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krirebr · 6 months ago

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I Know I Should Know Better 7/End

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.6k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, explicit language, anxiety, but mostly, it's a goddamn happy ending, you guys!! Finally!!! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Holy shit. I can't believe it. We've made it to the end of this series. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's been along on this ride. Your support of this story has really bowled me over. I so hope you love this ending as much as I do.

For this one, especially, any comment, reblog, or ask will mean so much to me. I can't wait to talk to you all about where we leave our sweet beans.

Curtis stood on the front step of your house, waiting to be let in. He'd never gone in this way before, not even the first time. But he didn’t work for you anymore. He was the boyfriend now. A guest. So he'd play by the rules he'd always been so annoyed with Colin and Johnny and the like for flaunting.

It only took a few minutes for Jensen to open the door. “Hey man,” he greeted warmly. “You know you don’t have to stand out here. Come on, get in.” Curtis followed Jake in, then stood somewhat awkwardly in the entryway. Luckily, Jake kept talking. “I should’ve texted you, but I was really sorry to hear how that whole thing went down. It wasn’t fair to either of you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Curtis said sincerely. “I appreciate it. And I’m sorry, for all the secrecy.”

Jake shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. You didn’t owe me any of that.”

Curtis gave a slight nod. “I hope you at least got a promotion out of it.”

Jake ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, kind of. Although I’m sort of pulling double duty right now while we try to find a new driver. But I think the trip went well, so…” he trailed off and shrugged. “You found something, yet?”

Curtis just shook his head. Honestly, he’d barely started looking for his next job. He’d been tired of personal security for a while now, and this seemed like a good opportunity to see what was next. Figure out what he actually wanted. Growing up in foster care, he’d been too aware of how easily things could be taken away, so as soon as he’d started making money, saving had been a priority for him. He had a decent rainy day fund set aside now. He figured he might as well make use of it. And if he got to a point where he needed to pick up a short-term gig here or there, he was sure, with all of his connections now, that he’d be able to do that. “No,” he said, “I think I’m gonna take my time.”

“Nice,” Jake nodded. “Good for you. Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I always liked working with you.”

That got a genuine smile out of Curtis. “Thanks, Jake, you too.” He glanced around your house anxiously. He thought he heard Michelle in the living room, but he didn’t know who else might be here, occupying your time. “Everybody still busy with her?”

“No, the stylist and makeup artists left a couple of minutes ago. I think she’s just getting dressed now, in her room. You should be good.”

Curtis nodded, patted Jake on the shoulder, and made his way through your house.

Two weeks apart. They’d been filled with constant texting, evening phone calls, as much checking in as he could manage in your busy schedule. Hearing about your appearances, junket days, meet and greets. You were finally back, as of that morning, but he still had to steal time for your reunion before the last of your late-night talk show appearances. Your schedule never stopped.

He took the stairs up to your bedroom two at a time and gave a light knock once he got to your door. It immediately swung open to reveal you standing right in front of him in your underwear. He barely had a moment to process before you were throwing yourself at him, filling his arms with you, burying your face in his neck. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you breathed.

“Yeah,” he whispered, holding you as tight as he could. “Me too. Me too.” He shuffled you further into the room so he could kick the door shut behind him and then stood there with you in his arms for as long as you both needed.

You finally pulled away and he took his chance to look around. A rolling rack of clothing your stylist must have brought over was against one wall. Two outfits were laid out on the bed. Your suitcase was flung open in the far corner of the room, items spilling out of it. And then he took you in. Your hair and makeup were already done, but if he looked very closely, he could see the barest hint of bags under your eyes. Your smile was a little sad and you were picking at your nails, seemingly without realizing it. “How are you doing?” he asked, softly.

“I’m alright. I’m– I don’t know. I’m really tired, but,” you looked around yourself, “I’m happy to be home.”

He nodded. The exhaustion was radiating off of you. You’d told him in one of your late-night phone conversations that you’d barely slept on your trip. He wished he could wrap you up and tuck you into bed right now. “Were you able to sleep on the plane at all?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s just been,” you shrugged again, “too much to think about.”

He opened his mouth to ask what was on your mind, but you were already turning away. You went to the foot of your bed and stared at the outfits laid out there.

“Which do you think?” you asked, your hands on your hips.

He looked at the two outfits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for. He didn’t feel like he really knew clothes well enough to offer any sort of an opinion. One was a dress, low-cut and mid-length, maybe. The other was a pair of shiny black pants, although not leather, and a billowy metallic tank. Each outfit had a corresponding pair of sky-high heels sitting at the foot of the bed. “What are you gonna be most comfortable in?” he finally asked.

You sighed ruefully. “Yeah, I'm sure jeans and a t-shirt would go over real well.” After a moment of thought, you picked up the pants and blouse and started putting them on.

You were both quiet as you put on the finishing touches. He helped you with the necklace and bracelets, his big hands carefully opening and closing the clasps.

You stepped away and turned to him. “What do you think?” you asked, a touch of shyness in your voice.

He closed the space between you and put his hands on your hips. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sincerely.

You just looked at him for a moment, studying his face for something, he didn’t know what. Finally, you asked, “You really do love me, don't you?” with just a touch of awe in your voice.

“Yes,” he said without a moment of hesitation, trying to infuse that one word with all of his certainty.

He'd only told you he loved you a few times, since that first time, not wanting to overwhelm or pressure you. He knew he'd jumped ahead. You hadn't said it back yet which was fine. He understood. You'd get there when you were ready. But even if he was trying to go at your pace, he never wanted you to doubt him.

You kissed him unabashedly at that and it did something to settle the worry he'd felt since he laid eyes on you. You pulled back and grinned, the first real smile he'd seen from you since before you left for New York. “I'm gonna get yelled at for messing up my lipstick, but I don't care,” you said, before going in for another, shorter one. He gripped your hips tighter as you pulled your head away, giving him a knowing smirk. “Come on, I’m sure I’m already running late.”

He didn’t let go. Something about this time, just the two of you, felt too precious. “I don’t work for you anymore. I’m the boyfriend now, so I don’t fucking care if you’re late.”

You laughed, big and loud, and it quieted the rest of the unease he’d been feeling about how you were doing. When you were done, you leaned into his chest and just stood there. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.

“I missed you too,” he whispered back wrapping his arms around you. He took a deep breath, savoring the fact that you were there, in front of him, in his arms. Right now, he had you.

And then, of course, there was an impatient knock on the door. “I'll be right there!” you called out, then knocked your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep fortifying breath.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you're so good at this. No matter what, this is something you can do. I've always admired the way you handle this stuff. OK? You can do this.”

You sighed and nodded into his shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. You’d talked, a little, about how upset you’d both gotten the night before you’d left for New York. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe in his frustration and desperation and worry, he’d come on too strong. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but– “I just want you to be happy. No matter what that looks like, I just want to help you get there.”

You moved your head from where it was tucked into his shoulder so you could look him in the eye. “I know,” you said, gratefulness shining in your eyes. “If I know anything, I know that.” You kissed him again, short and soft and sweet. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

It was an odd experience, climbing into the back of your SUV instead of sitting with Jake in the front. Michelle sat in the middle row, acting pointedly cold to him. That was fine, honestly. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive her for the things she’d said when the news of your relationship broke. He didn’t know when he would be. You deserved better.

You were very quiet. He wanted to ask, again, about what was on your mind, but he didn’t want to do that with an audience. So he held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and didn’t move a muscle when you rested your head on his shoulder.

