of my life I've spent listening to girls complain about how there's no good men left?" She watched over his shoulder as wiped his freshly shaven face, "Too many." She kissed him between the shoulder blades and squeezed him a little tighter, the fingers of her right hind tracing a shape over his hip.

He saw the thought cross her mind, her eyes giving her away as her fingers drifted a little closer towards the illiac furrow. Jack set the shaver down and caught her hand before it dipped any lower and started something they didn't have time to finish.

Behind him she grinned mischeviously and nipped at his shoulder again. WIth a hard look her way in the mirror he pulled her arms tighter around him, her damp, warm skin so soothing against his own. "We both know you're going to do it regardless of what I think."

"You know me so well." She mumbles her response into his shoulder as she hugs him tight.

~~~~~

"Wake up." Robby slapped Abbot on the chest as he took the seat next to him.

Jack, who sat slouched back in one of the conference room chairs with his arms crossed and his chin tucked to his chest, eyes closed, did not move an inch. "I'm awake."

With a chuckle Robby set the second cup of coffee he brought in front his friend. "Long night?"

"Night was fine, last hour sucked." He finally cracked his eyes open and reached for the coffee. "Cops chased a kid in a stolen car across the seventh street bridge. He 1050ed and took five other cars out with him. We saw nine MVC patients 40 minutes before end of shift."

"Love that. Weekend off?"

"Mhmm. Soon as this shit show is over." Abbot took another sip of coffee and let his eyes slip closed again as Gloria began the monthly attendings meeting. Less than two minutes into her spiel Abbot leaned over, "Why do I have to be here again?"

"Theoretically speaking," Robby whispered back, "You are in a possition of authority."

"Could've fooled me."

Robby snorted out a laugh and hid it by drinking some of his coffee. Next to him he heard a phone vibrate and he watched out the corner of his eye as Jack pulled his out and read a text. When he smirked Robby's interest piqued. Jack held his phone out to show him.

it was a text from Sam, or as the contact at the top of the screen read: Sam Abbott green heart emoji Wife/ICE. The text read, "Hope your circus monkey training goes by fast. Tell Robby she asked about him again last night."

Robby scowled, "Too early for that shit man."

"She won't let it go, you know that."

"Gentlemen," Gloria raised her voice from the head of the table. "Is my meeting interrupting your little chat?" She scolded them like boys in primary school.

With his most charming tone Robby raised his own voice to match her, "We were actually just discussing a recent study on emergency department staff burnout rates."

Jack, face stone cold and sour added without missing a beat, "It's up to fifty percent in nurses, nearly sixty in doctors. 'Case you were curious."

Robby smiled, Jack glared, and Gloria cleared her throat, "As I was saying…"

~~~~~

Robby came up to the nursing station, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He furrowed his brow and cocked his head to one side, "You..." He pulled out one hand to point, "You do not work here."

Sam rolled her eyes and gladly accepted his hug. "Playing Uber driver. Jack's truck is in the shop." "

You mean he's not doing the work himself?"

"Don't even. It took me a week to convince him he didn't have the time and to just take it in." She leaned over the counter, "Actually...speaking of stubborn assholes..."

Robby chuckled and shook his head, "Don't even."

"If you don't like her all you have to do is tell me! I'll let her down easy, you'll owe me, but I'll do it."

"I'm sure shes' a perfectly lovely woman." He kept his voice down low and hoped she'd take his lead.

She did not. "But?

"He's chicken shit." Her husband appeared behind Robby so he could log something at a computer station.

"Isn't it time for you leave?" Robby made a show of looking at his watch.

"Rob-byyyy, come on."

"I am not having this conversation here."

Sam sighed dramatically, "C'monnnn, don't you trust me?"

Robby shoved his hands back in his pockets, "I trust you. I trust you to make intelligent and informed medical decisions, I would trust you to borrow my truck, I trust you to murder your husband in his sleep and get away with it." Jack's glare didn't slow him down a bit. "I would trust you to... recommend a restaurant or take down an armed combatant with hand to hand combat if the need arose. Hell, I would trust you to perform minor to intermediate surgery unsupervised, but no, I do not trust you to set me up on a blind date." He half whispered, half hissed the last two words.

She completely ignored his tirade, "You wouldn't even have to say anything. Just nod your head for yes and shake your head for no."

Jack came to his rescue, backpack over his shoulder, "Okay, we are leaving." He came around the station and put a loving but motivating hand on her hip and pushher away towards the door. Jack and Robby exchanged a nod of solidarity as the pair of them left.

Once the door closed behind the Abbots Robby sighed and scratched the back of his neck. When he turned around to get everyone gathered up for rounds he found Dana behind him. "Good morning."

"Good morning." She gave him a cheery smile, "So, what's the deal with this cutie from the VA?"

Robby hung his head and couldn't help but laugh, "Seriously? She told you?"

She looked offended, "It's Sammy. Of course she told me, now quit dodging."

"Sounds like you know as much as I do." He stepped around her, ready to walk away.

That didn't stop her at all, "She's cute, she's smart! Why are you avoiding it? What's one date going to hurt?" Robby stops and takes in a deep, calming breath through his nose. "It's not the one date I'm worried about."

Realization dawned on her and she nodded. Sympathetic. "She could be your last first date... I'm just sayin'."

~~~~~

"Alright, I got this, get the hell out of here." Robby hovered over Abbots shoulder while he finished notes on a patient file.

"I'm going." Jack kept typing.

"I'm serious, get out." He scowled down at him. "Don't make me call securtiy."

Jack snorted as he logged out of the computer and stood up, "Too scared to kick me out yourself?"

To anyone that didn't know the two of them, the way Abbot stepped forward and squared up to Robby, the look they gave each other, would have been concerning to say the least.

Robby just crossed his arms, "Go. Home."

Dana walked around the counter, "C'mon you two, break it up."

Jack smirked, "Lucked out." He leaned down to grab his backpack, "Sam wants you to come over for dinner Friday."

As he took the seat Jack had just vacated Robby spun around on the chair, "What's the occasion?"

"How should I know? I just live there." Jack walked out from behind the nurses station. Matching Robby''s stare the whole way.

When it clicked for him Robby groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, "You've got to be shitting me, for real?"

"Don't bitch at me. You want to have that argument, you call her yourself."

"She really does think I'm a lost cause, huh?"

"Apparently."

Robby groaned again, a hint of resignation in it. "Who is it?"

Jack shrugged, "I don't know, probably one of her nurses."

Robby cocked an eyebrow, "Little cliche don't you think? The whole doctor nurse thing?" He took a cheap shot at his colleague because he felt like he deserved it.

"Go to hell." He stepped back from the counter, "SIx o'clock. Don't piss my wife off."

~~~~~~

Jack watched Sam as she walked back and forth through the kitchen, "You're acting like you're the one getting set up with a stranger." He leaned against the entryway into the kitchen with his arms crossed. When she paused to look at him he smirked and pushed off from his spot to approach her. "C'mere." He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into him as he settled back against the counter.

His wife rolled her eyes, but went with it and sank into him. "Want it to go well. Want him to be happy."

When Jack snorted she gave him a look.

"Ok, I want him to be less miserable."

That made him smirk as he lets his hold on her slide lower, until he could slip his hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "I'm miserable to you know…" He left it open ended, like maybe she could 'help him out'.

"You've always been miserable." She responds without pause.

"Watch it." He cocked an eyebrow at her as he pulled a hand back and gave her a swat on the ass.

Sam had to fight back the smile when she challenges him, "Don't tell me what to do." She leaned in a little further, "I outrank you. Remember?" She pointed a finger, jabbed it into his chest, "Sargent." Then pointed to herself, "Lieutenant."

Face still as unreadable as always he captured her hand in his, finger still pointed, "We ain't in the Army any more, baby." He used her own finger to point to her chest, "Nurse." Then turned her finger towards himself and pressed it against his sternum. "Doctor."

Before she could argue, he saw it flash across her face that she was going to, he grabbed her other hand quick. He twisted them around behind her back so she can't reach him, and used the position to wrap his arms around her and pull her in to a kiss. Once she relaxed, hummed happily, and leaned into him he released her hands. He grinned against her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He pulled back a breath, "Good girl." and then she bit his lip, hard, which made him chuckle and only kiss her harder.

"Knock, knock!"

They pulled apart. Sam let out a little frustrated groan and Jack licked his top lip as he gave her ass one last squeeze. He pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, "I'm goin' to finish that later." Then he was on his way back out to check on the grill.

~~~~~

Robby found Sam in the kitchen, 'One of These Nights' by the Eagles played over the TV sound bar and he could smell the wood smoke through the open patio door from where Jack had something on the smoker.

"Ohhh, Jack's gonna be pissed." She giggled with a wicked smile as she met him halfway for a hug.

"As opposed to normal?" He gave her a squeeze.

"Yes. because he thought you'd bail. Now he owes me." She was still grinning as she stepped back from him.

Robby shook his head, "Don't want to know." Sam reached for the bottle of wine he held in his hand, but he pulled it back, held it out of her reach. "What exactly am I getting myself into here?"

She reached for it again, rolling her eyes at his antics, but he only held it out further. "Answer the question."

"Just relax, if it doesn't work out it doesn't work out, but... obviously you come up in conversation sometimes and one of the girls from work has showed some interest." She can see, clearly, that Robby is regretting his decision to go through with this. "Stop it. She's an RN, she's working at the VA while she finishes her masters. She's smart, she's sweet, she's young and pretty and a great nurse. I wish I had 5 more of her."

"How young?"

Sam had apparently hoped he'd gloss over that one. "Not like sketchy young, don't be gross." She tried to brush it off.

"Sam..." He tilted his head to one side and stared her down.

She just shrugged, "Jacks older than me, besides that's usually how it goes."

"By like five years. Not the point. How young is she Sam?"

"He's seven years older actually." She must see on his face she wouldn't talk her way out of it, because she offered up, "She's just a couple years younger than me."

"Sam!" His eyes go wide and he looks a little offended, "I'm going to be fifty fucking years old soon!"

"We all know you're old." Jack interrupted from the doorway as he walked into the kitchen. He slapped Jack on the back with one hand and took the bottle of wine with the other.

Robby scoffed and then scowled at him, "You're not far off either brother, just wait."

"Okay so she's younger, so what? She sure doesn't seem to mind." The look on her face makes it clear she's trying to fluster him. Throw him off.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack reappears beside them and hands a glass of wine to his wife and holds out a bourbon to Robby, "It apparently means you're 'sexy as fuck', which I deeply regret ever having to hear or repeat."

"Sam...I love you," Robby starts off, "but I am going to kill you."

"C'mon," Jack grabbed him and turned him around with a push, "Arguing won't make it better. Trust me."

Outside on the patio Robby stared out over the pool into the back yard and scratched at the back of his neck. "Why did I agree to this?"

"She's hard to say no to."

"Do you know this woman?" Robby felt like he was grasping at straws, trying to find any reason to believe this wouldn't blow up in his face.

Jack, his supposed best friend, just shrugged, "Never met her. Sam mentions her, but I don't know. She says she's smart, cool under pressure. Think they've hung out outside of work some."

Robby shook his head, "I can't date a woman in her thirties."

Drink in one hand and flipping steaks on the grill with the other Jack looked at him, "I'm married to a woman in her thirties. What's it matter?"

He laughed, self deprecating as ever, "Thirty nine, Jack, your wife is thirty nine, and for how many more months? You're also a lot closer to thirty than I am brother. Besides, you two have have been married for like twenty fucking years."

Jack didn't correct him, it hadn't quite been twenty years yet, instead he shut the grill and walked over to his corner of the outdoor couch, "Might be good for you." He dropped down to sit with a groan and took a sip of his bourbon.

A little reluctant Robby also took a seat and scratched at his jaw. He took a sip of the bourbon and stopped. "Oh, this is good."

Jack nodded "Broke out a bottle of the good stuff." He took a sip of his own, "Thought we might need it."

Robby scoffed, "We?" Glass raised back up to his lips, Jack smirked into his drink, "This is goin' to be painful for all of us."

Robby laughed, actually laughed, "Fuck off."

~~~~~ The End~~~~~~

The story continues!

Baby, It's Alright - Chapter One

#dr jack abbot #dr robby #the pitt #dr jack abbott #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbott #dr michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #doc bros #Dr Jack Abbot x ofc #Dr Jack Abbott x ofc #not friends friendship #noah wyle #shawn hatosy #the pitt max #the pitt hbo

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myballsyourballs · 1 year ago

Note

OKAY IVE BEEN IMAGINING A HAWKS X BAKUGOUS OLDER BROTHER READER?? okay but here me out bro, reader has been dating hawks for a while now, occasional family dinners at readers house with his parents, not brother, due to the fact that he’s training.

reader never brought up the fact that his younger brother goes to ua, and hawks never said anything about teaching 1a gym time-to-time, one day, reader goes to pick up katsuki early from school, and he realizes hawks is teaching, basically how everyone would react to one, finding out bakugou has a brother, and two he’s dating hawks??

(ps, hawks knew of readers last name, but never thought anything of it,)

big bro

keigo takami x male! older bakugou brother! reader

genre: fluff and slight crack oneshot (1,300ish words)

notes: i’m not a massive fan of how i wrote this (i don’t think it’s very good) but it’s been sitting in my drafts for months so here you go

synopsis: reader is katsuki's older brother who is dating hawks -- katsuki doesn't know reader is dating hawks, and hawks doesn't know katsuki is reader's brother. it stays that way until reader has to pick up katsuki from school early while hawks is teaching.

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Principal Nezu is shorter than you expect.

You expected him to be a man-sized rat, not a rat-sized man; though you suppose that isn’t an apt description either, given that he’s at least 2 feet tall and most rats aren’t 2 feet tall.

Regardless, he's still pretty intimidating when you run into him in the hall and he starts to ask you what you're doing.

"I'm looking for Bakugou Katsuki -- uh, my little brother. My parents wanted me to pick him up early since we're leaving today to go on a trip." Nezu seriously makes you nervous.

“Bakugou Katsuki is in Hero Training as of right now. You’ll be able to find him in the gym!” He smiles at you, teeth surprisingly white for a rodent. “Make sure to alert his teacher before you leave,” Nezu continues, an unnerving glint in his abyss-like eyes. You decide not to ask why he knows Katsuki’s timetable by heart.

“Sure. Thanks, Principal Nezu,” you smile, offering him a handshake kindly.

“Anytime, Bakugou-san.”

As you step into the gym, the first thing you notice is the smell of sweat. That, and the temperature. Despite the amount of heat emanating from the fire quirks of a select few and the body heat of everyone in the gym, it’s — surprisingly — rather cool. UA's unflinching ability to invest copious amounts of money into air conditioning was impressive. Your eyes trail across the sweeping ceilings and expensive equipment, whistling lowly. I should come here more often.

1-A looks to be split into pairs — sparring, maybe? — each student difficult to view clearly under the thin blanket of steam and smoke that surrounds them. Katsuki, however, is easy to spot among them. His explosions light up the room, the sound of the loud booms only rivalled by his rage-fuelled yelling. You watch, amused. Glad he’s… letting that out.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt class (the idea of 20 different teenagers having their undivided attention on you was a terrifying thought), the teacher was nowhere in sight and you were running out of time. “Katsuki!” you call, waving at the angry red glare that lands on you. The boy, in response, rolls his eyes snidely and stays rooted on the spot.

You sigh. Little brothers are so goddamn annoying. “Let’s go, dude,” you urge, emphasising your words with a vague ‘hurry up’ gesture. He scowls, but obliges nonetheless, walking slowly over with his hands shoved into his pockets. Once he's in front of you, he stops.

“My teacher isn’t here. I can’t leave yet.”

“Isn’t it their job to, you know, teach? Where the fuck did they go?” You furrow your brows.

“Fuck if I know,” Katsuki responds, matching your curses with equal indifference. “He went with Deku to go and get something.”

“Izuku’s here?”

“Why wouldn’t he be, dumbass? He’s in my class.”

And that’s when you notice the rest of 1-A. 18 pairs of eyes stare at you in utter shock and confusion, burning with questions. Your body stills, awkward under their gazes.

“Is that… your brother?” a red-haired boy with sharp teeth asks, looking between you and Katsuki slowly.

“Yeah,” Katsuki replies nonchalantly.

You take in the other boy's appearance: the insane amount of gel in his weirdly-styled hair, pointed teeth and the fact that he was sparring with Katsuki. Close friend, bad hair?

“You must be Shitty Hair.” you say, prompting half of the class to erupt into giggles. Vaguely, you recall his name is Kirishima, but Katsuki says it so rarely that you barely even associate it with him. ‘Shitty Hair’ blushes at the attention, nodding bashfully with an awkward smile. He rubs the nape of his neck, glancing once again between Katsuki and you.

“I can see how you’re related,” he laughs uncertainly.

“I can see who got the good genes,” a pink-haired girl with horns calls, “clearly not Bakugou.”

“YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGA—”

The doors slam open. You first see Izuku, who pauses at the commotion, and behind him you see… your boyfriend? What the fuck?

“Keigo?”

“[Y/N]?”

“[Y/N]-nii?” Izuku adds.

“Nii?” someone whispers in confusion.

“Hey, Izuku,” you respond weakly.

Silence falls. You take a moment to appreciate Keigo in his hero costume before the dots connect and you turn to Katsuki accusingly.

“He’s your teacher!?”

“He’s your brother!?” Keigo counters.

You turn to your boyfriend. “I told you I have a brother. You know my last name. You’ve literally met my mother and she’s the carbon-copy of Katsuki. Keigo, what even?”

“Er, well, in hindsight, maybe you’re right— but... you’re so nice,” he says, disbelief evident in his wide eyes and confused brows. “And he’s so… not—”

“The fuck did you just say—!?”

“Young man, I will give you a detention if you swear at me again,” Keigo says sternly, schooling his face into something unnaturally serious and crossing his toned arms over his chest. You can see the humour dancing his eyes, prompting you to chuckle quietly.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yes, Hawks-sensei,” he mutters, face contorted into a scowl. He angrily taps his shoe on the ground.

“Stop being a shit,” you chide, grabbing Katsuki by the shoulder roughly and rubbing your knuckles into his skull. The rest of 1-A watches on in absolute disbelief. (Except Izuku. He’s used to this.)

Katsuki groans exasperatedly, “You stop being a shit.”

“Hey!” Hawks gasps dramatically, “don’t call my boyfriend a shit!”

Silence.

You rub a hand over your temple in an attempt to ease your oncoming headache.

“YOUR FUCKING WHAT?!”

“Katsuki—”

The rest of 1-A is left in shock. (Including Izuku, this time). Some start yelling, some look like they’ve turned to stone, the usual. You’re too busy trying to hold back your feral little brother from attacking Keigo — you know he won’t actually, you’re just hoping Keigo knows that too.

“Wait, you’re gay?” A boy who you can recall as Kaminari splutters. Your face crinkles into confusion, nose scrunching like you’ve smelt a bad odour. You can see why Katsuki calls him Dunce Face.

“It runs in the family,” you say, with a pointed look to Katsuki.

His exhaustion must’ve caught up to him since he only offers a middle finger in response. Kaminari bursts into startled and slightly scared laughter.

A warm arm makes its way around your waist and it takes an embarrassing amount of effort for you to suppress a smile. You don’t even have to look at Keigo to know that he’s grinning.

Neither of you are big fans of PDA, but the urge to hug him right now is particularly strong; especially since he’s right there, but there’s also 20 kids right there which sucks and you have to go—

Right. You and Katsuki need to go. That was the point of this whole ordeal.

“Keigo,” you murmur, quiet enough for only him to hear. The rest of the class has ignored the two of you in favour of chatting amongst themselves or questioning Katsuki. Keigo hums, meeting your eyes. He smiles, his golden irises pooling with affection and his arm squeezing gently around your waist, seemingly in a trance. You chuckle, “I need to go.”

He startles. “Right! Right,” he says, clearing his throat. You pretend not to notice the faint tinge of red high on his cheekbones.

“Okay, 1-A. I’m gonna go sort this out quickly,” Keigo says to the class, his voice raised slightly in order to drown out the talking. “So please continue sparring — without quirks — until I’m back. I won’t be long.”

The class answers an affirmative, and then the two of you (plus Katsuki) are out the door. You turn to face Keigo, placing a quick peck on his lips. “I thought I just needed to tell you Katsuki was leaving and then you’d sort it?”

“That’s true… but I missed you,” Keigo sighs wearily, acting like he hadn’t seen you in years. (You spent the night with him literally yesterday.)

“Stop before I tear my fucking eyes out,” Katsuki interrupts. Keigo lifts his head to glare unhappily at him.

