#GET HER OUT OF HERE BEFORE SHE PUTS ME IN ONE OF HER TICK TOCKS

[j-jonah-jameson-official]

Y r u so annoying? Like, stfu

ROBBIE! REMIND ME TO FIRE OUR SECURITY GUARD! THEY LET IN ANOTHER PETULANT PRE-PUBESCENT! WHAT ARE YA, KID? EIGHT?! WHERE ARE YOUR PARENTS?! DID SPIDER-MAN PUT YOU UP TO THIS?!

[i-am-lifeform24]

Curated Companions: Part 2

--------------🔞Masterlist🔞Part 1🔞Part 3🔞Part 4🔞---------------

---------[ IVE Wonyoung - @okaylikesmomo ]----------

Were clocks always this loud? Every tick, every tock, each one reverberating against your eardrums. The cacophony of time passing did nothing to help make it pass quicker - every second felt like a minute. Did hotel rooms typically have analog clocks? Was that a perk of being placed into a more boujee room? This evening was going to be filled with many firsts.

It didn’t matter. What did matter was that your palms were getting clammy. That needed to be addressed - you wouldn’t want this girl thinking you were nervous. Would she even notice? Do girls offering this service care if you’re nervous? Unfortunately for you, the glass of water you just spilled while reaching for some tissues would probably be a dead giveaway.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, quickly reaching for some more tissues to wipe the mess.

As if things couldn’t get worse, the sound of knuckles on wood filled the room. After wiping as much of the water as you could from the coffee table, you rushed over to the door. The ticking and tocking that was bothering you just a moment ago was inaudible now over the thump of your heart slamming into your chest.

“H-Hello,” you answered the door, hating yourself for stumbling over a single word.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Wonyoung,” the goddess of a woman introduced herself while holding out her hand. Her voice was dripping with this unexplainable air of quality. She smiled warmly at you as you shook her hand, so much more beautiful in person. The pictures absolutely did not do her justice. “May I come in?”

“Oh right, of course, yeah, come in!” you stammered, stepping aside for her after you realized that handshake went on for far too long to be considered socially acceptable.

The two of you walked over to the couch where Wonyoung took off her coat and placed it next to her purse on the side. You sat down next to her, unable to stop staring at her beautiful body - every inch of her was perfect. Then, as she stared at you with an expectant smile, you realized you never even introduced yourself.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot, I’m-”

“Relax,” she hushed you with that same voice of allurement. The beautiful girl leaned forward, giving you a peek down her top which you absolutely could not avoid, and picked up the glass you spilled earlier off the floor. “It’s completely natural to be nervous, is it your first time using a service like this?”

“It is,” you answered after taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“No more apologizing,” she whispered, moving closer to you on the couch. “I’m here for you, to make you feel good, to fulfill your desires.”

She was good at this. In just moments she calmed you down significantly. However, just as your heartbeat began to ease, it spiked again at her next words.

“You’re allowed to touch them if you’d like.”

Was your staring that obvious? Before you could think about it, the answer shot through you as her hand grabbed yours gently and guided it towards her chest. You gave her an instinctual little squeeze, relishing in the softness of her chest.

“We can go as fast or as slow as you want,” she continued while unbuttoning her top, letting her cleavage peek out just slightly. “You get to decide,” she added, putting one hand on your thigh and gently rubbing up and down.

The invitation to take her top off was right there for the taking, but you didn’t have the courage - not yet at least.

“Do you want to talk about what you want to do?” she asked innocently. “Tell me what does it for you, we can do anything.”

“I…” you hesitated again.

She simply giggled before sticking her chest out, nonverbally begging for you to open her top. Finally, you found the conviction to reach forward with both hands, freeing her tits from the fabric. The act alone awoke something in you - a clear reminder that this girl was here for you to do anything you wanted.

“There we go,” she whispered as both your hands began squeezing her chest. “Can I touch you?”

A nod was all you could muster as you fixated on her tits, and that was all she needed. Within seconds she had unbuttoned your pants and freed your already stiff shaft.

“So, want to tell me what you’re going to do to me tonight?” she asked again as her hand gently stroked your cock, lacking the innocent tone from before.

“I want to… cum on your tits… and in your mouth…” you answered breathily, overwhelmed by how soft her hand was. “I want to fuck you, I want to hear you moan.”

“There we go,” she smiled warmly, picking up the pace of her hand. “Keep going, where are you fucking me, tell me how you’re fucking me.”

“Anywhere,” you gasped as she sped up again. “I’m going to fuck you hard, right before I cum on that pretty face.”

“Is that what you want? You want to cover my pretty face?” she moaned, leaning even closer to you.

“I want to kiss your pretty face.”

“What’s stopping you?” she whispered, holding her lips out right in front of your mouth, stroking you as hard and fast as she physically could.

Your mind was going hazy as your cock was burning in warm sensation. Without hesitation you pushed your lips against hers, closing your eyes and letting your other senses take over. You kissed her tenderly for only a few seconds before gasping and leaning back as you felt your cock ready to explode.

“Fuck,” you gasped as your cock abruptly began shooting ropes onto Wonyoung’s slender fingers.

She slowed down the stroking, smiling brighter than ever proud that she made you bust so quickly. “It’s going to be a very long night,” she giggled, squeezing the last few drops of cum out of your shaft.

-----[ Le Sserafim Chaewon - @gangplanksorenji ]----

“Why were you even here?”

The silence was loud, ringing in your ear as her black orbs darted towards you, demanding an answer. You know eliciting something that can fulfill her is utter stupidity, because it was clearly something that shouldn’t end like that—

“Because I did so—and you’re still keeping that scar, huh?” And so you answer.

She grits her teeth as her eyes fire with annoyance, visibly frustrated with what you said on the latter, then clearly becoming apathetic towards you. “I hope to god you would never do this again—”

Catching her off-guard, you grab her right wrist, pulling her petite figure towards you without a sweat, making her lock her eyes and steam her anger out and you smile mischievously. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Ms. Kim Chae-won.”

You clearly don’t, and this isn’t part of a deal you knew with her. She knows it herself yet she chose to be a selfish hypocrite—well, in your own, observatory words. 

“And I don’t appreciate—”

You grip her wrists tighter, making her wince in a hint of pain, further igniting that fire in her. “Try me.”

You stare straight to her soul, and she couldn’t afford to do the same for god knows why as her eyes darted towards your body. Her antics bore you, but you like the fact that it’s something that fulfills your own wants, writing up the history books. “Fucking want me?”

You’re smug and hubristic, knowing that if she lied to you, she’d just be eating up the words and shattering her ego. She hates your current demeanor but she can’t lie, and she wouldn’t dare to as your hotness permeates the air between the both of you. “I wouldn’t deny it, honestly…”

Maybe this was a little too fast, but there’s no time to waste as spun her, her back flat against the concrete wall and eyeing every inch of her body. “You never fail to impress me, Chaewon.”

“Of course I always do, now…” She has her eyes on the prize, within her hands reach as she pulls your denim jacket, dangerously close to her. “You gotta give me what I want—”

Well, not anything goes on her way and you’re tired of it, and at this moment, it just fits so well that she’s not the one in authority. Your hands stop her as she advances towards your lower abdomen, knowing that this is out of bounds on what she should have been. “I’m sorry but this is out of what you’re capable to—” You pinned her harder against the wall, smelling her floral scent and latching your lips onto the scrumptious, porcelain skin of her neck, the muttered, “—I’m the one does the talking—you obey.”

Like casting a spell on her, Chaewon’s iron walls collapse, giving in as she moans almost inaudibly, hitching a breath and fighting the urge of gratification she’s feeling. “You don’t need to suppress it, Chaewon—I know you wanted them since the last time we met—”

“God, don’t you ever s-shut—oh—up? But fuck—” Even her own hubristic self shatters periodically, as she gives in with her desperations and frustrations of being deprived for who know how long. “—y-your lips, they’re good.”

As she finds satisfaction with your actions, is your answer to further tease and deprive her since you’re under control. You didn’t care if she’s even enjoying it because as selfish as this sounds, you’ll make it stay that way because you paint your own series of events—she knows every action is within your accord, and as much as she hates it, she wouldn’t dare and complain. “Of course they always do, but now...” You pull away your lips from the porcelain skin of her neck and collarbones as you stare at her intimidatingly, letting your demeanor puzzle her and the commanding prowess be the one to start the long-anticipated show.

“You better get that thing inside me later.”

“You’re ambitious, Chaewon.” With her petite frame, it wasn’t a challenge to grab her and pull her towards you, then, your lips muttered against her ear, “On your knees first.”

After you finish the sentence, you can just see her smirk, confidence evident within her as she scoffs, knowing how you’re in the scope of her field of expertise. “You’re daring, huh? You’ll get lost to the point you’ll think it’s my tight cunt.”

You squint your eyes ephemerally, hesitant with her words since you reflect your beliefs on such a famous saying. “We’ll see what those slutty lips have to offer.”

If it means to test her limits, then so be it…

------------[ ALICE Sohee - @sparklingblu ]-------------

The night is silent except for the steady click click resonating around the room as your finger travels from one key to another.  

Your eyes sting from being exposed to the bright screen of the laptop for two hours straight. Somewhere far away, a clock tower chimes. It's already 1 am. 

You misclick a key and bite back another curse to your boss. For Christ's sake, it's Christmas eve and you are stuck in your hotel room with a report that must be finished by morning. You chug down the third cup of coffee, throwing your head back. Even with your eyes closed, there's no rest. Colorful spots dance across your vision from the long exposure to the laptop screen. You are starting to doze off when a loud knock interrupts your peaceful slumber. 

Who could it be at this time of the night? You don’t remember ordering any room service. Maybe you are starting to hear things because of your deprivation of sleep. You are going to leave it at that and go back to your drowsy sleep when the sound appears once more, this time louder. 

Grunting, you walk to the door groggily and swing it open, not even bothering to check the peephole. If this is a robbery, you can’t care less. Even better if they take the laptop so you can make up an excuse and get some well-deserved rest. It’s not a robbery, unfortunately. Or is it? 

On the other side of the door stands the woman of your dreams and you mean it quite literally. Sohee, your obsession, gives you a sly smile as if she knows how crazy you are about her. It doesn’t matter because the boner that’s slowly growing in your pants after seeing her perfect figure in that black one piece dress has already given you away. 

“Can I come in?” She doesn’t need to ask, you have already move aside to make room. 

You close the door and turn, only to get your eyes blessed with the view of Sohee’s fat ass that millions of people fantasize about going to town on. If her clothed ass already gets your blood rushing you wonder what will happen if you see it bare. 

Sohee meets your gaze, shifting her body to turns towards you. “The money first”  

You have no idea what she’s talking about but in the presence of Sohee, your own will crumbles and before you know it, you are handing her every cash in your wallet. Sohee sets the money on the bedside table before closing the distance between two of you. 

Her fingers move to your underside, unbuttoning your jeans until it’s pulled down all the way and you are standing in your boxer. She kneels, taking a moment to admire your bulge before pulling the piece of fabric down. Your rock hard cock springs up instantly and she wraps her slender fingers around the base, giving it a single pump. That simple movement already have you yearning for more and Sohee obliges by wrapping her soft lips around your tip while keeping both of her hands busy by stroking the unattended parts. Her tongue flicks over your leaking slit and you let out a moan, then another, then a couple more. Sohee continues her masterclass, her head bobbing in harmony with each stroke of her hands and each movement extracts a thought that’s not about her lips, her tongue or her fingers. Sohee speeds up her movement, now twisting her fingers each time the warmth of her oral hole engulfs your shaft. The whole act is messy, sloppy and most importantly, addictive. If she goes a minute more, you are going to blow your load down her throat and you quickly order her to stop before you can enjoy the main course. 

Sohee releases your shaft, now glistening with her saliva, and wipes her mouth. “Need something else?” she asks. 

“I need to see that fat ass of yours” you demand and Sohee lips curve into a smile. 

“Of course, dear. Anything you want” 

Sohee gets on the bed on all fours, wriggling her ass. “Don’t keep a lady waiting” 

And you don’t plan to because you are already pulling up the black fabric covering your way to nirvana desperately. The dress knots into a tangle around her waist and you spank each of her now exposed cheeks. Sohee lets out a yelp which soon turns into a moan. 

 “Gonna pound that phat ass of yours Sohee. Gonna breed you” You mutter like a madman before you thrust into her glistening folds. Surprisingly, the entrance is smooth and your whole length glides in easily. “Fuck” Sohee curses and you take it at a signal to start bucking your hips. There’s no need to start out slow, she’s already so wet that the rapid thrusts come out naturally. 

“Fuck fuck just like that. Pound my huge ass” Sohee begs and you smack those baby making hips of hers some more, marking it red. Her ass jiggles with each thrust; a view panoramic than any you have seen before. Her walls clench and squeezes, threatening to milk you dry and you are barely holding on the will not to end the experience early. But it’s getting increasingly difficult with how tight she’s getting each time you enter, gripping you like a snare until- 

“Fuck” You are emptying your balls into her deepest depths, the tightness still unyielding. Sohee’s back curves gracefully as she feels your fertile seed paint her walls white. You empty your last few drops with shallow thrust and pulls out of Sohee’s worn out pussy. A steady stream of white drips down to the bedsheets and Sohee pants, her body trembling. 

But you are not done yet, you are advancing to make use of her unused hole when- 

The whole world turns upside down and an empty glass, a half-finished report and the rays of sunlight greet your sight. 

“Oh shit” 

-----------[ Everglow E:U - @smuttysabina ]-------------

It wasn't about the money, really, it wasn't. EU was not serving as a cheap whore in a deserted playground for some noble goal of funding a comeback, or because her greed was greater than her morals; no, EU was spreading her legs for a few thousand won because she was an unrepentant pervert. Nothing aroused her more than have her nubile body used to satisfy the depraved lusts of whichever degenerate so happened to be walking by, there was little she would refuse to do. EU was as perfectly happy cleaning her filthy ass-juices off some preening socialite's cock, as she was getting squished by some fat slob as he pumps her pussy full of his goopy seed; so long as she was getting fucked, she didn't care. She had tried simply being free-use, but unless she ensconced herself in a gloryhole, men were too wary to accept free sex from a beautiful girl like her; even if they had no idea she was an idol. So now EU plays the pampered girl desperate for money, getting bent over in back alleys by the dregs of society, her petite body violated in every way imaginable until dawn, her well-trained holes defiled with rancid semen. On more than a few occasions her sordid gangbangs have lasted days, as she happily services every smelly cock in the area until all of them have been utterly drained by this perverse pixie. And the best part was, none of them knew that in a few hours she would be prancing on stage in front of thousands of adoring fans, her holes still clogged with turgid jizz; well, perhaps not none of her "clients"...

Like any man, your brain was hardwired to breed any available woman, so when you heard rumors of a gorgeous girl offering sex for a pittance in the old abandoned playground, you had hurried on over without delay. And it was a good thing that you had, since there was already quite the line by the time you arrived, with seemingly every gormless virgin and portly husband on the block gathered for this. With such a crowd, it took some time before your destination was revealed, and imagine your shock when you realized that the cheap escort you had come to fuck was none other than your beloved EU! She was your favorite, you had spend endless hours watching her fancams, she had disturbed your dreams for years now, and you had spent yourself for her more often than you could count. So to see EU now being spitroasted by sweaty men was nearly enough to make you pass out; you had imagined sex with her in many different ways, but never like this... You are forced to watch then, as your favorite idol is manhandled and used like a disposable fleshlight, your heart sinking further as every fresh degenerate takes their turn and mounts her tiny body. Depression grips as you trudge forward, watching EU getting every hole filled at the same time, watching her gorging upon buttery semen, watching her take the greasiest fat cocks and the tinniest members without distinction, watching her exclusive pussy getting polluted by inferior seed.

Tears are falling down your face by the time you reach EU, filled with despair from seeing your adorable bias being merrily violated by dirty scum; you had never been harder in your entire life. The idol notices that you recognize her, and can tell from your appearance what toxic stew of emotions must be roiling inside of your chest. With a serene smile EU undoes your pants, allowing your staggering erection to grace the air, before a nasty grin slashes across her cherub-like face; and she spreads her stained legs in welcome for you. Gazing upon her used pussy and soggy anus, you realize that you no longer cared that your favorite idol was a depraved pervert, because you had realized, you were one too. EU groans with delight as you join her in the filth from her previous couplings, as you fulfill your wildest dreams and fuck your perverse bias until your balls have been emptied.

EU relishes every moment of your corruption, after all, she wasn't doing this for the money, she was doing it to turn her fans into degenerate perverts to slake her own depraved lusts. And if she so happens to spend her hard-earned cash on a burger during the subway ride home, why, that was merely a happy coincidence...

-------[ BLACKPINK Rose - @passingnotions ]---------

“So these would be the terms and the amount of money and all that—” 

A message bubble appears next to her camera feed. Rosé resumes packing.

“This is triple my rate,” you state, unbelieving.

“Your profile reads exclusive.” Rosé approaches her phone again and takes up most of your screen. A lollipop rounds her cheek. “I’d like to ensure that.” 

“The regular amount is fine.” You scroll. It’s terms that read everything privacy and non-disclosure—the usual, though the wording seems overly eloquent. “You get a lawyer to draft this?”

“Duh.” She slides the bright red sweet over her tongue while gauging your reaction to the document. The thought of her needing to pay you for all this seems a little superfluous when the camera’s aimed at the back of her throat like that. “Your higher-ups do the same.”

“Right, but that’s a company.” You reach the very end, save a copy to sign and send back. “This is freelance.”

“I’m worth more than your company. Got more to lose.” She gets back to tackling her closet.

So, sure, Rosé as your independent, temporary employer and client: no corporate middleman; triple the usual; a week’s worth of your face between her legs—plus a finger or three—and making her ride the mattress springs with your cock pistoning inside her wet, sloppy cunt, ankles dangerously hooked up and over your shoulders where the angle feels like it might kill you both and then some, all before having that familiar throat wring you dry in some abroad, high-end hotel suite. Any other client and you wouldn’t even entertain the idea (read: glaring red flags). Rosé, however, is a regular—

“Hold on. What does it mean I can’t leave the room?”

Her voice is barely audible from where she stands off-screen. “You know how many people will surround the hotel just to get a picture of me or any other celebrity? Staff like their gossip and their coin. No, you can’t leave the room.”

You laugh. “I’m getting paid to get kidnapped.”

“Could tie you up, too.”

Virtual ink scribbles your signature on the dotted line and you mail back the file. “You only get the wrists.”

“I know,” she says, tossing a cluster of outfits into the carry-on. 

You hear the brittle lollipop crunch when Rosé approaches the camera again—pretty navel framed by a blue baby tee above, gray sweatpants below. There’s an abrupt shake to the image as she grabs the phone and throws herself onto her queen-size. Subtle waves of blonde fan over the pillow, the mess of clothes. She bites that last bit of candy and discards the stick on her nightstand. 

“You get the email?” You ask.

“Yeah.” A lull. You would’ve ended the call a minute or two earlier, after getting the details in order, but Rosé is not someone you hang up on. And that’s not simply due to contractual obligations. “Any client I should be getting jealous of tonight?”

“It’s against company policy for me to tell you this, but you might be getting too attached.”

“No therapy addons for tonight, please.”

“Just the extra time?” You smile.

She sits up to rest against the headboard. “So you aren’t seeing anyone tonight then.” 

“I do have to get up earlier than usual tomorrow—”

Your phone vibrates and an hour’s worth of pay displays on the banner. It’s superfluous, really, with the way that tight top begins to peel off her figure.

“Just the extra time.”

----------[ ITZY Chaeryeong - @chunksworld]----------

“My name is Serena and you will follow my rules tonight, do I make myself clear?”

It’s wrong. Everything about it is wrong. You have a loving girlfriend that you go home to every night and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You just had an argument with her, that is all—something about how you don’t take her out on dates anymore and that even worse, you don’t love her anymore. You vehemently denied her allegations, so why in the world did you decide to take up your friend’s offer to hire an escort? 

Maybe she is right, maybe you are starting to lose feelings for her. Well it does not matter because you already clearly knew the answer when you specifically requested that the escort make you “forget everything” for tonight. I mean, what faithful boyfriend would do that? And why are you worrying about those things now?

You’ve already wasted a paycheck booking this woman for the night, much more so when she requested that you conduct your business in a five-star hotel. Sure, you might have to survive on bland packets of ramen in the meantime but that’s how you survived college anyways. The only thing occupying your mind is how good everything feels when you are deprived of your eyesight. 

It’s true what they say about your other senses heightening because you can feel her hot breath lingering on your neck, her perky tits pressing down on your toned chest as she torturously rides you at a snail’s pace, and her thighs grinding against yours with every movement of her hips. “Shit, Serena. C-Can you go a bit faster?”

The stinging pain of a hand striking your face is the response you got. Right. It’s her rules that you need to follow. Maybe you shouldn’t have given her as much freedom, it’s you that’s paying her bills after all. But that point is moot when she has somehow sunk herself deeper onto your cock and you are gripping the satin sheets with how tight she is, as if she doesn’t do this for a living. 

You fight the urge not to thrust up into her, to just hold on to her waist and go balls deep. You haven’t had sex with your girlfriend in weeks because of how busy you two are and you could use an orgasm or two to let everything loose. But everything about her pussy is inviting and it’s only thirty minutes and you can already feel your cock throbbing. 

She senses this as well because her lips have now moved down to your shoulders and she’s leaving kisses there while a hand reaches down to your balls to fondle it. It’s really becoming hard to breathe, with how her entire body is completely pressed up against you and with how suffocating her pussy is. “Cum for me.” And you do. You are surprised to hear her speak again and the timbre in her voice and the overwhelming sensation of everything causes you to shoot your semen deep inside her. 

She doesn’t stop riding you even as you are barely coming down from your high. Seconds turn into minutes and everything becomes a blur. Round after round of Serena riding you to completion, making you shoot more cum even if there wasn’t any more space left in her womb. Even when you can feel your load dripping back down your cock and balls, she continues to ride you and not at a single point did you even consider what your girlfriend would say if she caught you. Everything is a fucking mess, including your life.

There is a brief moment of solace when she mercifully removes the blindfold, finally. It takes you a couple of minutes to get used to the bright lighting and the first thing that greets you is the perfectly sculpted body of Serena, and the big mess you two have left on the satin sheets with your cum and her juices. Your eyes travel upward, studying every feature of the woman that has drained you and the way her pale white skin glisten with her sweat. 

From her defined abs, to her tiny breasts you wish you have gotten a taste of, her broad shoulders, and finally you get a glimpse of her face. Wait, why does she look familiar? That smile that can light up a room, the way her eyes and nose crinkle as such, the way she brushes her hair back and—why the fuck is she winking at you? She looks a mighty lot like your girlfriend and you think you’re hallucinating. It might have taken a few seconds but everything hits you at once and panic immediately strikes down on you like lightning.

Fuck. That’s your girlfriend’s sister.

“Chaery—“

She places a kiss on your lips to keep your mouth shut and the sudden revelation horrifies and turns you on at the same time. You need to make a decision and you need to make it quick because otherwise your cock is doing it already for you with how quickly her cum-filled pussy rides you back to full erection, with your creampie overflowing between the gaps where your bodies meet. It is hard to formulate a thought when her tongue is sticking deeper down your throat. Screw everything. You wrap your arms around her waist possessively when you sit up to meet her at eye level, deepening the kiss to turn it into a proper makeout session. “Chaeyeon unnie doesn’t have to know, oppa.” Damn right, she doesn’t. You dive in to kiss her again, the risk and debauchery making you want to savor everything even more. 

“Plus, we have six hours left and there’s two more holes you still need to fill. You gotta get your money’s worth, right?”

Damn right, you do.

----------[ BINI Aiah - @octoberautumnbox ]------------

It came easier than most with him, she could even say it came easy, period. His gaze was always soft, his touch always gentle, his tone always sweet when it came to her. Of course, she only knew the him that texts her every first Friday at 5:30 p.m. asking if she's busy that night. And she never is, or always is, because first Friday nights are blocked off by default for her favorite patron. 

It was a broken record that she never tired of: she dresses pretty, he picks her up, they get dinner and drinks, and he takes her back to his place. He and Aiah are so used to it at this point that he keeps telling her to stop dressing too nice but she just can't help it, she has to look good for him!

~~~

It's the most predictable thing in the world, hopping into his car and letting him rub her inner thigh as he drives. It's absolutely no surprise when he orders the steak for himself and the large poutine for the both of them to share. It's the normalest occurrence when the violin guy hovers over their table with a heart-wrenchingly beautiful melody as he admires her eyes over the candlelight. And it sure as hell isn't anything special when she offers his left arm to cling to as they walk back to his car, so much so that the wine he holds with his right arm makes its way to Aiah's instead. 

“Nice, 2020?” She looks over the label, finding a pinot noir brand she couldn't recognize. “Get me drunk, pass time with me, throw me away when you’re done. I know your type exactly,” she teases.

“When did I throw you away? I feed you good food, nothing but love in my bed, I get you home safe every week,” he retorts with a chuckle, counting each one on his fingers. He opens the door for her, and she plants a sweet peck on his lips before settling elegantly back into the car.

~~~

It's all the same game to her, yet she can't deny it's exhilarating every time. Her grip is tight around his back and shoulders, her pedicured nails digging into his skin as he parts her pussy lips apart for him. She moans sweetly, “Fuck, more, please…” as he diligently fulfills each of her prior requests. He does everything she asks of him: in front of the mirror, against the wall, in the bathtub, but Aiah's favorite and the one that absolutely has to end each night, bareback missionary on his fluffy bed while she holds him close to kiss, to hug, to whisper her sweet nothings into his ear. 

“You’re so fucking good, Aiah, I’ll never get tired of you,” he says back, and he kisses her neck gently, driving her wild. 

It's all the same game to her, and it's so easy to predict: the neck kisses come when he's close. She feels him throbbing inside her as he pounds her into the mattress, he's going faster, deeper, and she fires a prayer up to whom it may concern that he goes rougher and rougher still, until–

“Fuck, fuck, FUUUUCKKKKK!!!” she screams loud, giving herself up in service to his pleasure. He erupts in between her velvet walls, shooting his thick and warm seed into her womb, all the while her pussy milks him for everything he's got. He shuts her up with his lips on hers, and Aiah can't help but return his love; she takes his head in her hands, locking him in her embrace. 

And once it's all over, he falls to her side to let her breathe. An arm underneath her head, a cursory “good night,” and all the warmth of the world in him are all it takes to rob her of her consciousness. As the world fades around her, he pulls her close to his chest, and the last thing she remembers, like always, is the aroma of his sweat evidencing his satisfaction with her services. 

~~~

Albeit a bit wobbly, she's able to make her way downstairs. Like clockwork, there he is, finishing up a congee and packing it safely for the car, and she makes her way to the sofa and rubs the sleep out her eyes. She wants to say something, but holds back. Her lips form the shape for the first word, but no air comes out. She repeats in her head again and again, “Can we stay a bit?” knowing the answer, so she never tries. Why go against the program? Why ruin such a good thing? 

~~~

She takes a careful bite of the hardboiled egg, and noticeably he slows down before the speed bump at the entrance to her subdivision. In no time at all they arrive outside her house, and Aiah sets her dirty dishes on the dashboard in front of her. 

“Take care,” she whispers, avoiding his eyes. The usual white envelope falls onto her lap, and it breaks her again. She hears his seatbelt unclasp and fly back taut, but without giving him a chance, she undoes her own seatbelt and pushes her door open, leaving him behind. She runs back to her privacy, swinging open the door and shutting it hard. Aiah holds her breath, before finally letting go when his engine roars to life and grows progressively quieter the farther away he gets. 

Finally, the tears fall. She buries her face in her hands and screams a world-ending scream, then composes herself while she wipes the liquid pain from her eyes. She opens the envelope: fifteen blue bills and a blister pack of her usual birth control. The sight rips her chest apart, and the envelope and its contents are thrown to scatter all over her foyer. Aiah crumples into a fetal position and tumbles to her side, hugging her knees and wallowing in the dread of missing him not even five minutes after they part for another month. 

-------------[ Kwon Eunbi - @rosiesmuts ]---------------

Water Bomb. The festival that revitalized Eunbi's career. Sure it meant getting on stage wearing a bikini top while pretending she couldn't feel everyone's eyes on her tits, but it was worth it for the chance to be seen and heard.