Curtis couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was sitting by himself on what he used to derisively think of as the boyfriend couch. Michelle was on the other couch, focused on emails as always, while Tanya hovered in the middle of the room. There were snacks and drinks laid out on the green room’s coffee table that he was welcome to now, but he hadn’t touched them. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, filling up the big TV on the wall as you chatted with one of the countless late-night Jimmy’s. You looked okay. A little stiff. A little tired. But that was probably only because he knew all the signs to look for.

You’d covered all the benign greetings and small talk and were now getting into the meat of the interview. Whichever Jimmy this was reached across his desk and held up a black paperboard-backed picture of you, twelve or thirteen years old, complete with braces and awkward pigtails. It was from that fucking show.

He saw the anxiety flash across your face, quickly followed by your cheerful mask, although he didn't think he imagined the way it was more strained than usual. Tanya saw it too, judging by the way she took a step forward.

Jimmy was blathering on about the recent influx of TV reunions and reboots and wouldn’t it be fun, wouldn't everyone just love it if there was some sort of reunion for this? The audience roared in agreement.

You forced a chuckle that wouldn't have fooled anyone, pure panic in your eyes. And then you looked directly into the camera and Curtis knew, he knew, that you were looking at him. He tried to send you all of his confidence, all of his support, all of his love. All of his certainty that however you wanted to handle this, you could do it.

He was fooling himself, he knew, but he was sure that you felt it, because in the next moment you took a deep breath, turned to Jimmy, and said, “No, I don't think so.”

Jimmy just gaped at you for a second, clearly taken aback by you suddenly not playing along. He tried to cover with a good-natured laugh and “What? Oh no! Why not?”

You didn't match his tone. You responded seriously, “I really hated making that show.” There were a few audible gasps from the audience, but you ignored them. “Everyone did. It was a miserable place to be. Everyone hated each other. Everyone fought all the time. For seven years! I was a child and no one protected me from that. I went to work every day, as a child, in the most toxic environment. But I was making money. So I guess it was ok.

“And now, god, it’s been ten years! And everyone just keeps bringing it up. It’s all anyone wants to talk to me about. And I just can’t talk about it anymore. I really can’t. I’m not gonna do it again. I’m done with that.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya muttered next to Curtis, who was standing up now, unable to take his eyes off you. Whatever you were doing, it was incredible.

He could tell that the host wanted to break in, he kept looking wildly off-camera to someone for help, but you just kept talking. You wouldn’t stop.

“There’s just– There’s so much I don’t want to do anymore. I’m not doing ok, you know? I mean, you must know. It’s all over every gossip site. I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a very long time, maybe ever. But I just keep going forward in the same way, because that’s all I’ve ever done since I was a kid. That’s all I’ve known how to do. But I think– I think I’m done doing that now. I want to figure out how to be ok.”

Curtis took a step closer to the screen. “Holy shit,” he mumbled, deep pride filling his chest, “she’s doing it.”

“What is she doing, Curtis?” Tanya asked, somewhat hysterically.

He ignored her. He couldn’t see or hear anything other than you.

Back on the TV, Jimmy cleared his throat and opened his mouth, trying to somehow stop his show from careening wildly off the rails. But you put your hand up to stop him.

“Please, Jimmy, I know. You asked a simple question and you got all this instead,” you laughed, unabashed, and there it was. There you were. Curtis beamed at seeing it. “Just let me say this one last thing.” You looked directly into the camera again. “I– I am really proud of this movie. We worked really hard on it, and I hope you go see it.”

A laugh escaped Curtis. God, you were so good at this, knowing exactly what you were contractually obligated to do. He glanced quickly at the other end of the green room. Michelle was standing now too, her mouth wide open in shock, while Tanya looked like she might have a stroke.

“And I think–” you continued. ”I think it might be the last movie I do for a while. The last anything. We'll see.”

A wave of murmurs went through the studio audience. Curtis had fully forgotten they were even there during all this, they’d been so quiet since you’d really gotten going, just as enraptured by you as he was.

“Ok,” you said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s it. I’m– I’m done.” Then you stood, took off your mic pack, gently laid it on the chair, and walked off stage.

As Jimmy awkwardly threw to a commercial break, Curtis raced into the hallway. He walked towards the stage as fast as he could, intercepting you about halfway there, a lost-looking PA trailing behind you. You looked a little shell-shocked but good. You looked so fucking good.

He gently touched your face with both hands as soon as you were within reach. “Holy shit, that was incredible. You’re incredible. I can't believe you did that. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice a little shaky, your eyes a little watery. “I didn't– I wasn't planning to. But then he asked about the show and, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of the things you're always telling me. About living my own life and what I'm worth. And I just thought, ‘What if I actually do what I want for once?’ And, yeah.” You shrugged.

“Fucking incredible,” Curtis whispered and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and a little desperate and so, so happy.

So of course it was cut short when Tanya called out your name. You both turned around to look at her standing at the end of the hall, looking harried. “What was that?! How on earth am I supposed to clean that up?!”

“Tanya,” you said, your voice shockingly calm and firm. “Stop. There's nothing to clean up. You're fired.”

It took everything inside of Curtis not to whoop with joy or pick you up and spin you around. But, shit, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Your gaze moved to where Michelle stood behind Tanya. “Sorry, Michelle,” you said with a frown, “you too. I don't think I'll need a team or an assistant for a while.”

“You need to stop and think about this,” Tanya said, her tone placating.

“I already have. Thank you both, sincerely, for everything you've done for me, but it's time to try something new.” And then you grabbed Curtis’s hand and led him back down the hall.

You quietly got your things from the green room and changed your shoes, then brought Curtis outside through a side door, far away from where fans were gathered, expecting you to run into your SUV.

You took a deep breath as soon as you hit the fresh air. “I kind of just want to walk around for a while. That ok?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. There were a few hours before the show aired on the East Coast. A few hours, hopefully, before the bomb you’d just set fully exploded. A walk sounded nice.

You headed away from the studio and Curtis was content to follow your lead. You didn't say anything, which was fine. He figured you had a lot to process.

After several minutes, you let out a long, deep breath. “Holy shit. I can't believe I just did that. Holy shit, Curtis, I just quit!”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, carefully, wanting to make sure you weren't wracked with regret.

You took your time answering. Then finally, “So relieved. Just so fucking relieved.”

He stopped you from walking, using his grip on your hand to turn you to face him. “I hope you understand just how incredibly proud of you I am. How brave I think you are.”

“Curtis,” you said quietly, ducking your head, clearly overwhelmed.

“I mean it,” he said as he squeezed your hand and started walking again.

After several more minutes of companionable silence, you slowed down a little. “So, where do you think we should go?”

He shrugged and glanced around the area. “I don’t know. I could eat. Think you can get away with ducking into a burger place?”

You laughed and he stopped short at how nervous you sounded. “No, that’s not– I didn’t mean–” You shook your head and he turned so he was fully facing you. “I don’t know, it’s just– You said a year, remember? Back on my couch, you said I should take a year.” You were avoiding his eyes now, and you sounded so shy.

Your couch. That night, however many months ago. When you’d let him really see behind the mask, and he brushed his fingers against yours for the first time. As he realized what you were trying to ask him, the weight of it, the enormity of what you were offering, all he was able to do was whisper, “I remember.”

“Ok, well, I thought that maybe we could do that. Take a break. Go somewhere maybe, if there was somewhere you wanted to go.”

It took him a minute, as he was flooded with so many things—how much he loved you, how much he wanted to do for you, give to you, how happy he was in this moment—but once he found his voice, he gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Wherever you are,” he said, with the most conviction he thought he had ever said anything. He leaned in and kissed you. It was short and more chaste than he wanted, but he was too conscious of how out in the open you were. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “Absolutely anywhere you are.”

You threw your arms around him and moved your head so your lips were right next to his ear. And then you said, so so softly, so that it was just for him, “I love you. I'm so in love with you.”