“Piss off, Katsuki,” you grumble, placing a slightly longer kiss on Keigo’s lips. You pull away at the realisation that you’re probably late, which means you’ll probably have to face the wrath of Mitsuki Bakugo. “I should— we should go. I’ve stayed way longer than I needed to.”

“Thank fuck,” Katsuki grumbles, occupying himself with his phone. Teenagers.

Keigo groans dejectedly but lets you go nonetheless. He watches you walk away, waving. “Bye, honeybear!”

“Don’t call me that!”

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rose-maidenn · 4 months ago

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⋆✿˖°Pick a Pile : What do People dream of you ⋆✿˖

Hey guys here in this reading I dive into various kinds of dreams people have about you some can be very clear and other can be eerie , select any Pile using your intuition and all of it might not reasonate as it is a collective reading

Masterlist | old masterlist

Want a longer reading or another reading book at

Paid readings

Pile 1 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read).

Manhattan, 444 , deli , delhi, psychedelic rock , chappal roan , Manu, sweet 16 , Anna karenina , Malcom and Marie, Mr and Mrs Smith, sweet blond jesus , sundays , 1970s , breakfast , clear cut diamonds , heist , monetairy affair, mole on the left side of cheek , glittery dress , you're wearing pink or yellow or black as you read , you have birthday on 5,21,8,5,12 of the month , you're born on Wednesday.

The first dream about you is dreamt by a young girl or a female friend you admire a lot , it's about shopping and spending time together in a cafe and having doughnuts and chatting about how so many changes have befall you yet how close the both of you feel to each other . I see the symbolism of the fan maybe this conversation is carried out as you guys look at the ceiling .

The next dream about you is dreamt by your mother about you being successful, maybe in a business industry or the singing industry , you might be an alto , I see peonies being represented (wealth and prosperity) , she also might have received a task to do to ensure that something involving writing a small chit and placing it somewhere maybe in the altar, money bowl etc .

The third dream I tap in is dreamt by an online friend , blond or red hairs , they dream of you in a garden harvesting fruit with them I see a lot of red around, this could be sunset time or the colour of the realm is red . I see that they relate to you a lot and want to spend time with you . They keep you in their prayers a lot and hence they dream of you so vividly.

Pile 2 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Cobra Kai , 555, Birth of venus , a purple car , crown , eatery , devilish sweet , idiocracy , self made star , faraway land , willow , apples , yule ball , Saraswati, Athena, yellow , Azul, attar , dogs , bed bugs, blond hair , Birth mark on bosum or scalp , you're burning a candle as you read , you're wearing white , blue or green as you read . Born on 31 , 3 , 7 , 6 , 17 of the month . Born on Tuesday or Friday

The first dream about you is dreamt about you is a weird competitive and erotic dream , it's dreamt by a colleague who has been dreaming to overthrow you , they're so obsessed with you it has turned psychosexual , I'm not getting into details but you might need to do a cord cutting , I feel you're also experiencing dreams about them , honey go ahead and cleanse yourself.

The next dream about you is from an admirer I see them taking you on a helicopter or a private jet to an island and talking with you all day long , they play with your hairs make you food mainly pasta and give you a head massage. They get continuous dreams about you , in other dates they visit museums and sit by rivers talking to you about classics , their childhood and your wishes and wants , sweet so sweet .

The third dream about you is dreamt by a teacher or a guru or a superior, it's related to your academic or spiritual journey , you're on your way to unlock new horizons and the teacher is being asked to prepare themselves to guide you properly . They also see that you place them in your success story and make them famous much like they becoming famous because their student made it big in life .

Pile 3 :

Symbolisms and confirmers: (not all of them have to resonate if anyone does go ahead and read):

Sylvia plath , danger , conceit , burrow , red alert , sapphires, skin , the substance , weaving , crocheting , barbie in the 12 dancing princesses , Trans, bi , blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb , lack of communication, berries , rainbows , horses, manifesting generator , wedding bells , piercings and snake or quote tattoos , you're wearing pyjamas as you read . You're wearing red , sheer , beige , pink as you read . You are Born on 1, 18 , 19 , 25 , 13 , you are Born on Thursday, Monday .

The very first dream is by a friend you are cut off from or just fell apart from , they're dreaming of you near a fountain or a water body giving them advice or consoling them about something this person is having a bad time actually they sleep really less , maybe you should talk if they aren't bad or toxic . They also dream of you both being In a concert maybe guns and roses

The next dream is by someone who is actively manifesting you , it's crazy and eerie , they don't see your face , could be a soul mate or someone from your soul tribe, they see you spending their time with them and talking about various subjects , also going on a travelling journey also see some arguments and casino is also seen . Guys it's 1:11 am hehe a confirmation

The third dream is an absolute action packed banger of a dream could call it a batman coded superhero dream , it is being dreamt by a past admirer or a childhood friend who still likes you, you're being upheld by a monster who keeps eating your skin and then he /she comes along and protects you and heals you through some dna regeneration technology and then yall kiss and call it a night.

Thanks for reading hope it helped 🌸✨️

#tarot community #tarot blog #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a photo #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #pac tarot #pac reading #witchblr #diviniation #intuitive tarot reader #intuitive messages #intuitive guidance #intuitive readings

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tryingtofindava · 4 months ago

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── 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐬

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

Giddy but nervous.

This boy practically leaps on you to capture your lips (He doesn’t know how to kiss). All his knowledge is what he’s seen in movies, and he assumes it’s easy to recreate.

The kiss would be sloppy, teeth clashing, too much tongue, and it’s clear it’s his first time :P

But at least he’s putting his all into it…?

If you’re a starter kisser, it’s a learning experience for you both!!!

If you’re more experienced, feel free to take the lead and ease him into it.

He will never tell you that he’s the one that hung it there purposefully just to kiss you.

╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

She goes as stiff as a board, she’s quite literally the🧍‍♀️emoji irl.

Just push her mask which she seems to never take off up and peck her lips. She won’t say anything, won’t push you away, or kiss you back.

She’s internally a mess tho.

Will be blushing when she hurriedly pulls her mask down again when you pull away.

Never looks at you the same, and will assume that you two have some sort of thing going on.

Everytime you guys walk through a door frame together she will look out for a mistletoe, and won’t admit it but does get disappointed when she can’t immediately spot one.

╰┈➤ 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 & 𝐇𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞

Now Brian will give you his cute little gap toothed grin, leaning in and pecking you.

And will immediately walk away with a sly grin, leaving you there wide eyed and flushed.

He’s a cocky wee bastard about it and will always bring it up to you just when you’ve forgotten about it. News flash…

He’ll make sure you never will!! <3

Also suddenly there’s mistletoes everywhere…

The ceiling fans, every doorway, and just generally anywhere you guys could cross paths. Even in the fridge…?

Now Hoodie on the other hand…

He’s still cocky and smug about it, just silently… (I headcanon he’s like selectively mute and uses sign language)

And will kiss you through his balaclava, and you will be able to feel his smirk through the thin fabric.

Won’t ever bring it up again if you guys aren’t in a relationship, and will be cocky about it and always point out mistletoes to you hehe.

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 & 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐲

Tim gets bashful and nervous.

Leans up/leans down to your height and gives you a quick but sweet smooch.

Will blush everytime he sees a mistletoe for the rest of his life… and probs will avoid walking alongside you through doorways.

Now Masky… he has to keep up his tough guy act y’know?

Doesn’t believe in kissing under the mistletoe.

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆･:*:｡･:*:･ﾟ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆･:*:｡･:*:･ﾟ⋆꙳•❅

THIS IS SO LATE OMG IM SRRYY!!! D’: Anways this is for my Christmas Chronicles hehe

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby x you #toby rogers x reader #kate the chaser x y/n #kate milens x reader #kate the chaser x you #kate the chaser x reader #tim wright x reader #tim wright x you #masky x reader #tim/masky x reader #brian/hoodie x reader #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas x you #hoodie x reader

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ace-turned-confused · 9 months ago

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spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued…

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase.

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #secretsprings

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thecheshireprincess · 29 days ago

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The Game Itself

Chapter VI: Does This Place Change People?

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) AU Series

Content Warning: Canon-typical violence, killing, mentions of blood and injuries, curse words, mentions and reminders of an abusive father/childhood, Niragi is an absolute problem in this one

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Isn't it intriguing how quickly your mind can change about a person? Just yesterday you had thought that Takeru might not be as bad as you'd originally thought, having left your shopping expedition with him feeling even kind of fond of him.

And that still may be true for Takeru, if he even existed in his true form anymore. But you can be certain that Hatter really was as bad as you'd thought, after all. Maybe even worse.

You are absolutely seething. Agitation courses thickly through your veins, jaw clenching so tightly your facial muscles were at risk of snapping. You had been crystal clear about your boundaries; about the one singular rule you had when agreeing to join The Beach. We don't play games together. Hatter had carelessly cast this rule to the side, assigning you and Aguni to the same playing group as Chishiya tonight. And for what? What benefit was it to him to put the two of you together against your wishes?

You huff in irritation, anxiously wringing your hands and softly rocking backward on your heels. Trying anything to release the dark energy that was building under the surface of your skin without drawing attention to yourself. Chishiya stood silently, clearly unbothered by the situation, as always. His steady hands busied themselves with a pair of headphones he had found and fixed earlier in the week. Though his non-chalance should have calmed you, it only served to fan the flames of your frustration further. You want to shake his shoulders and ask why the fuck - how the fuck - he acted so emotionless all the time; you want to force a reaction from him.

Aguni stood across the dimly lit lobby from you with a militant he'd selected from his ever-growing pack. The man had unruly black hair only partially tamed by a bandana and was dressed in all denim. You knew he thought he was cool. You glared daggers into Aguni for good measure, if only for his association with Hatter. If the man noticed your wrathful gaze, he didn't show it - relaxing back against the wall, eyes lazily studying the cracked ceiling. Bored. You're really quite on edge today, you notice, finding a reason to be upset with absolutely everyone. Probably because your brother had murdered someone last night in cold blood, and you felt guilty for it.

Before you can grind your teeth into dust as a result of the emotions thundering around you, you're distracted by two guys entering the lobby. The scrawnier of the two has shaggy brown hair; the other blonde, an orange Hawaiian shirt draped over his thin but muscular build. It was obvious they weren't new to playing these games because they snatched up their phones without question and settled into an empty space to wait with the rest of you.

The shaggy haired guy speaks in a low voice to his friend, "Look how many people are here! Do you think one of them is a doctor?" Your eyes snap to his face at this, instinctively moving closer. Why did they need a doctor? Should you help?

Chishiya drags you back to stand slightly behind him, lifting your hood over your head as a reminder to keep it reigned in. Emotionless, remember? "Don't even think about it," he murmurs, not even looking up at you. After a moment of silence, he hands you one of the headphones he had been fidgeting with previously.

The gesture makes you chuckle a little bit, realizing how normal this interaction is; how you had previously taken soft moments like this for granted. You could almost imagine the two of you waiting at the train station instead, heading off to class or the library. Maybe even shopping if it was the weekend. You suddenly miss the mundane aspects of your life before, where the most you had to worry about was passing your physiology exams. And being comforted by your brother when you nearly failed. The memory of that day, only a few weeks ago, pressed itself in your mind and made your heart squeeze in melancholy. Remembering how Niragi had babied you that day, trying to press his hand against your forehead when he thought you were sick. And how you'd pushed him away.

Now that that version of your brother was gone and may never return again, you wish you had let him stay close for a just little bit longer.

You sigh dejectedly, tentatively laying your head against Chishiya's shoulder while you continue waiting for the game to start. You expect your friend to tense up, or maybe even push your head off of him - he's never really cared for public displays of affection. Never really had any reason to. And that was even when it was more platonic between you than you suspected it had become. What exactly was going on between the two of you, anyway?

You're amazed when he doesn't move an inch, not reacting in any discernable way. You're even more amazed when the man silently reaches his right hand to take your left one in his, soothingly running his cool thumb over your knuckles.

It's a rare moment of peace you're afforded with your friend in this place, and you're grateful for it. Your tired eyes flutter closed, allowing the soft rhythm of the song you know Chishiya has chosen specifically for you to wash over your entire being, transporting you from this place, if only for a moment.

You drift in an ethereal space, cultivated by the breathtaking lyrics and gentle melody of your favorite song. Though your friend hadn't necessarily intended for you to hear what he said early this morning while you were drifting back off to sleep, you had.

Don't give up on him yet, Koko. Just keep playing the game, and we'll be home soon enough.

You weren't sure what to make of what he said, and it honestly gave you more questions than answers. So it was a game that Niragi was playing, and somehow he must have dragged Chishiya into it. That could explain the tension between the two of them, because you knew your friend would be uncomfortable hiding anything from you. But it felt like more than that.

Your relationship with Niragi was definitely questionable at this point in the game, but you trusted Chishiya with your entire life, your entire heart. He'd never do anything to betray that, right?

[Registration is Now Closed] Your eyes blink open, marking the end of your tranquil moment. You stand up straight, stretching your neck out slightly as the cheerful voice you hadn't missed the last couple of days rings out around you. Chishiya wraps the headphones up, sticking them safely in his pants pocket. The man then kneels to pick up his newest invention from where it lay on the concrete floor, charging. You hadn't asked about it, you honestly didn't really want to know.

Another player, one wearing a blue ballcap and acting flighty, frantically starts asking the two guys from before what's going on. He is obviously a new arrival in this world, about to play his very first game. Your condolences. You find it strange how you've been here so long and there are still new people starting their journey here every night.

You hear the shaggy haired guy - the one who had been asking for a doctor - start to tell him about the game you'd soon be playing, only to be cut off by his friend. You understood, Chishiya had done the same to you in your very first game. Don't react to the others, they could hold us back.

[Difficulty: Five of Spades] Relief floods your body, at least it isn't a Hearts game. A fit girl with a bob cut starts stretching her legs out on the floor where she had once been standing. Not a bad idea.

[Game: Game of Tag] Sharing a quick glance with your friend, you wonder how a simple game of tag could earn a rank five. And who would be the tagger? You hoped it wasn't another game of player vs. player like your second game had been - what if you and Chishiya had to play against each other? This was why you didn't want to do this!

[Rule: Run away from the Tagger.] Simple.

[Clear Condition: Discover the safezone hidden in one of the building rooms within the time limit. You clear the game when this objective is fulfilled.] A little more challenging, but still simple.

[Time Limit: Twenty Minutes]

[Game Over: After twenty minutes has passed, a time bomb hidden in the building will explode.] A time bomb? Fuck.

You scan the room briefly, the large group of players who had previously been chattering amongst themselves had now fallen stoically silent. With just twenty minutes to stop a time bomb and hide from the Tagger, everyone seemed to realize that this might be a little more on the challenging side. Especially housed in such a sprawling building.

Chishiya interlaces his fingers with yours once more, pulling you gently in the direction of the centrally located elevator. No time to lose, you need to choose a starting position with only two minutes until the Tagger is on the move. The rest of the group seems to be kickstarted by your motion, players anxiously scattering and yelling amongst each other to figure out where to go.

"Where are we going?" You decide to ask your friend, watching as the elevator slowly rises upward, the red number shining above you getting higher.

"To the perfect vantage point, of course. We get to choose our starting position, so the best course of action is to get to the highest place to see everything happening below us." As always, you're glad Chishiya is on your side and not your enemy.

When the dusty elevator chimes at floor seven, the top floor, Chishiya leads you out to the far corner of the concrete banister to look out over the apartment building. A cool gust of air brushes along your exposed cheeks, causing a chill to run down your spine and making your body shiver. Chishiya steals a glance at you, suddenly pulling you closer to him to help block the chill in the night air. He pulls your back to be flush against his chest and cages his arms gently around you; one hand settling at your hip and the other resting easily on the wall on front of you. He looks down at you, you tilting your head a bit to meet his gaze. "Better?" he hums in question.

Your lips quirk up in a smirk. "Much better," you whisper. You wonder briefly how inappropriate it would be to suddenly kiss your best friend in the middle of a death game, but you miss your opportunity once again. Chishiya's gaze is pulled from you to someone across the building - Aguni and his militant partner.

The blonde waves empathically, almost making you laugh at how uncharacteristic it is, only to be met with a stone cold stare from the muscular man.

"What? That's nasty!" Chishiya remarks, causing you to snort. You grin at Aguni, giving a small wave of your own. Aguni smiles slightly back then winks at you, before turning on his heel and heading back towards the central staircase.

Chishiya sucks in a breath and instinctively pulls you closer, causing you to let out a full laugh this time. "Jealous again, are we?" You tease with a lilt in your tone. The man simply grumbles incoherently, shifting both hands to hold your hips now. Possessively.

You lean your head back against Chishiya, head pressed into the crevice between his neck and shoulder. You feel the way his breath catches and heart pounds against his pulse point - so maybe he's not so emotionless after all. THIS you could work with, this got you feeling a little excited.

Obviously trying to distract himself, your friend remarks with a smirk, "Let's see. . . everyone looks like they're about to die, as usual." The corner of your lips tilt slightly, "Oh come on, give them a chance." You both study the playing field in a comfortable silence for a few beats, quietly making bets in your heads on who would be making it out of the arena.

[The Tagger is on the move] the robotic voice informs you, accompanied by an obnoxious fanfare blasting throughout the arena. Game time.

You lean forward again, still tangled safely in Chishiya's arms, his touch helping to ground you and keep you calm. You had to say, you were kind of enjoying playing this game with him, now that you knew you could both survive it.

You inspect the people running through the apartment complex, feet pounding loudly against the cement flooring. Most of them were panicking already. No clear sign of the Tagger yet. The tension around the complex is buzzing like an electric field; you were just waiting for the first person to get electrocuted.

You don't have to wait for long, because suddenly a round of gunshots echo out across the concrete, startling you back from the railing and further into the blonde's arms. He wraps both arms tightly around you, squeezing you tight as he looks for the source of the gunshots. Being tagged in this game evidently equated to being shot to death. Brutal.

The two guys from the lobby burst into the hallway of the third floor, a massive horse masked figure following them slowly, but menancingly. The Tagger. You felt your heart stop briefly - now that's a terrifying sight. They are smart enough to hide in a doorway outside of his vision, allowing them to escape with their lives for now; the Tagger moving back towards the stairs to find more victims.

You watch in horror as the sketchy guy who had been with the boys at the start of the game runs screaming down the hallway on the first floor, bullets being pelted into his back. The Tagger had found him. Another man, witnesses this and gives up immediately, exiting the boundary of the game arena and being greeted by the red laser from the sky.

Your eye twiches slightly and you feel kind of guilty for standing around watching, while everyone else searches for the safezone. Losing their lives. You don't dare go against Chishiya's strategy, though, the man squeezing his hand against your hip in reassurance.

You are surprised out of your skin when the shaggy haired guy suddenly appears again sprinting down one of the hallways, shouting at the top of his lungs, "everyone! The Tagger is currently at the second level of the central area! The Tagger has bad vision because of his mask! Let's inform each other each other of the Tagger's location and search for the safezone together!" You watch with widened eyes, the man bravely risking giving up his location to help the others, as his blonde friend frantically tries to silence him.

Chishiya looks on, "It's a good idea, but no one will respond." You smirk, twisting in his arms to look at him, "Some people are good, Shiya. Watch." You are certain that someone will respond, they have to. You need them to, you need to continue to have hope in humanity.

"The tagger is moving from the fourth level of the central area! Anyone nearby, run!" A feminine voice calls out, from a location you cannot see. Your heart soars and you grin widely at Chishiya, who glances down at you in quiet astonishment. "Really?"

The girl who had been stretching in the lobby suddenly darts down the long stretch of the building, attempting to get another player out of the area. Unfortunately, the Tagger is not far behind, and you suck in a deep breath awaiting their inevitable executions. The girl jumps up on the water spout and scales the building to get away, having to leave the other woman behind. You gasp, absolutely floored by her skill.

"Oh? A climber," Chishiya notes, a small smile gracing his face. "She's good." You continue staring, lips parted. "Amazing, actually," you breathe, stunned.

Your attention is caught by the guy in the blue baseball cap again, checking doors for the safezone. As he gets to one close to the central area of the building, bullets suddenly rain down upon him. You're surprised, unable to see the Tagger. He must be shooting from across the building at a long distance - but why would he? You think on this question for a minute or two, eyes locked on the blue metal door to the apartment. Chishiya smiles, knowing you had figured it out too.

Eventually, your friend pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket to show you the time remaining - [6:35]. He spins you delicately in his arms, removing your hood from your head and fixing your hair, "shall we begin?"