It shot up her fame, gaining her hundreds of thousands of followers and even fielded numerous phone calls and offers. In public, she said she rejected every single one of those guys, when in reality, Water Bomb increased her side gig to unforeseen heights.

In person, Eunbi's way shorter than she appears on TV, barely reaching up to your chest. But, you remind yourself that she's the real deal: her little bikini accentuates her thick curves like a lewd fashion statement; her tits are so round they push back against the thin fabric, and you could almost imagine her nipples pebbling just from you staring.

"There's only one rule..." Eunbi pushes you down on the couch and settles in-between your legs. You groan out when she kneads the tent in your pants with a smug smirk on her face. "...It never goes inside of me..." She frees your cock, wrapping a hand around it and pumping her hand from root to tip, rolling her thumb over the leaking head. "...Just between my tits."

Shit. That's a pretty massive rule for what amounts to your weekly salary. It sounds unfair, and it sort of is. But that's the kinda thing you have to expect when you're with an idol, a walking, talking brand.

Any kind of protest get lost on the tip of your tongue when Eunbi lowers a strap, freeing her breast to the open air, and fuck—her tit is bigger than you imagined, so thick and round and squeezable, topped off by the dark peak of her puffy areola and her stiff nub of a nipple.

"You can touch before I begin..." She grabs your hand and plants it atop her pillowy breast. You can't hold back. The fat fills your hand, overflowing in your palm when you squeeze. The firm yet supple skin is fucking heavenly. There's a halfway sound mixed of a giggle and a moan, and when you look up, Eunbi stares back at you with lust darkened eyes. "Excited aren't we? There's another one too, you know? Feel free to set it free yourself."

You brush the strap aside and Eunbi's top slips over her second breast and off her body, falling down to the floor along with your inhibitions.

For the low, low price of 40 hours of work, Eunbi isn't an unapproachable, untouchable, perfect entity on-screen. With her tits exposed, all natural and bouncing just slightly whenever she moves, there's something intimately real about the way she lets out breathy quiet moans as you massage her breasts in tandem, thumbs circling her pointed nubs.

"Careful... They're sensitive." Her chest juts towards you with every pass of your hand, and you're having the time of your life watching this behemoth of an idol turn into a whimpering wreck. Your gaze naturally strays from her chest to the subtle ripple of her belly and the sakura print triangle of her bikini bottoms.

Eunbi holds up a bottle of liquid and squirts out a decent amount, drooling down her tits and onto your cock. You hiss out, twitching up from the chill, and then moan out when Eunbi runs her dainty fingers over your length, spreading the viscous liquid all over until her palms grip onto your throbbing member.

"Shall we begin? I'm curious to see your expression..." She scooches closer, breasts jiggling against the inside of your thighs and her hands slipping off the sides of her chest, pushing her boobs together, around your pulsing dick.

Her plump flesh surrounds you on either side of your shaft, her breasts massaging your hardness. The lube makes it so hot and slippery, you can almost imagine it's her soft pussy instead. She interlocks her fingers and starts to bounce the soft pliable flesh up and down, the liquid squelching out.

"Ahh~ What a lusty expression..." Eunbi sees the look of euphoria written plain across your face. There's never been anything like the sheer softness, the overwhelming sensation of this world-renowned idol jerking you off with her heavenly tits.

As much as you want to close your eyes and fall in-tune with her movements, the sight of her breasts wrapped around you forces you to continue to stare.

Then something unexpected comes into play. Eunbi pauses her movement on a downward motion. You groan, missing the hot pleasure that just sent you to cloud 9. Until suddenly her cute little peaks out and gives the tip a lick.

'It never goes inside of me...'

The one and only rule re-enters your mind. Then the mischievous sparkle in her eyes leaves you with one conclusion.

"Technically licking it doesn't count... Right?~" Her tongue once again peeks out and wets your engorged, blushing head, the warm and wet, gentle touch shooting pleasure through you. It only lasts a moment until she starts sliding up and down your shaft once more, adding her cute licks as the icing on top.

This must be heaven. This must be what going to heaven is like—having the Eunbi jerking you off with her thick, soft tits and having her pink tongue pepper your cock with gentle kitten licks.

"Ah—!" she gives you a surprised little yelp when the pre-cum bubbles up from the slit of your dick, the salty liquid instantly greeted by the flat of her tongue.

'It never goes inside of me...'

That was the only preamble. The only thing forbidden by the deal. Her lips come dangerously close, puckering open and—

Eunbi is a fucking liar. She wraps her lips around the head and sucks, tongue swirling and lips pursed tight against your swollen cock. You grunt out a curse at the sudden change in temperature, hot and wet. In an instant, you lose yourself, cumming in spurts in her warm mouth, painting her tongue white.

"Mmmph!" She feigns shock and panic, closing her eyes tight and sucking on you in earnest. All the while she maintains her tits wrapped around the bottom of your shaft, squeezing up to catch the last remnants of your release.

With her lips still wrapped around the head, she swallows—you hear and feel the distinct gulp.

Eunbi pushes her bangs back as she finally pulls off your softening, limp shaft. Her hand wanders to her jaw, wiping away any leftover bit that spilled out her lips.

"Oops~ look like I broke my own rule..." she hums, playfulness and mock innocence threading together in her tone.

'It never goes inside of me...'

Bullshit.

---------[ (G)I-DLE Minnie - @svndaysaweek ]----------

Once in for all. You head to the bar you’re regular at. Everytime you tip a glass there, you experience a weird dream and when you wake up you’re in your bed, no memories of how you even made it there.

It’s happened several times already. To the point where you start to doubt if it really is a dream.

A charming bartender, nice drinks, and the addictive dream-like scenes you fragmentarily see like a deja-vu. 

There are different versions of it, but all follow the same sequence: sit down, empty a glass or two, a little chirpy chit chat with the bartender and the very next blink she’s riding you in a frantic manner.

What haunts you the most is that you lose old memories too. The damage is disturbing, since even at work you don’t remember major events that happened. You really should stop drinking, and you're aware of it more than anyone. 

You can’t explain, but you feel like you should just go there again. It’s an addiction, maybe. You know you should stop, but you don’t.

******

The door swings open with the little bells on it quirkily ringing. It’s a dim bar, with the calm noise of people talking and laughing with clinking sounds. Over the counter she’s wiping glasses, not in a tuxedo but in a white sleeveless shirt, long blonde hair over a shoulder and a pair of orbs in her eyes with the aura that a quartz gemstone would exude.

Hot, but not red-hot. Erotic, but not foul.

The very eyes in your dreams that you made roll back.

“Hi, long time! The usual?” Minnie’s grin blooms quickly as if she’s been waiting for you. Then she fixes it the next second, recognizing how unusual it is for a bartender to be as turgidly excited as her.

“I’d love to.” With a bite on her lip she turns around, takes a bottle of whiskey. Then enters a room in the back for a glass.

Your hand automatically takes your phone out of the pocket. You see a message from an unknown number saying ‘Hey we need to talk’, but before you can check Minnie returns with the glass and serves it to you.

“Are you shifting soon? Never seen you in that shirt before,” A sip, and another. “Ah, this? How do I look?”

Gorgeous!

Gorge-

Gor-

…

******

“Yeah, that’s it…” Minnie’s hands are planted on your chest while her hips are senselessly grinding on your cock. The pace skyrockets and her nails dig into you deeper and deeper.

But dangerously you don’t feel the pain. You can only feel how tight she’s squeezing your cock, how sweaty her thighs are, how hot her breath is and how good she’s fucking you.

“Fuck, it gets better everytime… How can I stop fucking you like this…” Her hands are now in her hair, arms open and messing her own hair a bit. 

She squeezes her own breasts before slightly choking you with both hands. You try to reach for her hands, which are cuffed to the bed. Minnie seems to enjoy the surprised look on your face, as her face descends to be just above yours with a pearly giggle.

“Bet Miyeon is all too vanilla to do this stuff to you in bed,” She whispers it right at your left ear before nibbling on it, making you flinch a bit.

“Miyeon? Who is-“

“Never mind, boy. I have only you and you—oh, god I’m close—have only me.” Minnie’s teeth leave a deep mark on your under lip. Her glance is now beyond enrapturing. It’s a poignant hypnosis with a tinge of coercion. 

Only when she cums and squirts on your cock with a rather lunatic moan is the bewitching scrutiny alleviated. The sound of heavy breaths and the tickle of her fingers stroking on your chest is all that you can sense.

And you’re sprawled on the bed, exhausted, with your consciousness fading out. “I have only you, Minnie” is what you lethargically repeat until all becomes dark.

******

You have no idea how you ended up on your bed. Again. The last place you remember you were at last night was the bar. 

Was it the whiskey after all? 

Before you could even get out of your bed a headache swirls inside your head.

I had intense sex with Minnie again in the dream again.

She mentioned someone.

I received a text from someone who wanted to talk with me.

What could all this mean?

All of a sudden, a loud knock on the door shakes you awake from your thoughts. 

“Who’s there?” You shout, and you hear a frustrated, urgent female voice.

“Honey, it’s me! Please open the door and let’s talk!” On the other side of the door there’s a woman standing. Anxious, upset and unfamiliar.

“Do I know you?” It’s a genuine question, because you don’t recognize her at all. “Honey, this is not funny. At all. Why the hell have you been ignoring all my-” The girl tries to grab your hand which you swiftly evade.

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?” 

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple.

“Babe!” Down the hallway is Minnie. You are so confused by her calling you that, but it must’ve been the drink. Should’ve drunk less.

“Babe?! Excuse me, but do you know him? Honey, do you know her?” Miyeon looks shocked, terrified, even. “I do. Why are you asking me that? Who are you?”

Disbelief shades her face. “H-honey… What are you talking about? I’m your fiancé! I’m Miyeon, don't you remember?” At the same time there’s a victorious grin on Minnie’s face. 

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple. Then all senses fuzz out.

******

“Don’t go too fast, Miyeon! It’s dangerous!” You’re on a bicycle following her, on a riverside road with cherry blossoms fluttering along the breeze. She briefly looks back at you, and the way her hair streams in the wind takes your breath. “You’re saying that because you can’t pass me!” She smiles playfully and speeds up ahead.

“What are you listening to?” She takes one of your earphones after sitting down next to you on the bench. “Just some classics. Autumn is a season of classics for me.” You turn your head in her direction and are stunned at how her look matches the color of the trees and sky ever so perfectly. She can only chuckle at your face.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, yes!” You’re down on one knee, putting a ring on her finger. She’s shedding tears with the happiest smile. “I love you, Miyeon.” You rise and hug her. Your hands are still shaking. Her shoulders shake from her crying.

“I love you too. I have only you. And you have only me.”

******

-------------[ WJSN Bona - @fiorituramara ]-------------

The elevator ride took forever, enough for you to think you were getting up to the heavens (maybe you were); or at least, enough for you to start focusing on the garish marbles inside of the booth finely sculpted with golden inscriptions of the hotel’s logo—you never were particularly interested in interior design especially the pompous branch of it. 

You wouldn’t say you were used to all of this—the high-end hotel with all its lush finishes, the highly competent personnel following you around for every little inconvenience, it was all a bit too much, even if it certainly wasn’t your first time in the midst of all this luxury. 

After all, your business model as a professional companion thrived on the lonesomeness of the wealthiest. Business women, successful lawyers, rich heiresses; all of them had similar needs and you were ready to profit on them by selling your version of love: an illusion.

But this time was different and you knew it, just by feeling. 

Kim Jiyeon wasn’t like any other customer you had before—she was an award-winning actress, a model and an idol. But Jiyeon wasn’t just wealthy, she was absolutely breathtaking, a rare beauty worthy of praise from fashion brands and magazines.

As soon as you walked through the suit’s door a sly smile welcomed you in the warmest way “I hope the reception didn’t make you wait for too long,”

You smiled back, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss Jiyeon”

Here she was across the room, sitting on a modish sofa, legs crossed dully waiting for your arrival. She wasn’t wearing anything particularly elaborate: an ashen tailleur leaning on a striped shirt, and a colorful skirt that did quite the poor job at covering her slender legs. A simple fit yet effective at emphasizing her striking beauty. 

“Have a seat, please. Get comfortable,” she said as you happily complied, joining her.

“Wine?”

You nodded thanking the steward as he tinged a chalice in red.

As you sipped on your drink Jiyeon handed you some documents from an agenda

“Formalities, you know” she downplayed it, of course “I just need your sign.”

You quickly scanned the papers in front of you, faking interest. Legal stuff, stamps, authorizations and permits. It was a detailed NDA warding your customer in every possible way, nothing unusual when dealing with well-known personalities, something you knew you would have need to sign.

“I just have one question, a little curiosity of mine” you said, as the pen in your hands swiftly traced the initials of your name sealing the contract. “Why? Why would someone like you even look for my services?”

A sly smile painted on Jiyeon’s face, as if she knew you would’ve asked something similar.

She took your hand in hers, it was warm and soft, and guided it towards her thigh.

“The easy answer would be that I lack the material time,” you listened carefully to every word of her speech as your hand wandered forward, daringly massaging her smooth skin “just getting to know someone is a serious commitment,” 

“I can’t afford to waste occasions with the wrong person with the little time I have for myself,” she continued. Were you moving a little too fast? Maybe. Ten minutes since you met her and you were already with a hand on her thighs and she looked like she didn't mind.

“But if i’m being honest, there’s more to it” as she said that her hand moved to the top of your shirt, slowly undoing a couple buttons, “I’m tired, tired of being what people want me to be, I’m tired of pretending I’m perfect when I’m not. I wanna be flawed.” you dared even more, your fingers traced a ticklish spot on her inner thigh eliciting a whimper. Her hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in place.

 “I wanna be me.” She looked right into your eyes as she said that, more serious than ever.

Then she got up, right in front of you, raised her legs to discard her boots before climbing directly on top of you.

You let her go on with her act, too stunned to speak up, as she continued with her answer. “Why you, you say? I need professionalism, I need discretion,” 

She pulled on the collar of your shirt and whispered in your ear “but more than everything, I need a good fuck, and I need it now.”

The hot breath on your skin elicited a shiver in your back. “Does this satisfy your little curiosity?”

There wasn’t really a need to answer that.

 You seized her cheeks, leaned in and locked lips. You were dreaming about kissing those pretty full lips the moment you entered the room and now it felt heavenly. You could taste the sweetness on her tongue, as she explored your mouth and you explored hers, a hint of wine still lingering around intoxicating you even more.  Your hands instinctively moved to her back, helping her slipping her now impractical jacket to the floor in anticipation of something more.

Only the need for air was able to break the kiss.

“Dazzle me.” she whispered.

[thebluemallet]

Eros/Psyche Parallels in Bridgerton Season 3

The show was not subtle with the Eros/Psyche parallels this season. So I attempted to go through episode by episode and find the connections. If I miss any obvious ones, let me know and I'll edit the post.

3x01- Out of the Shadows

Starting off strong with the opening credits! You briefly see a butterfly. Not only do the Featheringtons use butterflies as often as the Bridgertons use bees, but the butterfly is a symbol of Psyche.

When Penelope opens her wardrobe to that sea of YELLOW, her butterfly dress from the first ball of season 1 is visible.

Penelope talks with Genevieve about needing to find a husband this season and then we cut directly to Gregory with a bow (sans arrow) and he's pointing it directly at Colin. The bow and arrow is a symbol of Eros/Cupid.

Penelope sheds her cloak at that ball like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

The original Eros/Psyche myth has some jealous sisters and Prudence and Philippa, while maybe not jealous per se, are not happy to see their baby sister shining so brightly when she arrives.

And for more connection to the sisters--Psyche is the youngest of three daughters and her two older sisters are married before she is.

This one is, admittedly, a bit of a stretch but in the original myth there's some ire from Aphrodite because of all the attention Psyche is getting. And Cressida rips Penelope's dress once she is getting all the attention at the ball, specifically from Lord Debling.

Eros is sent by Aphrodite in the original story to marry Psyche off to marry someone/thing horrible (or just making sure no man wants to marry her) but Eros ends up falling for Psyche himself. Colin offers to help Penelope find a husband as a way to make up for what he said about her last year and, well, we all know where this is going!

3x02- How Bright The Moon

Edited to add (credit to @bridgertonblue)- Colin cuts his hand on the glass in the study. They flashback to this scene a few episodes later when Colin finally decides to take action with Penelope and his feelings for her. This can be a parallel to Eros getting struck with his own arrows and falling for Psyche.

Eros only visits Psyche at night. Colin comes to see Penelope at night in the garden after their scheme is exposed.

Eros accidentally struck himself with his own arrows and that's how he came to fall in love with Psyche. Colin kissed Penelope because he thought he was doing it for a friend, and he ended up awakening feelings he didn't even realize he had for her.

3x03- Forces of Nature

In the Architectural Digest Bridgerton Set Tour video, you'll see butterflies on the staircase in the entrance hall of Featherington House. It's not exclusive to this episode, I just thought I'd highlight it here since it's when we have the Eloise apology scene.

THIS ONE IS A HUGE STRETCH BUT I'LL PUT IT IN HERE ANYWAY--remember how windy it was with the balloon and Colin's arms that Penelope couldn't stop drooling over? Psyche was carried by Zephyrus-the West Wind-to her fancy new home and the godly husband she never sees.

3x04- Old Friends

Eros is tasked with marrying Psyche off, falls in love with her, and marries her instead. Colin offers to help Penelope find a husband earlier in the season, realizes he's been in love with her this whole time, and we get the iconic line, "For God's sake, Penelope Featherington! Are you going to marry me or not?"

3x05- Tick Tock

This one is another stretch, but Psyche has some jealous sisters who are not permitted to visit her at her new home (until Psyche convinces her husband to let them visit many months later). Prudence and Phillipa are being mean to Penelope over her engagement and Portia doesn't allow them to attend the engagement party. A Bridgerton engagement party, so you know that stings.

And another stretch! Psyche gets pressured by her sisters to find out her husband's true identity. Penelope gets pressured by Eloise to reveal her secret identity to Colin.

3x06- Romancing Mr. Bridgerton

Eros tells Psyche that she can never know what she looks like, which is why he only visits at night. If Psyche knows who her husband is, then eventually Aphrodite will find out and she'll be pissed. But Psyche, filled with doubt thanks to her jealous sisters, lights a candle while Eros is asleep, revealing his identity and betraying Eros.

Penelope writes/delivers her Whistledown column at night. Colin follows after her, discovers her secret identity, and feels betrayed.

3x07- The Joining of Hands

Eros leaves Psyche, feeling betrayed even though he still loves her deeply. Colin is cold and distant to Penelope in the fresh sting of his betrayal. But he still loves her and goes through with the wedding.

3x08- "Into the Light"

Eros refuses to see Psyche because he's been so hurt by her betrayal. Colin sleeps ten feet away from his wife's bedroom door (they must have had other bedrooms!) and leaves soon after she wakes up in episode 8.

Psyche has to go through some trials put forth by Aphrodite to get a chance to see her husband again. Penelope is confronted and blackmailed by Cressida when the latter learns that she is Lady Whistledown.

Psyche approaches two different goddesses to help her find Eros. Sometimes they refuse to help. Sometimes one of them points her in the direction of Aphrodite's place. Those two goddesses are Hera and Demeter. Two members of the most unlikely dream team in this episode are Portia and Eloise.

Hera is the goddess of marriage, women, and family, and she doesn't have the reputation of being an upstanding mother in mythology. She parallels Portia, mother to three ladies who she wants to see in secure marriages.

Demeter is the goddess of the harvest and agriculture. This is more of a reach, but she can parallel Eloise. In her book, her love interest Sir Phillip is experimenting in his greenhouse with peas(?) (I should probably read that book again) to increase their yield. Eloise also initially refused to get in between Penelope and Colin in the previous episode.

When Psyche goes through these trials, she's pregnant with Eros's baby. The showrunners confirmed that Colin knocked up Penelope in that mirror scene so she's in the very early stages of pregnancy here.

Psyche is indirectly helped by Eros (Zeus's eagle helps her out when they remember they owe Eros a favor). This angers Aphrodite and makes things worse for Psyche. Colin tries to save his wife by appealing to Cressida and ends up making things worse for Penelope.

Psyche's final trial involves going to the underworld. She deems this an impossible task and intends to sacrifice herself before she finds another way. Penelope decides to reveal her identity to the Queen and the ton, effectively sacrificing her reputation and potentially her marriage.

Zeus listens to Eros's pleas and grants Psyche immortality. The Queen is merciful to Penelope and doesn't punish her for Whistledown, allowing her to keep writing.

Psyche is often depicted either with butterfly wings or with a butterfly near/around her in art. Mrs. Varley releases the bugs (butterflies) directly after the Whistledown reveal.

Eros and Psyche are reunited and live a rare Happily Ever After in mythology. Penelope and Colin reconcile and go on to their own Happily Ever After.

[hb-writes]

Drunk Shakespeare

Summary: It’s Summer 1925 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. Isiah and Clara decide to end their work day early to escape the heat of the betting shop, but find the heat in the air between them is harder to escape than they thought.

Characters: Clara Shelby x Isiah Jesus, Finn Shelby pops in for a moment.

Prompt: Almost caught

Content Warnings: Just vibes and a little kissing.

Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

Clara watched the long hand of her brother's old pocket watch as it moved around the clock face, the quiet ticks and tocks seeming to mock her as they seemed to slow and delay in her mind.

After what had seemed like an eternity squashed into a mere morning and early afternoon, she was basically caught up on the books. Or at least, if she wasn't precisely caught up, Clara wasn't feeling particularly motivated to keep working on them. Not that she'd been doing anything that could really be considered ‘work’ for the last hour and a half.

Shoving the pocketwatch away, she glanced at Isiah. He was across the room in Finn’s office, twirling a pencil in his fingers. Clara wasn't sure what he was meant to be ‘working’ on in her brother's office, but she assumed pencil twirling wasn't it. 

It had been a slow afternoon. No one had been keen on laying bets or working, so the shop had emptied early. Everyone had finished up their day's work and gone home.

In this heat, Clara didn't blame them. Despite the mound of work she had to complete for her brother, she didn't want to be here either.

Clara had already shed her sweater. She couldn't respectably lose any more layers or she'd be left in just her slip, but she longed for it. She longed for a breeze or dip in one of the ponds on the grounds of Arrow House. She longed for a chunk of ice from the ice box in the kitchen. She longed for the end of this Friday afternoon, the end to this stale, sticky existence.

Clara pushed herself back from the desk—Tommy's desk, though he never used it anymore. The chair was more hers than his these days. Tommy had once said it could be Clara’s one day—the boss's chair—but even though it was her who sat in it more than him, Clara wasn't the boss. Today, she felt no better than any other working person staring at the clock and waiting for the end of their shift. It seemed that was all she’d done all day.

She'd have to come back and finish what she hadn’t accomplished before the end of the month—over the weekend or early before she was due at the Jamaica Row office on Monday morning. It wasn't smart putting it off, but Clara didn't care. The heat had zapped any sense of caring from her system, leeching all of the diligent conscientiousness she was known for straight out of her. 

"What are the odds we get caught out if we lock up early?” 

Isiah's foot fell off the desk and slammed against the floor, Clara's sudden presence in the room startling him more than it should have considering a wall of windows lined the office and he’d faced that way, his glossy gaze set out toward the empty shop she crossed over on her way to get to him.

"Christ, Clara—Trying to stop my fucking heart, eh?"

Clara sighed, rolling her eyes at Isiah’s dramatics out of nothing more than habit. The whole bit was familiar. He usually would have wrapped her head in an arm, ruffling her hair as retribution, but today he barely moved, barely even allowed the muscles of his mouth to pull into a smirk. 

Clara was glad for it because if Isiah laid a hand on her, Clara thought she might scream. The idea of him coming anywhere near her in this heat, of his warm hand in her already frizzy hair…she felt warmer just thinking about it.

"The only thing I'm trying to do is stop working."

"You're finished?”

Clara shrugged. She didn't have it in her to lie, but she didn’t quite want to admit she’d been doing close to nothing all day either. "Are you?'

"I've been done for hours." 

"What are you sitting in here for, then?"

She could see that she wasn't the only warm one. Isiah had rolled his shirt sleeves. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She couldn't imagine why he'd choose to sit here when he could be anywhere else.

Isiah raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" 

"Fucking hell. You’re babysitting. Tommy's such a—" 

“Finn," Isiah interrupted.

"What?"

"It was Finn’s idea. Said 'I've got a meeting across town. Keep an eye on her.’ Not Tom."

Clara hummed, filing that annoying development away to complain about later. For today it was an order from Finn’s mouth, but before Finn, it had been John, and before that, she knew the order had originated with Tommy and Arthur. Tommy, who Isiah no routinely called 'Tom' and defended, as if they were friends. On the same side of things. Clara let the thought go, too hot for the annoyance that came with thinking too hard on her brothers.

"Where'd Finn go, anyway?'

"Meeting across town," Isiah answered, repeating the words with a smirk. 

Clara breathed deeply, stifling the urge to hit him. She could imagine herself doing it, the satisfaction of her open palm—all clammy and swollen with the heavy moisture of the air—smacking against Isiah’s stupid, sweaty forehead. 

“I just said.” Isiah added, stupid grin still on his face. “The heat getting to you, there, Miss Shelby?” 

It was hotter in Finn's office than it was in Tommy's. There were no windows to the outside here, no airflow. Clara pulled at her dress, the fabric sticking to her collarbone as she tried to catch some relief.

“I meant who’s he with?” 

Isiah shrugged. “Afraid that's above my pay grade. Can’t be asking after the boss’s whereabouts now, can I, love?” 

Clara rolled her eyes. Finn wasn’t any sort of boss, not really, even if he was acting like it lately. And the amount of things that fell above Isiah's pay grade had dwindled over the last few years. She was nearly certain Isiah knew exactly who Finn was meeting with and what it was about, but she let it go, figuring that if it was important or relevant to her, he'd have just told her. The fact that he was playing with her told her it wasn't either of those things.

“Fine. Tell me, love, does the 'boss' have anything good in that drawer there?” Clara nodded toward the desk and Isiah shook his head, chuckling. 

“What are you shaking your head for? What’s he going to do?” she asked. “Fire us for borrowing his whiskey and skiving off?” 

“Tom—”

“I don’t care what Tommy or Arthur or John or Finn has said. It’s hot and there’s no reason for us to be cooped up here. I’ll take my chances with the lot of them.” Clara reached down, pulling out the bottle of whiskey. She opened it and took a slug before she handed the bottle to Isiah. After he drank, Clara held a hand out to him. 

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the hand they both knew was clammy and damp with sweat. Clara ran her hand down the side of her dress before presenting it again. 

Isiah rolled his eyes as he slipped his hand into hers and Clara groaned, dropping his slicked hand in an instant. Isiah smirked as he ran his hand down the side of her skirts same as Clara had just done. No other man would’ve dared to slide his hand down Clara Shelby’s side like that, but this was Isiah and they were alone in the shop—no prying eyes to watch over them for a change.

“You’re insufferable.”

Isiah chuckled. “You’ve said so plenty enough.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Well, between you and me, it’s mutual.”

Clara yanked his hand then, pulling him out of the chair and to his feet. Isiah stumbled for her benefit. 

“You’re testy today.”

“I’m hot,” Clara answered, walking towards the staircase. She tugged Isiah along up the first few steps, her arm straining as Isiah stopped on the third step from the bottom.

“And we’re going to the second floor to cool off?” 

Clara took a deep breath before stopping and turning back to Isiah. 

“We’re all locked up?”

Isiah nodded. He'd gone around to check all of the doors after Finn headed out. “Have been for hours.” 

“Good, now shut up and do what you're told.” 

Isiah snorted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Clara smirked at that. At least someone respected her. Even if it was just Isiah, and even if he was only playing, the telltale smile tugging at his lips, a bit of glee right there dancing in his eyes. Because even with those things present, Clara knew some part of it was genuine. Isiah respected her more than most people in her life. Believed in her more than most, too. And he had always offered up a bit of his power in the context of their relationship, allowing her to win on most things. 

Not every single thing, but most. 

Enough of the time that Clara knew when he was doing it. 

As they moved up the stairs, the heat wrapped around them like a blanket. Someone had shut all of the windows, the air up there even more stale than it had been down in the shop. 

Clara had a moment of doubt while the stifling heat grew, smothering them both and challenging Clara's breathing. Sweat collected on her back and chest under her clothes. She cursed in her head that maybe Isiah was right. Maybe there was no relief to be found on this Friday afternoon, not unless she wanted to give in and head out to her brother's house. 