A warmth he didn’t think he’d ever felt before filled his whole chest. All he could do was just hold you, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, murmuring in your ear just how much he loved you, too.

Eventually, you’d start walking again. You’d find a little restaurant to duck into for a bite to eat. He’d make you put your phone on speaker as you told Lloyd and Wilford they were fired. And you’d figure out what came next, where you would go, what the logistics of quitting actually entailed. Then you’d get an Uber home and show each other with your bodies just how much you cared.

But for now, he just wanted to hold you in the middle of the sidewalk.

I love you all. Thank you so much for reading. 💜

Tag List

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#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #bodyguard au #snowpiercer #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #bodyguard!curtis everett #bodyguard!curtis everett x actress!reader #reader insert #i know i should know better #kris wrote something

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danopdf · 5 months ago

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Richard Winters x Reader [getting lost on D-Day]

Proceed with caution! warnings: swearing, kidnapping, allusions to assault (physical and sexual), blood, usual bofb warnings

When you jumped out of that plane on D-Day your entire stick was scattered just like everybody else

So instead of wandering around aimlessly, you gathered up a few men from various divisions until you could make your way to the rally point and get back with Easy.

But when your group was passing through a more marshy area, when your entire group (about 10 men) was ambushed, and before you could even raise your M1 you had been tackled and with a few swift punches were out cold

You woke up in a dark, dingy basement that was damp enough for the cold to be seeping through your uniform and into your bones

Your hands are tingling as all the blood leaves them from being suspended above you, tied around some rafter

With blurry vision you tried to search the room, trying to see if any of the Germans that had kidnapped you were still around but it was so dark you had to use the flash of a bomb dropping to catch even a glimpse of the room

There are three other men in the room, all tied up and hung from the beams in the same kneeling position that you are

The door to the basement opens, and the harsh sound of German laughter floods down the stairs, followed by the heavy sound of boots and the soft light of a lamp, stretching their shadows across the walls.

======

Dick has barely been able to concentrate the past three days, not having any idea where you could be and hearing nothing about you from the other Easy men who had all finally gathered at the rally point- hell he’d even found Lewis before he found you

“Nix! Have you seen y/n?”

“They haven’t checked in yet?”

“No, nobody’s seen them since they got in with their stick, and none of those men know where they are either.”

Dick can barely concentrate because he‘s terrified that everybody that he sees hanging from a tree or lying face down in the mud is going to be yours

During Brecourt Dick thinks he sees you out of the corner of his eye and he freezes, Carwood has to drag him back into the trench because he almost gets shot right through the helmet

After that, he tries to push thoughts of you to the back of his mind

He tries compartmentalizing it to make what may be news of your death easier to deal with but if anything it just hurts him more because he doesn’t want to push the thoughts of you away

======

You can’t tell how long it’s been since you dropped, but every time you get dragged up from the basement into one of the rooms it’s always night, or the drapes are drawn so tight you can’t tell if daytime has ever existed

The first few days you spent praying for someone- for Dick- to find you but after days of being beaten, bruised, touched, cut, and interrogated you want nothing more than the sweet relief of death

‘The others got the bliss of fading away in the night or a short-tempered captain, why can’t I get the same? Because you have to wait for Dick, he wouldn’t leave you and he wouldn’t want you to give up, you’re stronger than this.’

You just hoped that this town was one that's meant to be liberated, and not destroyed, but if the ever-encroaching sound of artillery being dropped is anything to go by, you may not be so lucky

======

Dick knows they’re running behind, but that’s what happens when you meet a bunch of Germans who don’t know when to quit

They were supposed to take the small town a week after dropping, but due to some overly enthusiastic resistance, it's been nearly two weeks since they dropped, since Dick lost you

He had sent most of the Easy men to start clearing houses and rallying up prisoners when his small meeting with Lewis gets interrupted by a voice yelling separately for Gene, who comes blazing around the corner already grabbing gauze from his pack

======

You heard the sounds of gunfire and grenades close enough that it made dust fall over your greasy hair and bloodied face, and you just hoped that it was the sound of the Allies winning and not them being the ones to flee

Twenty minutes after the gunfire and yelling had stopped the sound of heavy footsteps floods the house above, and muffled voices talking, kicking open doors firing off a few single shots

The door to the basement wrenches open and two sets of heavy boots descend the stairs

You flinch and pray that if it’s the Germans again this time they just kill you

Wincing as the flashlight passes over the room, scanning over the other bodies that have flies swarming them and landing on you- the only soldier left with your arms hanging from the rafters, bloodied and broken like a slaughterhouse pig

Steeling yourself you look toward the bright light and your body nearly gives out when you hear a familiar voice say

“L/n? Holy shit.”

And then the quick scuffle of boots as the same voice demands

“George go get Doc- and Winters, get Winters!”

The heavy footsteps come toward you and when a large hand reaches out to touch you, you flinch and your bleary eyes shoot open

“Hey, hey you’re alright, I’m gonna let you down, alright?”

By the time your vision clears enough to make out the person in front of you, your hands are freed from the rafter and you’re slumping forward into their arms

‘Toye?” Your throat is scratchy and dry from crying and being denied water for ‘misbehaving’ (biting an officer's hand hard when he tried to touch you)

“Yeah it’s me l/n, we’re here, we’ve got you.”

You haven't seen anyone good in weeks and you were no more than a few hours away from bashing your head off the wall until it all went away, but now here you are being held by a friend- a brother, and he’s so gentle, and caring

The second you can actually move your numb arms again you’re wrapping them around his shoulders and holding him as tight as you can, digging your bloody fingers into the fabric of his uniform as you start to shake and dob, but nothing comes out with how dehydrated you are

“Let’s get you out of here y/n”

Joe carefully wraps one arm around your waist and on shaky legs you start toward the exit, stumbling up the stairs, and blinking hard as the first bits of dull grey light seep through the windows

You know you shouldn’t be, but when you have to step over one of the men’s bodies to get out the door you feel a sense of relief and you give him a small kick as you lift your boot (which Joe sees but doesn’t say anything beyond a small amused huff)

You slowly step out onto the top step of the house and have to cover your eyes from the bright light of the dull grey sky- a sky that you haven’t seen in weeks

Taking a deep breath Toye stands beside you watching the way you tear up. Your lip quivers and suddenly you drop, and his hands are reaching out to guide you as gently as he can to the ground

Fast footsteps come around the corner and suddenly you’re being gently coaxed away from Joe’s chest and into the awaiting arm of Gene, whose eyes are scanning over you quickly and his hands are already reaching for a rag and water to both clean you and for you to shakily take sips of

More footsteps round the corner and more of Easy forms a cautious semi-circle around the front steps where you’re leaning against Joe’s chest and Gene is wiping caked-on blood away from the many cuts and bruises along your weak body

You’re practically asleep in Joe’s arms with the knowledge that you’re now safe, but you bolt upright (much to the gentle complaint of Gene) when you hear a series of fast, heavy footsteps and the commanding call of

“Where are they? Move, move!”

And suddenly there he is, pushing through the crowd of Easy men

“Dick.” You breathe softly, your raw voice cracking when he stands in front of you, taking in how different you look and how frail you’ve become since you last saw each other right before jumping out of those goddamn planes

He pulls off his helmet and drops next to you, pulling you away from both the others and into his arms, arms that you’ve missed so much

“I thought I lost you.”

You burst into tears, finally having some water in your system (thanks to Gene who forced you to drink, and thanks to Skip who immediately passed over his canteen)

Dick cards his fingers through your gross hair and plants soft reassuring kisses along your brow and down until he softly kisses your chapped lips

The kiss tastes more like blood than him but it’s still the most comforting kiss that you’ve had in weeks, and it’s Dick that’s kissing you, in front of everyone with not a care in the world other than making sure you’re comfortable and safe

“You found me.”