You and Chishiya approach the door, seeing the shaggy haired guy from the lobby about to twist the silvered knob. Arisu, you think you remembered hearing his friend call him when he was helping the boy in the baseball cap.

"So you realized that too?" Chishiya applauds him, tone cold and mocking.

The guy nods once, "yes. The safezone is in this apartment." He hesitates a bit, still hanging onto the door knob. Chishiya stares at him, eyes shining with a hint of amusement.

"Aren't you going to open it?" You ask him, tone as cold are you were capable of, though not necessarily mean.

"Why did the Tagger chase us?" The man muses, "They could have just waited here." You had thought that too. What if there was a trap waiting inside? But what could you really do? Time was literally ticking down.

Chishiya hums from beside you, eyes still amused, "seems like there's something else we don't know. However, if you don't open it . . . " He trails off, lifting his phone again to show timer flashing on the screen.

[03:06]

The man steels himself with another nod and opens the door, the metal groaning loudly as it swings open. The three of you peek in carefully, seeing nothing obvious awaiting you in the darkness. Arisu and Chishiya step through the door, you at their heels. You're all looking around quickly, searching for the button that will stop the time bomb from detonating and clear the game.

You hear a slight creak in the old flooring from behind you, spinning around and letting out a yelp when you see a second horse head Tagger approaching your group. Arisu pushes all three of you to the ground, Chishiya reaching out with his new contraption to shock them. You and Arisu look at Chishiya bewildered as you return to standing, him simply shrugging, "it never hurts to be prepared."

Prepared, you were not. The Tagger haphazardly rains bullets towards the three of you from the floor, Chishiya's arm finding your waist and pulling you with him back out of the front door, and Arisu proceeding forward into the other room and slamming the door. You hear bullets collide with the metal of the door in front of you as it closes; that had been a close brush with death.

Dazed, you find yourself sprawled in Chishiya's lap, both of you panting desperately for air. He leans the side of his body against the door, quickly cradling your face in his hand. He runs the other hand over your body, eyes quickly searching for injuries. Chestnut eyes suddenly wild and face contorted into an expression you didn't recognize on his face.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, though still checking over you for himself. You shake your head, mind still reeling. "Good," he says with more emotion than you think you've ever heard from him. He pulls you closer to him, arm looped around your shoulder and kisses your forehead, wrapping his arms tightly around you as you both stand back up.

You peek at Chishiya from your peripheral vision, wondering what that had been about. Though he has since returned a neutral look to his face, you quickly realize that the unrecognizable emotion in him had been fear. Fear for you. You had never seen Chishiya be afraid, not of anything. This causes your heart to race a little faster, you needed to clear this game.

It's then that Arisu's voice calls out, "Someone please come over! The safezone is in apartment 406! It's impossible to clear the game alone! We need two people to do this!"

"Seriously?" Chishiya sighs, and you instinctively try to open the door again, but Chishiya holds you back. Glaring at him, he relents, "we have to time it right. There's still a Tagger in there with a loaded gun. We have to be strategic about it." The two of you wait for a moment, straining your ears to hear what's happening inside the room. Once it sounds like the Tagger has gotten into the second room with the man, you enter quietly, ready to strike.

The climber girl simultaneously busts through the window to help Arisu, "You called?" she asks. Arisu continues struggling with the Tagger, and Chishiya tosses the taser to the girl. She moves swiftly, pressing it into their leg and knocking them to the floor once more. You move into the second room now, kicking the gun out of the Tagger's grasp. You hold your breath as the couple leaps towards the buttons situated on either side of the room, hitting them just in time.

[Game Clear - Congratulations] You glance down at your phone in shock, reading the time remaining - 00:01. You had cut this one way too close. You loudly exhale the breath you'd been holding, shoulders sinking as you release some of the tension.

Another phone in the room chimes, signaling a Game Over. You spin around to the Tagger, who was now slumped against the wall, horse mask discarded on the floor. You find yourself kneeling down towards her, revealed to be a normal looking woman, someone who was eerily familiar. You know those brown orbs, you'd recognize them anywhere. Even when they stared back at you in terror, defeated. Your own eyes widen at the magnitude of your realization. Himari. Your neighbor is here, had been forced to play these games just like you, but on the opposite side.

"Himari, you're a player too," you whisper to the older lady, the collar you'd just noticed clasped restrictively around her neck suddenly beeping rapidly. You feel your breath catch in your chest, the familiar lump in your throat forming once again.

"No, no, no, no!" you shout in distress, eyes crazed and hands flexing and un-flexing. Trying to figure out a solution quickly. What could you do? The woman who had always been kind to you simply says your name, "keep winning."

The obnoxious beeping gets faster still, before finally detonating. You jump back as the poor woman's blood splashes everywhere, coating the previously white wall, Chishiya who was standing in the doorway, and you. You allow yourself to fall backwards onto the cold, hard floor absolutely shocked and shaking.

Arisu and the climber girl that had been standing behind you watching the exchange slowly approach, concern etched on their faces. "Are you okay?" The man asks slowly, holding a shaking hand out to you. You can't bring yourself to react.

"She's fine, you can leave now," Chishiya tells them coldly, coming to stand protectively over you, latching onto the hood of your jacket. You weren't sure if that action was to comfort you or him. You don't move, still staring, eyes unfocused at the gruesome scene before you. She had been a player too. Are all the dealers of the games just like you? Fighting for their lives? Who would take care of Himari's cats?

The two leave the apartment, though hesitantly. You were grateful because you didn't feel like socializing at this point, covered in someone else's blood. Someone that you had a hand in killing. Someone who you had known for years. Had shared cookies and tea with.

Chishiya kneels down next to you, one hand resting on your knee comfortingly. He begins checking the pockets of the camo tactical suit Himari was wearing with his free hand. You wanted to be aghast by his actions, but it was probably smart. You needed to know everything you possibly could about this place, and a game dealer might have valuable intel.

He finds a crumpled piece of white paper with a circle and several squiggles. What could those markings even mean? A map? Chishiya holds it up in front of both of you for a moment before tucking it away into his pocket.

He turns to you, attempting to wipe some of the blood from your face with his sleeve. He sighs when it presumably makes it worse, instead taking your hands and pulling you up with him. He must see your usual signs of crying, because he shushes you, "Not now. Not here, okay?" Cry later, we need to get back to The Beach.

Chishiya leads you into the elevator and presses the button to return to the lobby. You lay your head against the shiny surface of the wall, completely numb and unable to hold yourself up any longer. The cold press of the metal barely registers in your mind, as you allow yourself to drown in the shock of watching Himari die in front of you, her blood coating your skin.

The two of you exit the elevator when it chimes too cheerfully for your liking, re-entering the lobby where you had waited anxiously just half an hour ago. How quickly things can change. Your eyes find the Five of Spades card set mockingly on the table where the phones had been set up earlier. You snap it up into your blood soaked hands, annoyed that you'd once again be handing a bloodied card to Hatter.

Aguni catches up to the two of you outside the apartment, his partner nowhere in sight. Another casualty, you presume. You don't look up at him, and he doesn't say anything to either of you. He gets into the driver's seat of the car, looking only mildly surprised when you fall into the backseat beside Chishiya instead of sitting in the front with him. You're so tired. So cold. So numb.

You sit upright, face forward, body shaking. You will yourself not to freak out right now. But Himari's face was permanently etched in your mind's eye. It was all you could see, especially when you closed your eyes.

"Are you okay, little one?" Aguni asks, looking at you through the rear view mirror, concern etched on his features. You briefly realize that he's been injured too - a gash across his eye from some kind of knife? You couldn't lie, it would leave a badass scar one day.

You attempt to hum as an answer to his question, but it comes out more like a whimper. His question, so soft and sweet struck you to your core. You were not alright. You allow your body to slump down in silence, head falling into Chishiya's lap, face still forward and staring blankly at the old leather seat in front of you.

He clicks his tongue, brushing your hair from your face carefully, comfortingly. No one says anything as you drive home through the cold night air.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

When you enter the conference room that you love to hate to find Hatter, you still say nothing. The man looks up at your group expectantly and you place the card down in front of him, tapping it with a bloodied index finger as punctuation. His face lights up to see it isn't a duplicate, and you step away from the table allowing him to see Chishiya and Aguni behind you.

"And what about Riku, Aguni?" Hatter asks distractedly, twirling the card in his long fingers. You are certain he doesn't really care, it honestly comes out as more of a taunt. Aguni straightens a little, "a casualty." You hum internally, the denim-clad guy's name was Riku and he definitely died during tag.

Hatter nods knowingly, "That's too bad," he mumbles, "I know you liked him. Guess you'll have to find a replacement now." Aguni simply nods once, not giving anyone much to work with.

You hadn't noticed initially in your haze, but Ann is also sitting at the table, studying you carefully. As you attempt to retreat, she calls your name, "are you hurt? Can I help you?" It's a genuine and sweet offer. But you can't handle sweetness right now. Not when you'd just watched your neighbor explode in front of you, her blood now drying on your features.

"It's not mine," you say frostily, "just leave me alone." And despite everyone's shock at The Beach Princess turning into an ice queen suddenly, they do leave you alone. You turn on your heel and walk swiftly from the room, Chishiya at your heels.

You find yourself sat in front of the vanity in your bathroom, now wet hair dripping occasionally down your shoulders. Chishiya is behind you, working your brush delicately through the strands. Your silence somehow made Chishiya the talkative one, saying everything and nothing all at once. Attempting to bring you back to yourself. To distract you from the death of Himari and the cold realization that you weren't just playing for your lives. You were playing for your lives at the expense of someone else's.

You hear the soft click of the outer door to your hotel room opening, not bothering to react. It's probably just Kuina returning from her game and coming to check on you. More than likely, the entire Beach was aware that you'd returned from your game soaked in blood and acting weird. You're certain they'll all be talking about you soon enough; word travels fast around here.

You continue to stare blankly at your tired eyes in the mirror when a surprising figure joins you in the bathroom. In your current state, you don't bother to look up at your brother who was studying your appearance in the mirror.

"I heard you returned to The Beach coated in blood," the man starts, taking the brush from Chishiya's hands. Aguni must have gone to him.

"It wasn't mine," you spit, more venomously than you've ever dared to speak to him, "besides, I wasn't aware that you still cared." If Niragi is surprised by your attitude, he doesn't show it, and he doesn't correct you either, still gently - more gentle than you've seen this Niragi act - brushing through your hair.

"I do care, as a matter of fact," he clicks his tongue, "but somehow you seem to not realize just how precarious of a position we are all in." His voice is low, measured; as though he is at war with himself to not say the wrong thing. As if it would be easier for him to not be speaking with you at all. And maybe that's true.

You look incredulously at your brother through the mirror now, "yes and whose fault is it that we were brought here, Niragi?! You forced us to come here, forced the others to hunt us down for you. And for what? To be treated like shit and ignored and, and whatever you've done to Chishiya! You've quietly dictated my every move here, not telling me the rules to the game that you are playing and it isn't fair. Do you even understand how scared I am? You're a horrible brother for this." You finally tell him what you really think. How you really feel.

You probably should have left at least that last part unsaid, because Niragi does react now, sharply grabbing ahold of your jaw and forcing your gaze to meet his in the mirror. He brings his face down right beside your ear, "Enough," he growls dangerously. A tone that feels sickeningly familiar, yet strange coming from him all at once.

Your brother snarls your full name for the first time probably ever, "You have no idea what's going on here, no idea how dangerous our position is. I can't have you compromising things - do not come back to The Beach looking weak and terrified again. You need to be acting like you are at the top of the food chain, I have worked hard to ensure your position there. Do you hear me?"

You look at him with confused eyes. You don't understand any of this, not even for a second. He pauses, focusing on a knot in your hair, still, despite his cruel words and angry demeanor, attempting to be gentle.

"I don't want Aguni coming to me again telling me that you're falling the fuck apart. Even if you are physically falling apart, you keep it together," he commands, voice leaving no room for you to argue. Niragi snaps his head to Chishiya then, "And you are supposed to be ensuring that she does." Your friend just blinks slowly at your brother, the two suddenly engaged in a silent standoff.

You break their tension with your quiet voice, "But I trust Aguni." Your brother scoffs, eyes shining in amusement, "Oh you trust him, do you? That's sweet." He rolls his eyes, mocking you. "Well I fucking don't! Why do you think that Chishiya was at your game with you tonight? Because I made it so! You will be playing with one of us from now on, sweetheart."

You stared, mouth agape at the man standing behind you. And so it had been Niragi that had carelessly disregarded your only rule. He had crossed a clearly set boundary and shattered your trust. Looking carefully at his reflection, you barely recognized him as the man you'd always known. Everything about him was different, from his cold, blackened eyes to the way he carried himself, more cocky now. He'd even pierced his tongue, a thought that made you shiver in disgust. You didn't know this person, and now you weren't sure you could even trust him.

Chishiya stayed locked in on your hair, jaw clenched tightly. His fingers silently braided the right side of your still damp locks, Niragi focusing on the left. You looked to him for help a couple of times but noticed that he wouldn't meet your gaze.

When the boys were finished with your hair, you rise from the stool you'd been perched on heading straight to the bed. You weren't a fan of the tension in the room, and a part of you wished for Niragi to leave so Chishiya could relax. So you could relax? But the bigger part of you has to know, if you ask your brother to stay, will he? Niragi always stays.

You slide your body under the still way too scratchy blankets, in the bed that was still way too hard for your liking, pressing your tired head into the pillow. Chishiya comes to sit on his side of the bed, making no move to actually go to sleep, nor look at either of you. Just staring at the pattern on the comforter that always seemed to be more interesting than anything else to him.

Your thoughts are swirling, and your heart can't get past it. You need to tell Niragi what happened or it will haunt you forever. It probably would anyway. You feel your eyes filling with tears, biting your cheek and looking down at your still shaky hands, "Himari was one of the game dealers tonight. A collar around her neck exploded when we cleared the game, it was her blood on me."

You see Niragi's eyes soften slightly, the man letting out a slow breath through his lips. He knew that you were close with Himari, that this would be difficult to get past. He approaches the bed hesitantly, holding something you hadn't noticed before. When he drops the soft, folded article in your lap, you get a scent of nostalgia. Of home. "Thought this might help," he says quietly, still measured. Unsure.

You look down, unwrapping it to find it was your favorite blanket from home. The blanket that your brother had always wrapped you up in in the aftermath, snuggling you close. The blanket that had been your mother's. Niragi had brought it here for you.

You stare down at it, eyes shining. You hold the worn, silky material between your fingertips, the texture alone soothing you. You smile lightly up at your brother, "Thank you."

Niragi nods simply and then turns to reunite himself with his rifle, his absolute pride and joy. He must have leaned up beside the door when he entered the room; how thoughtful of him to not wave it around in your face in the bathroom.

You can see that Niragi is trying to leave, back facing you and approaching the door. You sit up again slowly to look at him, you had to know. "Niragi?" You say tentatively, not unlike a younger version of yourself, "Stay?"

You see him freeze, his entire body tense, before he lets out another heavy sigh and turns back around. Taking slow, uncertain steps toward you again, you hold your breath. The man drags the puffy red armchair from the corner of the room to sit next to your side of the bed, flopping his body into it. You get a good look at him now, the man is exhausted.

This wasn't exactly what you'd had in mind when you asked him to stay, but it was something. He was giving you just enough to keep you from breaking entirely.

Niragi turns the lamp off, not unlike that very first night you'd spent here. The night you barely remembered through your fevered state and agonizing pain in your side. Oh how you hoped to never have to feel like that again. But in this place? You knew it was only a matter of time.

You try to allow sleep to overtake you, focusing hard on the loud rumbling of the air conditioner. That thing was on its last leg, and working way too hard to cool the air around you. The minutes tick past, but every time you close your eyes you can see Himari looking at you in fear, you hear her last words to you, you feel her blood spattering messily over your skin. Keep winning. Without realizing it, your cheeks are wet with tears, silent sobs escaping your body.

Your brother isn't easily fooled, even in this form and even in the dark, of course he knows you're crying. You try to stay quiet, not really wanting to be yelled at again. You probably should have let him leave when he wanted to, Chishiya would have let you cry openly. But you had to know, had to test that you still had a piece of the Niragi that you knew.

Surprisingly, Niragi finds the blanket he had just given you, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders, swaddling you the way he used to. He then reaches his hand out to find yours in the dark, squeezing it gently but firmly, "go to sleep, I'm here." You wrap both hands around the one he has offered you, holding on for dear life. You feel your body finally start to relax, peacefully finding slumber now.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

The sun is high in the sky by the time you finally wake up, light filtering in through the ratty curtains that you wanted to rip down and burn. You could hear Chishiya quietly tinkering with something - the man had probably been awake for hours by now. If he had even gone to sleep at all. Of course, Niragi was nowhere to be seen, the chair he had sat on pushed back into the corner. He had probably left you as soon as your breathing evened out.

The door creaks open, causing you to sleepily sit up, blankets pooling around your waist. An excited squeal - Kuina walks in, grinning at your still zombified state. "You're finally awake, I'm so excited! I brought you back a present from my game last night!" She holds up an emerald green bikini triumphantly, "isn't it adorable, and so you?!" She squeals again. "I knew it would bring out those gorgeous, sparkling eyes of yours," she gushes.

You can't help but smile as you sit up, taking the soft crocheted fabric between your fingers, studying it. "I love it, thank you," you murmur. You really had never had a girl friend like her, and the feeling of receiving this gift was unfamiliar territory. You liked it, wanted to keep Kuina around forever. You just hoped that was possible.

"I felt bad about the red one," the girl says sheepishly, rubbing her hand on the back of her neck. Chishiya snorts at this, finally turning around from what he was working on to take in your tired appearance and see what Kuina brought you. In all the excitement, you had very nearly forgotten what had happened a few nights ago.

You pout jokingly, but hold it up to your friend proudly, "Look, Shiya!" The corners of his mouth twitch up and he blinks slowly at you, "Very cute." You feel your face turn a slight shade of crimson at this comment, looking down at your lap flustered. Kuina takes notice and glances rapidly between the two of you with raised eyebrows.

"Ooookay, love birds!" Kuina says, breaking the quiet tension, "Get up and get ready now! We're going to spend the whole day together." She claps her hands together animatedly. You chuckle a little bit, nodding in agreement. It would be nice to spend more time with Kuina and be out of the room. You knew that her energy would rejuvenate you, washing the bad feelings from last night away.

A sharp knock comes at the door, just as you're coming out of the bathroom dressed in a lavendar polka dotted bikini for your day with Kuina. All three of you exchange a look, not expecting a visitor that was outside of your small group. You pull the door open toward you somewhat nervously, but are pleasantly surprised to find Aguni waiting there patiently.

The muscular man says your name and then continues, "You're with me today, come along. We're going out." Your eyes brighten in exhilaration - you were leaving the resort to look for resources. You could probably even find more stuff for your project too! You loved getting to leave the prison-like walls of The Beach for things other than games.

Nodding, "I'll be ready in just a minute!" You rush back towards the bathroom to pull on a pair of high waisted denim shorts. You didn't really want to walk around outside of the resort without covering up a little more. Your mind races back to your brother for a moment, hadn't he insinuated that you weren't to be alone with Aguni anymore? Maybe he had changed his mind. Or maybe, what Niragi doesn't know won't hurt him.

"Oh, and Chishiya you're with Niragi," the man adds, causing the blonde to sit up rigidly. He huffs in irritation, uncharacteristically slamming his newest project down roughly. As you pass, you grab his hand and squeeze, attempting to offer some comfort. Chishiya takes the opportunity to wrap his lithe fingers around your wrist and pulls you back into him whispering, "Remember what we talked about last night. I doubt that you're supposed to be with Aguni today so be discreet." You feel a chill run down your spine, but nod anyway. He had put your exact thoughts into words.

You offer Kuina an apologetic look on your way out the door, promising to catch up with her as soon as you were done with your errands. You really did want to spend more time with her.

You find yourself mapping an unfamiliar ward with Aguni, kicking small pieces of gravel along in front of you for entertainment. It was an area not unlike Shibuya Station, filled with abandoned shops and even an outdoor market. In your old life, you would have skipped through the brightly colored stalls, soaking in the delicious scents and sounds without a care in the world. Would you ever get that back?

Aguni is always a quiet presence, though one that was somehow very comforting to you. You were having a hard time understanding why Niragi no longer trusted him, having originally assigned the man to you himself. As you shuffled along the vine and moss covered streets, you couldn't help but feel like something was bothering the man beside you. This wasn't his usual brand of quietness.

The man sighs suddenly, stopping in his tracks. You glance back at him curiously, something is definitely upsetting him. He's looking down at the ground, but you notice a vulnerable look etching his features. You bring your left hand to fidget with your earring anxiously, his energy starting to constrict its way around you like a snake and making you nervous.