But Clara didn’t want to. If she did, Tommy would have questions about the books and whether or not she’d caught up yet. She didn’t have it in her to try to lie to him. If she was being honest, she didn’t have it in her for much of anything except simply being. 

Walking the stairs of her childhood home with Isiah’s hand growing sweaty in hers, Clara was reminded of simpler days. Of times when she’d been just allowed to be. Even then, she’d been an anxious child. Overwhelmed and feeling like she was pulled in a million different ways, but looking back on it now, Clara was nostalgic for a certain freedom inherent to childhood. A certain freedom that came with not fully understanding the actions and motivations of the adults surrounding her. 

She had always sought to understand, had always wanted to be a part of things, and now that she was—now that she and Isiah both were thoroughly integrated parts of the things they’d once begged to be included in—Clara would give anything for the two of them to go back to before. 

To be reading together from a book, or pretending to be Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. To be just two kids in their own little bubble, just the two of them against the world. It was a lovely thought, accompanied by a lovely feeling of nostalgia and as they stepped onto the second floor—just the two of them there within the walls of number 6 Watery Lane—Clara thought maybe it could still be the case.

The times were less frequent these days, but there were still moments when Clara would catch Isiah's gaze across the room, the two of them immediately caught up in some secret conversation that no one else even knew was taking place. 

And sometimes, the two of them would dance, and as Isiah spun Clara around, she could’ve sworn there was no one else in the world. On those occasions, it was as if the music played of its own accord, no one needed to pull the strings or croon the melodies, the two of them feeling anonymous and alone even though they were surrounded by other couples. 

“Come on, Siah,” Clara said as she tugged Isiah’s hand, some part of her certain that she could reach out and grasp that feeling, as if it was something she could trap and hold onto, keeping it close to her heart. 

Isiah smiled at Clara’s impatience, his body so near to hers that he could feel the heat radiating off her back, a warmth separate from that of the air around them, almost pulsing between them. 

Clara dropped his hand as she stepped into her bedroom, still neat and tidy and kept as if the 12-year-old girl she once was still lived there. As she moved toward the window, Clara pressed the whiskey bottle into Isiah’s hand, not bothering to look back to confirm it was within his grasp before she let go. 

Isiah leaned against her dresser, watching as she struggled with the window, the wooden frame stiff and swollen and thoroughly stuck from the heat and years of disuse. 

As he watched, Isiah wondered...when was the last time Clara Shelby had climbed out through her bedroom window? When was the last time Isiah Jesus had climbed out with her? 

Neither of them could remember, and it seemed like the room had forgotten as well, the window remaining belligerently shut even as Clara dug in her heels and leveraged all of her strength in trying to raise the pane, a new layer of sweat gleaming at her hairline as she struggled. 

“Alright,” Isiah started as he eased off the dresser, the whiskey bottle set aside. “Let me—”

“No!” Clara answered, her voice booming with the strength of her struggle as she kicked a leg out in Isiah’s general direction to keep him back. “I’ll get it. You choose a book.”

Clara sent her foot out again, this time directing it toward the other side of the room, and Isiah turned to follow the direction of her kick, straight to the chair beside her bed where a stack of books sat piled dangerously high. 

The pile was a mix of old and new, a selection of books from her childhood and few of her more recent favorites interspersed with a few of the books Isiah remembered as coming from Tommy’s shelf. Those books had once been forbidden to Clara, but Isiah supposed they were far beyond forbidden books at this stage. And Tommy Shelby had far bigger concerns than what types of books his sister was reading. 

Isiah fished a book out of the pile before returning his attention to Clara. He was about to sit down on her bed to watch the show of her struggle when the window flew open, the sudden movement accompanied by a rush of air and a celebratory shout from Clara. 

“I told you I would get it,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow as she turned to him.

Isiah rolled his eyes fondly and crossed the room to grab the whiskey, a swallowed comment on the tip of his tongue because even though Isiah and Clara usually passed quips back and forth, he was more interested in getting out on the roof, more interested in the reprieve of fresh air. Isiah pressed the book and bottle into Clara's hands before swinging himself out through the window. 

Isiah was through in a small span of seconds, but it was certainly a more difficult maneuver than he remembered now that his body was all long limbs and the window seemed infinitely smaller than it once was. 

Reaching back through the frame, he took the book and the bottle Clara handed off. Isiah set them both aside before holding his hand out back through the open window.

“I can—”

“Just let me help, won’t you?” Isiah interrupted. He wiped his hand down the front of his pants before holding it out again. “Gotta fight me about everything.” 

“I’m not—” Clara grasped his hand, allowing Isiah to tug her through, and letting go once she was steady on her feet. “—fighting. I just—”

“Can do it yourself,” Isiah answered. “I know. Doesn’t mean you should always have to.” 

Clara huffed even though a part of her appreciated the sentiment. She tried to be independent. She tried to do everything for herself. She tried to prove how smart and strong and capable she was to just about everyone, but she didn’t have to prove any of that to Isiah. 

Clara unbuttoned the top of her dress, gently fanning herself with the loose fabric as she looked over the courtyard. She took a deep breath, grateful for the grey and cloudy Birmingham skies that shielded them from the heady rays of sun she usually craved.

The roof outside of her bedroom wasn’t exactly the reprieve she had imagined, but it was marginally better than the dense staleness of the shop and her bedroom. 

“Romeo and Juliet?” Clara asked as she lowered herself to the roof and reached for the book. “Really, Isiah?” 

While Clara enjoyed her Shakespeare, the play hadn’t exactly been her favorite, and her memories of the piece were tainted by the fact that she’d first read it at school, with Juliet’s role going to a girl she wasn’t particularly fond of. Clara would’ve preferred to revisit Sherlock Holmes or one of Tommy’s old books.��

Isiah shrugged and sat down beside her, reaching for the bottle. “Reminded me of when you tried stepping out with that Italian kid.” 

He said it as if he didn’t remember the name of the ‘Italian kid.' As if it had been nothing but a blip. As if her social connections hadn’t gotten her into nothing but trouble that year and been the source of arguments between her and her family, and her and Isiah.

Clara shoved Isiah’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t stepping out with anyone.”

It had been a friendship. Maybe with a hint of a crush, but there had been no stepping out. Nothing close. Her brothers' reputation had seen to that.

“And anyway, it’s more like when you were stepping out with that Cheapie girl.” 

Isiah raised an eyebrow. “What are you on about?” 

“Ruth,” Clara answered. “Practically Wally Bartow in a dress.” 

He snorted. “It was one dance, Clara. Didn’t even know her name. Had no clue she was a Bartow.”

Clara shrugged. “You looked awfully cozy if I remember properly.” 

“Well, that’s just how I dance, love.” Isiah winked at her before taking a swig from the bottle. “You know that better than anyone.

“And I'm sorry to inform you, but if either of us is destined to have a love life like these two—” Isiah nodded towards the book. “—it’s you. No matter who you end up with, it’ll be like Montagues and Capulets. Shelbys against whatever poor sap you choose.” 

Isiah knocked her shoulder, the touch telling her it was only a joke. Clara stayed leaning against him as long as she could manage in the heat before prying the bottle from his fingers to take a sip.

“Ada says us Shelby girls are cursed that way.” 

Isiah reached for the book, thumbing through the pages rather than answering. He had an idea about that particular curse. He had been old enough to remember how Ada’s marriage had been handled, and even if he hadn’t been, Isiah knew how Clara was being managed. 

How they both had been managed for years now. 

Isiah reached out for the bottle, taking another swig before he started reading.

“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene…”

They passed a few hours reading and talking and sipping from the bottle, the pair moving on to gentle conversation interspersed with quotes from Shakespeare’s catalog once the pages became too difficult to read in the dimming light. Lost in the throes of conversation, easy laughter and the cooling night breeze, Isiah and Clara were suspended in what felt like a world that was just their own, their sense of time and place and awareness pushed aside.

Clara was giggling at some obscure quote Isiah had pulled seemingly out of nowhere when Isiah sensed suddenly that the world was no longer theirs alone, his attention gone to the far end of the shared courtyard, a familiar chorus of boisterous laughter reaching his ear from across the space. 

Isiah was faintly aware of Clara naming the play he’d quoted before she shared her next quote, a gentle laughter lacing her words as she spoke, but the awareness of his heart pounding against his chest was stronger, a sudden urge to quiet her—to shield their presence there on the roof—taking over.

Overcome with that urge, Isiah could’ve shushed her or set his hand over her mouth to stifle the words.

Or he could've taken a breath and calmed himself and simply let her finish. 

It wasn't as if they were doing anything wrong. There was no reason to hide.

Isiah could have let Clara tell him, ‘I do desire we may be better strangers,’ before dissolving into giggles. He could’ve then told her the quote was from ‘As You Like It,’ a quote which he was intimately familiar with because Clara had directed it at him and Finn a number of times before, sometimes in jest, sometimes because she wished to hurt them. 

No one would question Isiah and Clara being out on the roof with a book and a bottle of whiskey, least of all Finn. People were plenty used to their antics, but something felt different tonight so Isiah only let Clara get half a sentence out before he placed his hand at the back of her head, drawing her in close and pressing his lips to hers in the dark, catching her words and quieting her so efficiently that it was nearly silent on the roof as Finn and the junior Peaky Boys passed over the back threshold of no. 6. 

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but Isiah felt Clara’s whole body relax within his touch. She leaned into the hand he cradled behind her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss he hadn’t intended on giving in the first place, her hands reaching out for him, her fingernails grazing his scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine. 

Isiah pulled away, but even so, for a moment, he forgot where he was. He forgot why he’d kissed her, or at least he’d forgotten whatever justification he’d initially provided himself for pressing his lips to hers. He forgot about Finn and the boys. He forgot about Shakespeare and feuds and consequences. With his warm hand still on the back of Clara’s sweaty neck, barely able to see the details of her now flushed face, it was once again just the two of them there in the world. 

With their faces still so close that Clara could feel Isiah’s warm whiskey-tinged breath on her face, her eyes shifted to his lips. She couldn’t remember what they were talking about before. She didn’t know why he’d kissed her. She had heard the back door slam, some part of her aware of her twin's proximity, an awareness Aunt Polly had always tol her was part of her gifts, but as Clara pulled Isiah's lips back to hers, she found she didn’t care to remember there was more to the world than the two of them and this. 

She didn’t want to question it, and yet, Clara was first to pull away this time, her ears far more sensitive to the familiar sound of someone turning the handle of her childhood bedroom’s door than Isiah was. With a sudden swiftness, she removed herself from Isiah’s hold and pushed him back against the roof as she extended her hand up to the sky. 

“There you are,” Finn said, sticking his head out the open window to see what Clara was pointing at. "What are the two of you out here for?"

Clara tilted her head back to her brother. “Constellations and Shakespeare. Would you like to join us?” she asked, the words feeling odd to her as they passed through her swollen lips.

“No,” Finn snorted. “It's payday. We’re heading to the Garrison, and then maybe to a few other—” 

“No, thank you. I'm staying here,” Clara answered, even though it wasn’t exactly an invite Finn had extended, but more of a declaration. An order.

A flash of something passed over Finn’s face. Clara could barely see it in the dark, but she figured it was a bit of annoyance, maybe, or a touch of shock at being refused. It seemed like more and more, Finn was coming to expect the same sort of compliance from Clara that the others did, forgetting that it was mere minutes that separated their births rather than years.

“It’s too hot, Finn,” Clara added, her tone a bit softer. “I have no desire to be holed up in the snug, squashed between you lot.”

“Alright, then. Isiah?” Finn tried.

“She’s got a point, mate.” 

Clara heard someone shouting from the floor below, the details muffled by the shut door, but Finn seemed to recognize their meaning well enough. 

"Are you sure?" Clara sensed the question was for Isiah even though they could barely see each other's faces in the growing dark. "Drinks are on Shelby Company Ltd. tonight," Finn added, as if Isiah's drinks weren't usually on the house, anyway.

"It's alright. You go ahead with the boys," Isiah offered. "I'll keep an eye on Clara."

Clara's elbow twitched, the desire to ram it into Isiah's ribcage surging as she caught the hint of a smirk on Isiah's face, but Clara stopped herself knowing that it had been the right thing to say.

Finn nodded his understanding in the dark, his attention pulled to the stairs once again by a sudden noise.

"Don't fall asleep out there, Clara."

Clara heaved a breath to stop herself from telling him he had no business telling her where she could or couldn't fall asleep, but Isiah beat her to it, telling Finn he would handle it.

No matter that Finn would likely be the one who needed assistance finding his bed before the night was through...

"Have a good night," Finn said as he stepped away from the window, leaving Isiah and Clara alone. They leaned back against the roof, the two of them staring at the sky in silence as they listened to the sounds of Finn and the boys heading out through the back door, their shouting and laughter echoing as they traversed the shared courtyard. 

When the echoes died away, Clara stretched out her fingers, seeking the familiar roughness of Isiah’s palm. 

“That was bad,” Isiah said, his fingers closing around hers. “Close...we almost got caught.”  

Clara heaved a breath before turning to face him. “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” 

Isiah snorted. He glanced briefly to his right to meet Clara's gaze in the dark before tipping his head back to the sky.

"Hamlet," Isiah answered softly, squeezing her hand gently before releasing her fingers.

They had been through this time and time again, the two of them dancing around the label of what they were. Friends. Best friends. Something more. They had settled on friends as far as most of the world was concerned, but that didn’t mean the lines weren’t still blurry at times, their belligerent feelings tangled and confused and persistent. For years now, they had maintained a mostly unspoken agreement that they’d keep anything beyond friendship hidden—from themselves, from one another, from everyone else. 

Most especially from everyone else. 

They'd learned early on that it wasn't worth the strife. It wasn't worth the fight. Any resistance had been squashed down time and again. Somehow, this felt easier. Less painful.

If it was up to the two of them, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps they’d have tried at love and failed, and moved on by now. Or perhaps they would have tried and it would have been easy. Smooth.

Perhaps there would be no confusion or jealousy or hiding. No dismissing their closeness as nothing more than echo of a childhood friendship, no stinging comments on who the other had stepped out with—the slights used both as a weapon and a protection to guard their tender hearts. 

But as it was, Clara and Isiah had never been given a proper chance at something more. A boundary had been set for them at the outset, a series of orders they’d both been too young to fight at the time. They’d been at the mercy of the powers that be, and even though they were older now, they were still at the mercy of that power.

Or maybe they still danced around the boundary because it felt easier, somehow safer for them both to keep that prescribed distance between them. 

“Perhaps I am destined for tragedy, Isiah.” Clara mused. “Or simply to be alone. Unloved for eternity.” 

“You’re not alone, love.” Isiah reached for the hand he’d dropped only moments before. “I’m right here.” 

“And you know I love you," he added as Clara curled toward him, resting her head against his chest. 

Clara sighed and nodded. 

“I love you, too,” she added, and Isiah’s chest fell with the breath he’d been holding. 

“Can we not just pretend that’s enough?” Clara asked. “Just for tonight?”

They were dangerous questions and Clara asked them without turning to observe Isiah’s face. She could feel the tenseness of his body beneath her, the fear her questions provoked.

“Like it’s just us in the world and no one else?” she tried, a question and a wish because the house was empty and the roof was dark and it was unlikely they’d be caught. 

Isiah feared that a little, but more than he feared getting caught—for they’d successfully explained away so much over the years and he had no doubt they could manage it again—Isiah feared the two of them getting caught up in things. He feared getting caught up in the true feelings between them, the ones they’d so carefully worked to keep a hold on all of these years, a carefully manicured relationship that allowed them to be close, but not so close that they fell over the edge. 

For even though Isiah dated other girls, and even though Clara insisted that Isiah Jesus was just a friend, they both knew there was something more between them. A magnetic pull, something in their hearts that they both knew to be true love. 

In the moments when the two of them could be honest with each other, when the rest of the world fell away...on nights like tonight, it wasn’t especially unusual for their lips to meet. It wasn’t unusual for Clara’s hopelessly romantic naïveté to make a showing. For some part of her to feel that it could be easy. That it could work.

And it wasn’t unusual for Isiah to agree. For every part of him to want the very thing they spent the bulk of their days denying and shutting down.

They were both craving it now though, both barely able to remember why they ever did hold back. It was just the two of them there on the roof beneath a blanket of smog-covered stars, both of them still hazy around the edges due to the whiskey and the heat and the memory of their kiss, the memory of his hands on the back of her neck. 

Those things made it easy to hope. They made it easy to forget.

Because if they were surrounded by friends at the Garrison or out at Arrow House or under the watchful eye of a Blinder, Clara and Isiah wouldn’t even entertain the thought that they could be more than friends. Under those circumstances, they’d be easily convinced that regardless of the feelings between them, it was much too complicated, much too difficult. 

“Maybe we should just run away. Find a place in the world where there are stars in the sky and no Shelbys.”

Isiah snorted. “Not even you?”

“Well, just me,” Clara amended. “Just me and you and no one else we've ever met. It could be easy.”  

“Maybe,” Isiah hummed, his hand tilting Clara’s face up to his as he spoke. “but the course of true love never did run smooth, Clara Shelby” 

“A Midsummer Night’s—” Clara started, only for the rest of the play’s title to be caught up by Isiah’s lips. 

They both knew it wasn’t a good idea, dabbling in love when neither was ready to commit to the war it would be. Neither was quite ready for the consequences of them moving beyond friendship, moving against her family’s wishes and decrees, but they let it happen anyway, some piece of their hearts holding on to the hope that someday they wouldn’t be hiding on a rooftop, stealing hungry kisses in the dark.

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

[starry-bi-sky]

tick tock

Highkey dedicating this to @watercolour-carnations bc they sent me an ask about my 'danny is thomas wayne' au and singlehandedly revitalized my brainrot for it. Apparently the quickest way to a starry's heart is through their ask box

Now posted on ao3 under the name 'dniwer eht kcolc'!

In hindsight, hosting a science exhibit was probably not the best idea that Bruce has ever. This wasn't even one of Bruce's galas and, yet he was still attending because it gave him the opportunity to scope out any potential rogues (or henchmen).

Damian was by his side, and Tim was on the other side of the room, inspecting some of the other inventions under the prospect of gaining new hires for R&D at WE. Something that was not entirely false. Bruce could always use new, bright minds working to make Gotham a better place.

He was, particularly, eyeing up one moderately-sized invention that a woman with cutting blue eyes and stark white hair had covered with a white sheet. An interesting choice when everyone else had already revealed their own inventions. Drifting closer with Damian, he smiles charmingly at the scientist when they lock eyes.

"And what is this interesting contraption?" He asks, looking over the sheet as if it was the invention itself and not what was underneath.

The woman curled purple-painted fingers around the sheet, yanking it down to reveal a machine that looks like a mix of a jukebox and a grandfather clock. A long wire was attached to it, and a strange, blinking, circlet-like device connected on the other end.

Bruce's brows rose considerably, and he could sense Damian's eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"This is my Holographic Memory Machine -- the name is still a work in progress -- it's a memory machine meant to allow anyone to relive their memories right in front of them, even the ones they don't remember." The woman says with a smile, her name card reads 'Dr. Casey W. Kairos'. He's never heard of her before. An out-of-townie, perhaps?

"Interesting." Bruce's hands fold behind his back and he looks down at his disinterested son, and then back up to Dr. Kairos. It sounded harmless, but even a pencil could be harmless until enough force was put into it. "How does that work?"

Dr. Kairos walks over and holds up the strange circlet device, "The user wears this headband. It scans their brainwaves and then plays a memory of their choice right in front of them like a hologram, including any voices that came with it." She explains, showing it off to Bruce and Damian. "Would either of you like to try it? The HMM has been tested and it is completely safe."

Damian scoffs and turns to him, "This is a waste of time, father," He says, "let's move on."

"Oh, don't be like that, Dames." Bruce smiles genially, placing a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezing it. It reminds him of when his father used to do the exact same thing, and he turns to Dr. Kairos. "I can try it, Doctor."

Kairos smiles widely, looking incredibly pleased. "Come stand here then, Mr. Wayne. I can get the HMM up and working." She gestures to a spot on the floor within the circlet's range, and Bruce goes and does as told.

"Standing around and looking pretty is my specialty, Doctor Kairos." He jokes as she gets the device situated on his head. It sits on his forehead snugly, and tucks behind his ears. Kairos snorts and turns to get the machine activated.

"Father." Damian says, indignant and scowling. His arms crossed over his chest petulantly. Bruce chuckles at him.

"The Doctor said it was perfectly safe, Damian." He admonishes lightly, wagging a finger at him. "I trust the good lady to know what she's doing." Not really, but he'd rather test it out on himself if it was unsafe.

Thirty seconds passed with Dr. Kairos working on flicking on the HMM, and when it came alive it came with a low hum and a distinct, ticking like noise. "Ah, there we go." She hums, stepping away. "It's up and working, Mister Wayne. Just think of a memory and let the HMM do the rest."

"Thank you, Doctor." Bruce nods at her, and then tries to think of what to let the machine show. Nothing that would give away his identity as Batman, of course not. Nothing incriminating.

He looks to Damian, who still looked very unhappy with him. Perhaps a memory of one of his boys in the manor? Or a Brucie Wayne moment that everyone's seen. His brows furrow in thought. One of his speeches?

...No. No, he has an idea.

Immediately, the HMM begins to hum louder, the ticking drowned out by the sound of its fans kicking in. It starts drawing the attention of the other ongoers, and Damian steps to Bruce's side as a crowd begins to form.

"What is that thing?"

"What's it doing?"

"Is it safe?"

Hushed whispers scatter around them as more and more people abandon the other stalls in favor of seeing whatever spectacle was happening. Tim appears as well, pushing his way through the crowd and situating himself by Damian and Bruce.

"What's going on?" He whispers with a frown, looking between Bruce and Damian.

Damian hmphs, "Father is trying out this woman's 'Memory Machine'."

Just when Bruce is starting to think the machine doesn't work, he hears a sound that silences the spectators. A piano note. A singular note, followed by another, and another. Right before Bruce's eyes, the air shimmers, and a projection of his father sitting at the grand piano appears before him.

His breath hitches in his throat. He remembers this. He remembers this piece. It was father's favorite.

Damian and Tim are stiff at his side, and Bruce hears the crowd gasp.

There, sitting on the floor at the bench, is Bruce himself at six years old. He's resting his arms on it, and leaning his head on his arms with a look of pure adoration -- did he really look like that? -- aimed at his father.

There's no talking between them, a content silence as Thomas Wayne fills the air with his piano playing. That is-- until he stops midway through the piece, fingers stopping the keys with a abrupt jerk.

Thomas laughs, quiet and full of love, and little Bruce picks his head up with an affronted frown. "Why'd you stop? I like listening to you play."

"I know you do." Thomas says, his voice is as soothing as Bruce remembers it to be. The memory twists to look at little Bruce with a blinding smile, as if he was looking at his whole world. It's the first time in decades that Bruce has seen his father smiling like-- like that. His eyes involuntarily sting.

"But how can you hear so well when you're all the way down there?" Thomas shifts, and pats an open space on the bench. "Come sit up here, Boo. I can teach you to play."

(Thomas Wayne was always fond of pet names, he had plenty of them for Bruce, and he used them at every opportunity.)

Little Bruce perks up, "Really?" He grins, and then clambers into the bench. His father's arms wrap around him.

The voices fade as the memory slowly begins to collapse, and Bruce feels a spike of panic in his heart before the memory is replaced by another one.

He's younger, probably four years old, being sprayed down by a hose by his father. Little Bruce is squealing with laughter, trying to swat the water away like a fly, and his clothes are drenched.

Thomas is laughing as well, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he just came home from a business meeting. Bruce always thought he was old when he was little. But at four years old, Thomas Wayne is only a little over twenty. Barely an adult. He is twenty-four when he dies. He was so young.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Little Bruce squeals, trying to run out of the line of fire, but Thomas Wayne has a sharp eye, and the hose in his hands follow Bruce no matter where he goes.

Until finally Thomas drops the hose and runs towards Bruce, who is trying to recover from being sprayed down with ice cold water. Thomas reaches him before he has time to move, and scoops him up in his arms.

He is laughing loudly and boisterously, spinning them both around as Bruce clings to him for dear life, laughing with him. The memory fades away, and Bruce feels like there are hands around his throat trying to choke him.

A new one shows up, one he doesn't remember at all. His father is younger than before, a teenager, and he's holding a tiny bundle in his arms. He looks like he's on the verge of tears, hunched over it like a shield.

Someone, a girl with gothic attire, peers over his shoulder. "Gosh, Tom, a baby? That's a lot of responsibility." She says, dark-lipstick lips painted downwards in a frown. "And right after you've disowned your parents too?"

Another boy looks around Thomas with a similar frown and an uncertain look, "Yeah man, I'm with Sam on this one -- for once. You don't even have anywhere to live."

Thomas doesn't look like he's even paying attention, utterly smitten with the baby -- its himself, Bruce realizes -- he's cradling. "Look at him though, guys," he breathes, "he's so tiny. Have you seen his little watercolor eyes?"

(Watercolor eyes. Bruce had long since forgotten about that nickname his father gave him. hearing him say it is like a punch to his stomach.)

"You named him Bruce?"

Bruce huffs to himself, an involuntary smile twitching at his mouth as the memory dips again and cycles through another memory he recognizes.

The memories it shows are sporadic, with no chronological order to them other than each and every one is a happy one.

Bruce playing piano with his father.

Bruce stargazing with his father.

Bruce being carried on his father's shoulders.

Bruce getting ready for a gala with his father.

Bruce in the kitchen helping his dad make breakfast (there's pancake flour smeared on his cheek).

Bruce making a snowman with his father.

An apology between Bruce and his father in the form of a piano duet.

There are even a few memories he doesn't remember. Some of them are when he's old enough to, but many are when he's a baby. Some are before his father was adopted by the Waynes, when the only thing on their backs was a raggedy backpack and an oversized sweatshirt, and Bruce's baby blanket. And some are after, where he's sitting in an antique rocking chair bottle feeding Bruce with a look of sheer adoration on his face.

That look never seems to go away, ever, in any of the memories.

Finally, the HMM settles on a final memory, one that makes Bruce's blood run cold and snaps him out of his nostalgic revelry. His father is getting ready in his room, and Bruce comes barreling in with his own suit-and-tie.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!" He chants, running to Thomas, who whirls around and picks him up seamlessly. They spin twice before Thomas settles in front of the mirror, Bruce on his hip as he adjusts his tie with one hand.

"Yes, boo?" Thomas grins, wide-splitting with his shock-blue eyes looking at Bruce in the reflection. He and Bruce have the same eyes. It's shocking how much they look like each other, now that Bruce was older.

Little Bruce makes a dramatic face, a look that only lasts a few seconds before he remembers his excitement. He wiggles in Thomas' arms, "You gotta hurry up! Or we'll be late to the movie!"

Bruce's fingers dig into his palm, and he can vaguely feel his sons' looking at him. There's a feeling of impending doom square in the center of his lungs, and he forces himself to look on.

Thomas laughs, and nuzzles Bruce's cheek. "The movie isn't going anywhere, chum, I promise." He says, before setting him down. Little Bruce pouts, his lower lip sticking out. "I know how much you've been looking forward to this."

"Can you help me with my tie then?" Bruce asks, and looks at his own, sloppily done tie around his neck. "I can never get it right."

And, of course, Thomas Wayne kneels down to redo it. He always did everything Bruce asked or wanted. He measures it, loops it, and then knots the tie perfectly.

"There." He says, and smoothes out Bruce's little jacket, smiling in adoration. "Now go play, I'll call you when it's time to go."

And Bruce does just that, running out of the room with a yell of, "You better promise!"

"I promise!" Thomas yells back, laughing at his son as he turns back to the mirror.

The memory shimmers, and changes to as they're leaving. And then and there does Bruce call it quits. His eyes are glistening, his tears nearly blinding him with the swelling, overwhelming grief in his heart. He looks away, and tries to find Doctor Kairos.

(He doesn't see her switch something on the side of the machine. There is no noticeable difference in the machine, but on the inside a time rune starts to glow.)

"I think I'm done here, Doctor." He says once he can find his voice without it shaking. He can't hide the full crack and tremble laying beneath it, but at least he doesn't cry. He's almost forgotten that he had a silent audience.

Doctor Kairos nods and steps forward, reaching for the headband. "The memories should cut off once I take this off, Mister Wayne." She says, and fiddles with it for a moment. Behind her, the memory of himself and his father are walking outside. "I hope that wasn't too much for you?"