Slowly Dick slide into the spot that Toye had been in, holding you tight against his chest and wrapping you in his arms, allowing Gene to keep working on wiping away the blood and grime so he can fix you up

Most of the men disperse after realizing the intimacy of the moment, and the rest leave the second Dick tucks his head between your shoulder and jaw, and he sighs shakily

The entire time Gene is patching you up Dick is whispering soft words into your ear, reassuring you that you’re safe and that he’s not going to let anything happen to you again

Gene helps Dick carefully bring you back to the aid station that is being set up, so that he can do a more in-depth check-up, and the entire time Dick is next to you, holding your hand

When the time comes for you to give a statement of sorts on what happened to you over the few weeks that you were missing, Dick does not let go of your hand

Maybe he cries a little when he hears all that you went through, but that fact doesn’t leave the room

After you’re interviewed, checked over, and had a good cry while in the shower (that Dick sits outside of and holds your hand through the gap in the curtain so you’re not alone), Lewis tells Dick that he had commandeered a house for you two and that he had even found a real bed with pillows and a few blankets

Dick spends the entire night wrapping you in his arms and holding you as close as he can without you two merging together

You don’t say much other than just repeating how much you love each other

You fall asleep quickly in the safety of his arms and with his soothing heartbeat under your ears

Until the moment Dick falls asleep he is whispering promises into the crown of your head

“I’m not going to let anything else happen to you ever again, I promise.”

#band of brothers #richard winters x reader #dick winters x reader #dick winters #dano speaks #band of brothers hbo #band of brothers x reader #richard winters

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snifflesthemouse · 3 months ago

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Meghan was Harry's Revenge. Once He is Over it...

Hello ALL YOU LOVELY READERS!!! How this mouse has missed the cheese! How is everyone out there? It feels like years since I've decidded to sit down and make time to repeat myself for others to use for content on their own videos (I'm not hating, I love it.). But this is a bit different.

You see, there was a Vanity Fair article that recently came out revealing things we all knew already if you were already paying attention. We all knew that Meghan was horrible to her staff. We all knew Harry ignored and allowed her abuses to be hurled upon anyone around her. We all knew that she would be shopping a divorce book deal one day, too. So what is the point in keeping on keeping on, if it's just the same stuff on repeat?

WAIT... WHY IS IT JUST THE SAME OLD SAME OLD STUFF, AND NOTHING NEW??

Why no new patterns of behavior as of lately?

Meghan is infamous for playing the Flying Pasta Game (go read what that is below, on my blog). She has the same exact pattern for every single project she has been rumored to start since she got with Haz. She finds an idea to copy, she tries to 'elevate it' and spin it as original and fresh, and then she doesn't fully commit until she sees if it becomes an instant sensation. That is the problem with the narcissist; they won't finish anything unless they know it will be more than viable. Anything less than a smash isn't worth the signatures for the USPTO for ARO to legally proceed. She did this with EVERYTHING. But, I am not here to talk about Meghan's hair-brained schemes and failures. I am here to talk about the truth.

The truth is, Harry and Meghan were never star-crossed lovers with their backs against the world. They were two mentally disturbed people, both with abandonment issues. Both with insecurites stacked to the ceilings. But one was a prince, and the other had to use people to get her platform.

Let's be real. Harry was never in love with Meghan. Love wouldn't leave you hanging that way. And Meghan caught on early that Harry was using her for revenge. They were both using each other.

The problem with two mutual people who don't love each other coming together to scheme and scam is, that it almost ALWAYS blows up. For regular people, they end up caught and either go to jail or some just desserts come EVENTUALLY.

Harry hates his family. He doesn't love his wife, either. He doesn't love his brother, and he didn't love his grandparents. Love doesn't hurt. But hurt people do hurt. And Harry has been plotting his revenge for his mother for a while now. He knew he'd never be able to be KIng or topple the monarchy. But he knew he could marginally disrupt, embarass, and bring doubts to the people. That could, potentially, cause lots of harm.

But you know what happens when someone is built off of hate and bitter? It takes a lot of energy and steam to keep the hate going. Just like this mouse told you before... the same song and dance numbers would be replayed on repeat because they've been cut off. They have no new source materials.

The whole world finds them boring and atrocious. If Meghan was smart, she would go away and be silent for a while. A few years of her nose to the grind and working from behind the scenes would do us all some good.

Because they aren't working on their podcasts or Netflix deals. They were professionally separated until the next devastation station came about for them to trauma tour. We've seen it for years, and I have no idea why the mainstream media hasn't made a montage of these events.

Eventually, Harry will be tired of being mad. BUT, He will be even more tired of being broke and being tied to her. He will hate her like he hates his own because that is how hate works. It is a cancer. When people are miserable on the inside, nothing can fix that but them. Harry will get bored and need someone else to be mad at that will make new drama and money.

This mouse told you all years ago this was coming. They would run out of steam and turn on each other. Harry did his damage, and he tested the waters to see how truly loved he was... and he got a bad grade. He learned a lot of people wouldn't tolerate everything like he was Diana.

Meghan got tired of waiting on Trevor to help her career. She will do the same with Harry, too. But see... there is this pesky problem they both have. Meghan is spiteful enough she would expose the whole thing re the surrogacy issues. That's a whole other post in and of itself, though.

I miss you all and love you dearly!!!

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oldwritingm · 1 year ago

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Creepypasta/MH - How They’d Ask You Out

Characters: Eyeless Jack, Nina the Killer, Clockwork, Jane the Killer, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoody

Eyeless Jack

I don’t think it would take him too long to ask out someone he liked

As long as he was sure that he really did like them, and that they didn’t hate him or anything, he’d be comfortable at least asking

He would bring flowers for sure

He’d show up at your door late at night, bouquet in hand

“Would you care to join me for a walk?”

You’d stroll through the woods, talking a bit about yourselves

It’d be a pretty deep conversation, both of you staying serious as you exposed vulnerable parts of yourselves

He’d hint at being romantically interested in you, but he’d wait until you were back at your house to pop the question

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but I really do think you’re amazing. I’d love it if you’d be my partner.”

If you say yes he’ll be absolutely radiating joy and he’ll promise to treat you well before bidding you goodnight

If you say no he’ll understand, thank you for your time anyway, and disappear into the night

He’s okay staying friends, but he’ll be sad about it for a while

Still, your companionship is more important to him than being yours

Nina the Killer

It won’t take long at all for her to ask out someone she’s interested in

As soon as she knows she can trust them, she’ll go for it

She’ll use something homemade to actually ask the question

Like a kandi bracelet that says “be mine?”

Or maybe a cake she baked herself

Either way it’s bound to be something decorative made with lots of love

She’ll find you at school/work/home and tell you she has something to show you

She smiles hugely when she reveals her little project, but inside she’s buzzing with anxiety

“So..? What do you say?”

If you agree she’ll literally drop whatever she’s made and throw her arms around you

She will proceed to take you out shopping to buy something to commemorate the occasion

Matching shirts, bracelets, a new piercing, maybe even a pizza to share

Just a little something to celebrate :)

If you say no she’ll be devastated

“Oh… well, thanks anyway…”

She probably won’t talk to you for a while, if ever again

Clockwork

She’d have to know you for a VERY long time beforehand

She has trouble trusting people, as well as trouble finding someone she’s genuinely interested in romantically

You’d know pretty much everything about each other by the time she decides to ask you out

That just means that she knows the way to your heart though

She’ll make a beautiful sketch of you

Maybe there’s some gore incorporated, but hey, if you’ve stuck with her this long you’ll be used to it

You’ll be hanging out one day, her drawing and you distracted by something else, and she’ll suddenly tear a page from her sketchbook

She hands you the drawing while saying:

“Hey, Y/n, so… I really like you. You’re my dream partner. I want you by my side always.”