His eyes find yours once more and he says your name quietly. "Can I talk to you about something private?" He asks, shocking you. You had never expected to have a heart-to-heart with the ex-SDF officer. You nod, approaching him slowly as if moving too quickly would frighten him off like a wild deer.

He cuts right to the chase, "Do you think this place changes people?" You tilt your head, trying to understand his question. Does this place change people? You had certainly seen a change in Niragi, even a small one in Chishiya; though you expected that had a lot to do with Niragi too. Then there was the change in you, as well. The darkness.

You nod again slowly, now picking at your fingernails. You'd have to see if Kuina could paint your nails for you later. "I think . . . this place has a way of bringing out the worst in us. Of dragging us so deeply into despair and draining us of hope, that we resort to using the darkest parts of our souls that would not normally see the light of day." You look down to study the greenery below your feet, hoping Aguni didn't notice that you were talking about yourself too. This place hadn't grown the darkness, it had always been there. It just cultivated it, allowed it to take root in your soul and grow if you allowed it.

Aguni looks astonished at your wisdom for a moment, but hums in agreement. "It's just that . . ." he trails off, "I'm worried about Takeru. I know that you've seen him in his normal state - that he was vulnerable with you. This persona . . . it's taking him over. Making him crazy. The Beach, the power. It's making him crazy." Your breath catches in your throat, so your hunch had been correct. Everyone was playing a game that no one else understood.

You don't know what to say, was there even anything to be said? You simply nod sadly, understanding exactly what Aguni was going through. Because you were going through it too, weren't you? Niragi.

The man says your name again, this time carefully, measured how Niragi's had been last night, "You're smart. I know that you're aware of how dangerous this place is, how thin and perilous our positions are. Things are changing, rapidly." He pauses for a moment to glance around, as if there could be people listening. He sighs tiredly, lowering his voice a bit, "This might be the last time I can be around you without compromising your safety, so I want to warn you now. There will be a power struggle at The Beach very soon. Do your best not to get caught up in it."

Your heart is in your throat, and now you are scared. This is way more information than you can digest, and you don't know how to handle the thought that you might not get to be around Aguni anymore. Plus, a power struggle at The Beach? What could that even mean? Instead of asking questions, you reach your arms around him to hug him, "thank you for protecting me for so long, and for being a friend to me." He hugs you back, squeezing once before deciding it's time to get a move on. You still have errands to complete, after all.

There was not one, but TWO convenience stores left in this ward still completely untouched by other players. The two of you gather as much of the canned goods and non-perishables as you can fit in the car, marking the stores on your map as ones that still have a lot of resources for whichever Executives would be doing next food restock expedition.

You silently hoped it would be you, because there were a bunch of stores in the district that looked like they would have great stuff for continuing to re-decorate the resort. You wanted to spend hours combing this place, but the man alongside you seemed antsy to get back to The Beach for whatever reason. After some tactful doe-eyed pleading, Aguni conceded in letting you check out just one shop - one that housed tons of colorful, sprawling faux plants. You really wanted to add some greenery to the lobby and conference room spaces, insisting this was an absolute necessity today.

Aguni taps his foot, almost anxiously as he waits for you to choose some pieces. Finally he says, "Don't take too long, I need to get you back to The Beach and return you to Ann. You were supposed to be with her today, and I expect your brother won't be happy that I've stolen you." Your eyebrows shoot up, head whipping to lock your gaze on the man, "What?" He looks sheepish, an odd look on his normally stone cold face, "I had to see you one more time. I needed to make sure you would be okay."

So Niragi didn't know, and you were supposed to be with Ann right now. Aguni had taken Ann's place on this trip to make sure you would be okay with the events that were threatening to brew in the future. Your brain was working in overdrive to put pieces of this massive puzzle together, trying to figure out who was trustworthy to you. Could you trust anyone? Could you even trust yourself?

The car ride back to the resort is quiet, filled with an electrified tension not unlike the one you usually felt in a game arena. You knew that once you stepped out of this car, you and Aguni would be playing two opposite ends of a game that you still didn't understand, and that frightened you. How could you survive in this place without trusted allies?

Through the side mirror, you see Ann approaching the now parked car to take over the duty of carrying things inside with you, and you know it's time. Aguni whispers lowly to you one last time before retreating into the building for good.

"I don't know what game your brother is playing, but should he lose himself in it like Takeru is, don't let him drown you with him."

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Several days pass without significant event. You find yourself in a comfortable routine, soaking up the presence of Chishiya and Kuina - deciding that they were the only people you could trust.

Each day, you wake up to the blonde tinkering around with scraps or pieces of broken technology that he was dead set on fixing. He allows you the space to wake up naturally, usually offering food whenever you've fully stretched and decided on what you wanted to wear for the day. After brunch, you usually have an Executive task or two to take care of - Chishiya was now your permanent partner for those things. To your chagrin, you don't get to return to the shopping district that was filled with colorful shops this week.

Afternoons and early evenings are dedicated to Kuina; sometimes playing around with makeup, doing mani/pedis together, or hanging out by the pool. Chishiya always lurks quietly in the background, never too far away. Every other night, you are forced to accompany a group to a game; Hatter has split the Executives into two groups, ensuring that The Beach collects cards as quickly as possible. Together, you and Chishiya clear two more games, a Four of Clubs and Ace of Diamonds. On the nights that you aren't playing, your friends help you realize your artistic vision for the resort, painting walls, hanging new artwork, and moving furniture around your direction. It wasn't your old life, but honestly it wasn't so bad either.

Aguni had been right, the last errand you went on with him had been the last time you saw him. You missed playing games with him and being within his soothing presence. In fact, there was a strange lack of militant presence around the resort, as Hatter had become more vicious about accusing people of being "traitors to The Beach". The militants were obviously busy doing all his dirty work - a thought that made you shiver. What horrible things was your brother being forced to do? Or even worse, was he enjoying it?

Today was already starting off differently than the previous few have - an insistent knock at your door wakes you aggressively from a deep slumber. You roll over and groan in protest, yanking a pillow over your head. The bed shifts beside you, Chishiya pushing the covers back and padding towards the door. It must be early enough that the blonde had still been sleeping too. Fuck that.

Their voices are hushed, so you don't hear who it is or what is being said, but you remain laying with your head under the pillow. Hoping like hell that whatever it was could wait a few more hours. You hear the door click shut again, holding your breath.

Your friend returns to the bed, yanking the covers off your body, "Time to get up, sleeping beauty." You cry out, the chilled air of the room hitting your skin like needles, attempting to steal the covers back from the man. "Noooooo, just five more minutes, Shiya pleaaaase," you whine. "Sorry, baby," he coos mockingly, "Executive business. Some people were caught sneaking around, and Hatter wants to "welcome" them."

You groan again, rolling onto your back and staring up at your friend with doe eyes, as though he can do anything about it. Chishiya looks at you in warning, as if daring you to try getting out of it further. Instead, you throw your body to the side, climbing slowly out of your cocoon.

A cobalt blue bikini calls to you from inside your wardrobe; you decide on that and a pretty pink beaded kimono-style cover up. You take a couple of minutes getting dressed and brushing your teeth before allowing Chishiya to pull your hair into a single French braid down your back.

You're still grumbling and rubbing sleep out of your eyes as Chishiya leads you down the hallway on your way to the conference room. You had to admit - you were excited to see it in the daylight; you and Kuina had spent hours last night while the others partied painting the walls a stunning shade of ivory and adding some green leafy foliage around the space.

Ann, Mira, and Kuzuryu stand waiting along the pocket wall that split the room in half, hiding the playing cards Mira had spray painted there at the very start of The Beach.

You and Chishiya join them just as two militant guys you don't recognize show up, carting in the two people who had supposedly been sneaking around, their heads covered with cloth bags. You look in shock at this fact, why were they being treated as war criminals? Hatter was getting just that much closer to snapping, you realized. The two are pushed into chairs, facing you. When the militants lift the material from their faces, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to hide your surprise - it was Arisu and the climber girl from your Five of Spades game. You briefly wonder what had happened to his blonde friend, and whoever they'd been trying to get medical help for. In a place like this, it's probably best not to ask.

Their eyes light up as they scan you and your friend standing beside you, but are smart enough to say nothing right now. Mira is the first to speak, "good morning!" she chirps, grinning at the couple.

Kuzuryu follows directly after, "I'm sorry that we were so rough. We heard that there were some people sneaking around the place."

Ann stalks across the room, arms crossed. Very detective-like. She does not bullshit around and simply wonders, "What are your motives?" You frown, feeling like this was more of an interrogation than a welcome, but you know better than to say anything.

Arisu swallows, taking just a moment to answer, "We heard that we'll know the answer . . . if we come here. What this game is about and where all the people who disappeared went."

Then the massive wooden doors swing open, Hatter making his grand entrance accompanied by his two muscular body guards, "Exactly! We know the answers to the questions you both have. Welcome to The Beach, the utopia." He opens his arms widely, placing himself between the two newcomers to speak directly in their ears. You feel your eye twitch at the fakeness of it all.

The man, acting once again like a cult leader, then gestures forward toward the pocket wall. "This . . . is the answer." He snaps dramatically, drinking in the power he holds over everyone in the room. His guards move forward to move the wall out of the way, presenting Arisu and his friend with the wall of playing cards for the first time.

"I'll tell you the truth. There's only one way to end this hellish nightmare," the man says, walking toward the wall, both arms reaching toward it in a grand stance. "We clear the games and collect all the playing cards."

Arisu looks astonished and confused, and honestly you don't blame him. You aren't certain that you believe a word that comes out of Hatter's mouth either. He speaks, albeit softly, "All the playing cards?"

The girl interjects, "So if you collect all of them, will the original world return?" You wished wholeheartedly for that to be the case.

Hatter turns slowly to look back at them, very serious now, "The original world will not return. Only one person can return to the original world." Yep. There it is. The thing that no one likes to address around here. You shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Only one person?" Arisu clarifies, obviously horrified. As well he should be.

Hatter hums, "It's impossible for a single person to clear all the games and gather all fifty two playing cards. You can't leave this country by working alone. That's why everyone unites as one in order to let that one person leave the country. This is The Beach's objective. I've heard that the two of you possess good cards. I'll have both of you play your part and help us gather the remaining cards." Your stomach feels sick hearing Hatter's speech again after so long, and you're thankful that you hadn't had anything to eat yet today.

Arisu is akin to your own heart, you realize. Asking now something you had also wondered weeks ago, "And if we refuse?"

Hatter has sat down on the heavy wooden desk by the window that you now notice has belongings scattered across it - the pair's belongings - he grins, reaching out wildly again, "You can't reject me." He lifts a piece of scrap paper from the pile, holding it up between two of his fingers, "Your visa is expiring today." He taps the index finger of his other hand aggressively to the paper, "You have no choice but to participate in a game, don't you?" Your lips part slowly, realizing that Hatter would leave them tied up until their visas expired if they decided not to stay. They would be killed by the laser.

Arisu looks disgustedly at the man that you were also back to hating, and then back to his partner as she cuts in, "We can return if we gather all the cards. Is that really true?"

Hatter stands again, walking across the room dramatically in front of the rest of you, "I can't reveal everything yet, but I have a credible source for that information. Before both of you entered this world, we already thoroughly investigated everything about this country."

Arisu interrupts his tangent again, "You've been referring to this place as a "country"."

Hatter points at Arisu, as if proud he had caught that little detail. "The fact that we've been issued Visas means that this is a country. The people in Tokyo didn't just disappear. It's hypothesized that we've entered another country accidentally. If that's true, then there must be a way to return." You realize now that Hatter had fallen more deeply into his delusions in the last couple of days, truly believing the words that he was spewing. In fact, the country you were residing in, was now being referred to around the resort as 'Borderland' after a group of players had heard someone at a game arena call it that.

You felt a wave of relief rush across your skin when a note is brought in by Hatter's long-haired guard - the fueling team needed Executive escort to proceed with their tasks for the day. Hatter nods to him and looks to you, "Princess, take Chishiya and escort the maintenance team today, won't you? I'll take care of things here." He winks over his aviators at you. You nod, relieved to be able to leave this hostile environment before anything bad happens to these two. In case Hatter calls upon Niragi to kill them.

"Good girl," Hatter praises, making your skin bristle and causing Chishiya to stiffen slightly beside you. Jealous. You glance one final time at Arisu on your way out, willing him to make the right choice.

He didn't really have one, after all.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

You lean back with a sigh, relaxing into the plastic beach chair set in front of the glittering pool packed with bodies. The sun has all but disappeared from the sky, and the citizens of The Beach are happily drinking in the mood of twilight. That's not the only thing they're drinking in, mind you - it's early evening, and the party is absolutely raging. The music is bumping, the drinks are flowing, and the people are doing what people at The Beach do best - celebrating life. It may seem macabre, to party the days away when you're forced to face deadly games by night, but honestly it feels kind of right when you aren't really sure how much longer you have left to live. The longer you're here, the more you're understanding that.

Chishiya sits at your feet, one arm draped lazily over your bare calves and the other holding him upright on the chair. As usual, his face is devoid of any emotion, but you know he is enjoying the opportunity to people watch and get some fresh air.

You spend a few moments studying the people yourself - many splashing around drunkenly in the refreshing pool water and others dancing uninhibited around its edges, everyone looking free as can be. How must it feel to not have to worry about anyone in Borderland but yourself? How easy it must be to not have the two most important people in your life stuck here with you, wondering if today is the day they're going to die. Or the day that they finally lose themselves.

You feel the familiar tight feeling in your chest start to build, and force yourself to shake away those suffocating thoughts - you simply cannot afford to panic here. Niragi had been clear - keep it together no matter what.

You turn your attention instead to playing with the beads adorning the straps of your emerald green crochet bikini. You were finally wearing it outside of your room for the first time today. It was special to you - a gift from Kuina a few days ago. The gift made you feel loved, and the suit made you feel sexy.

Rolling the wooden beads between your fingers seemed to help settle your nerves. When your breathing finally returned to normal and the simple anxious task was no longer needed, you sigh loudly, covering your face with your arms and flopping further back into the chair. Bored.

Chishiya smirks, raising an eyebrow. The man very nearly laughs at the dramatic habit that was very you. "Bored already, hm?" He hums, "Coming down here was your idea after all."

"Yes, but I thought there would be more excitement" you whined, flailing your arms widely to accentuate your point. Chishiya sweeps his eyes over your form, looking at you with amusement.

He's about to say something more when he's interrupted by the arrival of two familiar figures - a nervous looking guy with shaggy brown hair, and a fit, muscular girl with a cute bob cut. Chishiya squeezes your calf to get your attention, flicking his eyes toward them as they sit down apprehensively on two beach chairs across the pool from you. Arisu and Usagi.

"So they decided to stay after all," you muse, sitting up in interest and folding your legs underneath you. You scoot your body closer to your friend, your thigh brushing against his, as you continue to observe the couple.

The blonde turns his head to study your face, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear as he does, "I can't imagine that it would have gone over well had they declined Hatter's offer." You feel a slight shiver run down your spine at Chishiya's intimate touch. You hum distractedly, still staring at the pair, but suddenly feeling very far away from the events taking place around you.

You grin brightly, then, having noticed Kuina skipping over to them. She plops, likely uninvited, down on the chair beside Arisu, her unlit cigarette hanging characteristically in her mouth. There is no doubt in your mind that she was already teasing them about the relationship between them, despite having just introduced herself.

Kuina was confident like that, and you loved that about her. Well, except for when she was teasing you and Chishiya. You blushed slightly just thinking about it, wondering when you had started becoming so flustered about your best friend. When you had started wanting so desperately to press your lips against his. You duck your head at these thoughts and pretend to study the sparkly manicure Kuina had given you last night.

How long were you and Chishiya going to continue pretending to be just friends?

Within a minute or two, the air had turned from relaxed to tense, and your neck snapped up to find out why. Your discerning eyes land on the militants, of course, you really should have guessed. The hostile and generally power hungry group of The Beach's "personal protection unit" were filing into the party, sure to flash their weapons at anyone looking. You don't think you had seen them congregated as a group like this, they really were becoming overpowered. The smart people were avoiding their gaze entirely, and the stupid (drunk?) people were openly gawking. You rolled your eyes, how typical.

Leading the charge onto the pool deck was Aguni, looking cold and calculating in a way you didn't like, with your brother following close behind. Your eyes narrowed, having not seen either of them for a few days.

"Looks like you're about to get your excitement after all," Chishiya whispered, his breath tickling your ear. You took in a sharp breath in anticipation; the full militant corp was standing at arms looking ready to fight, at the pool. Could this mean the power struggle you'd been warned about would be coming sooner than you expected? Anxiety swirled heavily in your stomach, fingers subconsciously finding the wooden beads again.

You look to Niragi, the one person who would normally soothe your frayed nerves with just a glance, but feel even worse seeing the wild look in his darkened eyes. Had your relationship truly deteriorated so much in a matter of weeks?

Being all the way on the other side of the pool from them, you're unable to hear Aguni's request, but Niragi was quick to obey. He moved towards Usagi, pulling her roughly up to her feet.

You watch with widened eyes - had Aguni asked for Usagi? What would he even want her for? Nothing good, certainly. The Aguni you knew would never want to hurt someone, or take them against their will. Had you been mistaken about him from the beginning? Or maybe this place really does create monsters out of men - you could certainly see that in the long-haired man across the pool from you, once soft and caring, now swinging a gun around without a care in the world and physically threatening a girl not much older than you. Hell, you see it even in yourself, having been happy enough to let everyone but Chishiya die from the second you landed in this wretched place and started playing.

You're shaken from your reverie when Arisu springs up from his place beside Kuina to help Usagi. You groan in despair, knowing full well that your brother would only be further provoked; Borderland-version Niragi has an extremely short fuse. Kuina also looks displeased, as though she'd literally just told them not to mess with them, which she probably had.

The people of the party are now definitely watching, but openly pretending not to be. If you didn't feel so anxious at the situation, you'd probably laugh at how nosy and indiscrete drunk people truly are.

You find yourself standing instead, ready to close the distance between your perch and where Niragi has now thrown Arisu to the ground, kicking him repeatedly in the stomach. You felt like throwing up watching the display. Memories flooded your mind of watching your father do the exact same thing to the tall man who was now delivering the blows. It was taking everything in you to not curl up in a ball crying like you always had when the two men in your family were fighting. No, this time you had to put an end to it. This time you would be brave and fight.

"You're going to try to save them, aren't you?" Chishiya mumbles in concern, knowing this scene was likely triggering to you. You knew he wanted you to stay out of it, but you just couldn't help yourself.

"I can't sit back and play victim anymore, Shiya," you whisper. You move swiftly around the pool, before you could lose your nerve or Chishiya could stop you.

"Niragi, please. They're my friends," you plead with the violent man, grabbing onto his forearm as he delivers another crushing blow to Arisu's ribcage. The people of The Beach were now actively watching the scene, fully invested in your family drama. You're unsure of why you called the couple your friends, when you just barely know their names. All you know is that you don't want to watch your brother kill the poor guy, and you definitely don't want to find out what Aguni had planned for Usagi. Or was it that you couldn't stand to see your sweet brother hurt someone the same way he had been hurt so many times in his life?

Niragi ceases his assault on the boy and rips his arm from your grasp. He gives you a full once over in the process, his cold eyes meeting yours for the first time in days. You feel real, raw fear filling your system, something you haven't felt since leaving your father's house for the last time eight years ago. You'd never felt smaller in your life than you did now, shrinking under Niragi's brutal gaze.

Taking a shaky breath, you muster the shiniest, prettiest puppy dog eyes you can, peering up at Niragi through long eyelashes. "You won't hurt them, right? I'm friends with them."

Niragi continues glaring intimidatingly down at you, in what you realize is disgust. He doesn't address your concerns, but instead has something else to say.

"Put some fucking clothes on, you look like a slut" he spits fiercely, his pierced face now just centimeters from yours. The tight feeling in your chest had returned in full force, threatening to suffocate you.

You stumbled back as if he'd struck you - Niragi had never spoken to you like that. Your stomach dropped, and it took all of your willpower to maintain your composure. You obviously couldn't cry in front of all these Beach idiots, gaping at the two of you like you were the best soap opera in Borderland. You turn your head to escape his intense gaze, and put your tongue in your cheek to keep the tears from spilling over. You want soap opera? I'll give you soap opera.

Looking back up at your brother, you cross your arms over your chest. "What are you going to do, make me?" you implore him brattily. Niragi seethed, pierced eyebrow arching, looking like he was seriously considering slapping the attitude right out of you. You stand your ground, the way you should have every other time you've faced a monster like this.