(The ticking of the machine grows louder, and the memory glitches.)

"No, no." Bruce assures with a smile that wasn't all Brucie Wayne yet. He looks down when he feels Damian's hand curl around his, and his son leans into his side. His smile softens, and he presses Damian closer. His other arm finds itself over Tim's shoulders as well, pressing him to his side.

"It was fine. Actually, it was an honor to be the first to try out your memory machine. I'm sure it will help many people." He tells her. She smiles slyly, and slides the headband off his head.

"That's what I'm hoping for, Mister Wayne." Doctor Kairos places the headband onto the table. The memory hasn't disappeared, Bruce notes with a furrow of his brows. And the audio has muffled slightly.

"I thought you said that the memory would cut off when the headband was off?" He asks. Kairos looks at him, and then behind her at the memory. She frowns.

"It should have--"

Little Bruce suddenly frowns, and looks away from Thomas. "Do you hear that?"

Bruce frowns. "I don't remember this." That wasn't in his memory. They just went straight to Monarch Theater without any issue.

Thomas looks down at his son, "What noise?" He asks, squeezing Bruce's hand. His head cranes, as if trying to hear whatever noise Bruce was hearing.

"That ticking sound." Bruce's frown deepens, "It sounds like your clock, dad."

Thomas' immediately frowns, looking so strikingly like Bruce that he marvels for a moment. He looks around as well. "...You're right. I hear it too." He steps a little closer to Bruce, his hand tightening around his.

A sense of unease fills Bruce's lungs. "What's going on?" He asks, taking a step away from the memory. This was different. This isn't his memory.

"I'm not sure." Doctor Kairos says, and her unsurety sounds so practiced and calm that Bruce's suspicion levels to her immediately. His boys look at her too with the same unease. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

She strides around the memory to the side of the machine just as a gold symbol appears on the ground. It looks like a giant roman clock, and a loud, clunky ticking fills the room.

The memories see it too, and Bruce's heart drops to his feet as he and the rest of the crowd back away from it. "Dad, what is that?!" Little Bruce exclaims, a look of fear morphing across his face as he suddenly clings to his dad's leg.

Thomas looks pale, looking at his feet and gripping little Bruce to him protectively. "I don't-- I don't know, Bruce."

(A memory that Bruce doesn’t have is his father arguing with a man named Clockwork. He does not see the man named Clockwork all but beg Thomas not to go out tonight.)

("Does something happen to Bruce?" His father asks the ghost.)

("No," the man says, "but--")

("But nothing, Clockwork." Thomas, once Danny, says firmly. "My son has been looking forward to this all week. I'm not going to crush his hopes by changing my mind last minute.")

("Thomas, please.")

("Look, if something happens tonight, I will handle it, okay?" Thomas assures him, a hand atop Clockwork's shoulder with a small smile. "I promise.")

(And then he leaves, Clockwork defeated in his wake.)

(Clockwork has seen this boy grow up from the shadows, and now he can do nothing to stop his fate like he once did before.)

The strange, clock-like circle, something intrinsically magic, begins to glow. The minute and hour hands tick faster and faster. Little Bruce holds onto his father like a lifeline, and Thomas Wayne crouches down to hold his son tighter, protectively.

Bruce Wayne turns away just as the light grows blinding, tucking Tim and Damian into his chest like a human shield. There is yelling and screams as the crowd tries to stampede away from it.

Bruce has no idea what this light will do, but he'd rather die than let his sons get hurt.

The light burns his eyelids even when he isn't facing it. And when it dies without even a burn across his back, Bruce slowly unfurls. His hands stay on his sons' shoulders, keeping them close to him, and he peers over his shoulder.

There on his knees, is Thomas Wayne, curled protectively around eight year old Bruce Wayne, much like Bruce had been. Bruce holds his breath, and his sons slowly unfurl themselves as well and peer around him.

Thomas Wayne is frozen in place for one second, two seconds, three. And then he begins to move. First, the tension drains out of his shoulders, and his head jerks, as if surprised that nothing has happened.

He looks up, his eyes open, and he and Bruce make eye contact. Bruce cannot breathe, and he cannot believe the sight before him. It's just the memory machine breaking. (Doctor C.W Kairos is nowhere to be found.)

And then recognition flickers in his father's face as his panting slows and quiets. His head tilts to the side like a fawn's, a familiar wrinkle appearing before his brows.

"Bruce?"

[vioartemis]

Madly in love

(Amber Freeman x fem! Carpenter! reader)

Summary: After being attacked two times by Ghostface, you find out your girlfriend is one of them. The moment you think everything is over, she talks to you, and the story take a whole new turn... a/n: In this it's not Amber who attacks in the opening scene, it's Richie (I know according to the timeline and all it's impossible but I didn't how to do otherwise TT) Request is here :)) hope that's what you wanted Warnings: blood, injuries, death (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

“Y/n can you try and convince your girlfriend to come over? I don’t like to be alone a night..”

“Well you’re not..? I’m here too”

“You know what I mean”

“No I don’t”

You took two plates out of the drawer and set them on the kitchen’s counter.

“Come on you don’t like it either. We get bored way too easily, Amber would find something fun to do” Tara said, filling two glasses of water

“You’re not wrong… I’m gonna try something”

You took your phone out of your pocket, turned around, took a picture of your upper torso, and sent it to your girlfriend.

Her answer was quick, as you expected.

“She's getting ready” you informed the brunette

“How did you- I’ve been trying for twenty minutes!”

“Let’s say I gave her two good reasons to come”

You winked at your sister as she opened her mouth wide, understanding what you did.

“Y/n!”

“What? You told me to convince her!”

“Not like that! Really you-”

You both jumped when the phone rang. Unknown number.

Tara answered.

“Hello?”

Everything seemed alright, so you went into the living room to grab some chips, texting Amber about the situation.

When you came back, Tara looked panicked.

“What’s wrong?”

She put the phone on speaker and showed you a video of Amber brushing her hair in her room.

“Oh hello there. You didn’t tell me your sister was with you Tara.”

“How do you know I’m-”

“I know many things about you, Y/n. To answer your question, I suggested we played a little game. Stab movies trivia. You wouldn’t want your girlfriend to die, would you?”

“Wait no! I’ve never seen these movies and neither does Tara! Choose something else, It Follows, The Witch-”

“Warm up question, who is the protagonist of the Stab movies?” interrupted the person on the phone

“U-uh…”

“Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott!”

“Good, you see you know the movies. First question-”

“Wait we got it right! It should count!”

Once again, he didn’t listen to you.

“Who wrote the original book that the Stab movies are based on?

“It’s um the chick from tv!” Tara said

“‘The chick from tv’ is not gonna cut it, Tara”

“I-it’s Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker!” you said, trying to call 911 at the same time, hands shaking in fear

“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Unless you finish typing 911, then she has no chance of survival.”

You froze, finger hovering over the last 1.

“Question two: Who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab 1, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

“Fuck you.” you spat

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara opened a new tab and Google the cast of Stab.

“A non-answer counts as a wrong answer. Time’s running out. Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock..”

“Heather Graham!” Tara suddenly said

“Correct. You pulled that one out. Now for the final question: who was the killer in Stab 1?”

Your sister answered quickly.

“I know this one, you fuck. It’s Billy Loomis! I got you asshole!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Tara, but that’s just not correct.”

“What…?”

“The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher. There are two killers in the original Stab.”

“No no we got it right! You said killer not killers!” you said

“Don’t play on words Y/n. I’m afraid someone’s got to die now.”

You felt your heart drop as a knife showed in the video. You didn’t think twice and grabbed a knife before running to the door.

“Y/n!”

Tara followed you, and just as you opened the door, let out a scream. A Ghostface was standing right in front of you. He tried to stab you, but Tara pushed the door on him, resulting in him just cutting your abdomen.

You help her close the door, punching him in the face so he backed up a little.

“Lock the door!”

“I’m trying!”

The blood on your hands made it difficult to press the buttons on your phone so you handed it to Tara.

Systems armed.

“The police are on their way asshole!” she yelled

All systems disarmed.

You looked at each other in fear. Tara pressed the button again.

Systems armed.

You backed up in the kitchen.

All systems disarmed.

Systems armed.

Then the landline rung again. You were the one who answered this time.

“Hello..?”

“Bonus question Y/n.”

“Please stop…”

You put him on speaker again.

“Do you think I could make it inside your house before you could rearm?”

That’s when you saw a dark silhouette behind your sister.

“Tara behind you!”

She didn’t have the time to move before the Ghostface grabbed her and sunk his blade into her stomach.

He threw her on the counter. You punched him as strongly as you could, but he was quick to grab your hair and slammed your head on the said counter. You felt your nose break on the spot.

You hissed in pain as he pushed Tara to the ground. She kicked him, only for him to break her leg right after. You took the nearest object, a coffee pot, and threw it on his head.

He grabbed your arm and twisted it harshly in the wrong direction, breaking it at the elbow, before sinking his knife in your stomach and pushing you on Tara.

You both screamed in pain and tried to reach the door. Ghostface stabbed you both at least 3 times, and when Tara turned on her back and held a hand in front of her, the blade passed through her hand.

You kicked him in his private parts, hoping it would hurt enough so you could escape before getting killed, but it only took him a second to stand up again.

You were less than thirty centimeters away from the door when he grabbed your feet and pulled back. You could see the police’s lights reflecting on his mask as he raised his knife, ready to kill you both.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

When you woke up, in a hospital room, you were surprised to be alive. You turned around a little to quickly, searching for your sister. She was in another bed beside you, already awake, in the phone with someone.

“Yeah okay of course…”

She turned to look at you and smiled a little when she saw you were awake. She took the phone away from her mouth.

“It’s mom. Do you to talk to her..?”

You shook your head. Tara pulled the phone closer to her.

“No Y/n’s not awake yet. …. Yeah I’ll tell her. …. Bye”

She hung up before turning back to you.

“How are we still alive..?” you asked in a weak voice

“I don’t know…” then, after a little pause “I texted Wes and the others, they should arrive soon”

Indeed, they arrived ten minutes later, all worried.

Amber rushed to you, concern written on her face, while the rest of them sat hesitantly around your beds, not wanting to hurt you by hugging you.

Your girlfriend wanted to take your hand, but noticed your broken arm and froze.

Before she could sit beside you, you asked her to help you move your bed next to Tara’s.

“It would be easier for you all to sit around us, and I’d like to be close to my beloved twin”

They helped moving the beds quickly, understanding your need to be close to Tara. Even though you were twins, you didn’t look much alike physically.

Amber sat on your bed next to you, her left hand making its way to your hair. You tilted your head slightly up so she could kiss you, which she did softly, before resting your head against her.

You talked a little, before your older sister came in, to your surprise, followed by a guy. Almost immediately, she knelt next to Tara and you.

"How are you feeling?" she asked

"You came.."

"Of course I came" then, turning to the guy "This is my boyfriend Richie”

You greeted him with a little smile, and so did Tara.

Sam introduced everyone to her boyfriend, before Amber spoke.

“Look guys, they are really tired. Maybe we should give them some space”

They all agreed and started to leave. Tara looked at you, seeking your approval to her silent question. You nodded slightly, understanding what she wanted.

“Not you Sam” she said

“We want you to stay” you continued

“Okay” Sam smiled a little “If it’s okay with you, I could sleep here tonight..”

“I’d really like that”

“Me too”

Everyone was gone now, except from Amber.

"Do have your extra inhaler?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine"

"Okay, be safe Tara…” Amber looked down at you “You too baby…”

She kissed you softly. Sam looked at you with wide eyes. Amber and you had been dating for three years now, but how could she know, as she’s been gone for five whole years?

“Call me if something’s wrong..”

“Will do”

“Okay, bye, I love you baby”

“I love you too”

You smiled at her before she excited the room, followed by Richie.

As soon as the door closed, you started to tear up. Both you and Tara.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

After Ghostface attacked you again at the hospital, you all decided it was time to leave Woodsboro.

"Can we at least stop at Amber's house? I have to say goodbye, tell her we're leaving..."

"Y/n, I'm sorry but it's just not safe"

"Why? You don't- you don't think she's the killer, right?"

"... I don't know..."

You looked at her in disbelief.

“She would never do that..!”

"Guys I don't find my inhaler..." Tara suddenly said

"Are you sure? I think I saw it before we left the hospital.."

You helped her search in her bag with your valid arm.

"I have an extra one at Amber's. We have to go pick it up, her house’s on the way”

Richie and Sam argued for a while, before he gave up and drove to your girlfriend's house.

"Welcome to act 3"

You were too shocked to say anything. Your girlfriend just shot Liv in the head and revealed herself as the killer in front of everyone.

They all started to run away, and you were about to do the same, but Amber grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty room.

"Baby I- I'm sorry for everything... for lying to you, for hurting Tara, everything... He forced me to.. He said he would kill you if I said anything..!"

"'He'? Who? I don't understand I-"

"Richie! He's the other one..!"

She started to mumble nonsenses, completely panicked.

"Amber stop I don't understand anything- Amber! My love!"

You grabbed her face and kissed her to shut her up. When you pulled away, she looked at you, confused.

"You don't hate me...?"

"I should. I really should. My sister almost died twice, I almost died too, our friends.. our friends died. But I don't. I don't hate you. I am still madly, deeply, completely in love with you"

You felt her relax almost instantly at your words. She wrapped her arms around your waist and hugged you tight. You ran a hand through her hair.

"It wasn't me... The Ghostface that attacked you at your house.. It wasn't me.. I wouldn't have laid a hand on you.. I swear.."

"It's okay my love, you're okay..."

You pulled away after a moment. Amber handed you her knife and took her gun in hand. Before you could take the weapon, she was hit from behind by a crutch. She was so surprised she fell on the floor.

You didn't expect Tara to use her crutch this way, so it took you a second to react.

"Tara stop! It's not her fault- Tara!"

You grabbed her waist and dragged her away from Amber.

"What are you doing? Let me go Y/n! She tried to kill us! Twice!"

"I know. But it's not her fault I-"

"Not her fault? Y/n I know you love her but you can't find her excuses! She literally killed Liv in front of us!"

A scream came from the kitchen.

"Can we talk about this later? We need to get rid of Richie before someone else dies. I'll tell you everything after, but I need you to trust me for now"

She stopped struggling against you and nodded slowly. You let go of her and walked to Amber, taking the gun from her.

"Stay here, I don't want you to get hurt more"

"No I'm coming with you."

"No you're not. Call the police and hide. Please.."

She hesitated, but finally agreed and went upstairs with her phone.

You went to the kitchen, where Richie threatened Sam, Gale and Sidney. They must've arrive when you were talking with Amber.

"What took you so long?" he asked his accomplice

"They fought back"

Amber pushed you in a corner of the room, not too hard, scared she might hurt you. He frowned a bit. Shit, you thought, he's understanding.

You reached for the gun you hid behind your back, but Richie was faster than you and shot you in the leg. You dropped the gun and fell on the floor, holding your thigh.

Right after, Sam threw herself at Richie, who tried to shoot her, but only managed to shoot you again, in the stomach this time. Sam bit his arm and ran away from the kitchen, before he followed her.

Sidney grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed Amber when she tried to get close to you.

The next minutes were a little confused. You were bleeding on the floor, trying to recover, when you heard Amber screaming. That brought you back to reality pretty quickly.

You got up painfully, and saw Gale, gun in hand, ready to shoot Amber.

"No no no! I'm sorry about Dewey!"

"Fuck you."

Just as she was about to pull the trigger, you stepped in front of your girlfriend.

"What the hell? Move!" Gale said, pissed

Sam entered the room with Tara and looked at you with wide eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Sam-"

"Y/n you can't protect her this time! We all saw her!"

"I know but-"

"Move. The fuck. Out of my way." Gale interrupted you

"She's right, move Y/n." Sam added

"Can you listen to me for a second?!"

No one said a word, and Gale put the gun down with a sigh.

"Thank you." you stayed in front of Amber, just in case, and continued "I know she's one of the killers. But, he manipulated her. He groomed her into doing this. She's a victim too."

"She told you that?"

"Yes. And I believe her."

"Y/n for fuck's sake! She's lying again."

"I know her better than you. All of you. We've been dating for three years, and not once she lied to me. Not once she hurt me. Not once she raised her voice at me. Not once. So yes, I believe her. I love her. You have to trust me. Please..."

You were not one to trust someone without a good reason, and your sisters knew it. They looked at each other, and Sam sighed.

"I trust you"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

Eight months after these events, everything seemed back to normal. Your sisters didn't hate you for protecting Amber, even though she killed people. They even said they would try to forgive her.

When Amber knocked at your door that night, Tara was the one who opened the door.

"Y/n! Amber's here!"

When you arrived downstairs, you saw them hug. That made you happy.

"Where are you guys going?" Tara asked

"Can't tell you, it's a surprise"

Amber winked at you playfully when she saw you arriving.

"You're beautiful tonight baby..."

"You too..."

She was wearing a black dress with flowers on it, and a leather jacket on top of it.

"Have fun" Tara said, smiling at you

"We will"

You took Amber's hand before going out of the house.

"So, where are we going?" you asked

"Like I said, it's a surprise, so I'm not telling you"

"Oh come on!"

You pouted, but she didn't give up.

You walked for twenty minutes, before arriving to a house you had never seen before.

"What's that?"

"You'll see in a minute"

You climbed on the roof, where a telescope and picnic were waiting for you.

"Happy anniversary baby"

You had always dreamed of watching the stars with her. You talked about it many times, but never actually did it. It was the best gift she could've found.

She led you to the blanket on the floor, making you sit on her lap. You were quick to crash your lips on hers in a feverish kiss, locking your arms around her neck, her hands on your waist.

You made out for a while, until your lips were all red and swollen. Her lipstick was all messed up, and so was yours. You both laughed and tried to take the makeup off your faces.

After a minute, you reached in your pocket and took a little box out of it, which you handed to Amber.

She opened it, curious. It was a little black box, with a red rose on top of it, kept behind a plastic glass. There was a little drawer under it, with a necklace in it, with a heart shaped pendant.

"Baby..."

"Look in the little orb in the middle of the heart"

She was a little confused but did as you told. She gasped as she saw it. Inside the orb, "I love you" was written in 100 languages.

"Happy anniversary my love"

[swiftieblyth]

Odair’s Miracle: JaberJays

warnings- same as the others (I don’t feel like writing it lol)

The three started running as the fog hit all of them, causing them to fall and scream in pain as they rolled down a hill.

Finnick screamed in pain and continued as Peeta and Katniss put him in the water until the pain went away.

“I’m sorry about Mags,” Katniss said a few minutes later.

“She was never gonna make it. So…” Finnick trailed off as he saw the monkeys swarming around them.

He carefully reached down and grabbed his trident.

“Peeta,” Katniss called.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking back to her.

“Walk over here slowly.” The monkeys started to circle them and close in around them. “Get to the beach!”

The group fought the monkeys, killing everyone that they could. (Finnick looked really hot as he impaled them with his trident)

Finnick kept fighting them off as the others took the morphing to the beach.

🔱🔱🔱

Finnick went into the ocean and caught some fish with his trident and went back the the beach.

Peers and Katniss were talking as Finnick ate his food thinking about his family, and how he couldn’t wait to get back to Y/N.

They heard a women scream and they all looked up.

“That’s new,” Peeta let out. They all stood up and watched a giant title wave come from the other side of the arena and stop at the beach they were on.

“Someone’s here,” Katniss let out, grabbing an arrow.

Finnick watched as three bloodied figures made their way onto the beach. “Johanna?” He asked, running to her. “Johanna!”

“Finnick!” Johanna called.

“What happened?”

“Well… I got ‘em out. We were all the way deep into the jungle where I thought it was gonna be safe. That’s when the rain started. I thought it was water. It turned out to be blood.”

“Tick tock,” Wiress let out, walking up to Johanna.

“Hot, think blood. It was coming down. It was chocking us.”

“Tick tock.”

“We were stumbling around, gagging on it, blind.”

“Tick tock.”

“That’s when Blight hit the force field.”

“Tick tock. Tick tock.”

“He wasn’t much, but he was from home.”

“Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asked.

“She’s in shock.” Beetee explained.

“Tick tock.”

“Dehydration isn’t helping. Do you have fresh water?”

“We can get some.”

“Just,” Johanna started, trying to get Wiress to stop.

“Tick tock. Tick tock.”

“Listening. Stop it!” Johanna yelled, nicking her to the ground.

“Hey!” Katniss yelled, running over. “Lay off her!”

“Just sit down!” Johanna yelled. She turned around and Katniss held something to her neck. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Finnick yelled, running up to them, grabbing Johanna and moving her from Katniss.

“I got them out for you!” Johanna yelled.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Finnick let out holding her, as Peeta came up and grabbed Katniss.

“Let me go, Finnick!”

“For me? What does that mean?”

“Let me go. I’m fine.”

🔱🔱🔱

“This entire arena seems to be laid out like a clock,” Katniss explained as they walked back to the center. “With a new threat every hour, but they stay only within their wedge. It all starts with the lightning. Then the blood rain, fog, monkeys. That’s the first four hours. At 10 that big wave hits from over there.”

“Wiress,” Finnick let out, walking passed her. “You’re a genius.”

“Look?” Peeta said. “The tail points to 12.”

“that’s where the lightning strikes at noon and midnight,” Katniss explained.

“strikes where?” Beetee asked.

“That big tree.”

“Good.”

“Hickory Dickey dock,” Wiress let out, sitting down on the rocks. “The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, the mouse ran down. Hickory dickory dock.”

The group was talking about the clock when they heard Wiress gasp. They all looked up to see her get stabbed, Katniss quickly shot and killed her killer. His sister and running and Johanna quickly pushed Katniss out of the way and killed the sister as Finnick started fighting with someone else, before he grabbed Peeta and held him back so he wouldn’t get hurt.

The arena started spinning and Finnick grabbed onto the rocks, and then Beetee.

Once it stopped, everyone went running to Katniss who had just gotten back up.

🔱🔱🔱

The group got back to the beach and hid led around as they talked.

“So besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asked.

“Maybe Chaff.” Peeta let out. “Just those three.”

“They know they’re outnumbered.” Finnick explained. “I doubt they’ll attack again. We’re safe here on the beach.”

“So what do we do?” Johanna asked. “We hunt ‘em down?”

They heard a girl scream and Katniss bolted up at the voice that followed.

“Katniss, help me!”

“Prim! Prim! Prim! No!” Katniss yelled, running in the direction of the voice as Peeta and Finnick ran after her, Finnick trident in hand.

“Katniss!” He yelled. “Katniss, wait! Katniss! You okay?”

“Finnick!” He heard Y/N scream.

“Finnick! No! It’s not her!”

“Y/N!” Finnick yelled, running in that direction.

“Finnick! Help! No, baby please not yet! Help!”

“Y/N! The baby!” He yelled.

“Finnick! It’s not her. It’s just a jabberjay. It’s not her.”

“Well, how do you think they got that sound?�� Finnick asked, as the tears formed in his eyes, worried about his wife and baby. “Jabberjays copy. Come on! Come on!” He yelled as they started to get attacked by them.

“Finnick! Finnick! The baby! Not yet! Please baby not yet! Help! Finnick!”

🔱🔱🔱

“Are you okay?” Johanna asked a very shaken Finnick.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.” Finnick let out as he worried about his family. His wife, and his supposed to be unborn baby.

“How’s Finnick?” Katniss asked as Johanna sat down next to her.

“Not to good. He won’t admit it though. Mags volunteered for Y/N to keep her and the baby safe, but know Finnick’s not sure if she’s safe. Live is weird. He had her come to the Capitol with him because she didn’t want to be alone, but the night of the interviews, she got on a plane back home. Or at least that’s what we thought.”

🔱🔱🔱

The group made their way to the tree and got to work.

“we don’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits,” Beetee explained. “You two girls, go together now. Take this. Unspool it carefully. Make sure the entire coil is in the water. You understand? Then head to the tree at the 2 sector. We’ll meet you there.”

“I’m gonna go with them as a guard,” Peeta explained.

“No, no, no. You’re staying here to protect me. And the tree.”

“No, I need to go with her.”

“There are two Careers out there. I need two guards.”

“Finnick can protect you just fine on his own.”

“Why can’t Finnick and Johanna stay with you?” Katniss asked. “And Peeta and I’ll take the coil?”

“You all agreed to keep me alive till midnight, correct?”

“It’s his plan. We all agreed to it.” Johanna called.

“Is there a problem here?” Finnick asked.

“Excellent question,” Beetee stated.

“No. There’s no problem.”

🔱🔱🔱

“Johanna, where are you?” Finnick yelled, running to find her. “Johanna?”

Finnick ran until he got back to the tree. “Katniss where are you?” He yelled.

he stopped when he saw Katniss ready to shoot him.

“Katniss. Remember who the real enemy is. Katniss, get away from that tree! Katniss get away from that tree!”

[a-french-coconut]

Part 2 (Will Solace)

Will wakes up tired.

The sun greets him as usual but there is... a coldness that has never been there before. No matter how much he exposes himself to the sunlight, he can't shake the feeling that he isn't receiving enough solar energy.

His father must be going to a rough time.

It's not like he needs the boost of energy the sun gives him in the morning, coffee is more than enough, but he appreciates it. He'll just have to do without.

As head counsellor and main healer, Will spends most of his time in the infirmary, sometimes helped by Austin and Kayla. However, today he is alone and growing grouchy every time a camper enters with an injury.

A sprained ankle, second degree burns, dislocated shoulder, broken arm.

Will deals with this daily, he knows how to heal any of those and without problem. And he still does.

But gods does it exhaust him.

It's not supposed to. After years of honing his skills, broken bones are not the challenge they used to be.

Except for today and it's getting on his nerves. He makes back-handed comments to those coming to the infirmary, leaving them and himself bewildered.

Sure he is not always the sunny happy-going healer Camp knows but he enjoys healing.

Something is definitely wrong with him.

It has to be the lack of sun, he doesn't see any other explanation.

He stayed in the infirmary until after dinner, taking Kayla's late night shift after her sister promised him she would do the morning one.

There's no one except him, all campers are enjoying the bonfire.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock

Will watches the clock, waiting until it indicates 9pm and he can get out of there and in his warm bed.

He already made all the beds, rearranged in alphabetical order all the salves and medicines in the cabinet and looked randomly in the campers' files to find some interesting facts (he finally understand why Clarisse was always in a sour mood before leaving for college : being allergic to strawberries here sucks).

Will is bored out of his mind and ready to dash out of here.

Only ten more minutes.

He takes a bandage's roll and mindlessly put in on his arms, humming a tune his mother taught him.

Eight minutes.

He shoots darts at random objets, sometimes (mostly) missing.

Four minutes.

The door opens and Miranda Gardiner walks in, looking at him strangely.

He supposes he deserves it. As last form of entertainment, he resulted to stick the most ridicules band-aids he had to his face. Maybe not the brightest idea but sue him, he was bored.

The clock chimes, indicating the sweet moment of release except he can't really say to Miranda to wait until next morning.

"Hi Miranda, how can I help you ?"

He must be rocking the professional look, Hello Kitty, Minions and Rarity adorning his face.

"Hum, my head is hurting and I'm sweating. I thought that maybe I had fever and you could check ?"

Will groans internally. If Miranda happens to have fever, she'll have to stay the night. Which implies he also has to stay to monitor her.

"Sure, let me see."

He takes her hand and concentrates.

He can feel the blood flowing in her veins, and most importantly he can feel the immune system kicking in. She does have fever.

Will's eyes twitch.

"Bad news: you have a small fever. Good news: I can just heal you and we both can return to our very comfortable, cosy, plushy, and hum, luxurious beds !"

He completes his rather convincing argument if he says so himself with a bright smile.

Miranda just looks at him with concern.

He could heal her with traditional hymns to his father but he frankly does not want to. Fever is a sickness and so he'll get rid of it much faster with his sickness powers.

A flawless logic his father would proud of.

Hey Raz, I know I never ask you anything but could you heal this girl's fever ? I really need to sleep right now and that's not happening if I have to stay up all night surveying her.

Radio silence.

Will frowns, his little own personal plague spirit always took the chance to talk.

Raz ? You there ?

Still no voice in his mind. It's silent.

Will's mind is never silent. There is always a background noise, a buzzing indicating the presence of another spirit.

A buzzing, Will realises with panic, that has not been present since he woke up this morning tired.

"Hum Will ? You good ?"

Ah yes, Miranda.