If you agree to be her partner, she’ll grin, turning back to her sketchbook with a little pinkness on her cheeks as she mumbles “cool”

When you leave she’ll peck your cheek before slamming the door in your face, giddy that she had the courage to do that

If you reject her, she’ll frown

Probably won’t want to be friends anymore :(

She just doesn’t want to be around someone she loves knowing they don’t love her back

Jane the Killer

I think it depends on the person when it comes to Jane

If you guys click really well, she’ll probably try to advance the relationship quicker than if your relationship started off rocky

But either way she’s going to plan something romantic

She’ll buy you something nice and deliver it in secret

Like, one day you’ll just find a box of chocolates or a necklace with a note attached telling you to meet her someplace

Personally I like to think it’d be a blossoming cherry tree, or perhaps a scenic overlook

You’ll find her there waiting for you, hands fidgeting nervously behind her back

She’ll get straight to the point:

“Y/n, I like you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but if you do… wanna be my girlfriend?”

If you accept, she’ll get a huge smile and run over to you, throwing her arms around you and twirling you around

You’ll sit together at the scenic location for a while, leaning on each other with your fingers intertwined

If you decline, she’ll just nod with a sad smile

She’ll be sad for a while, but ultimately she’s got other things in her life to worry about, so I don’t think she’ll wallow for too long

Might keep talking to you, might not; again, it really depends with her

Tim/Masky

Another one who’d have to know you a while first

He needs to make sure he trusts you, yes, but he also needs to start trusting himself around you

Once he’s sure that you can both handle yourselves, he’ll take more time to hype himself up to do it

He questions bitterly whether you’d even accept if he did ask you out

Eventually he gets so exhausted from the constant will they/won’t they in his head that he spontaneously blurts out:

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You’ll be taken aback; you guys were literally just chilling in silence

Plus he would’ve given next to no hints that he liked you at all

If you accept, he’ll sigh, slouching severely in relief

Finally some peace of mind… and heart

He’ll murmur a thank you for giving him this peace, but won’t elaborate

If you decline, he’s going to beat himself up about it so hard

He won’t blame you at all; no, every ounce of blame is going into the anvil that he’s crushing himself with

Probably won’t want to keep contact for much longer

Your presence is just a constant reminder of (what he sees as) his failure

Brian/Hoody

He didn’t know you for too long before deciding to ask you out, but he knew a lot about you

If he’s interested in you, he’s going to find out everything he can

He prefers outside sources, but if he absolutely cannot find something he wants to know, he’ll begrudgingly just ask you

That being said, he knows how to charm you

He’s a pretty naturally charming person regardless, but he wants to do something special just for you

He’d leave a gift for you; something he knows you love

Jewelry with your favorite gemstone, your favorite flowers, a nice new fluffy blanket… something on the luxurious side

Plus a note saying:

“Y/n, please be mine. With love, Brian”

He’ll approach you later and ask for your response

If you agree, he’s got a whole nice evening planned out already, and he’s more than eager to take you on this first date

If you decline, he’ll probably “cut contact”

I use quotations because he’ll probably still keep tabs on you in secret for a while

He’ll get over it eventually, but until he does that’s his way of coping

Thank you for reading!! Take care of yourselves pumpkins <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #marble hornets x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #clockwork #clockwork x reader #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader #masky x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #hoody x reader

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johnslittlespoon · 1 year ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/johnslittlespoon/744374471821017088/would-just-like-to-point-out-that-once-again-a

i love this so much omgggg. imagine bucky is in a mood one day with buck but still just collapses onto buck’s bunk and curls into the sheets. buck would think it was the most endearing thing ever. maybe buck is standing in bucky’s way, forcing bucky to grumble out an excuse me that’s just dripping with attitude but buck can’t even be upset about it because bucky proceeds to shove past him and throw himself into buck’s bunk and bury his face in his pillow. or imagine buck coming over to talk to bucky and bucky rolls away from him but it’s like. that kind of loses its effect when ur in BUCK’s bunk😭

linked post | gigglingsjdgk yes omg. this is so so THEM i'm gone

it doesn't matter how much they bicker or fight during the day or what type of mood either of them might be in– john will not sleep in his own bunk if his life depends on it once he gets a taste of sleeping in gale's. over the winter, the bunking for warmth excuse works just fine, but as the weather starts to heat up, his new excuse is "your bunk is comfier."

gale doesn't point out that this makes no sense with all of their bunks being the exact same; he'd love to tease john about it, but he doesn't want to scare him out of climbing into his bunk night after night, and he makes damn sure the other guys don't rib on him for it either. everyone's got their coping mechanisms, and they all know john's hanging on by a thread, so they're not going to question his vices.

imagine what goes down after that scuffle in the yard? john spends the rest of the evening pacing the yard, cooling off until it's time for lock–in, and gale's waiting leaning against his bunk when john comes back into the room, expecting a conversation. but john doesn't even look at him fully, just brushes past with a short bratty "scuse me" and drags himself into gale's bunk and curls up as close to the wall as he can get without another word.

gale turns and stares at him in disbelief, shaking his head but still feeling so fond because they can have the worst fight of their friendship and john still crawls into his bed at the end of the day like it belongs to him just as much as gale, even in his silent treatment.

gale half wants to go crawl into john's bunk instead to make a point, but he's not sure he can even fall asleep alone anymore after so many months of sharing a bunk, and he knows it's not really him that john's mad at– they're all mad at the world right now, and john's just taking it out on him because he's there and real and he subconsciously tries to sabotage anything good because he feels undeserving. the silent treatment is as much geared towards gale as it is john punishing himself for the guilt he feels after lashing out at him.

john presses his face into gale's pillow when gale climbs in behind him with a huff, pulling the thin blanket up over both of them, only hesitating for a moment before he slings his arm over john's waist all the same, deciding he's not gonna lay awkward and uncomfortable facing the opposite direction with nowhere for his arms to go; if john wants to be touchy, he can lay somewhere else.

john barely manages to put on a show of being tense against him for more than a few minutes before he's relaxing into his arms anyway, back pressing to his chest, a quiet sigh puffing out against the pillow. gale steals a gentle press of his lips to the nape of his neck, a silent apology, because he knows they'll talk properly in the morning once john's not as antsy and worked up, and john squeezes gale's hand where it rests over his stomach, and everything feels okay again. <3

#i LOVE the second scenario too lol gale would call him on his stupid stubbornness in a heartbeat and it would lead to more bickering #but they always smooth things out in the end even if they don't go about it the healthiest way </3 they're learning #i need to actually work on the dog fic ch3 tn so gonna save more drabbles/brainrot for later when i make some good progress sobs #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon brainrot #buckbucky #clegan

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years ago

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Black Light 4

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You check yourself in the mirror. The black bob isn’t a bad look. You tilt your head back and forth making the sleek strands wiggles back and forth. The sunglasses complete the look and you ponder overhauling your usual style. You look dangerous.

You resist scratching under the wig and give yourself a smile. You look almost devilish in the get up but you can’t chance being recognised on your mission. No, this is very important. This is revenge. Served tepid.

You sneak out the backdoor and check your phone. You have another message from your new friend. She texted you earlier that she had a new cell already. You hang onto yours like gold, you’re not really sure what you would do if you lost it. Probably turn to the primitive lifestyle.

‘I’m headed to the club, meet you at the cafe.’

‘Sure thing, 🐔💸’ You text.

She texts back a simple question mark.