As you and Niragi stare each other down, the initial cause for your dispute long forgotten, Aguni and the others have become distracted by Hatter's arrival. One side demanding peace, and the release of the newest members of the beach; the other begging silently for chaos to ensue. The tense atmosphere surrounding you indicates the balance of power between the two leaders was indeed in jeopardy. Do your best not to get caught up in it. Sorry, Aguni.

After what feels like hours of strained silence, Aguni ultimately yields to Hatter. The Beach seems to collectively release their held breaths as Aguni and the militant corp flock away to another part of the resort. Usagi quickly tends to Arisu, leading him back into the building to treat his wounds and get to safety. Meanwhile, you have your own struggle for power going on.

Niragi still stands towering above you, obviously not in the mood for your games. He unbuttons his black and white collared shirt, draping it over your shoulders, "Go. Change. Not a request." His fingers wrap tightly around your forearm, aggressively yanking you towards the entrance to the hotel. The force that Niragi had exerted on you nearly sent you careening into the pool still glistening mockingly at your feet, but luckily Chishiya had appeared in just the right position to catch you. Unbeknownst to you, the two exchange a brief look before Niragi skulks off to find Aguni and his other lunatic friends.

The panic within you threatened once more to boil over and your brain simply shuts down - this week had been too fucking much. In your daze, you barely register Chishiya dragging you inside, away from the curious and scrutinizing glances of The Beach citizens. You were embarrassed, confused, and fucking mad.

Just as you passed through the swinging double doors and into the air-conditioned building, Kuina fell in step with you two. She let a reassuring hand fall on your shoulder, squeezing it for comfort. At her kind touch, you feel your carefully crafted resolve finally crumble to the floor. Chishiya knew immediately that you were done for, lifting you easily into his arms and allowing you to ground yourself in him. He carried you protectively the rest of the way to the room as your thoughts thundered around in your head like a wild storm.

You had been lying to yourself your whole life, Niragi had been lying to you your whole life. He promised that your family wasn't broken, that you weren't broken. You guessed it was too much to ask for you to remain untouched by your father's special brand of cruelty. That one day, you'd likely both become just like him.

And now Niragi had. He called you a slut, degrading an outfit that had made you feel beautiful. He embarrassed you in front of an audience. He grabbed you so hard you could see his fingerprints etched in your skin. He was just like him and this time you knew you wouldn't escape.

It was then that you knew - this game that you were playing was much more dangerous than you could ever have realized.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

You don't know why you'd allowed Kuina to drag you back to the pool after what had happened yesterday, after the absolute humiliation you had faced at the hands of your brother. You find yourself sitting again on a stiff, plastic beach chair between her and Usagi. "A girls' day", they had insisted.

Your body was with the girls, but your mind was tangled up elsewhere; it didn't matter what Chishiya had said. It didn't matter what Niragi himself had said. You were certain that the cracks Aguni had seen in Hatter, caused by the pressure of playing a game far too dangerous for him to win, were now appearing in your brother too.

But it was worse than that, you feared. His game was still ongoing, everyone still playing their part. But Niragi? He had lost himself. He had let his darkness in, the same darkness that you saw in yourself. The darkness that you were so afraid to succumb to, because this. This is what could happen if you let it out.

It wasn't just a game that he was playing anymore. This is who Niragi is now.

"We should get drunk," you say suddenly, surprising the women on either side of you. "Why not?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. They both looked skeptically at you, obviously thinking that alcohol was the last thing you needed right now.

You don't wait for an answer before standing and traipsing lazily over to the bar. You had to get your mind off of everything that was going on. Tatta stands behind the slab of driftwood, mixing drinks for a few others that were waiting, watching you curiously. You ignore their stares, knowing they had likely seen what happened with you and Niragi yesterday. You pull your ivory cover up more tightly around you as you wait for Tatta to approach.

He grins when he sees you, saying your name warmly, "I'm surprised to see you drinking, are you even old enough?" He asks with an eyebrow raised. You laugh, obviously not old enough, "Does it really matter here?" Tatta laughs too, shaking his head. You explain that you are getting drunk with Kuina and Usagi, having a "girls' afternoon". He nods, "I know exactly what to do for you, then," he says mischievously. You had been glad when the man from your Five of Spades game had made his way to The Beach. He really was a nice guy and a fun friend to have.

You carry three very fruity, bright pink glasses of alcohol back to your friends, remaining standing facing them as you bring all of your glasses together in a cheers. You wish briefly that you had your phone to be able to capture this moment on Instagram. You'd always wanted girl friends like this in your old life.

You take a small sip of the cocktail, the taste causing you to shiver just as a shadow is cast over your form. At first, you don't react, assuming it was just someone passing by. When both girls look up at someone, though, faces contorted in confusion, you feel a bit of anxiety fill you.

"Hello, my little butterfly," a sickly sweet voice sounds from behind you, the person standing much closer than your senses had detected. Your stomach sours immediately, your pulse entering your ears. You feel your tactile senses dull, and the martini glass slips from between your fingers, shattering on the ground at your feet.

For what must be the thousandth time since entering Borderland, you feel panic tightening your chest. There is only one person who has ever called you that, and you truly don't want to believe he is somehow right behind you. You had just begun to think that you could be okay in life without Niragi, but you knew now that you absolutely needed him. That this was not something you could handle without him.

Your father was here at The Beach.

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♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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Trey Clover: Eyes Up Here

Wow, glasses off Trey? He’s still making the same one brow lifted smirk though 😂 HE KINDA LOOKS LIKE SEBEK WITHOUT THE GLASSES... I don’t know how to describe this artwork + this voice other than saying “Trey fans all want one thing and it’s disgusting”/j; he just seems to attract people that are really into the beefy dad types.

Trey’s Campwear jacket also had Painted on it. I wonder if that’s a brand in the Twst world? And his cardigan is the color of dentist scrubs—

Rise and Shine!

Mornings were a blur. Not that they went by fast, but they were literally a blur.

When Trey woke, his surroundings were smears of color. Slapped together indiscriminately, no clear form or boundaries between the hues. It’s not until he slipped his spectacles on that everything cleared up, sharpening into proper shapes and recognizable objects.

Running a hand through his short hair, he gave a yawn as he wandered into the washroom. The ceiling was curved and patterned like the sky. Paired with grass-like tiles and flowery sinks and lamps, the space created the illusion of stepping outside.

The washroom was shared among all of the dorm's residents. A few of them had been so bold as to leave their toiletries around: deodorant sticks, labelled bottles of shampoo and conditioner. But there was never any mistaking of Trey’s things for another’s.

He was the only one with an entire case to carry his dental hygiene routine. There was: a main toothbrush (changed to a new one every 3-4 months, or whenever he noticed significant bristle damage), several specialized toothbrushes (one for the back, one for scraping the tongue...), two spares, a selection of flavored toothpastes (fluoride added), and three containers of floss.

No mouthwash though--"It washes away too much," Trey would tell anyone who was willing to listen, "the bad bacteria and the good. All the saliva and mucous. We need those things to have a healthy, thriving oral microbiome."

“There are 810 rules by the Queen of Hearts,” the Heartslabyul students often joked, “and just as many steps in the vice dorm leader’s teeth cleaning routine.”

"Come on, guys. It's not that long," he'd say. "The dentist recommends two minutes, twice a day. I only take a little more than that to make sure I get in all the crevices..."

Trey counted the seconds as he ran his toothbrushes along his teeth, his gums, his hard palate, his tongue and under it. Five minutes, including flossing and rinsing.

See? Not that long. He’d have to tell his dorm mates when he could.

He held out a hand in front of his mouth and exhaled. A puff of air was trapped for just long enough for him to catch a whiff of minty freshness.

Alright.

Satisfied, he left with his bag and books.

Students peeled down Main Street, on their way to class. He was one of hundreds, living his ordinary life.

And he liked it that way.

Trey squinted. A circle in his vision was out of focus.

He removed his glasses to check for imperfections. And, sure enough, there was a bead of water in the middle of his lenses—likely a stray fleck from when he had been diligently cleaning his mouth. In a blink of that blurred world, he wiped the glasses up and placed them back on his nose.

Everything returned to full clarity.

“Good morning, Trey-senpai!” a voice called out to him.

He slowed his walk, allowing you to match his pace. His mouth cocked to one side as you pulled into view. “Morning.”

There’s a faint cloud hanging around him. Something sweet, yet also bright. Minty sugar, you think, leaning into it. Mmmmm.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Trey asked, and you laughed.

“That’s so dad of you to say.”

“Breakfast is an important meal of the day.” Trey adjusted his frames. A flash of white-his teeth. “So? Did you?”

“Wellllll…” You let your voice trail off.

The white had vanished behind his lips, but your gaze still lingered there. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t tear yourself away.

“Hey now.” He tapped the rim of his glasses. “My eyes are up here.”

“Oh, sorry!” you startled, face warming. “It’s just… you have a really nice smile. It’s hard not to notice it.”

“Is that right?” He chuckled, easily laughing—not at you, never at you, but with you. “I’m flattered. Most people don’t seem to appreciate one.”

“No one in your dorm?”

“No. I’m pretty sure most of the guys in Heartslabyul think what I do’s a little excessive. Even Riddle doesn’t totally get it.”

“They must be jealous. The results speak for themselves.”

“That’s kind of you. Hey, you know what?" Trey leaned down, cupping a hand to his mouth. His voice was amplified in your ear.

Your heart leapt, thudding like the feet of a rabbit scampering down a dirt path. Your flesh was on fire, though Trey laid not a single finger on you.

"Y-Yes?!"

"I think you have a really nice smile too."

He smirked—and fireworks went off in your head. One, two, three. Colorful flowers blooming in the sky.

Your hands flew to your cheeks, as if that would somehow help to cool you off.

“Haha, are you embarrassed?” Trey’s eyes crinkled, as they always did, when he was amused. “I’m glad I got to see it up close and personal for myself. It was worth it.”

“M-My eyes are up here,” you managed to shoot back. Scathingly, you hoped.

His responding grin was crooked. For a second, you saw the him that hid behind humility, the not-so-kind Trey. His kind, toothy smile laced with a trace of poison.

“My bad. I see now I should’ve been nicer to you.”

“Was that a dad joke?!”

“Maybe. Who’s to know?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #Trey Clover x Reader #Reader #self insert #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #something no one asked for #Trey birthday takeover #Trey Clover #jp spoilers #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios

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fionaapplerocks · 1 year ago

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Via @joemcnallyphoto on insta

Def a bit of a wayback Wednesday shot of Fiona Apple in the daylight studios in the Puck Building, downtown Manhattan. Flash assist, with white boards down on the floor. The armor was her idea, totally. She wanted to be a warrior woman, as at that point in her career she had been photographed in mostly a very genteel fashion. So we went for it. I had 3 dozen roses all plucked and two assistants on ladders dropping them gently on her Arthurian garb.

Tried some blood on the sword as well, but in the end her astonishing eyes, literally matching the blueish gun metal of the armor owned the day. No embellishment needed.

Medium format film, Mamiya Pro II with 150mm lens. The pictures I made of Fiona, who was lovely to work with, have been played endlessly on Twitter for reasons unapparent to me. I imagine she has a fan base out there that just keeps grabbing the pictures and running them. I remain a huge fan of her music and lyrics.

The portrait in the studio was planned, staged, lit, and propped. We had a crew, and her management. Usual celeb hubbub sort of stuff.

Her manager though, upon realizing the shoot had gone long, was exclaiming that he had to get her back on the bus, which was in midtown, for a gig in NJ, I believe. "The only way we'll make it is to take the subway!" he said. (He wasn't overwhelmingly happy with me.) I looked at Fiona, and said, "Wear the armor in the subway?" She was game. (Wonderful to work with, lovely to photograph.)

We threw a coat over the armor and sword and heading for the underground. The portrait, as I mentioned in the post, was shot on medium format. The subway shot was either an Nikon F5 or an FM2. Flash on camera, running through a Lumiquest 80-20 and bouncing off the subway ceiling.

I shot like mad at rush hour, banging through about 4 rolls of film over the course of about 5 subway stops. At the end, she made the bus, and the picture most prominently published was the subway shot. Wouldn't want to take a sword into the subway nowadays. As we parted company, she knighted me. All the prep for the studio shoot went to the side, and the off the cuff rush hour snap made for a better select.

#fiona apple #puck building #Nov 1997

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atriza · 4 months ago

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The Idol's Prize

Yandere Idol!Mark Lee x Reader

Summary: In a twisted arrangement by the company and his fellow members, NCT’s Mark Lee is gifted a new role for you—not as a manager or assistant, but as his personal possession.

Word Count: 1,250 words

Trigger Warnings:

Possessive/obsessive behavior: Depictions of controlling and obsessive tendencies.

Non-consensual physical contact: Persistent touch despite discomfort.

Forced proximity: Sharing a room and being subjected to Mark’s constant presence.

Emotional manipulation: Coercion disguised as love and care.

Themes of entrapment: Lack of agency in personal and professional life.

Please read cautiously.

The room was quieter than you expected for a dorm housing some of the most famous idols in the world. NCT’s dorm was spacious and pristine, yet there was an underlying tension in the air as you followed the manager down the hallway. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, the reality of your new role sinking in.

You’d heard whispers about this arrangement for weeks, but it still hadn’t prepared you for the announcement earlier today: you were being permanently reassigned to Mark Lee. Not as a manager. Not as an assistant. But as his.

The reasoning was simple, they’d said. Mark worked himself to the bone for the group and deserved a reward. And you—quiet, unobtrusive, and hand-selected by the company—fit the bill. The members had even approved of the idea, much to your surprise.

“Here we are,” the manager said, stopping in front of a door.

You blinked, startled. “This is… Mark’s room?”

“Yes,” he replied with a tight smile. “From now on, you’ll share this space. It’s important for you to be available to him at all times.”

Before you could protest, the door swung open, revealing Mark standing inside.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm but laced with something you couldn’t quite place. His smile widened when he saw you. “You’re finally here.”

---

The first few days were overwhelming. Sharing a room with Mark was… an adjustment. He was always there, always watching, his eyes lingering on you whenever you moved. At first, it was subtle—a hand brushing against yours as you passed, a fleeting touch on your shoulder. But as the days went on, his touch became bolder.

“You’re tense,” he said one evening, his voice soft as he stood behind you. His hands landed on your shoulders, kneading gently. “You need to relax.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, your heart racing.

He didn’t let go. “You work so hard for me. Let me take care of you for once.”

You didn’t have the courage to pull away, and Mark seemed to take your silence as consent. His hands slid down your arms, his touch lingering before he finally stepped back.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Perfect.”

---

The members didn’t make things any easier.

“Looks like Mark’s finally happy,” Haechan teased one morning over breakfast. “You’ve been smiling a lot more lately.”

Mark shrugged, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve got everything I need right here.”

You stiffened, feeling the weight of his words. The other members exchanged knowing glances, some smirking while others avoided your gaze entirely.

“She’s good for you,” Taeyong said, his tone neutral but firm. “You seem… calmer.”

Mark’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, and you fought the urge to flinch.

---

Public outings were another challenge. Mark insisted on keeping you close, his hand always resting on the small of your back or your wrist. Fans began to notice, whispering among themselves whenever you appeared at events.

“Who is she?” they’d ask, their voices barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“Why is Mark always with her?”

The rumors spread quickly, but the company did nothing to address them. If anything, they seemed content to let the speculation grow, as long as Mark stayed happy.

But you weren’t happy.

---

One night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Mark’s voice broke the silence.

“Are you cold?”

You glanced over at him, surprised. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand as he looked at you.

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Mark frowned. “You don’t have to lie. Come here.”

Before you could respond, he reached out and pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you.

“Mark—”

“Shh,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. “I just want to hold you. Is that so bad?”

His grip was firm but not painful, his body warm against yours. You lay there stiffly, unsure of how to react.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his voice filled with an almost childlike vulnerability. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you, and you realized there was no escaping this. No escaping him.

---

As the weeks went on, Mark’s possessiveness grew. He rarely let you out of his sight, and when you did leave the dorms, he insisted on knowing exactly where you were and who you were with.

“You don’t need anyone else,” he said one evening as you sat together on the couch. His hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing slow circles on your skin. “I’m all you need.”

“Mark, this isn’t healthy,” you said, your voice trembling.

He looked at you, his eyes darkening. “Don’t say that. Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Mark leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You belong to me. They gave you to me. Don’t forget that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, knowing that showing weakness would only make things worse.

---

The other members noticed the shift in your dynamic but said nothing. They’d made their peace with the arrangement, knowing that it kept Mark stable.

“You’re good for him,” Taeyong said one day as you stood in the kitchen. “He’s been through a lot, and you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.”

“What about me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Who’s going to keep me grounded?”

Taeyong didn’t have an answer.

---

That night, as you lay in bed, Mark pulled you into his arms once again. His touch was gentle, but his grip was unyielding, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair. “More than anything.”

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the sound of his voice, the weight of his presence. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the truth: you were his, and there was no way out.

#yandere fic #yandere kpop #yandere mark #yanderemarklee #yandere nct #yanderenct127 #yanderenctdream #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct mark #mark #mark lee

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oneforthemunny · 1 year ago

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marish hysteria |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie's been busy training for competition season, leaving you pent up and lonely.

so-called “marish” behavior—aggressiveness, impatience and general grumpiness—is more common during estrus because of increased hormone levels.

contains: minors dni 18+. dom/sub themes. exhibitionism (kinda??), spanking, with implement (strap), oral fem receiving, pinvsex, creampie, bratting (ish).

The bed creaked, the familiar soft grunt filling the room long before the morning light ever did. Eddie's arms stretching, hand rubbing softly over your hip tucked soundly under the quilt, feet padding across the groaning hardwood towards the bathroom. Light spilled under the door, the heavy stream of the faucet, toothbrush scratching across teeth; scratch, spit, swish, spit.

Jeans pulled off the rack, shimmying up his legs, buckle clinking as Eddie fastened it. Hair pulled back, short sleeve t-shirt on, today's selection a red tee, with a sports logo on it- something he saw at a yard sale that was in good enough condition to be a work shirt. His boots and hat by the door, the rising daw sun just barely starting to rise over the lush horizons. Eddie's lips pressed to your cheek, lingering a little longer than usual, nose rubbing against the skin before he pulled back, a final rub over your hip and he was out the door, leaving you to your peaceful slumber.

Or so he thought.

Your eyes fluttered open after you heard the screen door snap with a screech, latching and leaving the house still, silent. You sat up in the bed, reaching towards the curtains to yank them open, your curly headed love headed out into the stables. He looked so pretty in the morning light; that fucker.

You huffed, throwing the curtain back, lying on your back, watching the blades of the ceiling fan spin around and around. You knew Eddie would be out there all day, barely stepping in for lunch before he was back out there, training the last of the show horses. It was all he'd done for the past week... maybe longer, you weren't sure. You were starting to lose count, days blurring together in a blinded rage.

All you knew, was that it had been too long since you'd been with Eddie. You'd blame it on your ovulation, that sensitive time of your cycle that left you insatiable anyways, but with Eddie preoccupied in other ways it was miserable. Usually, Eddie would slip back into the house at eleven, after the stables had been clean and horses fed. Sometimes, he'd bend you over the kitchen table, hips snapping into you with such a deep force that you were left drooling over the faded wood. Other times, you'd join him on the porch, dropping to your knees when he walked up the stairs, sucking him off right there- he just looked too good, all flushed from the work of the day.

The first day he missed lunch, nothing more than a tired sigh when you went out to him a few hours later. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Lost track of time." A soft reply that came with a brief kiss to your cheek. He practically passed out when he climbed into bed with you that night, exhausted and snoring.

By day four, you were antsy. A dry spell was normal, you supposed. Eddie was busy and was working, it wasn't like there wasn't a reason. He was exhausted, working himself overtime in the stables to make sure the show horses could execute every command flawlessly. Selfishly enough, you couldn't help but feel rejected, neglected... and you missed him. You'd tried to do the job yourself, finger buried between your legs, circling your clit the way Eddie did, but it wasn't as fulfilling as when he did it.

Now, gone was that guilt and understanding, irritation standing in it's place. You'd been good, you really had, until last night. Eddie showered after he came in, heavy steps and drooping shoulders all the way to the shower, and even lower when he came out. You watched him carefully from the bed, how he tossed his towel from off his hips, cock hanging in front of him- teasing you. Your mouth watered at the sight.

"I'll be glad when these fuckers come get the horses and I get my money." Eddie grumbled, fumbling through his drawer for his boxers.