"Obviously I'm good ! I'm great even, everything's peachy and sunny and I just have to, I have to, hum, look at your file ! Yes that's it and write down your fever you know ? Because I need to keep track of what happens to you guys !"

Without waiting a response to his disastrous rambling, Will locks himself with the files.

Raz is not responding.

He's been feeling down since he woke up.

He has not been receptive to the sun as if...

As if a part of him was not there to capture the solar energy.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, this can't be happening !

There is no way he's that unlucky.

Ten years of hiding his little secret so that no one knows the wickedness he has inside him.

Ten years of suppressing every pulsing of rage and wrath, cumulating power or power doing so, until it burns below his skin, the plague begging to be released.

If he has no control anymore over Raz and she decides to cause a little chaos...

Okay relax Will, she would start with something small right ? Like a cold, a fev...

"Will everything's okay in there ?"

His eyes widens and he bolts out of the files room, surprising Miranda who is beginning to look very concern about his mental health. He looks at her straight in the eyes and with the most casualness he can muster, aks her :

"Did a little girl touch you today ?"

The daughter of Demeter seems considering now to put in an asylum.

"An unknown little girl, about five years old ? Brown eyes and braids ?" he specifies.

"Huh maybe ? But what does she have to do with my-"

"Forget it, I'm just tired and blabbering nonsense."

Fortunately she doesn't push. It would be hard to announce her that a plague spirit is wandering within Camp borders and possibly infecting everyone she touches.

He heals her quickly, burning all the energy he had left and goes back to his cabin.

He may have had a panic attack on the way but nothing he couldn't handle really.

He's fine.

Totally fine.

Raz is not going to leave his mind until he's one foot in the grave when he catches her.

part 3 and 4 posted !

[aranciafiamma]

The Boy in the Ice pt. 2

2:18 p.m.

Tick-tock tick-tock, says the clock on the wall. It's an heirloom, inherited from her husband's mother. Nowadays, all clocks are digital. Hardly anyone has a clock with hands and cogs and gears that go tick, tock, tick, tock. Mitsuki doesn't have a reason for keeping it, and no reason to throw it away. So the old-fashioned clock hangs on the kitchen wall, marking each second with a tick and a tock. 

Have the seconds always been this slow or was it the effect of her guest?

He sits at the dining table, slouching in his chair. His thin wrists lie on his lap, big brown eyes staring at the clock. He hasn't spoken a word since Katsuki came storming in, with the boy slung over his shoulders. Her son kindly dumped the kid on a chair, then stormed back out to fetch some clothes. Their guest is only wearing his underwear and Mitsuki can't wait to hear the story behind that.

But their guest hasn't spoken a word. She would have thought that the kid was knocked out or something. That would clear things up. Maybe some no-name thug knocked him out, and stole all his stuff. That would explain why he was sitting almost naked in her kitchen.

But he's wide awake and there's no bruises where Mitsuki could see. She wishes that he would talk to her. She tried offering food, setting up a bath, calling the police, and nothing - not a single sound from the kid. Mitsuki seriously considers calling an ambulance because even without any obvious injuries, something in this kid broke.

"Oi, Katsuki! What's wrong with your friend?"

There's thunder down the hall then Katsuki pops back into the kitchen.

"He's not my friend, hag."

"I don't care if he's the freakin' prime minister! Why'd you bring him here and not a hospital?"

"I tried that and he had one of those panic attacks when I suggested it. So I brought him here."

"Here?? Here's no good! Why'd you bring him here?!"

"Yeah, clearly Deku's Mom would have better bedside manners. What was I thinking?"

"Oh, put a cork in it, you little dick. I'm being real serious."

"And I'm not?! Listen, I'll get him help but I had to get him out of the streets first. You didn't see what it was like. He fucking catapulted out of the sky, smoking like that time we let Dad try to barbecue. He was catching everyone's attention and he was only wearing underwear! I had to do something!"

"You and your hothead! It don't always gotta be you pulling this shit! Let the police do their jobs if he wasn't hurting anyone!"

"Yeah, but…" Katsuki crosses his arms like Mitsuki knows he does when he's feeling real soft but trying not to show it. "...But I know him. He was already panicking and a stranger woulda made things worse. He listened to me anyways. And I got him outta there. So."

Well damn. Mitsuki sighs, running a hand through her hair. When it came to handling delicate situations, her boy would not be her first choice for help. But he got this kid to cooperate. Those teachers at UA were on a whole other level because he definitely didn't learn this from her.

"Then what now?"

Katsuki shrugs, shoving a pair of pants and a shirt at their guest. "Oi. Put some clothes on."

Mitsuki sees the kid blink for the first time. He glances at Katsuki before going back to staring at the clock.

"Listen, asshat-"

"How do you know this kid?" Mitsuki cuts in. "Is he from UA?"

"Sure. You could say that. His name's Sawada Tsunayoshi. I'm about a year older, actually. He's only visiting our school from overseas. His family's -"

"Coming."

Mitsuki and Katsuki turn to the kid. Their guest looks the same as always. She almost believes for a second that she was just imagining things, that she had some kind of split second hallucination. Then she catches Katsuki's eyes and from the look on his face, she knows that he heard it too. The kid really did speak.

"The fuck, Sawada?" Her boy sure has a way with words. "That's all you got to say?"

Katsuki dumps his clothes on this Sawada kid's lap. Sawada lifts a hand, picking at the buttons and the zippers. Then he breathes out, long and slow and sounding so painfully tired. Mitsuki studies the dark blotches under his eyes, the way his whole face seems to sag and droop.

"Oi!" Katsuki yells. "What's your fucking damage?"

The kid pays him no attention, pulling on the shirt. His movements are slow and sluggish as if his bones were made from lead and his veins were filled with cotton.

"Sawada, if you don't answer…" Mitsuki pinches the bridge of her nose. "Then we can't help you."

"You can answer the door," Sawada says to the floor. Keeping his head bowed, refusing to look at her - or Katsuki, he tugs on the pants, one leg at a time. 

Mitsuki blinks, squinting at the kid. "What? What the fuck does that m-?"

Knock. Knock.

Mitsuki turns to look at the front door. She's gonna make a wild guess here and say that's what the kid meant. 

The knocking repeats, polite yet firm, pausing to allow for a response. There is nothing overtly threatening or disturbing about the knocks, no urgency or distress in the sounds. And yet, she can't shake the chill spreading through her guts. It's the sensation of standing at the peak of a rollercoaster, looking down and down and down.

Knock-knock, says the door. Tick-tock, says the clock. There's nowhere to run and they've run out of time.

"Okay! Give it a fucking rest, damn!" Katsuki yells, stomping out of the kitchen.

Mitsuki isn't the most gentle of mothers, and she would be the first to say so. But her maternal instincts work perfectly. She wants to pull her boy in - drag him back into her arms where he will be safe. He moves too damn quickly for her to catch, always too damn quick - too damn smart - too damn everything. She could never hold him back, not even for his own good.

The door clicks open.

"Pardon me." The voice is a thick, rumbling bass. It speaks Japanese with a heavy accent, carefully enunciating each syllable. "I am here for Mr. Sawada. He is here, is he not?"

Mitsuki glances at their guest. Sawada is now fully clothed, and looking supremely bored. He even yawns, sliding down his seat like he's about to melt onto the floor. She frowns and joins Katsuki at the front door.

"And who the fuck are you?" Her boy spits out.

"Sorry about the brat," Mitsuki tells their unexpected visitor. She ropes an arm around Katsuki's shoulder, squeezing him a touch too tightly. "He was raised badly."

"You raised me -"

"How can I help you, Mr. … ?"

"Bouche. Croquem Bouche."

He ain't half bad looking, all slick in his black tie and three-piece suit. There's no hint of Japanese descent in his features, at least as far as she could tell. He had white, braided hair and dark brown skin - naturally brown, not tanned or anything. His posture is casually perfect, and by that, she's not talking about some rigid, military parade rest. He's got his arms hanging loose at his sides, with his feet planted and his chin lifted, smiling at them politely. She's done enough modelling to see when someone's calculating their every move, every gesture, every expression. Their visitor is doing everything in his power to be forgettable.

Goosebumps scatter down her arm.

"It's a pleasure to meetcha, Mr. Bouche." She nods at him.

He nods back. "Indeed, madame." And oooh, madame, he says. Mitsuki has been many things - miss, bitch, sweetie, old hag - but she's never been 'madame' before. If her maternal instincts weren't blaring out alarms, she would have been charmed, oh very charmed indeed.

"Mr. Sawada has been missing for a long time. His family is worried about him."

Mitsuki glances at Katsuki, raising an eyebrow. "You never told me that."

"I didn't get a chance!" Katsuki snarls, keeping his eyes on their new visitor. "Listen, fuckwit. He had a damn breakdown outta nowhere, right in the middle of town. So you gotta give me a reason to hand him over like he's some stray pet that wandered into our yard."

"You don't have a yard."

"Asshole, you know that wasn't my point!!"

"Okay! Okay. Settle down there, brat." Mitsuki unwinds the arm around her boy's shoulders, bonking him lightly on the head.

"Don't you tell me-"

"My kid's gotta point. I'm gonna need more than that to let Sawada go anywhere with you."

"He doesn't need your permission," says a voice from behind her.

Mitsuki turns around and finds Sawada standing in the hallway, looking half-asleep and fully bored out of his mind. Katsuki weighs like a whole kilo more than Sawada, so Katsuki's clothes sag and slip over his twiggy limbs. He ends up looking like a chocolate bar left in the car on a hot summer's day - a little, mundane tragedy. 

"Aight, so you just gonna go with him or what?" Katsuki asks, blunt as always.

Mitsuki frowns. "... Sawada, if you don't want to go… I don't care about my permission. It's yours that matters."

Sawada snorts and it is an ugly, bitter noise. "My permission is even less important. Right, Croquem? I've never had a say in any of this."

Mituski looks back at their visitor. His smile has transformed into a frown, just a small and slight curve on his lips.

"Mr. Sawada, we need you back home. Please don't make this any more difficult than it has to be."

"Yeah," Mitsuki cuts in. "But if he doesn't wanna go with you, then he doesn't wanna go with you. So I'll need ya to back off, buddy."

This Croquem guy opens his mouth to reply but Sawada beats him to the punch.

"He can't just leave. He has a job to do. So I hafta come with him. Or else…" 

Sawada's breath hitches and for a split second, Mitsuki thinks that he's about to cry. But no, Sawada barks out a laugh, dry and thin and slithering out his throat like a venomous snake. 

"Or else the snipers will fire."

Silence explodes in her ears. Mitsuki stares at Sawada, jaw hanging loose. She expects him to say "Psyche!" or "Gotcha!" because surely, he could not have meant what he just said. She doesn't live in an action movie, thank you very much! She is a housewife. She cooks. She cleans. Sometimes, she tries to be a mother. She has nothing to do with snipers.

But Sawada says not another word, nothing to indicate that he was joking at all. 

So yes, as a matter of fact, snipers. They exist in her world now.

"You cannot be fucking serious!" Katsuki shouts, hands lighting up. 

He's wearing a t-shirt and sweats - clothes to wear when running errands in town not a full blown battle royale. But the easy way he just settles down to get ready, the sharp switch from "at home" to "in combat", Mitsuki sees this and thinks again that perhaps training children to fight was not a very good idea. It might actually be terrible and outright harmful, maybe. Children shouldn't be so prepared for violence.

"Now hold up!" Mitsuki claps one hand on Katsuki's shoulder, just in case. But in case of what - well, she doesn't wanna think about that. "Y'all better be messing around! What's this sniper bullshit?" 

"There are no snipers." The deep bass of Bouche's voice washes over them like a tidal wave. 

"Hah?! Like fuck there's not?! I'll make ya regret -"

Mitsuki blocks out Katsuki's words and returns her attention to their visitor. He has no expression - not a smile, not a frown, not a grimace - perfectly blank. He hasn't moved and she can't find a single line of tension in his body. There's even odds on him telling the truth or lying to their faces.

" - the fuck do you think you are -"

"I ain't playing no games here," she hisses out.

"And I tell no lies, madame." Bouche nods at her.

"Sure, of course," Sawada replies, dryer than a river bed in a drought. Mitsuki looks over to find him running a hand through his hair. 

" - the balls on this bastard's gonna get burned - "

"Let's just get this over with." Sawada sucks in a lungful of air, and then, as if reciting a script, he says, "If I go with you, will you promise that you won't hurt them?"

"- oh you've gotta be shitting me!"

"No - What - There's -!" Mitsuki turns her head back and forth between Sawada and Bouche. Honestly, this is a pain in the neck, and she means that literally. "I'mma need y'all to run that shit way back."

"Hey, asswipe! Who's the hero in training here? It ain't fucking you! So don't pull that 'noble sacrifice' crap - !"

"Bakugou." Sawada pins his eyes on her boy. 

He doesn't say anything else but their name and her boy snaps his mouth shut. Even Mitsuki freezes and Sawada isn't even talking to her.

"You are a hostage. I don't care if you want to die. But if you don't want your mother to die, then stay put," Sawada continues. 

He stands straighter now, knees locked and shoulders hunched forward. Katsuki's baggy clothes still make him look smaller than he actually is. But somehow, the air about him has shifted, heavier and thicker than the bored, blase vibe from before. Like this, Mitsuki couldn't take her eyes off him, and her lizard hindbrain told her that if she did, it would be the last thing she does 

"But there aren't any snipers," Bouche repeats.

"Enough. I'm going already. Drop the act." 

There's a pause. Mitsuki hears the shifting of satin and cotton. Bouche is moving but she's facing Sawada so she can't see what he's up to. 

"As you wish, Mr. Sawada. Shall we depart?" 

Sawada sighs and, like a flower folding shut, his solid presence sinks back into him. Once again, in Mitsuki's eyes, he appears to be only a sad, thin, tired teenager - nothing more and nothing less.

She shakes her head, wrestling with her pulse. "Wait. What-"

Mitsuki turns around, a question - an accusation - something at the tip of her tongue. But all her words flee when she locks eyes with Bouche. For the first time, she gets a clear read of his expression. With eyes half-shut, and lips pressed thin, Bouche looks resigned. Whatever brought him to their door, any motivation or determination, has guttered out like a candle in a storm.

"If you don't wish for any harm to fall on yourself or your boy, then you will not follow us," Bouche tells her.

Sawada walks past Bouche without a glance of acknowledgement, disappearing out the door. Katsuki lets out a half-smashed shout and moves to lunge - hoping to grab Sawada before he can fully leave. Mitsuki catches his shoulder before he can get too close, but Katsuki has trained so hard - lifting weights and running marathons, he is much stronger than her. She yanks him back somehow, through sheer desperation as a mother attempting to keep her child close.

Bouche bows, in a proper and courteous Japanese farewell. Katsuki has managed to form words - curse words mostly with insults thrown in. Bouche pays that no attention as he excuses himself. Mitsuki can't comprehend what he's saying - not due to any flaw in his speech but because her mind is filled with white static. Her ears are ringing. Her heart is racing. Her legs are rubber, barely able to keep her standing.

The door clicks shut. 

2:29 p.m.

"But there really weren't any snipers."

"You know that. I know that. They don't. Now, they won't do anything stupid like follow us."

"I could have just-"

"Touch them with your flames, Croquem. And I roast you alive."

…

…

…

"Understood, sir."

1:01 p.m.

Byakuran stares at the assorted members of the Vongola and their plus one assembled before him. There's Iemitsu Sawada, front and center, talking to Yuni about their little scheme. There's Coyote Nougat, next to Iemitsu, coordinating Vongola Nono's guardians. There's Lal Mirch, off to the side, securing the perimeter with the others from CEDEF. There's Xanxus, settled a good distance from all of them, lounging about on his portable throne because he would bring such a thing.

For Xanxus, extravagance is the norm, and notably, he's the only one acting normal. The rest of his posse stand oddly silent and still, huddled around their boss. With keen eyes, they pin stares on everyone around them, keeping an eerie and solemn vigil. Even Squalo is quiet and that's like a mirror breaking, or salt spilling, or a tea cup cracking. It's a bad, very bad, no good sign. Byakuran feels a chill skitter down his spine and looks up to find Xanxus staring straight at him. In that split second of eye contact, they shared an understanding.

"Right!" Byakuran claps his hands. "Well, this is a party! I don't have nearly enough marshmallows for everyone, so you know what, I'm just gonna make a quick conbini stop. Cool? Cool. Peace."

Before anyone could try and stop him, Byakuran leaps into the air and soars away. Some would call him a coward for fleeing. Some would call him wise for retreating. Both would be very wrong. See, the right answer requires the correct question. So here's a riddle for all the folks playing at home. 

What is scarier than a serial killer in plain sight?

There's no need for Sherlock Holmes to answer this. But if the answer isn't immediately obvious, that's okay too. Byakuran took a hot second to figure it out himself. Xanxus got it instantly, of course. He's such a smart cookie under all that spicy rage.

So what is scarier than a serial killer in plain sight? A hitman that you can't see!

And from Byakuran's headcount, they were missing out on some chaos.

12:48 p.m.

"Skies are notoriously greedy. They are the only one with an innate need to bond. If denied long enough, baby skies get positively feral. And a lonely Sky is a dangerous Sky because they're liable to bond with anyone regardless of compatibility without even a proper courtship."

"Courtship?" Aizawa raises a curious brow.

They're Nedzu's office. Nedzu is seated in his chair and Aizawa stands to his left, Chiyo to the right. The two boys, Gokudera and Yamamoto, are in front of them. Yamamoto is in a chair, and he's not sitting more than he is lounging - legs spread wide, head tipped up, and one arm thrown over the backrest. He looks like the textbook definition of "at ease", right down to his wry, little smirk - so of course, that must be a front. In stark contrast, Gokudera's posture is immaculate - shoulders even, spine straight, and feet flat on the floor. Aizawa could put a book on Gokudera's head and it would stay perfectly balanced. But even if the boy keeps his body language controlled, his face - especially his eyes - give everything away.

Gokudera coughs into his fist, cheeks turning pink. "Yes. Courtship. Even though skies are outnumbered 10 to 1, the Sky has to prove themselves to their chosen guardian. You see, skies can suffer immense damage from loneliness but guardians do not. Guardians can live their whole lives without ever looking twice at a Sky. So even though some seek out powerful Skies, ultimately the Sky chooses who to court. You cannot force a Sky to court you, period end of story."

"What does courting entail?" Nedzu frowns, tapping a claw on his desk.

"It depends on what type of guardian they are. Some have more than one type. However, courting usually depends on an individual's primary type. Let's see..."

Gokudera starts ticking off fingers.

"Storms like to be dominated. Suns like to be chased. Lightnings like to be protected. Rains like to be impressed. Mists like to be surprised. Clouds like to be challenged."

Aizawa blinks, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. "What does that all mean?"

"The specifics vary between Skies and their guardians. But the basic idea is rooted in the type. For example, Storms are destructive - usually externally but there's a lot of internal stuff going on too. We need someone that can withstand everything we throw at them, someone that won't flinch at the sight of our worst, someone who can force us away from our destructive impulses - an eye to the storm, essentially. So if a Sky can overpower a storm, then the Storm will recognize them as worthy. Sometimes, it's a flat out, knock down brawl. Other times, it can be as simple as lecturing sense back into someone and not taking their bullshit."

Gokudera rubs his chin.

"Mind you, bonding isn't strictly a linear process. Sometimes courtships happen in order to judge compatibility. Sometimes, there is already a level of compatibility but that doesn't mean both parties are ready to bond then and there. So courtship happens to assure each other that this is the right choice."

"So. It's dating," Nedzu says wryly. "It's dating with pizzazz but it's basically dating. You go out a few times, see if you like each other, then you get married. Or maybe you already like each other and you go out to see if marriage is for you."

"Well, duh! Why else would we wear rings?" Yamamoto laughs here. "You know, when Tsuna asked us to be his, he offered us rings? Ah, but we don't wear the rings anymore so it's not as obvious. You shoulda seen them though. Mine was blue."

"Illuminating commentary from the baseball idiot, as per usual." Gokudera rolls his eyes.

"Okay. Fine." Aizawa leans forward so he can be at eye level with their guests. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Chiyo snorts. "Isn't it obvious, Aizawa? They're going through a divorce."

Chiyo has stayed silent this whole time, so Aizawa thought that she was simply processing all this information. But he didn't give Chiyo enough credit. She is a battle-hardened old woman who has seen more of life than he has. She wasn't just listening - she was waiting too, for the right moment when her words could deal the heaviest of blows. And she sure hit hard. Her words cause both boys to flinch. Yamamoto wears a frown for the first time since… Actually, this may be the very first time that Aizawa has seen Yamamoto frown. Hmmm.

"Tenth is going through some things." 

"Understatement." Nedzu agrees.

"Look, we're trying to help him, alright?!"

Nedzu gets to his feet. "And you are failing. Or does Tsunayoshi always court death every time he experiences emotional turmoil?"

Gokudera opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. "Well. As a matter of fact-"

"That's not good!" Chiyo fires back. "I cannot believe this must be said, but that isn't okay! He is clearly in need of help, and you are not enough! Sometimes, people need more than their friends! Sometimes, they need -"

"Their enemies."

Aizawa jolts, immediately grabbing hold of his scarf. Next to him, Nedzu's fur stands up and his claws have punctured the desk. He hears Chiyo make a strange, choking noise as her next words abruptly transform into a gasp. The boys react in largely the same way and that's something to note. Yamamoto leaps out of his seat, so fast that the chair gets knocked down. He whips around, keeping his stance low to the ground, with one hand clutching his necklace. Gokudera spins on his heel, the muscles in his back pulling in tight. With a single fluid move, he draws out two fistfuls of dynamite as a lit cigarette appears between his teeth. Honestly, where was he keeping all that?

They all face the doorway. The door should have been shut and locked. Aizawa locked it himself. But that is not what he sees. Where the closed door should be, there stood a stranger. At the sight of this newcomer, the boys do something curious. They react very differently. Yamamoto keeps a hand on his necklace, sticking to his combat stance. Gokudera sputters out foreign syllables, allowing the dynamite fuses to die out one by one.

Aizawa makes note of this before turning his attention to the unknown man - the tall, dark, and handsome man. He restores this trite and overused cliche back to a timeless classic. Now, Aizawa doesn't care about his looks. He goes to work - both night and day shift - in what Nemuri likes to call "hobo chic". But seeing this man, in his black, bespoke suit with his perfectly coiffed hair, Aizawa is made keenly aware of how disrespectful he must seem, leaving his hair uncombed and his face unshaven.

"Dramatic as always." Yamamoto snorts. "Strutting in with a clever quip, you never change, baby."

Oh wait. This guy should not be here. Wow. Did he seriously forget that? Sure, this guy's hot as fuck but Aizawa knows better than to get so easily distracted. He's not a horny teenager anymore, for fuck's sake. Get a grip! 

"Who are you?!" He barks out, his fists tightening around his scarf. "How'd you get in here?!"

The trespasser - because that's what he is - the trespasser leans against the doorway, and he smirks - a clever little twist of his lips. Oh, he knows. He knows that he's hot shit, and he's about to make it everybody's problem.

"Baby? Clearly I'm fully grown, so I can change. Unless, we're using pet names now. Is that right, darling?" The trespasser drawls, smooth and warm as the finest of coffees. He didn't even try to answer Aizawa, focusing on the two boys as if everyone else was just cheap decor.

"Yeah, quit fucking around, baseball idiot!" Gokudera snaps. The kid's got his back to Aizawa so he can't really see his face. But Aizawa can hear a hint of fear in his voice. His hands shake as he puts away the dynamite.

From the short time that they've known each other, Aizawa knows three things about this kid. He's loud. He's smart. He never shows his back to anyone from UA. He's always facing them head-on, ready to throw down at any moment. If he's got his back to Aizawa now, then either he's starting to trust them more… Or this trespasser deserves - no, requires his undivided attention. Aizawa is no fool. He knows which is more likely.

"Hey, I asked you a question!" Aizawa tries again because he didn't become a hero by quitting quickly.

Surprise, surprise, the trespasser ignores him once more. "Well, it turns out that my kids took a field trip. And they didn't bother to invite their dear old teacher. We can't have that, can we?" 

"Aizawa, you have my full permission to capture this trespasser," Nedzu speaks up, and Aizawa admires the steadiness in his voice. "With the use of your quirk, if necessary."

At last, that catches the trespasser's attention. He shifts his gaze unto Nedzu, then Chiyo, then finally Aizawa. The black of his eyes peer out from under his wide-brimmed fedora and Aizawa is viscerally reminded of a predator, hidden in the shadows of tall grass. He tells himself that he is not prey and he tries to believe it.

"Oh excuse me, I've been very rude, haven't I? Allow me to introduce myself." The trespasser tips hat. "I'm Reborn. I'm their home tutor."

[roseytoesy]

Ask Prompt:

-{ “Did you really think you could evade becoming my meal, now?”

Have fun~

Hecking… hhhhhhhhhhhh. This is going to be good. Thank you tero.

A Hunting Game

Rosey panted as she nearly tripped over the twigs on the forest floor. The rustling of something large moving arose the floor keeping her running. She couldn���t risk flying, he would see and hear her. And he was already close on her tail!

She continued her mad sprint into a thick area where the trees were a bit dense hoping that the smaller area would give her a small moment to breathe. She curled up one of the roots over a small drop, perfectly hiding behind a small bunch of ivy leaves, catching her breath.

Her heart was pounding as she listened to the shifting of the foilage around his form come closer and closer. She even slightly held her breath as she could sense that he was in front of her hiding spot in the trees. time ticked on for a big and she heard him shift again a bit back.

"Ssssssunshine~" he cooed out into the small area, Rosey felt her cheeks warm and the hairs on her neck stand up at the deeper voice he was using. “Come out. Come out~ your sweet scent and rapid little heart can’t hide forever~”

Rosey lightly bit down on her tongue and put a hand over her mouth to muffle the small flustered sound that wanted to escape at his words.

“You know you want thissss” he hissed out slithering closer. His voice dripped with an overly sweet tone, and like a siren's call, a part of Rosey knew he was right. She did want this but another part was too hyped on adrenaline and playful pride just give up yet. She could hear him lean against the thicket of trees that was her hiding spot, chuckling deeply.

It was silent for a few seconds before he hummed. “Mmmmm~ I can taste your sweetness already.” He cooed. She could very vividly imagine him licking his lips after that. “So very sweet and small, ssssooon to be all mine.” He growled that last part.

Rosey couldn’t help the squeak that came out of her mouth. She heard him chuckle at that and she bolted as his hand crashed down right behind her, making her let out another squeak in her adrenaline-fueled rush.

“So now it’s a game of tag? Alright then. I’m it.” He growled now lunging over the tree cluster and slithering quickly after the fleeing fairy. She let out a childish scream as she saw him chasing after her. Her wings fluttered in a weak attempt to push her forward faster than her pursuer. She stumbled into a clearing and knew that it was done. There weren’t any good hiding spots out here and he was hot on her tail. She scrambled slightly under a rock in a half burrow and tried her best to catch her breath again. She could hear him slithering through the tall grass.

“As fun as this has been my sweet, I have to say I’m ravenous after a good chase. You can come out and do this the easy way. Or…we could do this the fun way. For me at least~.” He said slithering in front of her hiding spot and past. His long tail slowly passed by behind him. A few seconds passed again before he tapped a few times on the rock just above her head. His face now just in front of the opening.

“Hello sssssunshine~” he hissed smirking at how Rosey shriked at his sudden appearance and looked around helplessly. She was cornered. A perfect little spot he could grab her out of. He pretended to think for a moment watching her every move.

“Well, Rosey? my offer still stands~” he smirks as she watches him with wide eyes, not full of fear but with flustered giddiness. “You can make this nice and easy, crawl into my mouth and surrender to me~.” He said licking his lips at the thought. “Or you can stay in there and I’ll get you out myself. Make you squirm in my coils and squeeze some of the energy out of you.” He smirked again before laying on his front his face the only thing she could see at this point.

“Tick tock sunshine~ Arlo is missing you oh so dearly.” He said as a small growl emitted from his middle in a way that sounded like it was agreeing with his words. Roseys face was aflame as her mind scrambled for any way to get out of this not in the nagas gut. But just as he said before, she did want this… she sighed before moving forward a bit Tero’s smirk softened as she moved toward him. “Mmmmm that’s it~ come closer~.” Just as he started to open his mouth she hit the tip of his nose causing him to jerk back at the small shock of pain from the surprisingly strong. She ran past him but the strong tail was fast to entrap and halt her little escape attempt.