‘Chicken wing’ you clarify and smack your forehead. You’re such a dweeb. You follow up quickly; I’ll be there.

You head downtown, catching a bus halfway and tossing the transfer. You could use the walk as your nerves are starting to flurry. You approach the cafe and see your friend. She wears a denim skirt and an off-the-shoulder red shirt. Her shoes are the same shade as her top. She looks towards you then the other way, not acknowledging your approach.

You near and give a short ‘psst’. She whips around and sneers in your direction before blanching and saying your name.

“Like it?” You pull down your sunglasses. “I feel like Sandy from Grease. Well, more like Rizzo.”

“Uh, sure, why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, I didn’t want that guy to recognize me so I figure I could sneak in like this.”

“Ah,” she nods and lets out a sigh, “right. Well, try going to the other one when they card ya.”

“That works too. You’re so clever.”

“Thanks,” she says dully, “come on.”

You give a bounce and follow her down the street. She marches on, set on her path as you skip to keep up. She’s a lot more graceful in her heels. And angry. You worry about Cole, he might not be ready for what she has in store.

“Hopefully that jackass is there but those types usually don’t have anything else going on,” she snarls as if reading your mind.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You make sure you point him out when you see him. And don’t get to close, I’ll take care of him. No drinks, either. Let’s not take that chance.”

“Sounds like a plan. Well, kind of.”

“Don’t worry, I can slip this guy something. Don’t you worry. Men are stupid, he gets distracted by his next mark and I’ll strike first,” she turns the corner and you flutter along with her, joining the queue outside the club.

“You’re so brave,” you admire.

“No, I’m pissed,” she insists as she crosses her arms, slowly shifting with the line.

You peek out around the bodies. You see that man, Auggy. He’s scowling at an ID. You watch him and his eyes flick up as if he can sense you. You recoil quickly and put your chin down.

“Hey, be cool,” your friend touches your elbow, “busy tonight, you just gotta blend in.”

“Mmm, yeah,” you murmur, “I just… I don’t know what I did. I was nice–”

“He’s an old grump,” she scoffs, “who cares how he feels.”

You approach the front of the line and make sure to veer towards the other bouncer, the one with the pudgy belly. He barely looks at your card as he waves you inside. The two of you enter to the buzz of the crowd and blare of speakers.

“Now, we hunt,” she says, “keep your phone on you. You get close to him, let me know. Oh, and take a picture if you can.”

“Right, uh…”

“I’ll get upstairs, you stay down here,” she directs, “we’ll meet back up in half an hour if we can’t find him.”

“Sure.”

“Look, I got you. Anyone gives you trouble, text me. And give em a punch like I showed you.”

You put your fist up and pat your elbow as you reenact the brief lesson she gave you earlier. She smiles and squeezes your arm.

“Good,” she praises, “now, let’s do this.”

She turns and struts off. You admire her from afar. She’s so cool. And she likes you, you think. She’s a lot nicer than Amanda or Kam. You frown and spin around, looking around at the dancing figures and the bar shining at the far end of the room.

Where to begin…

You twiddle your fingers and give a huff. You have to get in the mindset. The grindset. The findset. Find him. Hmm, you’re not great with faces…

You go to take a step forward and you're suddenly hauled back by your arm. You yipe. No one around you reacts as you’re slammed against the wall, a shadow towering over you. You look up as your sunglasses are torn away and a light is shone in your face. The bouncer lets out a gravelly growl as the small bulb of the flashlight glares in your eyes.

“I knew it was you,” he grits.

“Oh, hi, Auggy!” You chime, “how are you?”

“Don’t act like you fucking know me,” he clicks off the light and leans down until your encased in the blackness of his silhouette. “You don’t want to know me.”

#august walker x reader #august walker #dark august walker #dark!august walker #drabble #series #black light #au #mission impossible: fallout #the club

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tavyliasin · 1 year ago

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Baldur's Date Open Creative Challenge!

Artists, Writers, Creators of All Kinds!

You are cordially invited to join a creative challenge!

You must be 18 years old or over to join, but there will be 2 categories, one for SFW works and one for NSFW works!

Accepted Submission Types

Please note all works must be your own and not made using any AI, including AI RP bots for writing.

Art

Comics

Valentine's Card

Fiction

Drabble collection (series of short fic, 1-5 paragraphs each)

Poetry

Song lyrics

Full songs/music

Podfic (With agreement from the fic writer)

Cosplay (No Nudes/NSFW/Explicit please)

Other Crafts (Puppets, embroidery, paper figure cut outs - whatever you like!)

For the Rules and More Details, please see below! Credit to Morb for the new event banner!

Welcome to the Baldur's Date Challenge!

Please be aware this event will include spoilers to characters, storylines, and endings, as well as NSFW content. Proceed with care!

The idea is to create something themed around a Date or Valentine Event. It doesn't even have to be romantic or positive, there are lots of ways to take this from Valentine's Cards from characters to slow burn romance to fully brutal heartbreak and violence. The choices are yours!

The Rules

By participating, even in the SFW version, you agree and confirm you are 18 years old or over.

All creators retain full rights to their works, subject only to the conditions of the platforms they share them on (ie, AO3)

Submissions must contain at least one named character from Baldur's Gate 3

Submissions must also be based around a date, valentine-type event, or similar

AUs, non-canon, alternate versions of characters are all WELCOME

You may choose your own prompt, or use the quiz to help you decide!

Poly Romance Welcome

Characters only, no actors or real people, other than using "Reader Insert" with 2nd person writing styles.

All works must be tagged appropriately for any CWs (please ask TavyliaSin for a list if required)

All characters must be 18 or over in the game as well as in the work you create

No characters in romantic relationships are to be related to each other.

Trans and gender-swapped characters are welcomed, unless it is only for the explicit purpose of making a canon homosexual couple into a heterosexual couple (eg, making Aylin a man so that the relationship with Isobel is straight)

Deadline is 10th Feb to allow for time to check entries

Collections will go live just before midnight on 13th Feb so they are ready to be viewed on Valentine's Day

If you would like to help with the event running, please contact TavyliaSin on Twitter, Discord, or anywhere else you can hunt her down~

Dead Dove and controversial topics, kinks, and characters are allowed but must be properly tagged to give people a choice of what they engage with. This also means there is to be no shaming - Tavylia would like to support all creative works even ones she isn't personally fond of or would avoid.

How Do I Join?

You can either send your submissions directly to the AO3 Collections, or if you don't have AO3 you can wait until 14th Feb and reblog/retweet the posts I'll make for the collections on the day to add your contributions. It's open to EVERYONE who is 18+! Join in, give it a try! Submissions on AO3 close on 10th Feb 2024 (just before midnight GMT/UTC 0) so please try to get things in on time to be on AO3 so we have a few days to accept and check submissions. The collections will go live on 14th February for Valentine's just around midnight UTC0/GMT

Select "Post to Collection" to add your work! All works will be hidden until the collection releases on 14th.

Are there any Prompts?

Yes! Aside from the general theme there are prompts for art and writing (and anything else) on the following google form. You can roll dice to decide for you as each question has numbered answers and instructions on the dice to use! But you don't have to stick to the result you get - choose what you like. You don't even have to roll dice at all if you don't want to, just take a look at the selection for some ideas and choose what's interesting in it.

You can enter as many pieces as you like, so please use this to have fun and enjoy yourselves~

If you have any questions please drop them in comments, or contact me anywhere you can find me~

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #fanart #creative challenge #AO3 collection #open challenge #open collection #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate fanart #valentine challenge #valentines day collection #valentines day creative challenge #baldur's date #come and join in!#this post will be reblogged once or twice a week til the end date as a reminder~

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

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Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Chapter 9 - Probably should read ch1 first

Things get a little weird after that.