"Mhmm," You hummed, eyes trained on his ass, the outline of his soft cock in the green plaid material.

"'m gonna take you out when I do." Eddie's eyes met yours, soft and sweet, grinning just lightly enough to make your heart flutter with hope; with excitement.

"Take ya out somewhere real nice." He rasped, leaning onto the bed, lips pressing into yours in a sweet kiss that had your own head spinning.

Your hand reached to cradle his jaw, a small sigh when you pressed him deeper into your kiss, melting into him easily. The desperate throbbing between your legs easing with the smell of his soap, every move of his full lips against yours, pulling him closer and closer.

"Honey," Eddie sighed lightly, hands on your wrists, holding them softly. "'m beat. I don't think I have it in me, baby."

Your heart dropped, blinking at him blankly, that familiar rush snatched out of your chest, filling the empty space with disappointment. "B-But," You stammered, watching him with wide eyes when he slipped under the sheets next to you. "I'll ride you, Ed. You don't have to do anything-"

"- I really just want to sleep." Eddie said softly, sweet enough. No bitterness or harbored resentment in his tone.

You stammered, floundering with your words for a moment, gaping at him when he reached over, flicking off his lamp. A hand on your hip, sweetly rubbing the flesh there, a coaxing move to get you to lie down. Your cheeks burned with rejection, huffing furiously, angrily turning off your own lamp. Eddie pulled you closer to him, his chest on your back, hand thrown over your hip.

One last glimmer of hope, a Hail Mary you hoped might work. You shimmied yourself further into his grasp, ass wiggling against the front of his boxers, brushing against his cock. You repeated it once, twice, hips shimmying for a third time before Eddie's sigh came heavy out of his nose.

"Baby, I told you 'm tired. I'm not in the mood. Quit it." He grumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

You bristled, rolling out of his gasp entirely so you were pressed against the edge of the bed. Normally, Eddie would huff, slap on the light and demand to know why you were being such a brat. Your tummy flipped at the idea that he might be rough with you, be a little mean and punish you for your attitude. Fuck, you'd take a switching at this point if that meant he'd fuck you.

He didn't.

Instead, just sighed softly, before settling back into his pillows, snoring within a matter of minutes.

Fury filled you, and you had to clench your fists, stop yourself from shoving him off the bed in your rage. You knew it was silly, silly to be this bratty and demanding. Eddie had been working hard. Yet, you couldn't rationalize it enough to your raging hormones, set ablaze with lack of dick.

You barely slept, tossing and turning, avoiding Eddie's warm grasp that drew you in like a magnet. It just made you more and more furious, reminding you of what you hadn't got.

Arms crossed over your chest, you replayed the night before- the week before, with a pouty scowl. Unfair, fuck, it was so unfair. How did Eddie not feel the same way?

If you knew Eddie, and you did, you knew he wasn't not feeling the same way. You knew he had to be just as pent up, his exhaustion trumping whatever hormones he had. You twisted your lips in thought, finger tapping in a rapid pace against your arm.

Flinging the covers off you, you looked out to see Eddie in the fields, letting each of the horses out to gallop around in the morning sun. Your eyes narrowed, stomping to the bathroom, slapping on the faucet to fill the tub.

Eddie pulled the reigns gently, a small grunt leaving his lips as the horse trotted skillfully around the barrel. "Good girl," Eddie muttered, hand sliding down the silky mane. He was feeling proud, a pep back in his step that had long been gone since the start of the week before. The owners were coming to get their horses, ready to trot for show and competitions, and that meant he'd have a large check in his pocket.

Eddie looked down, checking his watch. A quarter til one, the owner and the rider would be here soon to make sure he had efficiently trained their thoroughbred. "Let's get you brushed out before your owners come and-" Eddie's head stuttered, catching a glimpse of something- someone approaching the stables.

You, with that devious, sultry smile, in your little rubber rain boots- and just your little rain boots.

"What the fuck..." Eddie muttered, demounting himself, gripping the reigns while he paced towards you. You grinned at him, waving sweetly, a shy little smile that he knew better than to fall for.

"Hi, handsome," You purred, stepping onto the gate, leaning over so your breasts spilled over the bar. "How's it going out here?"

"What the hell are you doin'?" Eddie huffed, tying the horse to the post, hands on his hips when he strode over to you.

It wasn't quite the reaction you expected, your face falling slightly. "What?" You feigned innocence. "I just came out to see you."

Eddie rolled his eyes lightly, eyes scanning over your body. Fuck, you knew what you were doing to him, all shaved and oiled up- positively delicious looking. "I'm working, honey." Eddie swallowed the growing lump in his throat, his cock stirring at the sight. "I got people coming soon."

"Aw," You jutted your bottom lip out, nearly mocking. "I thought you liked when I walked around like this."

"I do." Eddie nodded, letting his hand fall over your hip sweetly, willing himself not to grab your ass. He sighed heavy out his nose, frowning at you. "But not when I got people coming. Not when I'm working."

Your face fell, the sultry mask falling off your face. There was a second of hurt, a small fall in your face that had Eddie's heart wrenching with guilt- only for a moment. Before you were overcome with rage. Lips twisting and setting in pure displeasure, eyes narrowing at him.

"Are you fucking serious?" You snapped, pulling away from him with a shove.

Eddie's brows shot up, shocked out your outburst. "Baby-"

"Don't." You sneered. "You've been working all week and... You know what? Fuck it." You threw your hands up, turning on your rubber soled heel.

Eddie called your name, a rather strangled, frustrated sigh, his hand reaching for your wrist that you slapped away. "No, no, fuck you, Eddie. You've ignored me all fucking week and I try to do something nice and exciting for you, and you still ignore me." Your cheeks burned with embarrassment maybe fury, waterline pricking with tears.

"Sweet girl, I told you. I'm exhausted. I've been out here all day-"

"-I know, Eddie." You snapped. "Didn't realize that meant you couldn't spend a second of your time with me. At the very least fuck me."

Eddie paused for a moment, lips pursing. "That's what this is about?" He huffed. "I've been tired."

"So have I," You shrilled. "Tired of you ignoring me."

"This is a very big job for me, you know that. It's a lot of money-"

"-Great, Eddie. You've said that." You snapped. "I didn't realize that meant you'd be ignoring me all week. Clearly you can't handle the pressure of this job." Finger jabbed in his chest, you emphasized your point. Mean? Yes. You knew it was, and the way Eddie's face fell secured that. Still, you didn't care. You were a woman possessed, blinded by rage and desire and rejection.

Eddie didn't get a chance to respond, the familiar crunch of the gravel startling him. The tiny figure of a car starting down the path. "Shit, shit," Eddie huffed, yanking you by your arm towards the stables.

You blushed furiously, suddenly very aware of how exposed you were. You'd wished you had at least wore panties now, but that was too late now. Eddie yanked you through the barn towards the far corner where his tools were, yanking a utility jacket that had been retired until fall off the hook.

"Put this on, and stay back here. Do you understand me?" Eddie's tone held no room for argument, stern and authoritative. Your head bobbed, fingers curling around the jacket to keep yourself concealed, wedging into corner behind the stall.

"Don't you dare make a sound, and don't you dare move." He pointed at you, jaw tight and firm, scolding you like a bad puppy. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, thighs clenching at the tone. You hated how thrilling this was, the adrenaline of being naked in the barn, of being potentially caught. Eddie's stern tone, fuck, it made your knees shake.

Eddie stomped out the barn, the soft mummer of voices mingling outside of the barn before they disappeared towards the field. A part of you wanted to look, watch Eddie ride and show off the horse, the veins in his hands, bulge in his forearm. You were dizzy at the thought. Instead, you stayed hidden, pressed up against the wood of the stable, hidden away from the eyes of others, heart trilling in your chest like a hummingbirds wings when Eddie's voice finally came into earshot again.

Muttered words about "pleasure to work with" and "another one soon", you leaned closer to hopefully hear more. Eddie's gruff tone, friendly but still rough, the creak of the horse trailer, heavy hooves clomping against the metal ramp, the tear of the check, before finally the gravel crunched under the truck and trailer.

You waited, too scared to peer around to check. Eddie's boots were hard, even against the hay, eyes hard and cutting under his hat. He looked at you for a moment, eyes scanning your frame, the valley of your breasts down to your navel, your freshly shaved pussy. His cock throbbed at the sight.

"You better listen to me. Do exactly what I say with no lip, you understand?" Eddie glared at you, pointed and mean. You nodded dumbly.

Eddie's hand pushed the jacket off your shoulder, the feeling of his rough fingertips on your shoulder enough to make you shudder. "I want you waiting for me inside." He nodded towards the house, hand raising to stop you. "Uh, not so fast, darlin'." His eyes were dark, gleaming with that wickedness that had your tummy flipping.

"Grab your strap." Eddie nodded towards the wall, hidden behind ropes and reigns, inconspicuous mahogany leather on the wall, a tool reserved just for you. Entirely yours.

You didn't hesitate, snatching the strap off the wall, scurrying back to the house bare except for your boots. Eddie followed slowly, a menacing pace he knew was thrilling to you. He'd find you in the bedroom, standing by the edge of the mattress, practically bouncing on your toes. Hands by your side but eyes wide, excited, every ounce of attitude from before gone with the promise that you'd finally get what you want- the attention you craved.

Eddie couldn't blame you, he supposed. He'd be mad too if it was him being ignored, and guilt flooded his system in an icy shock at the thought. Until he saw you, biting back your tiny grin at the edge of the bed.

Eddie snorted lightly, fighting back his own smile. He crossed his arms over his chest, a desperate attempt to stay stern. "I expected better from you." He shook his head at you. "Thought you would know better than to throw a hissy fit like that. All because you didn't get your way."

Your lip jutted. "It's not a hissy fit, Ed." You whined, foot stamping lightly into the ground. His brow raised at you, a warning. You huffed. "I just... I missed you, Eddie. I thought you'd like me surprising you like this. You always do."

Eddie hummed, pulling off his own shirt, your eyes gaping at his sweat slicked chest, toned softly from years of manual labor. You knew you had to be dripping by this point, and he wasn't making it any easier on you.

"I do like it when you surprise me, baby." Eddie cooed lightly, hands moving to his belt. You watched his fingers flex with the buckle. "I don't like it when you try to distract me while I'm working so you can get your way."

You crossed your arms over your bare chest. "Ed, I'm sorry." You sighed heavily. "But you were ignoring me and... and I missed you."

Eddie hummed, chest puffing to tower over you. "You missed me?" He tilted his head in question, stepping so he was toe to toe with you. You looked down at his tented boxers, lip rolling between your teeth.

"Or," Eddie's hand grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. "Did this pretty little thing miss me?" He hummed, free hand cupping your heat.

You gasped, knees locking at the sensation. The heel of his hand rolling over your mound, middle finger teasing your slick folds. You whined, hips grinding down into his touch. Your mind was blazing, body too, with every swipe of Eddie's fingers teasing you. Oh, it was delicious. You had missed this.

"You just not gonna answer me anymore? Not gonna listen, hm?" Eddie tsked, tilting his head down menacingly towards you. "That's how this is gonna be?"

"No," You whine, pressing down towards his fingers. He was purposefully missing your clit, your hole, the places you needed him most. "Both."

"Both, what, honey?" Eddie's twang fell through his words, making your chest bolt with feverish heat.

"We both missed you." The pout you gave him had his knees weak, fingers curling just barely into your entrance. Your eyes widened, mouth matching at the idea that he might give you what you wanted.

Instead, Eddie pulled his fingers out. You nearly fell into him, knees knocking together like the newborn foals that wobbled around the pastures. Eddie's free hand caught you by your waist, steadying you with a firm grasp.

"Easy, baby," He muttered, squeezing the fat of your hips gently. "We're just gettin' started here, sweetheart. Don't give up on me so easily now."

Stubble covered cheeks creasing, dimples deepening with the tug of his lips, curling in a dark grin that had you aching between your legs. Eddie told you to climb on the bed, hands and knees, and you knew you were too excited. You could hear him snort lightly, knowing he was shaking his head when you scrambled to your tabletop position on the edge of the bed excitedly.

"You know what you're in for?" Eddie scoffed, rolling the strap, heavy and thick, in his hand. "You ain't gotta outta that one, baby."

"I know." You chirped, looking over your shoulder at him. "I deserve it, I know." You purred.

Eddie nearly choked, swallowing down the spit that pooled in his mouth. The sight of your swollen cunt, slick already, eyes batting over your shoulder at him- it made his head spin.

"Christ Almighty," Eddie muttered. "I didn't know you were this bad, honey." His hand smoothed over the soft skin of your thigh, squeezing the flesh lightly. "Makin' me feel bad."

"Don't." You shook your head. "Just-Just-" You nodded at the strap in his hand, eyes shining with excitement. "I need you. Now."

Eddie's brow raised, shocked at your boldness, the commanding tone that took him back. It wasn't usually how things played out when you were in this position. Bratty, whiny- sure, but never directing... never this excited.

But who was Eddie to deny you? He'd be a fool to.

"You're really pent up, aren't ya, sweet thing?" Eddie grinned, the leather of the strap rubbing over your ass teasingly.

You sucked in a slow breath, eyes fluttering closed. "I told you I was." You muttered. Eddie squeezed your hip lightly twice, a warning that he was starting.

There was a pause, an absence of the strap, a soft grunt before the familiar swishing cutting through the air before it landed across your ass. The sting of surprise dwindling to a burning sear of pain sizzling across your skin, straight to your core.

Your usual whiney cry didn't fill the room. Instead, a delicious sigh of pleasure, like when you were sinking in the bath after a long day- longing and content.

Eddie's brows raised, hesitating before pulling his arm back again, sending the strap falling against your raised ass. You grunted, the hit harder this time, leaning forward at the impact. Your back arched, hips wiggling back into place, teasing, nearly.

"You know you're not 'sposed to be enjoying this." Smack!

"'m not." Your voice raised, lifting to that airy octave that teetered on a whine, leaned more towards a sigh of pleasure. "It hurts, Ed."

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. As if that was convincing. Not with the way your back arched, pussy drooling at him. "Does it?" Eddie brought the strap down harder this time, enough to pull a squeal out of you.

"Thought bringin' the strap out on ya woulda had you more obedient." Smack! You whined, swallowing down a hint of a moan you hoped Eddie didn't hear.

"Nearly let everyone out there see you naked." Eddie shook his head, the strap falling yet again. You jumped, wishing he would have let you bend over the bed instead so you could rub out some relief on your aching pussy. You knew that's why he had you in this position, so you couldn't.

"People I do business with," Smack!

"Seein' you out there, paradin' around with nothin' on." Smack!

"E-Eddie..." You were sure you weren't going to last, aching between your legs so badly it was beginning to hurt. You needed him to touch you, you would beg for it at this point.

"Wonder what they'd think, hm." Eddie smirked, letting the strap fall again, right to the center of your ass. His rough hands slid over your hot skin, squeezing. You hissed at the burn, his chest folding over your back, curls tickling the shell of your ear.

"If they saw you like that, like this." Eddie's hands slid between your legs, fingertips gliding through your slick folds. You gasped, a strangling of a moan tore through the air, head tipping back and back arching deep into his touch.

"If they saw how needy you get f'me." Eddie growled, teeth bared with lust, breath hot on your cheek.

Your eyes met his, rounded and begging before he pinned you beneath him. Teeth clashing, hands grabbing at anything, everything you could. Your threading, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. His squeezing your ass cheeks, grinning into your kiss when you squealed.

"I-I've fuckin' missed you- Fuck, I've missed you." Eddie muttered, hot, sloppy kisses trailing down your jaw, your cheek.

"I've missed you." You tipped your head back onto the pillows, hips grinding on his thigh, shamelessly humping his leg, hands tangled in his hair.

"This was too long, Eddie. Don't-Don't do this again." You whimpered, shuddering when he sucked a deep bruise into your collarbones.

"I won't, baby. I won't." Eddie rasped, squeezing your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple. "Fuck, 's too long for me. Been fuckin' miserable."

"Yeah?" You hummed, half lidded lashes fluttering down towards him.

"Yeah." Eddie's lips curled, squeezing your hip playfully. "Way too fuckin' long. Been fuckin' starving." He growled, sitting up at the edge of the bed, your legs hooked around his shoulders.

"Eddie! Be careful!" You squealed, your body raised half off the mattress when he pulled you. You loved when he's manhandle you like this, tug and toss you into place so effortlessly.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, leaving you hissing as he dove tongue first into your heat. No warm up, no warning, no teasing- just a man deprived, desperate for a taste.

"Oh!" You gaped in surprise, back arching into his mouth. Your hands fisted around the quilt above your head. Your clit ached when Eddie's tongue swiped over it, a beautiful pain that had your whole body burning in heat.

Clicks of spit mixing with your slick, muffle moans and gasps filled the small room, your body twisting in his grasp. Toes curling, chest heaving and stuttering far easier than usual, but what could you say? You had missed him. Missed this.

Eddie's stubble covered chin was covered in a wet sheen, shining in the sunlit room, stripping off the rest of his clothes. Belt buckle falling, jeans joining in a puddle.

"How d'ya want me, baby?" Eddie rasped, eyes lust-soaked and dark.

"However, I don't care." Pushing up on your elbows, moving closer to the edge of the bed.

Eddie grinned, a sly, dimpled smile that had your body electrified with a throbbing excitement. He settled between your legs, wrapping one around his hip. He swallowed a groan when you pumped his length, hips rolling towards your hand.

"That's it." Eddie looked down at you through half-lidded lashes. "Go on. Put it in there for me, honey."

Your body flushed with thrilling heat, pussy clenching at the authority in his voice. You pumped him a few more times, guiding him into your sopping hole, his hips pushing in with your guidance.

"Good girl. Knew you could be good for me." Eddie's voice was tight, mind numbing with every slow roll of his hips, your walls strangling his length.

"Fuck," Eddie shuddered, bottoming out. He held himself there for a moment, just wanting to feel you. He'd missed it, nearly forgotten how good you felt, it had been so long.

Your nails dug into his forearm when he started to move, slow and deep thrusts, filling you. "Feel s'good." Eddie muttered, hand squeezing your thigh, your hip. "You feelin' good?"

"Yeah." A breathy sigh teetering on a whine.

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned. "This what you needed, baby? This's all you needed wasn't it?"

"Yes, Eddie." You whimpered, hips grinding down to meet his slow thrusts. "G-Go faster."

"Faster?" Eddie grinned nearly teasingly, shifting your leg on his hip, pulling your closer to the edge. "You're in charge now, hm?"

"I- no." Your mind swirled with pleasure, babbling at the change of pace. "I just- I need it like that."

"Need?" Eddie laughed. You frowned, lip jutting in a pout that had his cock throbbing with need. "Alright, alright, I'll give you what you need, sweet girl. I gotcha, baby."

You clenched around him, head tipping back into the mattress. Eddie's thumb circled your clit lazily, smirking at how you whined, legs tightening around his hips.

"Look s'pretty like this." Eddie hummed, lashes fluttering, gaze rolling over your body. "Look pretty f'me, don't you? Look at me, sweetheart."

"For you." You looked over at him, eyes glassy with pleasure. "Eddie, I need-" You whined, back arching, body twisting in his grasp.

"What? You need what?" Eddie's pace slowed, looking at you carefully. "Tell me what you need."

Your body burned, a shooting flare of heat, as blinding as it was before. A primal need that had your mind stuttering. You weren't exactly sure what came over you, Eddie certainly wasn't. Pulling him flush against you roughly, his chest pressed to yours, hands by your shoulders to steady himself.

"What are you doin'-"

You gripped his ass, squeezing the muscles of his cheeks, pressing him deeper and deeper into you. Your legs tightening around his hips, locking him in place, your hips rolling, grinding into the wiry hair of his base.

Eddie's eyes widened, startled, a little shocked. You grabbed at him, grinding mercilessly onto him, hips rocking, cunt squeezing his cock. "F-Faster, Ed." You panted, eyed pinched closed.

Eddie faltered for a moment, feet planting awkwardly, body still folded over your, jackhammering into you still buried deep. Your legs squeezing his hips, arms wrapped around his body.

"Yes!" You cried into his skin, nails digging into his shoulder. "Like that, like that. Oh shit, just like that, Ed!" You babbled, grinding down to meet his furious pace.

"Like that?" Eddie gritted, hand sliding under your spine to hold you closer. "That's how you need it? That's good?"

"Yes, yes, so good, so good." You rambled, head lolling back.

Eddie's breath was hot on your cheek, pressing a sloppy kiss to your jaw, teeth grazing over the nape of your neck. You whined, clawing at him furiously, he knew his back would be marked with your scratches- he couldn't wait.