“Did you really think you could evade becoming my meal, now?” Tero hissed behind her she didn’t even get time to turn to look at him before her head was engulfed. His tongue slicked up her face and her hair his coils easily supporting and pushing her deeper as he moaned around her. Her sweet taste ignited a part of his brain to hold her close, hold her deep, and have her all to himself. Away from anything that could possibly hurt her. So with some greedy swallows and groans she disappeared into his mouth nothing more than a wiggling bulge traveling down his throat and into his murmuring belly.

“Mmmmph. Delicious as always my sweet~” he murmured as she started to shift around. The small bulge on his middle wasn't even noticeable unless you were looking for it. Small little divots showing up at Rosey pressed out at him and got comfortable. Sinking into the folds around herself.

Roseys face was very warm at the situation and her exhaustion and Tero's sweet words and the way Arlo was gurgling happily around her. “Hhhhhhh yea. G-good game Tero. That was fun.” She said a bit breathlessly. “Hope I tasted even better than usual since you had to earn your little snack.”

Tero happily licked his lips at her overwhelmingly sweet yet refreshing flavor. Something he could never get tired of and would happily enjoy time and time again as they share this wonderful experience. He felt another small shift in his core. Pressing into one of his hands that was currently resting over where she was hidden away. He started to rub at her and hummed happily as she fully relaxed into the cradling hold of his stomach. “It was a fun little game I will admit sunshine. Though that little trick you did at the end was a bit rude.” She giggled at his feigned hurt. “How could you treat your own boyfriend like this?” He bemoaned dramatically even putting a hand to his forehead before they both erupted into a large fit of laughter.

Eventually, they calmed down and he could feel Rosey still, and her conversations grew quiet. “Getting sleepy?” Tero asked struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Mhm,” she hummed out snuggling into the front wall a bit as his hands came to rest on his belly, to cup and hold the small bulge she made in his middle a little closer still.

“Mmmm. Me too. How about we both get some well earned rest, Rosey. You know I’ll keep you safe.” Tero murmured adjusting himself to be lying on one of his coils like a comfortable pillow. Rosey didn’t respond. Already fast asleep from her exciting little chase. Tero smiled fondly before relaxing to drift off. Happy and full of love. Holding one he loved so close and so safely.

[hypnolurker]

Love is Easy

“I want a divorce.” Alicia said coldly.

Those words hit Kyle like a ton of bricks. They had been arguing for nearly an hour, about the state of their relationship and their future. It hadn’t been an easy conversation, they had been drifting apart for some time now, and it all seemed to bubble up to the surface now. Still, he could never expect those words. His ears rung for a moment and he was dazed, feeling like a bomb had just gone off right in front of him.

Placing his hand to his head to rub his temple, he spoke softly “You...want a divorce? Are you saying that you don’t...you don’t love me anymore?”

Alicia averted her gaze and sighed. “Yes...yes that is exactly what I am saying. I had been thinking it for a while but I didn’t know how to say it. I don’t hate you, I just...no longer love you.”

Kyle stopped and stared at her for a moment. He was stunned completely by the whole situation. He knew he hadn’t been there a lot recently, he was trying for a promotion at work and putting a lot of hours in, yet he had no idea it was this bad. He didn’t feel like his love had faded, and he certainly wasn’t ready to give up on this marriage.

“Look, we can work through this. After I get promoted, we can go on a holiday together. You and me, wherever you want. Just...spend some time with each other, rekindle the flame...”

She shook her head. “No, no. Its too late for that. See, you’re still talking about ‘After I get promoted’, that’s your problem. Its always some other priority. Something else first. You’re never putting me first.”

Kyle furrowed his brow in confusion. “What? That’s not true. I am always putting you first. I want this promotion so that we can have more stability. So I can provide for you. So you don’t have to worry or work ever again. When I’m stuck in the office all evening, I’m thinking about you. I still love you.”

“I’m sorry...but I can’t do it anymore.” a tear was starting to roll down her cheek.

“No no no no. Give me another chance...you can love me again, I know it!”

Suddenly, Kyle was aware of a weight in his inside pocket. It was an old pocket watch from a hypnosis seminar he had been to. They taught some basic hypnotic inductions and gave them out afterwards. It was an odd time to get distracted, but he felt like an idea was forming. Something that just might save his marriage.

“Hypnosis!” he blurted out.

Alicia glared at him in confusion. “What?”

“Let me try hypnotizing you. It could help you connect with those emotions that have been pushed down...I think...it can help...”

“Are you joking? This is a serious conversation here.” she hissed.

“I’m completely serious.” he said, pulling the pocket watch from his pocket and letting it hang out in front of her.

“Oh my God. A pocket watch? What a cliché. This is ridiculous.” she turned away.

“No please. Just give it one chance.” he begged.

Alicia teetered and shook her head, before finally relenting. “If it will shut you up, you have 5 minutes. But we have to finish this discussion afterwards.”

Kyle nodded and got to work. “Alright, sit down on the bed right there and just relax.” he instructed and she reluctantly complied.

“Now, Look at the pocket watch.” he held it out before her, a few inches from her face. “Focus on the watch. Follow it as it swings.” he told her, as he began to slowly swing the small metallic object back and forth.

Alicia did as he said, still not expecting anything to happen. She focused her gaze on the watch and her eyes followed from side to side as it swung. For a while Kyle was silent. It was very quiet in fact. All Alicia could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the constant ticking coming from the watch. Tick. Tock. Alicia noticed that the watch was swinging in time with the ticking. Even her breathing seemed to be synced up. Everything to a rhythm. The rhythm of the watch. She kept watching it sway as Kyle began to speak again, softly and in time with the all encompassing rhythm.

“Tick. Tock. Follow the watch. Tick. Tock. Follow the watch.” he chanted melodically.

Alicia barely noticed him speaking, his voice was so soft. But she heard him still, his silly little chant. Though she had to admit, it was sort of catchy. She had to stop herself from repeating it as she watched the watch. Still concentrating deeply on it.

“Left. Right. You start to feel light.” He continued.

Alicia couldn’t help but feel a little light-headed. She was starting to lose track of how long she had been staring at this watch. Her eyes were starting to feel tired and she exhaled deeply as she listened to her husband’s warm, soothing voice. She wasn’t sure if she was hypnotized, but she sure was relaxed.

“Tick. Tock. Follow the watch.” he repeated.

This time, Alicia whispered it back. The words just came out, she wasn’t exactly concentrating on anything except the watch. So it was easy to mimic such a simple phrase. Like humming along to a tune. The words began to play inside her head, over and over with the rhythm. She wasn’t sure if Kyle was still saying them or if she was. She was glued to the watch. Her eyes started to glaze over and her mouth hung open, agape.

“See it sway...drift away...” his words were a distant echo.

Alicia could feel herself drifting. Her thoughts slowed. Her expression vacant. Muttering to herself, repeating ‘Tick. Tock.’ in a sleepy voice as her eyelids fluttered. So tired now. So ready. So lost in the watch and its hold on her.

“Sleep.” This one word was not spoken like a soft echo, but rather a firm command.

In and instant, Alicia’s eyes slipped shut and she went under. Her whole body slumped and her head dropped as she sank into her trance.

“Now, Alicia, how do you feel?” he asked, still not sure it had fully worked.

“Dreamy...dizzy...feel like I am...floating...” she whispered vaguely.

“Good. You are now in trance. In this state you will speak honestly with me and listen closely to everything I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes...trance...honest...listen...” she mumbled her reply.

“Good, now...do you love me?” he asked.

“N-no...don’t...anymore...” came her response.

Kyle took a moment to compose himself before continuing. “But you used to love me?”

“Yes.” she nodded weakly.

“Do you remember how that felt?”

“Uh-huh.” another sleepy nod. “Warm...sweet...um...cosy...nice...” she tried to explain.

“Okay. I want you to focus on that feeling.”

The entranced Alicia did as he asked.

“Now, when I touch you, you will feel that feeling. It will radiate out from where I touch you. The more I touch, the stronger it will get. Understand?”

Alicia nodded once more.

Slowly, Kyle moved forward. He put the watch away and then reached out to gently caress her cheek with his fingers. As he did, Alicia felt a familiar warmth spreading through that side of her face.

“Mmmm” she cooed dreamily as the warmth flowed through his fingertips and into her.

Soon the fingers were grazing the back of her neck and without warning she was tugged forward and her lips met his. As he kissed her deeply she felt that warmth spread through her lips and go straight to her head. His kiss tasted sweet, and the heat left her dizzier than before. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t awaken from her state of trance. Simply let him kiss her, and felt a flood of emotion pouring into her via her lips. Zapping her like a mild electric current. Stronger than just caressing her cheek.

He kept kissing her as his hand wandered downwards. Each time it grazed her curves she shivered and groaned. The warmth was spreading. This feeling. She could feel it take hold of more and more of her body. She felt it in her chest as he played with her tits gently. Kneading her sensitive flesh slowly and tenderly. She felt it in her stomach, like butterflies as his hands continued to run down her body.

She felt it surge in her crotch when his fingers finally slipped beneath her pants and began to run along her quivering lips. She was wet. Undoubtedly so. His fingers glided over her slick folds as the intense heat began to build there. Alicia was moaning and squirming as she felt his fingers. Pressing into her. Burying themselves deep inside. Feeling the pleasure and the love filling her. She shivered and groaned.

“How do you feel?” he asked as his fingers slowly worked their way inside her.

“Nnng...warm...good...wet...horny...” the words dripped from her mouth.

“Good. My touch makes you horny doesn’t it?”She nodded. “The hornier you get, the more you love me.”

“Hornier...more...love...” she repeated in a daze as her breathing became more and more unsteady.

“When you cum you will feel a surge of love.”

“Cum...love...” was her mindless reply.

Soon his fingers were no longer moving slowly or softly. They were fast ans frantic. Plunging into her, stroking and squeezing the most tender areas of her soaking pussy vigorously. She was getting wetter and weaker. Hornier and hotter. Every moment. Every touch. Her head spun and she writhed around his hand. She could feel an orgasm building. But more than that, she could feel something else. Something better than an orgasm. That heat. That comforting, cosy warmth. Filling her up. Ebbing and flowing inside her, from her slick slit straight to her brain. Making her dizzy and giddy.

She groaned loudly as she came around his fingers, her mess dribbling all over the sheets. He didn’t pull his hand away until she finished bucking against his fingers and groaning like a desperate slut. Waves of pleasure washed over her, more intense than anything she had felt recently. But Kyle was not done.

“Do you love me?” he asked, as he began to pull her clothes off.

“I...yes...” she whispered. She couldn’t deny it. This warmth that had ripped through her body. It was all she could think about. She was burning with love right now.

“I want you to say it.”

“I love you.” she said honestly and without hesitation.

Then she felt her panties being pulled away and Kyle shifting on top of her. When the tip of his hard cock rubbed up against her still dripping opening she gasped.

“With each thrust, you will say it again. And with each repetition, the feelings will get stronger.” he told her.

Alicia nodded softly.

The first thrust came, his hot cock filling her. With it came another burst of warm love which radiated through her.

“I love you” she said immediately, without need to think. As she did, the warmth from his cock was magnified. She squirmed in response, her whole body was being injected with a heavy dose of love and she could only writhe and wriggle around his cock as it happened.

Another thrust. “I love you.”

The feeling grew more intense once again. And again. And again. His cock kept pumping away at her, and she continued to chant ‘I love you.’ to the rhythm of his thrusts as the words became truer and truer. Every repetition, every thrust, searing that emotion into her every pore. Into the core of her being.

She was already sensitive and yet to recover from her previous orgasm, and now he was simultaneously assaulting her pussy and her heart with his thick cock. She couldn’t hold out. Se didn’t want to either. Another orgasm washed over her rapidly. She screamed “I love you!” over and over as the feelings overflowed. Squirming and grinding and dripping and burning up in this overpowering emotion.

Alicia only calmed down from her babbling, love-drunk orgasmic haze when she felt Kyle’s lips on hers once more. Kissing her passionately and adoringly. She loved it.

As the two began to steady their breathing, Kyle finished his kiss and spoke once more.

“Now, Alicia, when you wake from this trance you will not remember that you were hypnotized. You will just recall the amazing sex we had and the feeling of love you feel right now. But the effects of my touch will still be there. Making that love grow every time my skin meets yours. Understand?”

“Uh-huh” Alicia said, dreamy and drunk on the lingering pleasure.

Snap

“Wake up.” Kyle ordered.

And with that, Alicia felt her thoughts gradually flood back into her. Steadily she recalled that she had been arguing with Kyle...before having sex with him. The best sex they had ever had. The best sex of her life, even. And more than that...she was giddy and excited. Like just being around him gave her a buzz.

“So...uh...I guess we have to finish our conversation now.” Kyle said, lying next to her on the bed, exhausted.

Alicia turned to him. She gazed deeply into his eyes and felt her heart race. “No. No, I was...I don’t know. I was wrong. I do love you. I don’t want a divorce. Oh, God, I love you so much! Never leave me! Hold me! Touch me!” she broke down and grabbed him, pulling him close.

As the pair hugged, Kyle breathed a sigh of relief. He had saved his marriage, with the aid of that handy pocket watch. He wondered what other uses he could find for this neat trick…

Kyle and Alicia lived happily ever after.

[rosyrosethorns]

(so i scrapped the pirate au. i decided that any disney faves i have would be friends with my s/i in the shrek/puss in boots universe, especially since any crush other than my prince piper has only lasted a few days QwQ)

(in the crossover, madi met captain hook during her quest for the genie lamp she planned to give to big jack horner thatd hopefully grant his wish... she got to convince him to help with transportation, partly by offering him any other treasure in the temple where the lamp is located. also pied piper using his flute to sway the pirates’ opinion lol)

(the following is a little one-shot of madi using her powers to help her new friend hook deal with the damn tick tock croc thats stalking his ship)

୨ ——- ♡ ——- ୧

"SMEE!! SMEEEEE!!"

Both Madi and Mister Smee were discussing Captain Hook when the hook-handed man himself came scrambling over, howling the name of his first mate. Before Madi could ask what was wrong, Hook climbed onto Smee like a frightened koala running up a tree.

"It's him!! It's the crocodile!! He's followed us, Smee! He's followed us!!"

The girl's eyes widened. "Crocodile??"

Despite Smee's attempt to explain, all that could come out for a second was stuttering before Hook's yelling answered for him:

"The crocodile that took me hand!! He's after the rest of me!! SMEE, PLEASE, DO SOMETHING!!"

Listening past the poor captain's screams of terror, Madi could hear the faint sound of a ticking clock looming near the Jolly Roger... She followed the sound, looking over the side of the ship.

And, indeed, swimming beside the ship was a persistent crocodile licking his lips as his hungry eyes searched for the man whose hand he had stolen years ago. Did he also devour an alarm clock? That was the girl's only guess regarding the strange ticking noise coming from the beast's stomach. No wonder the sound put poor Hook on edge...

“Mister Crocodile!” Madi shouted. “I must ask that you leave the Captain and his ship alone!… Please??”

… The large reptile only narrowed its eyes at her in response. Either it didn’t understand her or it simply didn’t care.

The girl glared back in response, her tone more stern as she spoke once again: “The Captain is helping me and my boyfriend get to Agrabah! I’d appreciate if you don’t do anything to make me come down there!!”

“Madilyn!! Lassie!! Ooo, get away from there!!” Hook exclaimed. “Ye can’t reason with somethin’ as dreadful as THAT!!”

The crocodile snapped its jaws at an attempt to intimidate the girl. It wanted what it came out here for, and it was obviously going to take a lot more than some scolding to get it to leave.

“… Tch.” Madi’s brooch began to glow as she lifted herself over the side of the ship. “Fine, then.”

Both Smee and Hook watched her jump off in horror; scrambling over as a flash of light suddenly appeared. “M—M—Miss Madilyn?!” Smee called after her… Hook was about to collapse from a panic attack before both he and his first mate not only noticed swan feathers floating around, but the girl was perfectly fine where she landed… and she was standing on the surface of the water like it was a shallow puddle on solid ground.

Even the crocodile was baffled as to how this human was suddenly donning a dress that resembled a white swan; staring at the ballerina with a dumbfounded expression for a moment before its eyes narrowed once again.

“I don’t know how long you’ve been tormenting this poor gentleman, you dragon imposter,” Madi sternly spoke as her hand moved to her pendant, “but it ends now.”

The irritated crocodile lunged and snapped at her; much to Hook’s horror as he averted his eyes. But the girl was swift in this form, skillfully dodging before opening the locket part of the pendant to reveal a glowing white gem inside.

She held out her hand. “I cast a curse upon you,” the ballerina spoke in a low voice as the gem slowly changed color, “that forbids you from touching Captain Hook in any way. If you dare to do so, it will be instant death for you… and I will be glad to turn you into a new hat for him.”

… That mortified look on the crocodile’s face as it watched Madi’s dress change from white to black was enough to convey its feelings towards the situation. The beast’s tail splashed some water towards her as he huffily swam off; secretly doubting her words but not in the mood to test them.

Meanwhile, Smee and the Captain both stared in jaw-open awe. A magical ballerina was on board… and she just drove away the one creature Hook feared more than anything else.

“M—Madilyn, me dear…” Captain Hook was still visibly shaken up despite the ballerina having sent the crocodile running; watching her return to the ship with wide eyes. “What WAS that just now??”

The girl’s dress returned to its original white color as she stood before the pirate. “The Piper is not the only one of us with magic powers,” she replied with a small smile before holding out her hand. “Now that he can’t hurt you anymore… we can focus on you. Dance with me, and I’ll take the fear you’re experiencing at the moment.”

[sincerely-sofie]

i got a neat lil prompt/challenge! (that, no joke, came to me in a dream): try to show each stage of a character’s story arc through a song! in other words, if a character had a playlist that would tell their story, what songs would be in it? not limited to just songs with lyrics either, they can also be instrumentals or other works that fit who they are!

I ended up sticking with songs that have lyrics for this mini-playlist for Twig's arc— I would have loved to round it out with some instrumental tracks, but I just learned Tumblr has limits for how many audio tracks you can add to a post ^^; I couldn't include any songs for Twig's story before the events of the TPiaG fanfic, unfortunately... Maybe next time I'll post a Spotify link with some notes instead of using the format I do here, hehe.

A song for Twig's rapid descent into keeping up appearances:

Say I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy today

I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy today

They say put on a happy face

'Cause we're tick-tock, tick-tock

Ticking like a timebomb

A song for Twig's desperation to love others and find salvation in being useful to those around her:

I know exactly how the rule goes

Put my mask on first

No, I don't want to talk about myself

Tell me where it hurts

A song for everyone watching Twig burn herself up to keep others warm:

Icarus is flying too close to the sun

And Icarus' life, it has only just begun

This is how it feels to take a fall

Icarus is flying towards an early grave

A song for Twig awkwardly confiding in Dusknoir (warning for mild language):

I try to explain the good faith that's been wasted

But after an hour it sounds like complaining

Wait, don't go away, can I lie here forever?

You say that I'm better, why don't I feel better?

A song for Twig's perspective of herself that she holds inwardly but never quite voices aloud:

Like the river flows, just head off and go

Leave the biggest weights behind

Leave the burden in your life and move on

A song for Twig's realization that people genuinely love her, even if she doesn't understand why:

But doctor doctor

It's been so very long

Since I've last seen the sun

It seems they must just all be wrong

A song for Twig's mantras as she tries to understand her loved ones loving her back:

The little things that get under my skin

I cannot let them in, I cannot let them tell me that I'm not good enough

When I think that way I start to feel like there's no hope for me

I start to feel the gravity pulling me to hell

A song for Twig reminiscing on her upbringing after confronting her aunt and feeling angry, afraid, and determined in equal parts not to repeat her family's inherited abuse with Opal:

Ooh, don't you find it strange?

Only thing we share is one last name

Did I beat you at your own game?

Typical of me to put us all to shame

A song for Twig reflecting on the greatest lesson of her life:

I'd rather be my own best friend than my worst enemy

I'm one day closer to being who I wanna be

[the-exes-lore]

Hello. This is the mod of @charlie-morningstar666 , @the-moth-ex-angel , and @blue-gem-overlord . This will be the lore parts and I’ll post every parts here. @king--of--ducks @lilith--morningst4r @dustsansm1

Lore

Chapter 1

Part 1-10 -https://www.tumblr.com/blue-gem-overlord/745204044530843648/lore

Part 11 -The Capture

Part 12 -Worries(rp with @king--of--ducks )

Part 13 -Realization

Finale(part 1) - https://www.tumblr.com/blue-gem-overlord/745420992548061184/youfucked-up-big-times

Finale(part 2) - https://www.tumblr.com/the-moth-ex-angel/745423714011791360/charlie

Finale(part 3) - https://www.tumblr.com/king--of--ducks/745432981707079680/the-moth-ex-angel-back-with-lucifer-his (rp with @king--of--ducks )

Chapter 2

Prologue(Jewel’s side) - Meet Queen of Hell (rp with @lilith--morningst4r )

Prologue(Charlie’s side) - Regrets

Prologue(Lucifer’s side) - Enemies Team-Up(rp between @king--of--ducks and @xxsmilingdeerxx )

[dia-souls]

Diabolik lovers Angel and Devil Story [ Chapter 02 ]

Chapter 02 : I'm Your Master

Birds always fly freely. A bird's dream is to fly. Flying to distant horizons to reach the most beautiful things. When a bird is in a cage, its desire to fly is destroyed. A cage is not a good place for a bird. A bird must be free. To reach the top and see the beauty. A bird must be free to its life be meaningful.

The moonlight illuminates the courtyard of the Sakamaki mansion with its silver light. But one thing is missing. Before, the mansion was more beautiful in the moonlight because a goddess walked in this mansion and sang lullabies under her breath. That goddess has now disappeared. Her beautiful lullaby is no longer heard in this mansion. There is no longer a goddess walking in the yard to caress the white roses. This building is devoid of beauty. Because it has lost its goddess, Yui Komori.

Mukami mansion is beautiful by moonlight but not enough. The goddess who could complete this beauty is in the dungeon. Yui had spent many days and nights in the dungeon and alone. She used to cry alone at night and dream of her freedom in order to achieve freedom in her sleep. A goddess should not be in a cage.

_Yui was sitting in the dungeon and hugging her knees to reduce her fear. She is afraid of the dark. She never likes to be alone. All she wanted was freedom. Yui looked bitterly at the dungeon door and tears slowly rolled down her cheeks.

Yui: Someone please help me. I don't want to be here. It is very dark here. It is cold here. Please someone help me.

_Yui continued to cry while asking for help under her breath.

Yui: Father. Where are you? Why don't you hear anything from me? Please help me.

_Yui put her head on her knees and cried silently. The dungeon door opened with a loud noise. A shadow came towards Yui in the darkness. Yui raised her head and saw Ruki in front of her.

*Creeeak*

Yui: Ruki-kun. Is that you?

Ruki: It's really pathetic. I never thought you would cry because of being in the dark. You are like children.

Yui: ....... I don't cry because of darkness. I... I just...

Ruki: What? Do you want to say that I punished you unjustly and you are upset about this?

Yui: I... I just want to be free. let me go from here.

Ruki: It is ridiculous. What made you think that I will release you and let you go?

_Ruki gets closer to Yui, kneels next to Yui and holds Yui's chin firmly with his right hand and forces her to look into his eyes.

Ruki: You are mine. You are my prey and now I am your master. So you must obey me. Otherwise, worse punishments await you.

Yui: Ruki-kun..... please.... I want to go back to my father. He is worried about me.

Ruki: What makes you think your father is worried about you?

Yui: What do you mean? He is my father. He will surely worry about me. Because he loves me and I love him.

Ruki: Pffff..... Fufu.... hahaha....

Yui: What are you laughing at?

Ruki: Love? It is ridiculous. There is no true love and be sure that your father does not love you either. If he loves you, why hasn't he came after you yet?

Yui: ...... (I don't know why my father hasn't come after me yet. But I'm sure he loves me.)

Ruki: Don't be so naive anymore. And don't try to beg for freedom. You belong to me now.

Yui: ...... .

Ruki: Well, get up, let's get out of here.

Yui: Will you let me come out?

Ruki: What happened? Would you like to stay here forever? If being in a dungeon makes you happy, I will gladly keep you here forever.

Yui: No. No. Of course not.

Ruki: So don't ask ridiculous questions and let's go.

Yui: O_Okay.

_Ruki and Yui leave the dungeon.

* TIMESKIP *

* Tick ​​tock * * tick tock *

_Yui is reading a book. The ticking sound of the clock can be heard in the room and the blonde petite girl turns the pages of the book.

* Flip *

Yui: If I ever reach freedom, I will fly with all my hopes and dreams. I will fly to reach the top. I will build a new world. A place where people are happy and love is always seen.

Ahhh. I think Namika-san's poems are really beautiful. I like to read all of Namika-san's books.

_Yui continues reading the poetry book when she hears the door.

* knock knock *

Azusa: Eve? Can I...... come in?

Yui: Oh Azusa-kun! Is that you? Yes, of course, come inside.

_Azusa opens the door of Yui's room and enters Yui's room.

Azusa: I'm sorry..... Eve. Did I.... disturb you?

Yui: Oh. No.... Not at all.

Azusa: Thank you..... Eve. I really wanted to come..... to you.

Yui: To me? Why?

Azusa: Well... I think I would like.... to talk.... to you.

Yui: Thank you, Azusa-kun. I really felt alone. (It seems that Azusa-kun is very kind. I feel like I can trust him.)

Azusa: Eve. What were..... you doing?

Yui: I was reading Namika-san's poetry book. She is one of my favorite poets. I like her poems very much.

Azusa: I see . Hey Eve.... can you come.... with me.... I want to.... show you.... something.

Yui: What do you want to show me?

Azusa: Please.... Eve.

Yui: Okay.

_Yui gets up from the chair and leaves the room with Azusa. Yui and Azusa walked together along the corridor until they reached Azusa's room and entered the room.

Azusa: This is my..... room. I am very..... happy that you...... came here..... with me.

Yui: Azusa-kun, what did you want to show me?

Azusa: Come..... look here.

_Azusa points to a closet full of knives. Seeing the knives makes Yui worry.

Yui: .... Are these... are these knives?

Azusa: Fufu..... that's right. These are..... my knife..... collection.

Yui: Azusa-kun. Why do you have a knife collection?

Azusa: Because...... the knives are.... sharp and shiny...... and extremely.... beautiful. They can hurt me.... very easily.

Yui: ...... !

Azusa: Do you understand..... Eve? It feels.... very good. Right? Do you..... think so too? Pain is.... the best feeling..... in the world. Do you.... like pain too?

Yui: Of course not.

Azusa: it's...... okay, Eve. I know you.... like pain. I will give you...... an unforgettable pain.

_Azusa picks up a knife and goes towards Yui and extends his hand towards Yui.

Azusa: Be quick Eve..... give me.... your hand. I will give you..... good feeling.

_Yui looks at Azusa with horror.

Yui: Azusa-kun please. I am afraid. Don’t do this. Please.

Azusa: Don't be afraid, I will..... make you.... feel very..... good.

Yui: Why do you want to do this? Please don't scare me.

Azusa: Because...... I love Eve.

Yui: ......... !

Azusa: I love you..... very much Eve. You are very cute...... and beautiful..... like goddess. I want to.... hurt you...... so that you know.... how much.... I love..... you.

_Azusa holds Yui's hand tightly and cuts Yui's skin with a knife.

Yui: Ahhhh..... Azusa-kun. Please stop. It hurts. It hurts.

Azusa: Does it hurt? So it makes..... you feel good. I hurt you...... more and more so..... that you understand..... how much..... I love you.

Yui: (He doesn't understand. I don't want to get hurt.)

_Azusa peels more of Yui's skin and makes Yui cry.

Azusa: Fufu...... Look at Eve..... you are crying..... So it made you...... feel good. Even your tears are...... beautiful. I want to...... kiss you.

_Azusa brings his face closer to Yui and kisses Yui's tear trail.

* smooch * * smooch *

Azusa: Eve's tears..... are sweet. I want to..... kiss you more.

_Azusa starts kissing Yui's lips.

* smooch * * smooch *

Azusa: Nn.... Mmmm.....

Yui: Azusa-kun. Please stop it. It hurts.

Azusa: I know it hurts. Pain..... feels really good. Right? Now you....... hurt me.

Yui: What?

Azusa: Please hurt me...... with this.... knife. I want you..... to hurt me too.