Gun has ample sexual experience but no relationship experience. He does not know how to take the next step.

(He does know how to pleasure you in bed... though he knows definitively that that’s not the best way to proceed.)

And you are a lost cause, having little experience of anything at all.

You both tiptoe along the blurred line between tentative friends and something more.

The routine continues though it’s not as easy as it once was. You are on edge, reading into every little thing, face blushing and voice stammering at the slightest flirtation or touch.

Gun is Gun. He is how he always is.

Yet he pulls back a little, taking your reactions as hesitation and uncertainty about him.

It doesn’t stop his eyes lingering on your lips whenever you try to get your words out.

For the first time in his life, there’s a hunger in him that he knows exactly how to satiate but finds his hands completely tied.

Gun is the one who graces your front door, a very unusual occurrence especially at this time in the morning. Fully dressed despite the early hours and a duffle bag at his side.

He waits for you to answer, hears your sluggish footsteps approach the door and wonders if this was what it was like for you all those months ago.

The door swings open, and he’s greeted with the sight of you still half asleep and hair wild.

(I want to see this every morning, a hopeful voice in his brain offers. One that has grown confident and loud. Louder than his bloodlust. Louder than his search for a successor.)

“Gun? What time is-” The sentence is cut off with a large yawn.

Even that. Gaping mouth, bleary eyes, the way the yawn travels through your body and you stretch - he finds it endearing.

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks on a business trip.”

Gun pinpoints the exact second his words take hold, your eyes flying open and all signs of sleep gone from your face.

“Few weeks?!”

A brief nod. “If it goes to plan”

“Are you,” you bite your lip, wondering if it’s too forward for you to ask but you choose to bite the bullet instead, “Are you going to keep in touch?”

“When I can, of course,” Gun doesn’t even hesitate, no doubt in his mind that he would.

He does hesitate at his next move though, for a fleeting moment, before he takes a leap of faith and hands you a small envelope.

“Open it when I’m gone.”

“Ok…” Your hands grip the edges tight.

It’s only a few weeks. You’ve already survived many weeks, months, years without him and he said he would be in touch. Why are you feeling such a pang of sadness?

Gun sees your face drop, lips turning down into a frown and starting to wobble. So he allows himself a small indulgence. Gives in to something he has wanted to do for a while.

He takes your hand, holding it firm in his, brings it up to his lips and kisses each knuckle.

Gentle, delicate. He didn’t realise he could ever be this tender.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs against your skin.

As soon as Gun is gone, you tear open the envelope.

Out drops a note enclosed around a key, very similar to the one you have.

The handwriting you can never mistake for anyone else’s.

‘Treat my home as if it is your own. Look after it for me.’

Running your finger along the jagged edges, you check to see if this key is actually real and won’t disappear the next time you blink.

Feels solid enough.

You give your wrist a harsh pinch.

Ouch. Fuck. Not a dream either.

You’re not stupid. You know what a grand gesture this is, and one you didn’t think would come from Gun.

Giving a key to someone else is huge. A big step in a relationship, an even bigger step for you and him because who knows what the hell this is.

Although it is expected, now you think about it. Everything he does has an intensity, never without purpose.

And actually. A trusted neighbour having your house key is perfectly normal.

(Idiot, a mocking inner voice taunts, you know exactly what this is.)

You grab your phone and fire out a message immediately.

You: your house key?!

You: are you sure? are you comfortable with me being in your apartment without you?

Gun: Yes.

Y/N: so what?? you want me to sleep in your bed? eat your food?

Gun: Don’t break anything and don’t leave a mess.

Y/N: That’s all you have to say?

Gun leaves you on read.

He receives a few more texts from you through the day, each time Goo peering over and trying to read his screen.

“Is that Y/N?”

“...”

“Tell her I love her!”

“...”

“Ask her to reconsider the date.”

“Fuck off.”

On the second day, you cannot focus on anything. Not your lectures, your college course, books, TV.

Phone incessantly pulled out of your pocket, thinking you heard a phantom buzz.

In the end you think it’s better to have it always in sight or in your hand.

…Leading to your eyes flickering to the screen every minute.

By evening, you decide to be the one who reaches out, sick of waiting to see if Gun will message you. Chiding yourself for being so childish in the first place and playing these games.

And he’s on a business trip. Likely busy as hell.

You angle your dinner in a flattering light, snap a few pics, select the best one along with ‘not as much fun to cook for one’ and press send.

A few hours later you get a response.

A picture of his own meal in what looks like a very upscale restaurant if the plating and tableware is anything to go by.

‘Your food is better.’.

The third day you get a picture of a breathtaking sunset with mountains in the background.

‘Thinking about you.’

You return a selfie of you on his sofa the day after.

‘Thinking about you too.’

Gun replies in the next hour: ‘Good.’

It’s weird how being in Gun’s home without him is not weird.

You’ve been there enough times to know where everything is. The place now has a sort of nostalgic familiarity. Even the sleek and minimalist design which you scoffed at before, has a peculiar cosiness. Almost homely.

Maybe because it is so very much Gun Park.

Initially, you don’t stay much longer than is deemed polite - if it could be considered polite at all.

Over time, you find it harder and harder to leave.

Gun knows you better than you do apparently.

Maybe just maybe he realises how much you would miss him. How much being surrounded with his things would help, a part of him embedded in everything in his home.

Including you.

Nothing of significance happens over the next few days. The pictures and selfies increase in frequency.

Gun tends to send you pictures of landscapes and his surroundings, accompanied with a surprisingly romantic caption that leaves you giggling.

Car dashboard to show he's travelling, pictures of coffees and patisseries in overpriced and trendy cafes where he would no doubt fit in, and then images of food from even more eye-wateringly expensive and fancy restaurants.

And then one your eyes have poured over the most, a picture of an empty gym.

With a reflection of Gun, topless. Almost but not quite out of shot.

Truthfully, you replay the image of him post-shower in your head multiple times a week. It pops up when you least expect it. Over time, the memory has grown blurred at the edges, and this has slammed everything back into sharp focus.

Today you get a glimpse again of his body. Shiny and slick with sweat, muscles flushed red and pumped.

You zoom in - not before shiftily looking around his empty apartment, as if someone will jump out and shame you for being thirsty.

Eyes tracking over the collar bones and the curve of his shoulder, bicep popping with the phone gripped loosely in his hand.

A peek of hip hones and one half of the delicious V muscle, the arrowhead that points straight down.

Ughhh.

He’s not posing at all. You just know it’s one single picture Gun has taken and fired off without thought.

But you still feel the need to take a cold shower right this second.

You: 😋

Gun: 😯

The thought of Gun, a man so cool and calm and collected, using an emoji catches you off balance and you burst out laughing.

(... The photo? That is not true. Gun knows exactly what he is doing.)

One afternoon, you receive a selfie from Gun - which is unusual in itself.

Upon reveal, it’s a picture of Gun’s business associate - Goo Kim, smouldering at the camera and a fuzzy outline of Gun in the background.

‘Hey cutie pie, how you doing 💋’

Moments later, another picture. Blurred and taken from what looks like midair, phone falling to the floor. You squint at a fuzzy image of Gun trying to kick Goo, who aims a punch for his head.

Gun: dhakjsdhaksjdhs

Gun: kfdjhsdkfhd

Gun: Ignore that

Gun: Sorry

Another few days later, Gun’s eyes soften at the picture and caption he has just received. It’s a welcome reprieve from the day he had

You beaming with your arm around the plant, both in his apartment.

‘look whos finally home! we miss you!!’

“Huh.” Goo leans over Gun’s shoulder, adjusting his glasses and thinking his eyes are deceiving him. “I thought you would have killed that thing by now.”