Eddie fucked into you, hard, hips stuttering as his own orgasm teetered closer and closer. Teeth sinking in a rough kiss to your neck, sucking a bruise that sent you right over the edge, body shaking in pure pleasure. His own orgasm following, spilling deeply inside of you. Your feet dug into his lower back, pushing him closer and closer to you as he released, a hungry look in your starry eyes that told him you weren't going to be done with him anytime soon.

"You-You gotta give me a second, baby." Eddie's chest heaved with yours, grunting at the burn in his legs when he shifted to stand. "Gotta gimme a second, and I-I'll get it up again. Just let me-"

You were grinning, that same sly smile across your features that had Eddie's heart leaping in excitement.

Eddie found himself back on the bed, against the headboard, you between his legs. "I- hmph- I can get it up, baby. You don't-don't have to- shit!" Eddie's hips bucked, fists clenching the quilt on the bed.

You looked up at him, lashes batting innocently, tongue running down the seam of his sac, sucking lightly. Your thumb moved back teasingly, sliding towards Eddie's tight hole.

"Hey, hey! Get outta there." Eddie's voice was tight, trying to swallow down a moan that threatened to spill out.

"Think you like it." You grinned, fingertip running along the vein on the underside of Eddie's cock, stirring back to life.

"Think I'll strap your ass some more if you do that again." Eddie threatened, eyes hard, but the flustered flush on his cheeks made you grin.

"Promise?" You grinned wickedly, pad of your finger dragging back slowly towards his sac.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Eddie grunted, your hands rolling and squeezing his balls perfectly, making his toes clench and curl.

Your finger tickled the underside of his balls, trailing lower and lower towards his crack when he'd finally had enough. Face down in the mattress, hands pinned behind your back, Eddie's free hand reigning down on your still sensitive ass. You squealed, squirmed, even giggled, cheek pressed to the quilt to look over at him.

Eddie's tongue rolled over his cheek, fighting back a smile he couldn't hold in. Eyes batting sweetly, that same little smile on your lips. "You're somethin' fuckin' else, you know that?" Eddie smirked.

"Yeah." You bite back a smile. "You love me anyways."

"I do." Eddie nodded, his grip loosening on your wrists, leaning down to kiss your cheek gently. You sighed contently, melting under his tender touch.

"Love you so much, baby." Eddie hummed. You burned under his gaze, heart soaring at the affection in his tone.

"Even if you are a brat." His hand fell down on your ass, pulling a squeal of surprise from you.

"How you want me this time?" Eddie smirked, legs swinging off the bed to stand, looking at you carefully.

You grinned, pushing off the mattress, back in your table top position towards the edge of the bed. Eddie snorted, muttering under his breath as he stroked himself, a hand on your spine pushing you down into place. You smirked against the mattress, hips wiggling for him. You finally got what you wanted.

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ink-stainedkiss · 5 months ago

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𝐘𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1.2k

Type: extremelyyyy fluffy (if you squint there is angst)

*This is my first post so keep that in mind*

𝘚𝘶𝘮: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘠𝘶𝘫𝘪’𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭

The ceiling fan above you spun quickly, the cold air blowing all around your quiet room. If it wasn’t for the constant chirping from the insects outside you would claim it was dead silent. Usually, your dorm wasn’t like this, especially not since you went to Jujitsu Tech. Whether it was gossiping with Shoko or studying peacefully with Megumi, there always seemed to be some sort of distraction to drag you away from loneliness. You would have climbed out of your bed and just walked to one of your friends’ dorm, but the shimmering moon outside reminded you that even if you did knock on their door, you would most likely be intruding on their sleep.

It was a collective agreement that, no matter the person in the school, everyone was to respect each other's sleep schedules because it seemed that sleep was the only moment of peace that sorcerers got. You could testify for this quite immensely. Each time you come back from a mission, you only want the sweet satisfaction of slumber. Speaking of missions, it seemed that the two sent on one today were running behind. Unfortunately, one of the selected was your loving boyfriend. You turned your head, facing the rectangle clock, and read the time. 11:26. When you gave him a kiss goodbye, you promised you would be awake by the time he got back. Which at the time didn’t seem like a big deal. They had left around eleven in the morning and were supposed to be back around dinner.

You understood that your boyfriend was strong and he always had a back up power stored inside of him. A smile melted onto your face as you recall the words that slipped out of the angered mouth that appeared on your boyfriend's cheek. As annoying as it was, it often caused you to giggle to yourself. You lifted your hand toward your nightstand, grabbing your phone, you unlocked the screen and went to the messages.

Yuji❤️(6:42 p.m): should be back in a bit!

So much for trusting him. You weren’t angry, far from it actually, but you couldn’t help but feel somewhat upset. It was mostly because you had stayed up for so long, watching movies, playing on your phone, and doing whatever activity to stay up. You just wanted to see Yuji. As much as you joke about how much of an annoyance he is, your chest started to tighten at the fact you hadn’t seen him all day. Yuji was a packaged deal when it came to dating him. Not only was he an amazing boyfriend, but when you needed it he was a great best friend. Yuji was the first person you told when you had drama to tell. He would always be up for any sort of skincare or makeup you would want to put on him. You weren’t sure how you managed to find someone like him.

Frowning at the fond memories of him, you tossed an arm over your eyes, sighing and deciding you wouldn’t be able to complete your promise to Yuji. Your eyes were heavy and you kept finding yourself slipping in and out of consciousness. The only light source in your room was the yellow lamp resting on the dresser beside you and even then, the luminance wasn’t enough to keep you from nodding off. You felt a little disappointed in yourself, but it was getting close to midnight and he would understand. At least you’ll see him in the morning. You weren’t sure why they were so caught up, but you didn’t have a churning feeling in your stomach so you surmised that he was fine.

You glanced at your closed door and a downcasted sigh escaped you. I should just go to bed. It didn’t feel good to shut your lights off and cuddle under your sheets without Yuji, but he had his own business to attend to. Soon enough the only sounds that were heard in your dorm was your soft breathing and the whirring of your fan.

☽｡⋆

A noisy creek echoed through your room, making the pinkette opening your door cringe. Regrettably for him, the racket had woken you up, and all he could do was freeze as you sat up. Wiping your blurry eyes, you faced the lit doorway tiredly,”Yuji?”

Your voice was croaky, but he managed to catch your words. He smiled softly at your restless state, slowly shutting the door behind him,” Yeah it’s me,” He murmured, still exhausted from the extended mission,”I’m sorry I'm late.”

You flicked the light on, causing a light groan from you, but you were deterred nonetheless,”It’s fine, sweetheart.” You rubbed your sleepy eyes with one arm, while he was pulling back the covers and welcoming the boy.

Yuji folded instantly, trudging to your bed and immediately collapsing into your embrace. His large arms wrapped around your waist and he sank into your body heat. As you placed the covers over the two of you, you couldn’t help but ask,”What took you guys so long?”

Yuji huffed dramatically, eyes shut,”The stupid curse wouldn’t die and when we thought it was dead, it just duplicated itself,” Clearly the curse had given Yuji a hard time.

Your hand found its way into his pink locks and as you scratched his scalp, Yuji was practically purring against you,”Did you eat before you got here?” You questioned, hoping he wasn’t going to sleep on an empty stomach. The boy gave a long inhale and exhale, showing just how relaxed he was in your arms,”Mhm. Panda suggested we stop at a convenience store.”

You raised a brow, giggling at his response,”So you had snacks for dinner?” Yuji nodded, a content smile across his features,”There cup noodles were excellent.” You continued to suppress your laughs and you hoped your shaky body wasn’t disturbing Yuji.

Luckily for you, the half-curse was a heavy sleeper and could probably sleep through a rock concert. Your finger combed through his hair, earning a satisfied hum from the boy below you. You lived for moments like these. They were peaceful, but most of all they were normal. Normalcy was something that could only be caught in small fragments as a sorcerer. Each of you were different and you couldn’t just come out to the world and expect to be looked at the same. So having these silent moments fulfilled your fantasy of living an ordinary life. Of course if it weren’t for being able to see cursed energy, you would have never met your closest friends, or your boyfriend for that matter.

You were pulled from your thoughts when a not-so-quiet snore reached your ears. Looking down, Yuji was out like a light. You reached over, flicking off the light and scooted down so you could rest your head on your pillows. Your nails dragged over Yuji’s sleep shirt, tracing random squiggles across his clothed back. You weren’t sure if you were going to see your thirties, hell you were sure about your mid-twenties, but even after all the gruesome things you’ve witnessed, at least you never had to doubt if someone cared for you.

For now, the moon hung high, tranquility spread over the school, and you couldn’t be happier with your life.

#yuji itadori #⊹ ࣪ ˖ ᡣ𐭩carmi’s fics ༝༚༝༚#jjk yuji #jjk x reader #jjk #fluff #yuji itadori x reader #x reader #oneshot #fanfic writing #slight angst #comfort #yuji x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #writers on tumblr

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m00nymonster · 7 months ago

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It All Sounded Interesting

Written for Tideland's On the Loose prompt!

"I'll give you a tour of the station, Three, and if you want we can go to the planet later," Dr. Ratthi said, clearly excited. This was my first time on Preservation Station, and I wanted to make a good impression.

"Yes, Dr. Ratthi," I said. 1.0 told me I didn't have to answer humans if I didn't want to anymore, but old habits die hard. Dr. Ratthi gave me a sad half smile.

"Ratthi is fine, Three."

"Yes, Ratthi."

It felt strange to address a human so informally. A lot of things were strange now that I was rogue. Freedom in general was strange.

"I--oh. Just a minute." Dr. Ratthi got a vague look on his face, and turned away, subvocalizing as he did so. I looked around. 1.0 had told me that humans here didn't know what SecUnits looked like, so they would think I was an augmented human, but 1.0 had also altered its configuration. Perihelion had offered a similar treatment, and while I had declined a physical alteration (not being SecUnit standard bothered me and I didn't know why) I had altered my code to grow my hair out. Still, it was strange to look at the humans through a fringe of hair.

So many things were strange, now.

I looked around, and realized Dr. Ratthi had walked away, probably assuming I was following along behind. A transport docked and a flood of humans deboarded, chattering amongst themselves, separating me further. I could ping Dr. Ratthi, ask him where he was. I could. If I wanted to.

Decisions were hard, so I was proud of myself when I decided not to follow him and instead let the crowd drift me away.

The main discourse was beautifully decorated, with sculptural shapes hanging from the ceiling and both holo and real plants scattered along the pathways, as well as many comfortable looking chairs and benches. There were several storefronts, but the one that drew me had a large display of media, including almost an entire wall of nonfiction books. 1.0 found my fascination with nonfiction puzzling--it preferred fiction--but it wasn't here.

A human walked up to me.

"We have digital and paper books," he said, his smile making little wrinkles around his eyes. I was confused.

"Paper?"

"Yes! We sell all genres. Are you a history fan?"

I wasn't sure how to answer this, but as I said, old habits die hard.

"I'm not sure."

"Hmm. Well, I have several interesting books if you want to find out! The most popular here of course is the story of Preservation, but I have other polities as well as the Corporate Rim."

It all sounded interesting.

"All of it, please," I said.

"All of it?"

At his expression I hesitated. This seemed like an unusual request. 1.0 had told me to not behave unusually.

"Just Preservation," I amended. The man beamed.

"No, no, always happy to encourage a fellow history enthusiast! Which would you like first?"

Dr. Ratthi found me an hour later, browsing the last of the nonfiction selection. I had already downloaded all the history books the man in the shop had recommended, and now was looking at biographies.

"There you are!" he said, out of breath. "I was looking everywhere for you!"

"Ah, is this your friend? I must say, this young person is a voracious reader! Quite commendable!"

Ar Dr. Ratthi's glance I looked down.

"1.0 gave me a hard currency card," I said meekly. It would not have understood why I actually paid for the books instead of just downloading them, but according to it I also didn't have to justify my decisions to anyone anymore.

Dr. Ratthi smiled. "If you want more I'll cover it," he said. The shopkeeper smiled widely.

Later, when I'd left with as much as Dr. Ratthi and my hard currency card could afford, Dr. Ratthi laughed.

"I'll say this, SecUnits certainly aren't predictable. Set you loose and you buy half the bookstore!"

I wasn't sure what to say to this, so I didn't. It was nice.

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #tmbd #murderbot fanfic #murderbot fanfiction #murderbot three #three #secunit 3 #ratthi #murderbot drabbles

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago

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Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical swearing, angst, possessive!Simon, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, praise, hand job, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Part Eleven of Ink & Needle

An argument becomes a moment of understanding. Certain carnal urges are fulfilled.

Chapter Ten // Chapter Twelve

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

“Tell me why your hands are shaking.”

Are they? Is that what you’re feeling? You didn’t notice.

Bringing them up to waist level, you observe their gentle tremble. Elbows pressing lightly into your sides, arms angled inward, you curl your fingers toward your palms in an attempt to cease the shaking. They continue to quiver as if the signals from your brain to your hands fall off the trail, losing themselves amongst the millions of constantly firing neurons.

What stops the trembling are Simon’s hands.

Your palms face the ceiling and the tops of your hands are aimed toward the wood floor. Simon slides underneath, fingers delicately encasing the stuttering shake. Tattooed and large. Rough, but dry and warm. Like a light switch being flipped, you are suddenly calm. Peaceful.

Simon said he wants to talk. He wants to know. He is asking you for understanding, to allow him in even if what’s inside isn’t all that pretty. There is no obligation you’re holding him to. No standard. Simon draws up his own, presents them, lays them out flat in fan before you like a deck of cards.

It’s your move. Your opportunity to select one.

But the quiet is shattered as Adam’s voice returns, bashing against your brain like waves crashing against rock.

Whore.

Fucking whore.

The trembling begins again and Simon’s hold on your hands tightens, his large frame shifting forward into your space, creating a protective cocoon that you desperately wish to lean against but don’t.

“I’m sorry,” you stammer. The inhale you take is fractured, splitting like an atom, the energy inside you roaring into an explosion that rings loudly in your ears.

Everything is fucked. Everything is torn apart. Ripped to bloody ribbons.

Wrong and twisted and broken and just wrong.

Evie’s in-laws do not forgive easily, and Adam is the worst of the bunch. On the surface, he is ever the gentleman, but underneath is the serpent hiding in the leaves.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I shouldn’t have let him touch me. I didn’t want him to. Simon—I promise. I—”

One of his large hands releases you only to grasp the side of your face. He forces you to look at him. Forces you to gaze into those dark eyes that you could drown in.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But—”

“Don’t apologize for someone else’s poor behavior,” interjects Simon. Your wraith’s thumb brushes away the tears staining your cheeks. “He had no right.” Simon’s voice is nearly a growl, as if the memory of Adam placing his hand on your thigh personally hurts him.

Simon doesn’t understand. He has no context to why you were even there to begin with. Seeing you and Adam together wounded him. While sitting in your chair, watching your wraith as he confronted Evie’s brother-in-law with such fury, you knew you made a mistake.

But how do begin to explain everything? How do you start to detail Evie and Archie’s lives together? How do you slot the pieces into a picture that Simon will understand? How do you tell Simon that Archie’s entire family is fucking awful?

How? How?

All Simon witnessed was you and Adam sitting together in a dark pub. All Simon saw was Adam placing his hand upon your thigh. All he heard was that one little sentence at the end. That’s it. Simon knows nothing else.

“Yet he did it anyway,” you exclaim. “And you’re angry.”

“With him,” growls Simon. “Not with you.”

Yet that fails to explain Simon’s behavior after his friends escorted Adam out of the building. As far as you know, they could have taken Adam down a side street and broken his nose. Perhaps punched out a few teeth. You hope that isn’t the case. You hope they only took him to his car.

And you’re still seething about the way Simon treated you after. The shaking in your hands isn’t simply a reaction to Adam’s inappropriate behavior. It is also a response to Simon’s rough protectiveness.

“You’re not angry with me yet you drag me around by my arm. Herd me like a fucking farm animal.” You attempt to remove your hands from his grip, but Simon is having none of it. His fingers only squeeze a bit tighter. “Is that why you were so rough with me? Because you weren’t angry?”

Your voice is rising. The need to defend yourself is insistent. Pulsing. A driving force.

Yes, Adam had no right to touch you. But Simon also had no right to handle you like he did. That too is wrong.

Simon’s shoulders heave, every muscle in his body tensing. He abruptly drops your hands. Withdrawing. Pulling away. Stepping back.

“That was,” he begins, but pauses, gaze dropping in subtle shame. At his sides, his hands form fists. “Wrong of me.” Simon glances up, and the fire returns, your wraith a burning inferno that might combust. “I saw him touch you. Heard what he said. I snapped. And I shouldn’t have.”

The apology is genuine, and while half of you eagerly accepts it, the other isn’t nearly as pleased. Maybe it’s because you’re protective of Evie, and Simon’s interference with your conversation with Adam might have ruined so much for her.

“Yet you did it anyway.”

It’s one last bite. A final sting. You try to keep it in, but you’re so goddamn frustrated.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. Even defeated, Simon is large, a looming figure you’re force to look up at.

While you’re frustrated, you know this isn’t really Simon’s fault. Sure, his behavior after the fact was fucking garbage, but he stood up for you. He defended you, was ready to toss Adam right out of the pub if you had told him to do it.

The grievance isn’t with Simon. It’s with Adam.

“It’s fine,” you sigh. It’s—”

You rub your lips together, running your hands over your face. Breathing is best. Breathing is good. The swirling pit inside your stomach is quickly rising to squeeze your chest. You need to calm down.

“It’s complicated,” you finish, not knowing what else to say.

Simon’s fists unclench. He hangs there, gaze pinned to your face, shifting slightly like he’s studying your features. “I told you to talk. I’ll listen.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that simple.”

Simon takes a step forward, breaching your personal space. One black boot lands between your feet, forcing you to open slightly. You attempt to back up, but Simon is insistent, moving with you.

“Simon—”

His hand goes to the back of your neck, halting your escape. Your own hands go up to push against his chest, using his solidness as a point of support to create space. As if knowing your intention, his other hand quickly snags one wrist and then the other, trapping them in the very spot you intended to place them.

Simon’s voice drops, almost to a whisper. Yet there is heat and a blooded blade beneath it that lends itself to innate instinct. “Does he mean something to you?”

“What?” you gasp, disbelieving.

Is Simon serious? Does he truly believe that?

“Are the two of you—”

“Stop,” you say, flattening both hands against Simon’s chest. “Just stop.” Simon begins to speak again but you’re putting an end to this like tearing out a thorn from your thumb.

“Adam isn’t anything to me,” you snap. “He’s Evie’s brother-in-law.”

Simon goes quiet. The silence stretches and you aren’t sure if you should fill it with more talking or just keep your mouth shut and wait for Simon to say something.

His brow hardens, the middle of it scrunching together. “He’s not—”

“Fuck, Simon. No,” you mutter, leaning forward to rest your forehead above the spot where your hands are joined.

Simon’s hand slides away from your neck and drops to your lower back, his fingers splaying wide, pressing against the slight curve. He releases your wrists too, only to run his fingers down your arm and to your waist. You do not drop your hands nor do you draw back from him.

Simon is warm. He smells of black tea and mint with the faintest hint of smoke. You breathe deep, burrowing closer. It sends you right back into memory. This is how he smelled when you first met him at Riot Room. You liked it then, and you love it now.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs.

It’s not a question. Simon isn’t asking. And it feels right, like a good pair of jeans or perfectly brewed coffee.

You’re mine.

Sounds nice, even if you are still a bit mad at him.

“I met him at the pub instead of Evie going,” you mutter against his chest. “He wanted to talk. I knew it wouldn’t be anything pleasant.”

Simon’s hand at your waist lightly squeezes, urging you to continue talking.

“I lied. Told him that Evie’s supposed to be on bedrest for the reminder of her pregnancy. He believed it.”

“What did he want?” You hear the restraint in Simon’s voice. He’s still upset, still angry.

“That’s the part that’s complicated.”

“Tell me what you can.”

What can you tell him? How do you formulate this in a way for Simon to understand but keeps Evie’s privacy intact?

You’re silent for far too long. Simon arms around you squeeze and then release, his large chest drawing back enough that you’re forced to look up at him.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, and you comply so easily.

It is nothing but your hand in his as he leads you to the couch. Simon removes your coat and gently sets it aside out of the way. Then, he’s guiding the two of you down onto the sofa. He reclines, leaning against the arm, pulling you into his lap. You drape yourself over him on your side, facing the blank television. Resting your head on Simon’s shoulder, you place your hand on his chest. His hand is quick to follow, encasing it, clinging to it. His other arm drapes over waist, creating a bit of support so you don’t sink into the cushions.