Yui: Azusa-kun, please don't ask me for this. I can't do this. I don't want to hurt you.

Azusa: So you don't..... love me?

Yui: I don't mean that.

Azusa: So please..... Eve...... please. Take this knife...... and hurt me.

_Azusa grabs Yui's hand and forces her to hold the knife.

Azusa: Hurry, Eve, hurt me.

_Yui starts shaking while holding the knife. She looks at Azusa with a sad look and starts to cry.

Yui: Azusa-kun.... I..... can not.

Azusa: Why?

Yui: You are precious, Azusa-kun. I can't hurt a precious thing. You are precious to many. Everyone's existence is valuable. Even you. You are very precious to your brothers and they don't like to hurt what is precious to them.

Azusa: Eve...

Yui: I'm sorry, Azusa-kun. But if I hurt you now, I can never forgive myself. Because I don't like to hurt a valuable person. Azusa-kun I'm really sorry. I am sorry for disobeying you. You can punish me as you like. But I will not hurt you.

_Yui dropped the knife while looking at Azusa with a tearful face. Azusa walked towards Yui with short steps. He held Yui's shoulders gently, looked into her eyes and suddenly hugged her tightly.

Yui: Azusa-kun? .......

Azusa: Eve, please..... don't cry. It's.... okay. You don't need..... to hurt me.

Yui: Azusa-kun.....you don't want to punish me for disobedience?

Yui: (It seems that Azusa-kun is very different from Ruki-kun. Azusa-kun is much kinder and does not punish me if I disobey him.)

Azusa: Of course...... not. I love you...... Eve. I love you...... very much I will never.... punish you. Because...... I love you . You did...... nothing wrong.

_Yui relaxed in Azusa's arms and hugged him back .

Yui: Thank you, Azusa-kun.

The beautiful goddess was resting in the arms of an angel and smiling. She seemed really happy. It is as if an angel came to her rescue and made her happy. She left herself in Azusa's arms to experience happiness again by his side.

* TIMESKIP *

_Yui is reading a book in her room.

Yui: (Why did Azusa say those things to me? I can't imagine what happened to him that he likes to hurt himself. This... is really... really painful.)

Aaaah...... I can't focus on the book like this.

_Yui gets up from the chair and goes to the window. She looks at the moonlight from the window of the room and praises the beauty of the silver moonlight.

Yui: Whenever I look at the moon, my memories with my father pass before my eyes. I really miss him.

_Yui is lost in the sight and beauty of the moon when suddenly the sound of the door attracts her attention.

* knock knock *

Yui: Oh..... yes?

Ruki: This is me.

Yui: Oh Ruki-kun. Please come inside.

_Ruki opens the door of Yui's room and enters the room.

*Creeeak*

Ruki: Apparently you are still awake.

Yui: Yes, I'm awake. I could not sleep. I was just looking at the moon and...

Ruki: I don't care what you were doing. Just follow me.

Yui: Where?

Ruki: Let's go to my room. There is something I need to talk to you about. So don't talk so much and follow me faster.

Yui: O_Okay.

_Ruki and Yui leave Yui's room and go to Ruki's room. Yui anxiously follows Ruki's footsteps. Afraid of what Ruki wants to talk to her about and if she's done something wrong that Ruki is angry, they go to Ruki's room and enter Ruki's room.

Yui: Ruki-kun? What did you want to talk to me about?

Ruki: Please sit down.

_Yui sits on a wooden chair and waits for Ruki to speak.

Ruki: Many hours ago did you talk to Azusa?

Yui: Oh... I... Yes, I talked to him.

Ruki: It's good that you don't deny it, but...

_Ruki gets up from the chair and goes to Yui. He bends down and looks at Yui with an angry look.

Ruki: Don't you think you are going beyond your limits? You should know your limits.

Yui: Ruki-kun. I do not understand. What did I do wrong? I just wanted to help Azusa. I don't know why, but he likes to hurt himself, it's very dangerous and I...

Ruki: A few small wounds are not dangerous for vampires.

Yui: The wound may not be dangerous for the body of vampires, but it can have a bad effect on the soul. As his brother, aren't you worried about him?

Ruki: Why should I worry? Azusa can handle it.

Yui: Azusa is your brother. Is your brother not valuable to you?

Ruki: Of course he is. Even if we are not blood brothers, we are still a family.

Yui: So you love Azusa and he is precious to you. Aren't you upset by hurting someone who is precious to you?

Ruki: Azusa is precious to me, but he enjoys it and I won't try to dissuade him.

Yui: ....... !

Ruki: What? Do you have any objection?

Yui: No, just your definition of love is very different from mine.

Ruki: I'm sorry, but you said love? Puff.... Fufu..... haha.

Yui: Why are you laughing?

Ruki: You are very naive and stupid. Do you think those ridiculous feelings that people call love is real?

Yui: Of course it is real. When someone is special to you, it means that you love that person and you don't want them to get hurt.

Ruki: What makes you so sure of this feeling? Don't tell me, have you tried it yet?

Yui: Of course I did.

Ruki: It's ridiculous. You have no value to anyone. You are just a prey and a victim. Both for us and for Sakamaki brothers. Don't think that those people value you. In fact, no one cares about you. Your existence is not important to anyone. You are only a prey. And your value is only in your blood.

Yui: This is not true. There are people who care about me.

Ruki: Like who? Don't say Sakamaki brothers, I will laugh.

Ruki: It's ridiculous.

Yui: No..... not them..... actually..... my father.

Yui: I am sure that my father loves me and my existence is precious to him. He told me this himself.

Ruki: Then tell me why he didn't come after you after you disappeared?

Yui: ....... well...... he......

Ruki: See? Even you are not important to your father. This is the truth of the people of the church. They are dirty and horrible people who will do anything for their desires.

Yui: This is not true. You are lying.

Ruki: SHUT UP!!!!! You are very brave to answer me.

_Ruki grabs Yui's shoulders and pins her to the ground.

Ruki: You are very rude to answer your master like this. Apparently, I should spend more time on training you.

Yui: Ruki-kun, please let me go.

Ruki: It is not possible, you are not obedient to me and you must be punished.

_Ruki bites Yui's shoulder very hard and makes Yui scream.

Yui: Kyaah!!!!? Ruki-kun....... it hurts....... please stop.

* Sluuuurp * * Sluuuurp *

Ruki: Mmmm...... Nn.... Be quiet. If you speak one more time, I swear I will punish you harder and worse.

Yui: (It hurts..... not only Ruki-kun's punishments. His words also hurt. He is very cruel.)

Ruki: Don't forget one thing. You only belong to me now. I am your master. So you have no right to ever think about freedom or your father or even Sakamaki brothers. Your look, your thoughts, your blood and your everything belong to me. I will give you a terrible life and I will kill you with darkness so that you forget everything. So leave everything to me. You belong to me and I am your master.

_Ruki continues to suck Yui's blood .

monologue:

His words, his looks and his thoughts are all painful.

He won't let me go.

He will not release me.

I have no escape.

But I don't want to be his prisoner.

I want to understand the pain of his heart.

Maybe one day I can save him from the drakness of his heart.

<– [ Chapter 01 ] [ Chapter 03 ] –>

[masamihanazawa]

Problem Patient

Timing: Later tonight Location: Paws & Claws clinic Parties: @mortemoppetere & @masamihanazawa Trigger Warnings: Head Trauma

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. “Fuck.” Masami sat in his chair staring at the stranger in the bed, listening to the infernal clock thinking he really should have upgraded to a digital one at this rate. It always managed to get on his nerves when he was forced to watch over a patient at night. Especially when this one was a complete stranger having been dumped on him by one of his regulars. Normally the vanilla scented cigarettes would have chilled him out some, but the man in front of him had come in a rather beat up state. Masami had forced Alexus to clean up the blood in the exam room before sending the tired woman home, but the memory of having to stitch up the idiot in front of him was still fresh and the only thing to distract him was the infernal clicking of the clock. 

Masami smushed another cigarette into the tray and pulled a fresh one from his pack before putting his eyes back on the stranger, “You can stop acting like you’re sleeping, I can hear the shift in your breathing.” He muttered out as he placed the cigarette between his lips, using an old beat up lighter to get it going and taking a long drag. “Tell me how you feel. If it isn’t like shit then leave.” He wasn’t sure how the other could feel alright, Masami had only given him a small dose of pain meds enough to get him to relax through the stitching and cleaning just in case he ended up having a bad reaction. It was always a gamble using meds when you didn’t know the patient's allergies, humans always were trickier to fix up than the average shapeshifter. 

—

Things went to shit in detective work about as often as they went to shit in slayer work. Emilio wasn’t sure if other P.I.s had this many problems or if he was a special brand of unlucky, but it was never really a surprise when he found himself all beat to shit. In this case, however, he could at least confidently say that it hadn’t been his fault. 

It was one of those cases where the client insisted on tagging along and Emilio was too tired to argue, which should have been his first clue that things were going to go bad. Clients joining him on just about any variation of work always ended poorly, no matter who the client was. In this particular case, he’d put his ass in the line of fire to keep his client from taking the beating in his place and been surprised when she didn’t leave him to bleed out. It had been a pleasant surprise at first, the kind of thing that meant he was probably getting paid a bit extra to help her alleviate her guilt. But then she’d started yammering about doctors and clinics, and Emilio passed out before he could convince her to just dump him back at Axis. 

Goddamn bleeding heart Americans. 

So, here he was, laying with his eyes closed on a stranger’s table. He could feel someone beside him, knew enough to know it definitely wasn’t the same person who’d brought him here. The smell of antiseptic stung his nose, and the lack of tacky blood sticking to his skin told him he’d been cleaned up and his wounds stitched. The problem, of course, was that he had no idea where he was or what would be expected of him in return. If he could just lay here a few minutes and formulate a plan, he could probably get out of this mess without…

A voice piped up from beside him, startling Emilio into action. His eyes shot open and he sat up, practically diving off the table and across the room, putting distance between himself and the stranger. The sudden movement definitely popped a stitch or three, but the burst of adrenaline kept him from feeling any of the injuries. Wild eyes scanned the room, making note of it. He was definitely in some kind of a clinic, but not a hospital. That was good. Hospitals tended to ask more questions than he wanted to answer, and the last thing he needed was for his name to go into any kind of a system. Too many people could track him down through that sort of thing, and Emilio liked to be the one doing the tracking. He looked at the man who’d spoken, expression dubious. The cigarette hanging from his lips had Emilio’s chest aching for a damn smoke, but he pushed the feeling down in favor of assessing the situation. Tired eyes, steady hands, unamused expression. He’d bet money that this was the guy who’d stitched him up.

After a moment, Emilio nodded. “I’ll leave, then,” he said slowly, making an effort to enunciate each word as carefully as he could. The fact that he had to focus so hard on speaking clearly combined with the fact that the ache of his wounds was dulled probably meant there had been some painkillers involved. Not enough to fully numb him, though; already, his legs were trembling from the effort of holding him upright. If he was more than a block from Axis, he knew he’d collapse in a damn alley before he made it home. He shifted towards the only door in the room, anyway. “What neighborhood is this?”

—

Masami watched as the man he spent a good hour on just jumped out of bed, likely ruining some of his work under the borrowed scrubs he slapped on him. His frown deepened as he stood from his chair approaching the other. HIs left leg didn’t move as smoothly as the other, earning the doctor a bit of a limp as he moved closer to his anxious patient. At this point he figured the other wasn’t much a threat if his wobbly legs were anything to go by, one good kick and he’d be back on the floor, he even doubted the guy could reach the door. “Asking what neighborhood this is when you can’t even stand properly. Sit your ass down so I can see what you’ve messed up.” 

The vet pulled back the blanket on the bed, opting to sling it over his chair instead to save it from getting any blood on it. He was beginning to regret being so soft towards people, then again he never really stopped. For as much as he grumbled and complained he never had been able to turn away someone in need, a byproduct of his past he wished he could let go of. How many times had it come to bite him in the ass? Yet here he was fussing at a stranger once again. “Making me waste Cigarettes.” He mumbled, shoving the unfinished smoke in the tray with the others before opening a cabinet by his chair and pulling out fresh gauze. 

He didn’t make any move to make the other stay still giving the stranger a way out if he wanted it though Masami had no doubt he'd find him in an alleyway on his way home and they’d be right back where they started. He should have charged Alexus more than just making her clean a room. Janice wouldn’t be impressed with him when she heard about this in the morning. 

—

The man — the doctor? — walked with a limp, and Emilio’s fingers tapped nervously against his own thigh as he moved closer. It should have set his mind at ease a little, being able to spot an easy weakness to exploit if he needed a quick getaway here, but he knew he was fading fast. The second the adrenaline left his system, he’d be on his ass again. Unless he actually killed this guy, there’d be nothing stopping him from just scooping Emilio up when he inevitably passed out in the street between here and Axis, and then he’d be right back where he started. The killing thing seemed like a bad option, too, considering an unconscious murderer couldn’t exactly outrun the cops. And, besides, it did seem a little rude to kill a guy who’d presumably stitched him up.

Warily, Emilio watched the man pull back the blanket, eyes carefully narrowed. “I can stand just fine,” he replied stubbornly, even as his bad knee protested in the kind of way that meant it was likely to give out at any moment. One of the bastards who’d gotten the drop on him had delivered a pretty solid kick to it during the fight. It’d probably be giving him more trouble than usual for at least the next few days, if not permanently. With Emilio’s luck, he’d bet on the latter. 

Still eyeing the doctor, the hunter slowly moved back towards the exam table. He lowered himself onto it in a sitting position rather than lying down, tense enough to betray the fact that he was ready to leap into action if he needed to. He made no attempt to hide his suspicion; it was better if the guy knew Emilio would fight if he had to. It might mean the difference between making that fight happen and avoiding it altogether. And, with the state he was in now, Emilio would certainly be better off avoiding it. “Don’t have to put it out on my account,” he replied, eyeing the tray. “Might just have to light me one up, too.” He glanced back towards the door, half tempted to make a break for it while the doctor’s back was turned, but there was no way in hell he’d make it back to Axis if he did. Besides that, he was… missing something, wasn’t he? “Where the hell are my clothes? You undress me while I was out?” His left ring finger felt bare where his wedding ring had been removed to presumably see to the bruising on his knuckles, and the unfamiliar lightness of his hand was bizarre enough to have him glancing around the room nervously. “And you’re the one who told me to leave. By the way.” The statement was belated in a way that made Emilio suspect he might have a concussion. Everything seemed slow in that kind of way, like he was swimming through molasses just to settle on a thought. 

—

Masami looked back at him, giving the taller man a deadpan face, “I wasn’t going to leave you in your dirty clothes when you had an open wound that’s asking for infection, even you should realize that. Besides, I had to cut your shirt off to access the area.” It was common practice and would have done the same to his coat had Alexus not pulled it off the guy first, much to the vet’s disapproval even if Alexus assured him nothing was probably broken. “I told you to leave if you didn’t feel like shit, you obviously feel like shit so you’re stuck here.” He pulled an IV bag down from the cabinet as well, a little fluids wouldn’t hurt the guy now that he was awake enough not to jump. 

“Patients don’t get cigarettes.” Not that he would share with some random ass guy anyway, those cigarettes were hard enough to find as is, he was pretty sure the store selling them was being kept in business by the sheer power of his addiction. Once he had all the basics he set them on a tray and wheeled it over to the bed. He used his left leg to drag over a chair, the sound made a distinct noise of wood hitting metal. “You need to tell me where it hurts and be honest no ‘I’m a tough guy’ bullshit.” Masami grabbed the stranger’s jaw and tilted his head, checking for any missed knicks or bruises before moving his pen in front of his eyes, “Tell me your name and the date.” 

It was hard to tell if a patient had a concussion while asleep, and his current patient looked like hell even with the cleaning, he should be glad Masami gave him scrubs at all to cover up. He could have left him shirtless, bandaged and out back but here he was doing a thorough check up on someone who looked like they were ready to punch him at a moment's notice. 

— 

“You cut my shirt off?” Emilio sounded offended at the revelation, though he really shouldn’t have been. There was nothing special about the shirt. In fact, he was pretty sure it was one of the ones the former occupant of his apartment hadn’t taken with them when they’d moved out (or… otherwise vacated the apartment). Still, he found himself somewhat irritated at its loss, if only because it meant he’d likely need to hunt down a replacement. His wardrobe wasn’t exactly vast, after all. “I feel fine. Feel a lot better without you yammering at me.” He eyed the stranger warily as he moved to the cabinet, tensing as the IV bag was pulled down. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of this guy sticking any more needles into him.

The denial of a cigarette wasn’t exactly unexpected, but Emilio rolled his eyes all the same. “Where’s my jacket, then? I’ve got my own.” He glanced around the room again, hoping to find his things sitting out where he could grab them. His eyes were drawn back to the stranger as he pulled a chair over, and Emilio made note of the sound his leg had made against the wood. Probably a prosthetic, then. Easy enough to exploit if he needed to, though the guy was seeming less and less like a threat as the conversation went on. Annoying, maybe, but not a threat. 

Distracted by his silent assessment of the stranger, Emilio missed the man’s hand coming towards him until he was gripping his jaw. The concussion, he suspected, was at least marginally to blame for that. He probably did himself no favors by yanking his head back, but the move was more instinctual than anything. “I don’t want you to know my name,” he replied, “and the date’s not the kind of thing I tend to keep up with. Don’t know who the president is, either. Soy mexicano, so I don’t care about that shit.” His eyes darted around the room again, jumping from one spot to another quickly. “Where’s my shit, man?”

—

Masami gave a hard stare to the man, “So we’re doing the tough guy shit. Fine hike your shirt up and let me fix your sutures. I won’t use pain meds since you keep insisting you’re great.” He mumbled to himself about idiots as he got up and hobbled back over to the sink to properly wash his hands. “Anyone who saw you would have cut your shirt off, it’s common practice. Your coat’s fine, Alexus saved it, it's in a bag in the hallway with your weapons. For obvious reasons I’m not letting you have them back yet. Then again you seem a little slow so I might as well spell it out for you, I’m here to patch you up and make sure you’re fine to go where you need to; not to get stabbed by your jumpy ass.” 

The kitsune pulled on gloves and sat down in his chair, picking up his tweezers. He waited to see if the man would comply, “Not wanting me to know your name is ridiculous, I’m pretty sure if I texted Alexus she’d tell me anyway so there’s no point in dodging the question. It’s to make sure the piece of meat in your head is working properly. Though I guess if you have a concussion the fact that you seem to use your brain so little might be more of a benefit to you for once.” Masami couldn’t stand people who thought they were hot shit while bleeding out in front of him, really he should have told the other shapeshifter to solve the problem herself. Why bring someone who obviously didn’t want help? 

Then again he was hardly one to talk, he barely let Janice help him while sick. Speaking of, he should have had Janice come over. The woman was more intimidating than him and her magic could have just held this unruly jerk in place while Masami did what he had to. Unfortunately though he was sure the stranger would probably bite his tongue at that point.

—

“Rather have a glass of whiskey than any of that shit, anyway.” Emilio crossed his arms over his chest, the very picture of stubborn petulance. Part of him wanted to argue against taking his shirt off, but… he figured this guy wasn’t going to give him his shit back until after he was stitched up again. Besides, the fabric of the scrubs was starting to make him feel itchy in the way unfamiliar fabric always did. He pulled it over his head, tossing it half-heartedly at the doctor in a show of protest. “If I wanted to stab you, I’d have found something in here to do it with. I’m a resourceful guy.” It was a bold claim to make as someone who had briefly considered killing the man when he’d woken up on the table.

As the doctor sat down, Emilio shifted. His eyes darted nervously to the tweezers, because he wasn’t good at this. His mother had never stitched his wounds, never bandaged him or helped stop the bleeding. In the Cortez household, the general consensus was that if you got yourself hurt, the consequences were yours to deal with. If you couldn’t manage to stitch yourself up, you’d never make it as a hunter, anyway. And making it as a hunter was the only thing that had mattered back then. It was the only thing that mattered now, too, most days. 

“Tell me your name, and maybe I tell you mine,” he replied tightly, if only to keep the doctor from making good on his threat to text Emilio’s client. Texting her could get him far more information than just the hunter’s name. Where he lived, for starters. Emilio wasn’t sure how loyal Alexus would be to him over this man, regardless of the fact that he’d just taken one hell of a beating for her. This way, at least, he could maintain at least the semblance of control here.

—

“No whiskey, no cigarettes, you'll agitate your concussion.” Masami ignored the shirt tossed in his direction and leaned in to look at the wound. “Luckily you only popped two and they’re not next to each other.” He mumbled and carefully grabbed the knot of one of the busted sutures, tugging it out gently and making sure it looked to be whole. A missing piece would be a hassle he didn’t want to deal with. Once he was sure it was all there he tossed it in a bowl and did the same to the other, being careful not to accidentally tug the wound back open and sanitizing the area before grabbing his needle.

He could relent some control if it meant getting this guy on board with treatment. “My name is Dr. Hanazawa. I’m a vet, not a regular doctor, your friend Alexus is one of my more frequent patients, this is going to sting but it won’t last long the holes are already there.” Masami quickly replaced the two lost sutures, checking the wound once more to make sure it was holding closed despite the sudden movement from earlier. He set his needle down and grabbed a swab with antiseptic on it carefully running it around the wound again. 

“Also I doubt you could stab me with how wobbly you are, it’d be like a baby deer freshly born trying to wield a knife.” Or a pair of scissors. Either way Masami was pretty sure this guy wasn’t a threat anymore, and if push did come to shove and the stranger somehow miraculously managed to show some prowess with one of his scalpels, he could always just turn into a fox and deal with him that way. Was a little easy when your tails acted like a taser, not that he really wanted to reveal his fox form to the stranger but life and death was life and death.  

—

“Gotta be honest with you, doc, my concussion’s getting agitated either way.” Even if he were capable of holding off on drinking or smoking until the concussion passed, which was highly unlikely, Emilio wasn’t the sort of man who knew how to sit still. And for him, not sitting still tended to involve getting punched in the head. One of those risks that came with both his jobs, he figured. He bit his tongue as the doctor began tugging on the stitches, but didn’t make a sound. Truth be told, the pain was nothing compared to some of the shit Emilio was used to. The doctor was just lucky he hadn’t shown up with his damn guts hanging out. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

He glanced up to the doctor’s face as he spoke, eyes searching him for any hint that he might be lying. He found none. It’d be a dangerous lie to tell, anyway. Admitting that you were a doctor for shapeshifters was a sure-fire way to make enemies in a town full of people who might want shapeshifters dead. Hell, Emilio himself was a hunter; not one that killed indiscriminately the way some did (the way his family had, the way he used to), but still. It was safe to assume the doctor wasn’t stupid enough to go with that as a lie. “Emilio,” he replied, making no move to offer his last name along with the first. Cortez was common enough, and not as utterly associated with the slayer family in the States as it had been in Mexico, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

Emilio was still as Dr. Hanazawa replaced the lost sutures, jaw tight even if his expression betrayed nothing. “Wouldn’t be so sure. I’m good with a knife.” The threat was an empty one, and not just because of his current state. Despite his better judgment, Emilio kind of liked the surly veterinarian. “Can I at least get my wedding ring back? Don’t think any of my fingers are broken.”

—

“Just don’t come back to me if it gets worse.” Not that Masami would turn him away, he just didn’t want a human being comfortable returning to his clinic. Shapeshifters and humans normally got along but not all of them. He heard stories often enough about how humans had mistreated his kin and his clinic was meant to be a safe area for shapeshifters, usually no human would be back in his recovery room. Then again Alexus had vouched for this one and as long as Masami showed he approved, Emilio would be fine… probably. Not many people wanted to get on Masami’s bad side, it never did good to anger the person patching you up. 

“At least you can remember your name.” That meant the concussion probably wasn’t severe at least. Masami stared up at Emilio, sliding his gloves off and standing again. “Good enough with a knife to end up in my clinic.” He mumbled before gently grabbing hold of Emilio’s hand to make sure the ring wouldn’t irritate anything, once he was satisfied it’d be fine he shuffled over to the door. He didn’t really see a reason to deny a man his wedding ring if his fingers weren’t broken. Masami opened the door, hardly going out of it before bending over, hands rustling around a plastic bag as the door rested against the back of his legs. “Should have put it in a tray.” He remarked taking a little longer than he would have liked to find the small item. Eventually his head popped back into frame, shimming inside as he headed for the sink giving the ring a good rinse before returning it to Emilio. “Does your partner need to be called to let them know where you are right now?” 

—

“I didn’t come to you in the first place,” Emilio shot back. Had it been up to him, he wouldn’t be here at all. His injuries hadn’t been great, but he was pretty sure he could have patched himself up if Alexus had just dragged him back to Axis. Slower than the vet had, maybe, and the stitches certainly wouldn’t have been as clean, but he would have lived. He’d dealt with a lot worse than this without any help and come out the other side still breathing. For better or worse. 

Snorting, the hunter only rolled his eyes at the statement. He was pretty sure he’d never taken a hit so hard he forgot his name but, then again, he might not remember it if he had. The quirks of head trauma, he figured. “Hey, I was outnumbered and trying to keep them off Alexus’s back,” he snapped defensively. “I think I did all right.” Considering Alexus had been unharmed, he categorized the altercation as a win in spite of his injuries. Of course, the assailants hadn’t all gotten off worse than Emilio had, which could spell trouble for them both down the line… but that was a problem for another day. 

Right now, his problems were confined to this clinic and to the location the doctor moved to to retrieve his ring. Emilio made note of it, assuming the rest of his things were there as well, but he was content to simply be reunited with the ring for now. He slipped it back onto his finger, finding some relief in the familiar weight of it. It was a silly thing, he knew. He and Juliana hadn’t even been solid in the end, had been fighting more often than they weren’t, but the ring had been a part of him for years now and it felt strange to be without it. The doctor’s question drew his attention back to the man, his chest aching at the admittedly fair assumption that there must be someone waiting for him at home. “Uh… No. That’s okay.” He twisted the ring around on his finger absently. 

—

“Then don’t let Alexus drag you here if it gets worse. That kid is too nice for her own good. It's going to come back to bite her some day.” Not that he was one to talk given the current situation, but Masami could always explain it away as doing a favor for one of his regulars that just so happened to know he was a big softy despite the attitude he displayed. “If she even starts to mention me, shut her down.” He took his seat back by the window, ignoring the blanket under him as he popped the window open again and pulled the unfinished cig out of the tray, bringing the dead back to life as he managed to light the crumpled up end. 

“Surprised you let her come along in the first place, she’s a shit fighter.” He held back adding on ‘just like you’ figuring he’d pushed the other man’s buttons enough for right now. “Still I thought the goal of fighting was to do damage without taking it, really starting to seem like most of you fail that bit.” Masami wasn’t a big fighter, he could hold his own and had in the past but he’d much rather just look for an escape route. He felt too old for the constant fights that took place around him. He was past 500 now half way through ascending and really it was a wonder he even got this far. He wasn’t sure if it was worth bothering trying to go for another 500 but he guessed as long as his patients needed him he'd be here. 

Masami took in how Emilio reacted to the ring and took the hint, whatever was going on with the taller man’s partner was complicated it seemed. Well that was none of his business, he fixed bleeding hearts not broken ones. “Lay back down for a bit then. Let the wound settle and your legs rest before you try to leave.”

—

“I didn’t let her drag me here this time. I told her to drop me at my apartment. She made an executive decision while I was passed out.” He grumbled, stumbling a little on some of the larger words in the sentence. Emilio wasn’t entirely comfortable in English when he didn’t have a concussion. With his head pounding the way it was now, the guy was lucky he was managing to keep up at all. “Yeah, well, I want to be here a lot less than you want me around.” He eyed the doctor as he picked up the cigarette, an expression almost bordering on hurt crossing his face. “Come on, man. That’s just mean.” 

Sighing, he rolled his eyes and kicked a foot against the table. “She told me she could fight.” And normally, Emilio wouldn’t have believed her. But there wasn’t supposed to be a fight at all. It was just supposed to be surveillance. Funny how his luck played out. He should have figured he was kidding himself in assuming this time would be anything different. “Only goal of fighting is to make it out alive. I did that.” Although some might argue that that was never really Emilio’s goal. If it were, he’d pick less fights with impossible odds. Or take better care of himself, at the very least.

The doctor didn’t pry about the ring, and Emilio felt some sense of gratitude for that. It wasn’t something he would have really opened up about if prompted — more likely, he would have gotten up and marched out the door, injuries be damned — but it was nice not to have to put in the effort of shutting the subject down. He’d always preferred people who knew when to shut up. The doctor seemed to be one of them. Maybe that was why he complied with the order as much as he ever complied with any order, leaning back on his palms rather than laying down but making no move to actually leave. “Still gonna want a cigarette.”

— 

“Alexus likes to think she can fight but I’ve seen her face come in swollen enough to know she can’t. One time her opponent dragged her in, barely had a scratch on him while her nose was crooked so much it whistled everytime she breathed.” Masami took a long drag on his cigarette while talking, “If you wanted one then you should have protected your head better.” The smoke moved with his jaw as the words squeezed out of his lips. The doctor was not one to backpedal on his decisions, even if his patient didn’t exactly seem like he wanted to get better, or at least didn’t seem to care about it. 

“I’m going to order food. I have a feeling it’ll take awhile before your legs feel like supporting you and no you don’t get to choose what you want. We’re getting Chinese, it's the only place open this late.” Masami understood more than most people about wanting to avoid tough subjects, he never did talk about his family, not even to Janice. Even after all these years it still hurt to think about the night he got back to the shrine to see everyone turned to ash, the mask he picked up was wrapped in cloth and shoved deep into his closet where it couldn’t bring up unwanted memories. His mother’s name was purposefully placed on a part of him that would be hard to read without a mirror.Grief was a monster Masami didn’t know how to beat. 

—

“Yeah, well, I learned my damn lesson.” He probably wouldn’t take a case from Alexus again, even if she did decide to make some attempt at becoming a repeat customer. Getting his ass kicked was one thing, but Emilio didn’t want clients who’d drag him into clinics every time something was bleeding. He got enough of that shit through Javi. “I was a little busy trying not to get gutted,” he grumbled, shooting the doctor a glare that was mostly half-hearted. The cigarettes the other man was smoking didn’t smell like the kind Emilio preferred, anyway. He’d probably finish up the pack in his jacket pocket the second said jacket was given back to him.

Emilio bit back the urge to insist that he was fine to go now, knowing enough to know that the doctor would see through his bullshit pretty easily. He’d probably be all right to leave sooner than the vet expected him to be — slayer healing and all that — but it was still going to take some time. Longer, he suspected, because of the blow he’d taken to his bad leg. Now that both the adrenaline and the initial dose of painkillers he’d been given were wearing off, the injury was the loudest one in the collection. Fortunately, Emilio had grown good at ignoring pain. “What if I’m allergic to Chinese food?” He wasn’t, as far as he knew, but he felt like making things more difficult for the doctor as a show of petty protest.

—

“Then starve.” Masami mumbled out as he put in what he wanted before throwing the phone in Emilio’s lap. The casing on it was scratched and dented from years of being dropped or casually tossed aside, its screen wasn’t fairing much better but the doctor wasn’t going to replace it as long as it bothered to turn on. He had a habit of holding onto broken things that refused to give out. Speaking of, his gaze went to the man’s face looking for any sign that he was getting worse rather than better; he looked tired, beaten and quite frankly like an ornery little shit. Emilio’s actions definitely proved the last part with how resistant he seemed to help or even order free food. The cigarette wiggled in Masami’s mouth as he spoke, “Order what you want or hand the phone back.” 

The doctor leaned in his chair making sure to blow the smoke out of the window, the crumpled cigarette now nestled between his fingers rather than hanging dangerously from his mouth. The window seemed to lack a screen letting in any cold breeze that came with it, but it was like that for a practical reason. It was easier to make an escape if a hunter ever ended up in his exam room if the screen to his window wasn’t an obstacle. The other windows in the room, however, did retain their bug shields in place and Masami had put himself next to this one in particular for obvious reasons with an unknown human in his proximity. “What was Alexus trying to get you to do?” He wasn’t sure Emilio would answer that given his attitude but it was worth a shot, better to know what Alexus was up to rather than be in the dark should she bring any trouble his way. 

—

“Your bedside manner is shit, doc,” Emilio quipped, catching the phone as it was tossed his way with a little less grace than he might have had he not been beaten to shit. You could tell a lot about a person by the state of their things; more if you were a half-decent detective, which Emilio liked to think he was. The doctor’s phone was old enough that even someone with as little knowledge of technology as Emilio could tell, with enough damage and cracks to signify that it had been through a lot. The man it belonged to seemed to have fared more or less the same. Both were world-torn. Both were still operating, somehow. Emilio found he could relate. He squinted at the phone screen, trying not to let it show just how new things like this still were for him. His mother had had no use for technology and, in his desperate bids to win her approval, neither had Emilio. He tapped at the screen absently until he thought he must have ordered something, then tossed the phone back to the doctor without comment.

Watching the doctor warily and tensing with each movement the man made, Emilio shifted on the table. He was still wound tight, like a spring ready to fly at the slightest provocation. Body pointed towards the exit in a way that was subtle, but would allow him a quick escape if he needed one. Absently, he twisted the wedding band around his finger and shrugged at the question. “Client-detective confidentiality,” he replied, the last word carefully enunciated in its unfamiliarity. It was a phrase he’d read during his very limited ‘research’ on how to operate as a detective, and while he wasn’t sure what exactly it entailed, it seemed like something that would get him out of answering the doctor’s questions. “Why did you patch me up? Why not tell Alexus to dump me in an alley?”

—

“Most of my patients don’t understand what I’m saying.” While he was a back alley doctor, he still did his job as a vet. Masami never really did hold things back though, he didn’t see a need to when being up front was often most effective. His patients’ owners seemed to appreciate the frankness or they wouldn’t keep bringing their pets back in, then again he was the only vet for exotics in town. He even helped the local zoo which was a great excuse for when some of his shapeshifting clients couldn’t maintain a human form. 

Masami let the phone flop into his lap, not bothering to try and catch it almost as if he was daring Emilio to miss, finally putting the ancient piece of plastic out of its misery. Unfortunately for the phone though it seemed to land mostly safe on top of his legs letting the older man finalize the order before tucking it back in his pocket. When Emilio dodged his question he could feel his snark building prompting his answer to come out rather quickly, “Figure it out for yourself.” In all truth, Masmai didn’t know why he bothered patching up Emilio. He just knew if he left him out there bleeding he’d feel like shit. It was rare among his kind to have any sort of care for the humans. Bad blood between the two often kept it that way, but here he was everytime unable to say no. He’d get in trouble for it later on, always did. Seemed even more certain given the state Emilio came in, and given the fact Alexus put him in that situation. He was also certain the fact that Alexus came here was basic knowledge to most who knew her. 

This whole situation was annoying, he’d have to have Janice strengthen any protections the spellcaster had placed on the clinic and hope for once this actually didn’t come to bite him in the ass. His fingers came to pinch the bridge of his nose, as the other hand put out the now spent up cigarette.Masami would suggest the other man take responsibility if something happened but he was sure Emilio would just find a way to weasel out of it or pin it on Alexus who was rightfully to blame in this case but Masami only had Emilio stuck before him having sent the girl home hours ago. He lowered his fingers and was going to try and ask another question but thought better of it, “You should lay down before the food gets here, your head might thank you.” he grumbled as he tugged the cigarette packet off the windowsill to light another, by now the soft scent of Vanilla was making its way around the room.  

—

“My English is a little better than a dog’s.” Though perhaps not by much. Sometimes, Emilio got the sense that Perro understood his clients better than he did. If the dog could talk to them in his stead, Axis would probably have far better reviews. He wondered, absently, what the reviews for this place were like. Maybe he ought to leave one of his own. Guy sewed my guts back into my stomach at two in the morning and ordered Chinese food for me, but wouldn’t give me a cigarette. Three stars. Something told him it wouldn’t be properly appreciated.

The phone sailed through the air and though the doctor made no move to catch it, it landed with relative safety. Emilio had always had pretty good aim. He watched the other man finalize the order, scowling a little when his question, like the one that had been posed to him, went unanswered. “Well,” he said, moving to cross his arms over his chest and gritting his teeth to keep himself from wincing as the motion pulled at the fresh stitches, “you give me that kind of power, I’m going to abuse it. Assume you fixed me because you figured I’m too damn pretty to die. Feel free to tell me I’m wrong, but only if you’re going to give me a different answer to replace that one.” It wasn’t the most mature tactic, but Emilio figured the probable concussion ought to give him a pass there. It didn’t actually matter much, after all, why the doctor chose not to let him bleed out in the streets. Even Emilio’s paranoia had trouble assigning a malicious motivation to the actions. If he were trying to butter the hunter up, he’d be nicer. If he were preparing to sell him to the highest bidder, he’d have drugged him stupid by now. If he were going to kill him, he’d have done it while Emilio was unconscious on his table. All he could figure was that the guy was an idiot who cared about strangers more than he should. Or he owed Alexus one hell of a favor and she’d chosen to cash it in on this, but that seemed a little less likely. Alexus didn’t like him that much.

Of course, that didn’t mean Emilio felt secure enough to follow instructions and lay down. Even in a situation where he was pretty sure he was in no immediate danger, his training wouldn’t allow him to relax in the presence of a stranger. Eyes glued to the doctor, and in a way that could be accused of being petty, the hunter swung his legs over the table and pushed himself to his feet. His legs would barely hold him, and the pain was enough to draw a quiet grunt from him, but that didn’t stop him from making a slow trek across the room to the door he’d watched the doctor open before to retrieve his wedding ring. Leaning heavily against the wall, he opened the door and rummaged around in his jacket pocket for a moment before drawing his hand back… with a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one from the pack and held it between his teeth, still staring at the vet. “You gonna give me a light, or do I need to fish around in my pocket for it?”

—

“So I noticed.” Masami replied dryly as he turned to blow smoke out the window. He wasn’t really sure what Emilio expected from him. He thought he’d been nice enough given Emilio’s attitude towards him. Then again even if Emilio had been kinder, Masami doubted his attitude would have changed in fact it might have gotten worse. He always seemed to come off angry the more concerned he was. Alexus  didn’t seem to mind, most of the time she laughed as the doctor cussed at her while checking her over. He wasn’t sure why he was like this, he wasn’t even sure how long he had been like this. When you hit 500 a lot of the past just blurred together no matter how well you remembered it you could never really pinpoint the time of the memory anymore. He felt old, he was only halfway through his life and white was already starting to show in patches on his fur. Would he even remember this encounter when it came time to die?

The vet was pulled from his thoughts by Emilio talking again. Pretty? Was Emilio pretty? Sure the other man wasn’t bad looking if they had met in a bar the fox might have even let him take him home that is if they didn’t immediately start bickering with one another. His eyes went to the stitches the minute Emilio moved, he tensed when the other stood and made for the door. Masami stayed that way till the man poked his head back with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Fucking idiot.” he breathed out a sigh and stood crossing the room. He was shorter than Emilio, he knew that since the man was dragged hunched over Alexus, but he was really noticing it now that Emilio was standing and he was having to look up to take in his face. “I prefer men who don’t end up on my table.” His gaze dropped to Emilio’s side to check his work hadn’t been messed up again. 

His fingertips gently ghosted over the skin just under the cut, maybe it was because Emilio hadn’t jumped up this time, but they seemed to be doing just fine. Once he was sure everything was good Masami offered a flat stare to the cigarette just laying there limp. He was tempted to reach over and tug it out, but then Emilio would just get another one out and really Masami wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get all of them from the human without the moron hurting himself again. “If you want a light you’ll have to bend down. My lighter is on the window.” he reached up to hold his own cigarette in place to take a drag from it. 

—

In all honesty, Emilio found that he liked the doctor. He probably wouldn’t say as much aloud, and certainly not during this kind of back and forth, but he’d always had a soft spot for people who refused to take his shit. It was what had drawn him to Juliana so intensely when they met, what allowed him to grow so close with Rhett as quickly as he had, what made him so fond of Javi. Emilio liked people who didn’t get their feelings hurt when he was an ass, because he was an ass often. It’d get old if he had to apologize for it every goddamn time. 

Though… he might owe the vet a beer after all this. He knew he wasn’t the best patient but, in his defense, he’d never really had to be a patient before. In the Cortez household, you were expected to patch your own wounds or bleed out, and Emilio certainly hadn’t had anyone piecing him back together after he left Mexico. It was almost quaint, being around someone who gave a shit if his guts were hanging out in the open. “You’d be lucky to land me,” he said with a scoff. “I’m a catch.” 

He leaned back against the wall as the doctor prodded at his stitches, the trek across the room enough to leave him more lightheaded than he’d care to admit. Christ, he hoped this shit healed quickly. His heritage as a slayer offered him some reprieve with the speed of his healing, but head wounds were a bitch. They were unpredictable at best, especially to a man who didn’t bother trying to understand them. “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, leaning down to light his cigarette off the doctor’s. The hunched position was uncomfortable with his injuries, but he let none of the discomfort show on his face as he pulled back with the now-lit cigarette, taking a long draw and releasing the smoke with a sigh. “If I grab my flask out of my jacket, are you gonna bitch about it?”

—

“Somehow I doubt you are.” If anything Masami was sure he’d throw this catch back into the water. Then again he was a little frustrated given how Emilio seemed hell bent to open his wound again. Still there wasn’t even a guarantee these two would meet up again after all this. Emilio could always go to someone else to get his stitches removed. He wouldn’t blame him with how their night has gone. He was rude and Masami was rude. It seemed to work for them so far, though Masami would have preferred if the man would sit still at least till the food arrived. 

Masami held still, eyes watching Emilio lean in and light his cigarette. He really was a pretty man, fuck. “You can’t drink. I’ll let you have your cigarette but if you bend over to get your flask out I’m going to push you over so you can’t get back up.” He wouldn’t. The doctor was all bark with hardly any bite and even now he was beginning to relax completely around Emilio given that the man seemed to be proving he was no longer going to grab something to stab him with which was great given that he knew how many weapons were in the bag. “If you need something for pain you can have tylenol. Most of you humans are fine with that one.” He didn’t move to fetch it though. He was sure that if he turned his back the taller man would definitely start rummaging for his flask. 

Unfortunately for Masami, a ping came from his phone and a knocking could be heard on the clinic’s front doors. “Go sit before you fall over.” Masami moved past Emilio, pausing and deciding to just try to take the bag with him to prevent any more mischief on his patient’s part. 

—

“Well, you’re not exactly seeing me at my best here, doc. I’m a lot better looking when I’m not bleeding.” The back and forth with the doctor was a lot easier than it was with most people. Emilio didn’t have to worry about saying something too rude to a man who was just as rude as he was. Though the conversation might have been easier if he weren’t struggling to keep his feet underneath him. He was beginning to understand why Alexus brought him here instead of taking him home as he’d requested, even if he’d never admit to as much. His usual method of administering first aid to himself with a bottle of whiskey and whatever towel on the bathroom floor seemed the least filthy might not have served him very well tonight. 

But… he would still prefer the whiskey. He scowled when the doctor insisted that he couldn’t drink, looking petulant at the rule. “If you push me over, I’ll just drink it in the floor. I’ve had worse drinks in dirtier places, you know.” But he made no move back towards the bag just yet. Embarrassingly, his energy was pretty goddamn spent from his trek across the space to retrieve the cigarette dangling from his mouth, and if the vet made good on his threat to push the hunter over, Emilio was certain he wouldn’t be able to get up again. And the asshole would probably just snatch the flask from him, anyway, at that point. “I don’t need tylenol. I need whiskey. Maybe tequila. Not much of a vodka man, but if you’ve got some on you, I won’t say no.” It was only half a joke. Emilio wasn’t exactly sober — he hadn’t been entirely sober in around two years now — but he wasn’t drunk enough to be comfortable, either. 

Which was probably why the knock on the door had him tensing, paranoia kicking into overdrive momentarily until logic caught up with him and reminded him that they’d ordered Chinese. He raised a brow at the vet, fully planning on retrieving the flask from the bag the moment the man left the room… only to have the plan thwarted by the other man grabbing the bag to carry with him. Emilio let out a frustrated huff of air, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “Aguafiestas,” he muttered, taking a long drag of his cigarette and limping back across the room. Rather than sit on the exam table, he settled himself into the chair the doctor had vacated, just to be contrary. It was where the ashtray was.

—

Masami made his way through his clinic with ease, even with the majority of lights off. He tucked the bag behind the counter and retrieved their meal, making sure to give the driver a rather large tip to make up for having to work so late. The driver did look a little off but Masami chucked it up to it being 2 am, though it got a little stranger when Masami went to lock the door and the driver had barely moved before turning to look at him again, the kid looked hesitant like he wanted to ask something but Masami wasn’t going to risk taking on another patient with a human in his back, so he just made sure to turn the lights off in the front to send the message that he was closed even if he was still working. 

The vet stopped when he pushed the door to the recovery room open and saw Emilio in his chair. He rolled his eyes and brought the food over to the counter spreading it out. “If you’re going to sit there then pull the blanket over you. It’s still winter out even if it’s starting to get warmer. “ Masami opened the doors and pulled out two mugs, deciding to let Emilio use Janice’s. She’d kill him if she knew he let some stranger put his lips on her mug but he didn’t feel like giving Emilio his. “As to your earlier comment, you wouldn’t need to see me if you weren’t bleeding and if I’m denying you your own alcohol why would I give you mine?” 

He filled both cups with water, opting to get the coffee pot filled and going as well, slapping in some hazelnut coffee that was sure to keep him going till Emilio was able to go home. Masami took the time to unwrap the plastic forks and spoons sticking one into what he guessed was Emilio’s order before putting it in the man’s lap and placing the mug on the windowsill. “Don’t drop the mug, it’s not mine.” He mumbled before fetching his own food and scooting the chair that was next to the bed over to the window so he could sit by the ash tray as well. It was a little awkward to balance on his fake leg so he could use his good one to get the damn thing over. 

—

With the vet off to retrieve their takeout, Emilio weighed the option of slipping out the door once again. It would have been a more viable option had his childish protest march for a cigarette not wiped his energy, though the fact that such a short trek had left him this tired let him know that, even without it, he wouldn’t have made it very far if he’d left. More likely than not, any attempt to leave would find him passed out in an alley in a far worse position than stuck in a vet’s office with free takeout and surly company. Besides, he really didn’t want to go without his jacket. Rosa’s old knife was tucked into one of the pockets, and the thought of leaving it behind ached more than he’d care to admit.

So, he settled back into the chair and puffed away at his cigarette, awaiting the doctor’s return. The smug expression on his face as the other man rolled his eyes in response to the chair’s theft was perhaps a little childish, but Emilio felt he’d earned it. He’d put up with the doctor’s prickly demeanor with what, in his opinion, qualified as great patience. “Or you could give me back my coat,” he replied, though he didn’t expect the attempt to be successful. Roles reversed, he wouldn’t return a coat full of weapons to a stranger sitting in his space, either. “I didn’t need to see you to begin with, you know. Alexus overreacted. I would have been fine patching myself up at home.” He knew it was a lie, but he’d never admit it. 

Water certainly wasn’t what Emilio wanted, but he accepted the mug with the knowledge that it was likely all he’d get. He poked absently at the food in his lap, twisting noodles around the plastic silverware without much thought. It was probably the best meal that had been offered to him in months, which was a little sad. He tended to survive on whatever cheap microwavable meals he could pick up at the 24 hour grocery store at two in the morning and whatever Javi ‘accidentally’ left in his fridge. Of course, that was only when he remembered to eat. “I’m not gonna drop the mug,” he mumbled, finger tapping the side of the ceramic absently. “Whose is it?”

—

“Not giving your coat back, you can deal without alcohol till you go home.” From the look of it though, Emilio wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. Masami shuffled into the now positioned chair and set his own mug down to place the cigarette in the ashtray’s holder. “You could have kept the shirt I gave you on.” Emilio seemed to like to make a show of being difficult though so he suspected the shirt would have come off eventually even if Masami hadn’t needed to fix his stitches. Masami was used to difficult patients though. A lot of people who came through liked to act tough, he supposed it made them feel safer in an unknown situation or they were just idiots. He was leaning more towards the idiot part. He really had to stop helping people who didn’t really want it but he doubted he would. 

“You needed me, so thank Alexus when you next see her.” Masami didn’t like the idea of this man patching himself  up at home, just based off his earlier demeanor, Masami felt Emilio would have just doused the wound in alcohol and haphazardly slapped some bandages over it. He was getting a headache just imagining it. Thankfully Emilio piped up again to get the vet out of his mental spiral of all the horrible ways Emilio could have handled the cut on his side. “Hm? It’s my employees. She’s another vet… ikind of.” He could barely remember when he had first met Janice, she felt as old as he did but she was definitely a human. 

Masami frowned at the thought, realizing how easy he was to get help form. Janice had been beaten half to death and Masmai just couldn’t leave her alone now she worked the front desk and luckily for Masami she was an amazing spellcaster especially when it came to dispelling curses. He shoved some of his fried rice into his mouth as he eyed Emilio. Another stranger he helped with no incentive. He really should be harsher, more closed off. He knew it’d get him into trouble, it had happened before. Picking up the wrong stray left to die, eventually it always came back to bite him. He wasn’t a selfless person, he knew he did it to avoid the guilt of letting someone die that he could have helped. He hated that feeling more than the trouble that came with helping someone who was obviously hurt for shady reasons. 

—

“Guess I’ll be going home soon, then,” Emilio grumbled, moving the food on his plate around with his fork without much interest. The doctor had a real ‘mother hen’ kind of thing about him; Emilio doubted he’d be allowed to leave without fuss until he could prove he could walk without trouble, or until someone came round to pick him up. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He’d never be able to go home if he wasn’t allowed to go home alone. Looking absently to where the discarded shirt had fallen, he shrugged. “Didn’t fit my style. Got to keep up my look.” The joke, like his general demeanor in the strange clinic, was little more than an absentminded defense mechanism, a way of putting some form of distance between himself and the situation. Emilio disliked passing out in one location and waking up in one he didn’t recognize because of the control such an event forced him to sacrifice. He’d take it back in any form he could, even if all he could really do was kick up dirt. 

It was especially irritating that the vet was right. Emilio had needed help, and even a near-stranger like Alexus had been able to recognize that. But he’d never admit to such a thing, never let himself accept the help he required without complaining about it. “Thank her? She practically kidnapped me. I’m a captive right now. This is unlawful… encarcelamiento.” Unable to find the English word, he settled for the Spanish one with a dramatic wave of his hand. If this was imprisonment, it was certainly a best case scenario. Decent food, water, and medical care. A conversation partner that didn’t make him want to stab himself with his plastic fork. “You live nearby?” It would explain why he was here so late.

Of course, given his reaction to Alexus dragging a bleeding man into his clinic in the wee hours of the morning, Emilio doubted that the doctor was here just catching up on paperwork. He was probably here most nights, waiting for someone who needed help. It was similar, in a way, to what Emilio did. But this was more like playing defense, fixing problems in the aftermath. Emilio’s game was the offense, squashing issues before they arose. And, sometimes, getting his ass kicked in the process, evidently. He sighed, pushing the food around a little more before leaning forward to set the plate aside in favor of leaning back in his stolen chair. The fork remained in his hand, twirling between his fingers absently. “Not good at sitting still,” he admitted, leaning forward again. “How long before I can leave without you taking offense to it?”

—

Masami noticed the apparent lack of appetite in his patient but decided not to bring it up. He figured he had fussed enough at Emilio for today. “Based on the shirt I cut off you, you're right. It wasn’t dirty enough.” He was getting used to teasing Emilio, their conversation seemed to flow easily even if most of it was just being rude to one another. It was kind of enjoyable. Would be more enjoyable if the man would get out of his own ass. He really should have made Alexus stay to take Emilio home after Masami patched him up, but she looked equally tired and Masami figured she’d be passed out and useless by the time Emilio came around anyway. So he sent her away. He wasn’t about to offer to drive Emilio home either, he didn’t think Emilio would agree even if he did. 

“You’re not a captive.” Masami was starting to realize that Emilio liked to be dramatic. The man seemed to drive everything to its highest point and exaggerate even the littlest of inconveniences. He was also an alcoholic apparently. A note Masami was deciding whether or not to store away, if he did keep note of it then that meant he expected Emilio to come back. He frowned at himself a little, Emilio wasn’t meant to be coming back. He should have been taken to a human hospital in the first place, then again Masami wasn’t going to get the police involved in suspicious cases which was probably why Alexus had come here instead. “I don’t live close by,” He did but he wasn’t going to tell Emilio that, he was easing up around the other man but if Emilio got caught up in something and somehow ended up involving Massami it was better that he didn’t know,”I was here with a sick rabbit… You’re getting curious again.” 

He had thought they were agreeing not to ask questions of each other, even if it hadn’t been spoken out loud. Masami set his own food again and leaned back, eyes roaming Emilio’s form. “You can leave when you feel you can walk home.No lying to seem tough, if you pass out in an alleyway I won’t hear the end of it from Alexus.” He would also have to drag the man back to the clinic himself which wasn’t something Masami thought he would enjoy. 

— 

“Oh, you got jokes?” Emilio took a sip from the mug to hide his grin, amused in spite of himself. The doctor was as quick with his quips as he had been with that needle earlier, which was certainly saying something. There were worse places to wake up, Emilio decided. This was a hell of a lot better than some vampire’s den, even if the ‘torture’ was a little less entertaining. That didn’t mean he was looking to stay, though. 

He narrowed his eyes at the vet’s insistence that he wasn’t a captive, putting on a show as if he didn’t believe it. His paranoia may have had him on high alert at first, but he’d long since accepted that the vet didn’t actually mean him hard. The guy actually seemed like he wanted to help. Somehow, that was more confusing than the alternative. “If I weren’t a captive, you’d let me have my flask.” A last-ditch effort. Never let it be said that Emilio was anything less than persistent. He quirked a brow at the sick rabbit excuse, which he was pretty sure was bullshit. 

“I’m a detective, doc. Curiosity’s kind of part of the job.” But he didn’t poke further, for the moment. The doctor had given him a fair amount of discretion here. The least he could do was return the favor. It was just… a little harder than it might have been for most people. His statement wasn’t entirely false — curiosity was something that ate away at him, and the desire for answers tended to be a hard one for Emilio to ignore. The longer he stayed, the more likely he was to ask questions. He had a hard time stopping himself. Sighing, he continued spinning the fork absently in his fingers and stared at a blank spot on the wall, free hand twitching. “I’ve got a dog,” he said suddenly, glancing to the vet. “He gets antsy. If I’m gonna be here all night, somebody’s gotta check on him.” 

—

“I was a comedian in my past life.” Masami muttered and closed his container of rice, moving to get up and put it in the small fridge that sat on the floor next to the counter. He downed the water in his mug as he closed the fridge door with his foot, filling the now empty mug with half coffee and half creamer. He knew it was a good idea to just make the recovery room and the break room the same area, saved him from having to leave unruly patients like Emilio by themselves just so he could get coffee. 

Speaking of, the dramatics from Emilio earned another eye roll from the vet as he sipped on his drink and leaned against the counter. “Have you never been to a hospital? You’re a patient not a captive. So no flask.” Emilio should have been in a regular hospital, then again he wasn’t sure a normal hospital could handle this guy, Emilio probably would have escaped by now or he would have annoyed the doctors into letting him go. Masami was a little impressed the man kept trying to weasel some alcohol out of him but he wasn’t one to back down as long as Emilio wasn’t hurting himself or someone else. 

He moved to go rejoin the man in the seats, wanting the cigarette he left behind when he paused at the mention of an anxious dog. Masami frowned, at first he wasn’t sure if Emilio was being honest or not and was about to say so until the man fixed his gaze on him. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’ll call a taxi. Hopefully your legs are good to go by the time it arrives.” Masami would be stuck worrying if Emilio wasn’t able to walk properly to the front but at least he wouldn’t walk home. Masami tugged his phone out of his pocket and was quick to place the request. Now it would just be a case of waiting. “Take your food with you, you can eat it later and don’t do anything stupid to re-open your wound. I won’t fix you up again. Humans shouldn’t be back here.” 

He started fussing around in the cupboards with the hand that wasn’t holding the mug, He pulled out some bandages and slapped them into the plastic bag their food had been delivered in before coming over and dropping the bag in Emilio’s lap. This was the last favor he’d do for this man if he could help it. Despite them getting along, Masami had decided it was probably better Emilio stayed on his side of the town far from his clinic. He still didn’t know who had beaten him and Alexus, and he didn’t want any of that trouble coming his way. On the other hand he knew if Emilio showed up here again he wouldn’t say no to treating him. He was weak that way. Always had been. Probably always would be if 500 years of life hadn’t beaten it out of him yet..