The two of you stay like this with Simon not saying anything and you simply thinking. Bravo is in the hallway near the bedroom, head resting on his paws, alert but still at rest. When Simon breathes in, your own chest rises slightly. You close your eyes, sink into the slow expansion and retreat of his lungs, imagining yourself weightless and floating. Fingers slightly digging into the front of his t-shirt, you snuggle into the crook of his neck, leaning into his embrace.

Simon remains neutral like a rock resting in a garden bed. He is simply there, propping you up, awaiting the moment you finally decide to crack open like an egg. In these brief moments, you drift off, the stress of the evening wearing you down like a nail file.

“Evie’s in-laws don’t like her,” you mumble, voice slightly strained with sleepiness. “They’ve never liked her. They’re old money and she isn’t.” You shrug but it’s more a shifting of your shoulders. “Now that her husband is gone, it’s worsened their relationship.”

Your eyelids open slowly. Leaning your head back, you seek out Simon’s eyes. He’s staring ahead, but when you shift, he immediately turns his head as if knowing what you need.

“Her due date is coming up quick. Less than two weeks.” You sigh and rest your chin right below his collarbone. “She’s always crying. Worrying even when she’s happy. I didn’t want them talking.”

This is what you give him. It isn’t nearly enough, but you can’t detail the threats or their constant push of trying to seize Archie’s assets. They want to leave Evie with nothing. They want her out of their life. It’s like they don’t care that she’s carrying Archie’s child. It’s a waste. But it’ll only make it easier for Evie to completely cut them off.

Simon delicately rotates your wrist, presents your palm to the ceiling like an offering. He brings it up to his mouth, tenderly pressing his lips against it through the balaclava. Gently, he guides it away, runs his thumb over the expanse of your palm.

His gaze tracks over every line and dip before flicking over to your face. “You’re smiling,” he observes, voice slightly husky.

“Am I?” and you hear the lightness in it, like fluffy white clouds on a summer day.

Simon brings your hand back to his chest. Releasing it, he guides those fingers to your chin, lightly pressing with intention, drawing your gaze to his. “Call me next time.”

“You don’t—”

“I want to.” Simon nods toward the now snoozing German Shepard. “I’ll even bring Bravo.”

“Bravo is too good a boy to make anyone scared.”

You know Simon is grinning because the balaclava stretches backward, pulling toward his ears. “He’s got bite.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Simon’s fingers still linger on the underside of your chin. They sit there, then slide along the jawbone, trailing up to the ear, and back down again. It’s a gentle caress, a soothing song that causes your eyelids to flutter.

“Simon.”

“Hm?”

Your fingers reach, toying with the edge of the balaclava. The arm he originally draped over your waist curves to your hip, squeezing, grabbing more ass than actual hip. Those fingers of his that so delicately touched you are hungry creatures, creating a necklace around your throat.

“What do you need?” he asks.

“You,” you breathe, the desperation burning like starving embers in your lungs. “I need you.”

Underneath the balaclava your fingers slip. They move in tandem with your body. Together they shift. Legs straddling hips. Chest pressed against chest. Lips finding lips the moment they’re able.

You and Simon are hunger personified, meeting and meeting, melting. Grasping the sides of Simon’s exposed cheeks, you use the leverage to push him against the couch, trapping him beneath you in a perfectly pleasurable illusion. Simon is much stronger than you. With only a quick shift of his muscles, Simon could easily pin you beneath him.

But you’re the one on top. You’re the one whose hips roll against him. His fingers dig and drag up and down your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and to the very top of your hips before he repeats it all.

There isn’t any sweetness to it. It’s not tart like lemon candies or sticky like toffee. This is overindulgence. Decedent. You and Simon are teeth and tongue and lips and endless endless gasps of air between it all.

It is the spaces between, the pause beneath where the two of you linger before coming together again. That’s the perfect part. The brief flash of separation. It is then that your wraith gazes on you with lust and something dipped in ancient longing.

Atoms calling to atoms.

Plants in orbit. A small object giving way to the larger mass.

Simon sucks on your bottom lip, lightly biting. “Mine,” he murmurs, drawing you back into a fierce kiss. “You’re mine.”

His.

Yes.

You like it. You want it.

You want him.

Your wraith.

Ghost.

Simon. Always Simon.

He grabs hold of your thighs, guides your legs further out and up to his waist. In seconds you’re on your back, Simon’s large frame pressing you into the cushions, his mouth on you in moments, tasting lips and tongue, traveling over and down, tracing the line of your jaw and the curve of your ear.

And Simon’s hands never stop. They never stop consuming.

Until they do. Until you’re whimpering for him to return his hands to your body. But Simon resists, keeping you trapped beneath him but not willing to bring your bodies together.

His head dips, lips brushing lightly over yours. “Pick a number between one and ten.”

“What?” you laugh, confused.

“Do it. One to ten. Pick.”

You nibble on the inside of your cheek, thinking. “Three?”

Simon only stares.

“Four?”

Again, he remains impassive.

Is Simon trying to herd you to a specific number?

“Five?” you reply hesitantly.

One eyebrow rises slightly. Finally, a reaction.

“Fine,” you laugh. “Seven.”

“Sure about that, love?”

You cock your head and playfully smack his chest. “Eight. Happy?”

“Final answer?”

“Yes, Simon. That’s my final answer.”

Simon nods, gaze quietly assessing. In the next moment, he’s dragging you up against him, bringing both of you to standing.

“What are you doing?”

Simon starts to back away, placing roughly an arm’s length of space between the two of you.

“Bedroom,” he purrs, the word a singular command.

Reaching down with one hand, Simon grasps the front of his belt. With expert quickness, he unbuckles it and then removes the belt from the loops with a fluid tug.

“No clothes,” he continues. “And on your back.”

“Simon—”

“Now.”

You’re being herded again, but this time you like it. This time it is from a place of desire, or a desperate yearning for another. This isn’t anger driving Simon, and it’s certainly not driving you.

Simon glances over his left shoulder at Bravo. The dog immediately gets up, trudging off somewhere. Stepping to the side, Simon makes space for you to slip through. He is right there, on your heel, entering the dark bedroom with you.

Once inside, Simon shuts the door behind him, cutting of the light from the living room and kitchen. The only source of illumination comes from the windows. The blinds are down, and only slightly cracked. It allows for lines of fractured moonlight.

Simon is mostly in shadow. Just an outline in the dark.

“What are the numbers for?” you ask, your eyes adjusting to the dimness.

“Get those clothes off, love. Then I’ll tell you.”

He moves closer, your wraith one with the darkness, silently slinking into your radius. Simon is near enough to touch you, to assist in the undressing, but he doesn’t. He only watches, his chest rising and falling, an imperceptible change in the shadows.

The outer layers are easy. It’s when you’re down to your underwear, bra, and top that you hesitate.

“Everything,” he repeats.

“What do the numbers mean?”

Again, Simon doesn’t answer. Instead, his hands rise, hovering just shy of your upper arms. They pause there before shifting down to slide underneath your top, to seek out the back of your bra. With ease, Simon unhooks it. Now he helps. Now he guides your top over your head, tossing it to the side. Straps loose against your shoulders, it takes Simon no effort to guide them down your arms.

You don’t resist. His touch is gentle but purposeful.

What do those numbers mean? What does he have planned. Is the number the amount of times he’s about to fuck you? The very thought of submitting to him like that makes your pussy clench.

You’re standing in just your underwear. Simon is fully clothed.

It doesn’t seem fair.

One large hand lightly brushes over your stomach, lingers right above the delicate, thin cotton. It’s nothing fancy. Nothing flashy. Simple and comfortable. And yet you’re not embarrassed by it because Simon clearly doesn’t seem to care either.

“These can stay,” he murmurs, fingertips lightly brushing against the cotton before withdrawing.

With his other hand, Simon reaches up and grasps the top of his balaclava. He tugs. Pulls. Removing it from his head.

But your wraith is in the shadows. You do not see his features. What you can see it just the soft sweep of his hair, and a brief flash of bone structure.

“The numbers,” he says. “They’re the orgasms I’m giving you.”

“You—what?”

“You’re going to count each one, love.” Simon stands so close your bodies are nearly touching. “Mess up. I start over.”

“Simon—”

“Are you mine?” Simon is gripping your throat against, pulling you taut against him, faces close, lips closer, but not touching.

Are you his?

Yes. Always yes.

“I’m yours.”

That hungry mouth of his lightly caress the corner of your mouth. “I want to mark my territory. I want to relearn your taste. Hear those gorgeous moans I’ve been missing.”

Greedy. Simon is greedy.

The possessively primal tone sends a delicious tingle through your limbs. It remembers him. It is your body crying out again, wanting to call him back home.

“On your back, love.”

You promptly fall, butt landing on the edge of the bed.

Your wraith still stands. Is still a looming shadow.

As he takes one step closer, you lean back onto your elbows. Simon’s fingers brush against the tops of knees before sliding between, easing your legs apart, guiding them wide for him to move between.

His rough hands are soft brands against your inner thighs. They slide further toward your sex, only to purposefully pass over it instead to grasp waist and stomach, seeking other tender spots that ache for his touch.

Simon places his knee on the bed, forcing you to scoot back a bit. It also forces your legs to stay open as Simon’s hands fall to either side of you. He adjusts, leaning onto one elbow, his other hand roaming across your skin.

He studies the curve of your hip, the softness of your belly, the places where you think there is too much and not enough. Simon worships it all, leaving nothing untouched. This room is a church. You are the alter. And Simon is one of the starving flock seeking salvation.

Hovering at your breasts, his tongue passes over a nipple. It promptly hardens, reaching toward him. Simon meets it, nipping lightly, teasing the bud until it’s aching. Moving to the other, he gives it the same attention. Your fingers dig into the bedding beneath you, and your head falls back as Simon’s lips press a kiss to the valley between.

One hand returns to your hips, slides over inner thigh, hooks a finger at the edge of your underwear, pulling it to the side. The air feels oddly cold against the warmth. A shiver passes through you and Simon’s sharp inhale is enough to draw forth a bit of danger.

“First one. Ready?”

The moment your mouth forms the agreement, Simon’s thumb hovers at your entrance where your slickness pools. He draws it up to your clit, presses, swirls. It’s a sharp tug. A sudden burst. You gasp, back arching slightly as Simon continues to play with that sensitive bump. His fingers aren’t even inside you. It’s just his thumb teasing. But you’re wired, strung out from the conversation with Adam, the argument and subsequent discussion with Simon, and now this.

You are Orpheus seeing the Sun again, giving into the joy, turning back to rejoice with Eurydice. And this time there is no punishment. Eurydice doesn’t disappear. Simon, your wraith, is still here.

And you are falling apart, fingers clawing at his shoulders, hips flexing into his touch as your body clenches. The moan is choked, suppressed. Simon knows, and grins against your throat.

“Count.”

“One,” you croak, knowing you’re not going to make it seven more times.

“Good,” he purrs, wrist rotating, his middle finger sliding through your new slickness.

Simon adds a finger, begins fucking you with it while he shifts up to press his lips to yours. You open for him, and Simon slides his tongue inside the moment he inserts a second finger. Using the knee already resting on the bed between your legs, Simon guides your legs wider to completely settle between them.

Spread wide, all you can do is cling to him. You have little control, but it’s good. It’s nice. It’s fucking perfect.

Simon releases your mouth and roughly kisses down the length of your neck only to run his tongue over your left nipple. Your hips buck, and Simon meets with a thrust of his hand. His thumb on your clit is relentless and it isn’t long before you’re clenching again, this time mewling softly, trying hard to relax but failing completely.

“Two,” you gasp as Simon’s teeth lightly trap your nipple between them.

He tugs softly. Releases the nipple. Kisses it.

Fingers slipping from your body, the loss comes instantly. It is momentary. A length of a breath. Simon is already moving down your body leaving nothing untasted. The knee between your legs disappears as Simon moves onto his knees in front of the bed. His arms slide under your thighs and curve up to lock onto them. With a sharp tug, you’re dragged to the very edge of the bed.

Simon turns his head and nips his way down the inside of your thigh. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your legs to the tips of your toes. You float in coiled anticipation. Fingers drag up and down your thighs. Simon’s mouth hovers close, but not enough to make actual contact.

You don’t dare break any of it. You don’t dare make the first move.

You are the frozen mouse staring down the cat.

Simon sighs heavily, but as it tapers out, it becomes a growl. Drawing back, Simon’s fingers curl around the edges of your underwear, bringing it into his fist. It takes only two quick tugs for Simon to tug them down your legs. They disappear into the dark as Simon guides one leg over his shoulder while the other is pushed even wider.

You’re presented to him. A gift.

Communion offered by a holy hand.

Starved like a sinner seeking confession, Simon descends, parting your pussy with a slow swipe of his tongue. With the afterglow of two orgasms in your system, your body responds to Simon’s tongue like a gunshot. Like the crack of a whip, Simon swirls up, teasing your clit with just the tip, and that is enough to make your shake, for your back to come off the bed.

Without thought, your hands seek him. One slides through his hair, tangling, twisting, anchoring yourself as your hips roll against his mouth, riding his face. The other claws, gripping his shirt, snarling the fabric in your fist.

Simon sucks your clit into his mouth and it’s over. The leg not over Simon’s shoulder snaps up, wanting to trap his head between your thighs. But Simon is strong and insistent, pushing it back down, forcing you wide again to take his tongue without resistance.

“What number is that?” asks Simon.

Your lips part to answer, but Simon returns his tongue to your clit, swirling just the tip against it. It steals your clarity.

Crying out, the hoarse noise becomes a whimper as he continues.

“Number,” he growls.

“Three!” you gasp.

His smile is brief and so is your moment of peace. Simon returns, tasting and tasting until you come off the bed, your own strength and Simon’s arms keeping you in place. Everything in wiggling, itching to escape and yet desiring more.

You won’t make it to eight.

Simon places a kiss against your pussy before he guides your leg off his shoulder. It is not for rest or to give you a break. Instead, Simon’s hands begin at your knees, sliding down to your inner thighs. He finds a solid grip, guides them wide, and returns to eating you out.

That tongue of his is a viper, and you are unable to avoid its bite.

Your thighs quiver, and your legs jerk, attempting to close yet again. Meeting resting, the muscles quiver, unable to do anything else. Like your legs, your arms are at your sides, palms pressing into the bedding, fingers digging into the bedding as if you’re trying to crush fruit.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Oh—fuck. Simon. Si—”

Small death. A burst of light. So cliché and yet so true.

“How many is that, love?” purrs Simon.

Though your eyes have adjusted to the dark, it is not enough to glimpse his features in any detail. Frustrated, you focus on what you can see in the dark: his eyes.

Moonlight cuts through the room like silver steel. Sometimes when Simon moves, you see the faintest hint of brown. Fleeting. But important.

Simon is staring you down, mouth poised just shy of the curve of your pelvis.

“F—four.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Simon nods. “That’s my good girl.” His mouth returns. “My good fucking girl.”

No return. No reversal. You are forever Simon’s.

This is not a simple exchange. This is a claiming. A “marking of territory” as he put it.

Your wraith isn’t fucking you. He’s not asked anything for himself. This is about you, and his control over you. In this, you will submit. In this, you will allow him to take the lead. Because, with everything going on in your life, letting go for a bit is a cleansing.

“Five” eventually leaves your mouth but it is fractured and shaky. Simon has to prompt you three times before it falls from your lips.

When his mouth returns for another round, Simon brings his fingers with him. You remember saying “seven” but “six” is lost like a rock thrown into a lake. Simon doesn’t correct you, but keeps going, returning to his task with just as much enthusiasm as all the rest.

On this one, Simon gently eases your thighs toward your chest, keeping them close but not touching. Using some of his body weight, Simon keeps you locked into position. His tongue runs lazy trails up and down your pussy, dipping inside before trailing upward again. You cannot reach him and you opt to hold onto the backs of your legs, your fingers layering over his own that hold you in place.

Overstimulation has been your companion since number three. You don’t know where you are. You are beyond that. Lost. Gone. Adrift.

The eighth and final orgasm brings tears to your eyes. They are clawed from your sockets, ripped from you in wet lines that leave you trembling and sensitive. Simon does not ask for the count right away. He guides your legs away from your chest, bringing them to rest against the bed.

Around you, the bed sinks as Simon shifts forward, pushing off his knees, crawling over you until the two of you are face to face. Your chest heaves and Simon’s lips are slightly parted. In the small slashes of moonlight, you glimpse the glossy shine on his lips.

Without speaking, without signaling to the other, the two of you meet. You taste yourself on him, and you hardly care. Your hands might be shaking but you reach out for him, touching him like he did you. One large hand comes to rest next to your head. The other slides up the bed.

Your hands go lower, pushing open the front of his pants.

Simon has to be aching. You want to give him some relief. You want to please him. It’s not a feeling of obligation but a deep desire to show him how much you crave him too.

“What are you doing?” he asks, breaking the kiss. As your fingers reach for him, Simon’s hips flex backward, retreating from your touch. “You can’t handle that, love. Not right now.”

“Simon,” you beg. “I want to.”

He shakes his head, lips returning to yours momentarily before leaving again. “When I fuck you, it won’t be like this. I can fucking promise you that.”

Simon’s forehead presses against your temple and you slightly turn into him, noses brushing. “Can I touch you. Just touch. That’s all.” With extreme care, your fingers find him, wrapping lightly in case he says no.

His breathing hitches, and you see that as sign to keep going. Your grip on him isn’t great, but Simon helps, easing his pants down enough that there isn’t any clothing creating an obstacle. Simon is hot and hard in your hand. It’s clear that he needs release, and though everything in you fucking aches, you want to give him this.

It’s not pretty, but you start to pump him in short strokes. Simon groans, leans into the movement, his hips thrusting shallowly to meet your hand. Softly smiling in victory, you shift your legs a little wider, sliding them up to hook over the backs of his knees. The sound Simon makes is feral and deep.

His thrusts lengthen, and you keep your hand in place, allowing him to use it as he needs. Somehow, this is so much more intimate than if he were inside you. Simon is draped over you, trapping you against the bed, and yet your legs are locked over his, keeping him in your own web. His forehead is still pressed against your temple.

You know he’s near because his grunts are slowly tapering off at the end into short moans. It’s your turn to talk to him, to guide him toward that finish line.

“Where do you want to finish?” you ask softly.

“My hand?” You lightly squeeze his cock as he thrusts and this snaps a guttural groan from out his throat.

“My tummy?” you offer.

“My thighs?”

You lick your lips. “Do you want to finish in my mouth?”

Simon’s hips stutter.

“Or inside me?” You emphasize your meaning by pressing your heels into the back of his calves, urging him closer to your pussy.

The move is so sudden, it startles you. Simon’s hand around your throat is a vice but he doesn’t squeeze. Doesn’t cut off your air.

He still thrusts into your hand as he speaks. “I want your cunt dripping with me.” He shakes his head. “Not there. Not yet.” Simon keeps his hand around your throat but his hold eases.

Every thrust is stuttering and slightly off.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Your thighs.”

Though your muscles cry out in protest, you release him, dropping your legs back to the bed. Simon shifts into position, his hand falling away from your neck to draw your legs closer together. Watching is the most pleasurable part, seeing his release coat the tops and insides of your thighs. You imagine it inside you, filling you up, marking you as his.

That thought lingers, even as Simon retreats, going to the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar and the light inside only gives you a brief glimpse. There isn’t skin or a face reveal. You glimpse Simon’s hair, and seeing it almost feels wrong, like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t.

It’s…blond.

No.

Brown?

That’s not right. Maybe it’s both or just a trick of the light. It’s hard to tell.

But the light shuts off, and Simon returns with a warm, damp cloth to clean you up. He is so careful, so delicate and gentle with the way he takes care of you. There isn’t conversation and you’re deeply thankful for that. You probably couldn’t talk even if you wanted to. The exhaustion is setting in, and with Simon’s return to the bathroom, you start to drift.

When he returns, Simon reaches up with one arm, pulling off his shirt in one go. His pants go next, and it isn’t until he’s dragging you into his arms and tossing the top sheet and comforter over your bodies that you realize Simon’s nakedness.

The two of you are on equal ground here.

Yes, there is the dark. But Simon is just as bare as you, and there is no balaclava.

Leaning forward, Simon kisses the curve of your shoulder once…twice…three times. You curl into his touch and Simon drags you even closer.

You hear it, even though it’s so quiet that you don’t think Simon intended you to hear it.

“Mine.”

Mine.

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@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @creamwhxre @pearljamislife @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus @josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties @darling006 @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @mudisgranapat @heeheehoohoohahahihi @miss-mistinguett

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