“Since I left, I've been surrounded by all this noise. All I can think about is being with you at home. By your side. Listening to you, seeing you. Just existing... You have no idea the hold you have on me.”

You don’t hear anything until the next night. A voice recording. Hushed, like a confession.

A slight grumble and a sigh.

“I won’t be able to contact you from now until I’m back… Y/N. I wanted you to know that I-,”

A pause.

“I miss you too.”

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism fanfic #lookism fics #gun park #park jonggun #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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emmy-dekarios-bg3 · 28 days ago

Text

Heart of the Weave: Part 2

Please only read if you've read part 1, which you can find on AO3. Click HERE.

Chapter 40

The rest of the day consisted of shopping for our new little boy, going to the circus, relaxing at the beach for a little while, eating a nice dinner, and going back to the Elfsong before a long journey tomorrow. Shadowheart and Astarion were also out all day just the two of them, and who knows when they will make their way back? I'm just glad they're doing well. Jenevelle thoroughly enjoyed the water! Gale and I swam with her in our arms while enjoying the company of each other, watching our baby smile and giggle as the water touched her soft baby skin. She fell asleep immediately after we made it back to the Elfsong and chugged a bottle. That made bedtime so smooth for her, thank the Gods.

However, after curling up with Gale in bed, I also fell asleep immediately. My eyes are shut, and an uneasy feeling creeps up on me while I'm passed out in a deep slumber. I can't exactly recall what this feeling is… I try to ignore it, but a dream shows up in my mind…and I feel very disturbed. I'm tossing and turning, keeping Gale awake I'm sure. A few times I could feel him rubbing my back gently with his hand, saying “ssssh…” Then, eventually the tossing and turning stops, but the dream makes itself very…present. Fanden and Therran are in the depths of Avernus, confused, without a single weapon in sight and have to fight through the hells with their bare hands. They look so afraid as they're being surrounded by the consuming fires. Fanden has tears down his cheeks as he quivers in fear while Therran embraces an unfortunate fate. They run, run, run…and eventually are consumed by vicious fires, which faded away once my brothers were just a pile of bones on the ground. Their skeletons eventually exploded into a pile of ash. The fires around them continue to consume everything in its path, and screams of torture can be heard deep within them.

I scream bloody terror, waking everyone else up around me as I'm flailing my body from the horrific nightmare that I was praying wasn't real. “Gods! No! No!!” Gale is holding me close, trying to wake me up. When that didn't work, I felt many hands shaking me awake just a short moment later.

“Emmy? Baby! Wake up!” My eyes are shot open, my chest pounding, sweat drops glossing over my face. I observe the area around me, noticing my brothers right by my side also, but my mind was destroyed by that dream. I'm trying to make sure they're actually here next to me, staring at them and wondering if this is real life. They stare back, holding my gaze. “Honey?” I pick up Jenevelle, who looks horrified and confused, and hold her protectively against my chest. I hand the baby to Gale after a minute and bolt out of bed, wrapping my arms around my brothers who look worried. They each hold me as I sob into Fanden’s shoulder.

“Emmy… What's wrong, baby girl?” Therran asks with a hushed tone. “What happened?” My arms are around my brothers’ necks and I don't want to let go. I can't say anything yet, I'm still managing to catch my breath. All I have to say is: fuck pregnancy dreams. I don't remember them being this bad with either of the girls. I release myself from their bodies, sitting back on the bed with Gale and Jenevelle. Shadowheart and Astarion approach us as well, their expressions very concerned. They're waiting until I'm more relaxed and calm before saying anything.

“A nightmare…. It was so real. My Gods…” Gale rubs my back with his right hand while his other arm is holding the baby. His fingertips trickle down my spine, comforting me as I try to relax.

“What was it about? God, you're breaking my damn heart,” Fanden comments as his eyes widen, placing his right hand on my shoulder. I take a deep inhale, then proceed to explain the brutality of my nightmare in as much detail as I can remember. It took me a moment to explain it all, because I kept breaking down in tears. Eventually, I finally get it together and stop crying.

“We’re here, baby love,” Therran explains, his vibrant orange eyes are somehow calm and reassuring. “We aren't going anywhere, especially Avernus.” Fanden nods in agreement, a half-smile growing on his face but his eyes glossy as he fights tears. He hated seeing me like that and it shows. I turn to face Gale, who manages to get the baby back to sleep, and his sleepy gaze shifts to my face.

“My love, are you alright? Will you be, anyway? That was horrifying. I've never seen you do that before and quite frankly, all I wanted to do was hold you. Even then, my embrace wasn't enough to calm you, which normally does the trick.” I was shaken awake by many hands, and that's how you know it was a fucked up nightmare. I lie back down, with the baby in between Gale and I, and hold his hand. He kisses it, his eyes closing as his lips linger on my cold skin.

“I'll be alright. I just don't know if I can go back to sleep. I'll lay here until I… Until the sun comes up. Everyone else, please go get some rest. I'm fine.”

“Well, the sun is rising already, so I don't think any of us will be going back to sleep, sweetheart,” Gale responds, but he smiles anyway. “Nothing a little coffee can't fix. I'll make us some.” Gale kisses my forehead and proceeds to quietly get out of bed, trying not to wake the baby up. Poor little angel was so sleepy after a very long day yesterday, but it was so worth it. Every smile she had, every moment she cooed and kicked her feet happily, and each moment I got to witness it. My special baby girl.

Shadowheart kneels down next to me, brushing my messy hair out of my face.

“I had those types of dreams the first several weeks of this pregnancy. Traumatizing and vicious. I can't say it'll get better for you any time soon, but I will say it'll end eventually,” she reassures me with a calm tone, smiling as we looked at one another. “Granted, I'm not even supposed to sleep as a vampire, nor should I probably even carry a child, so I don't even know what's normal for me or not anymore. Anyway, I'm glad you're okay now. Those screams…they were terrifying.”

“Thank you. That…helped, oddly enough. I'm so sorry I woke everyone up. And now…I have to pee… I'll be back.” I quietly rise out of bed and Shadowheart trades spots with me so she can keep the baby asleep a little while long. I open the bathroom door, studying my exhausted face for a moment, but then my eyes lower toward my newly-apparent baby bump. I smile, placing my hand where my son is making himself known. “You little turd…giving mommy nightmares.”

After a delicious cup of hot coffee, we all pack and get ready for the delightful trip ahead. Gale approaches me as I'm feeding the baby in the rocking chair; he had just finished packing the rest of our things. He squats down on his knees, which crack as he does so. He closes his eyes as tight as possible, trying to ignore the fact that just happened. He begins to brush Jenevelle’s silky brown hair with his finger tips, soothing her as she stares up at me.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Much better. Thank the Gods…” I sigh, finally feeling some relief. I have a feeling though I'll be falling asleep while walking on the road. “Thank you for comforting me.”

“Of course, my love. That's what I'm here for. I couldn't stand seeing you so scared like that. I wish there was more I could've–” I place my finger over his lips, stopping him mid-sentence.

“You always do more than enough for me. I love you, Gale. Forever until the end of time.” I smile down at him as I finish feeding the baby, leaning in to kiss his perfect carnation-tinted lips. Every time we kiss, I feel my heart skip a beat, even after all these years of marriage. People always assumed that because we will live forever, that we might get sick of one another at some point. For us, our love just gets stronger by the minute.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #wizard of waterdeep #ao3 #archive of our own #my ocs #bg3 fanfics #WIP

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betweenthings2 · 4 months ago

Note

lips against a hipbone for dec prompts!

Thank you for the ask!! The January prompts are here (for real, this time, I promise) if anyone else wants to see them =) This is the last of the December prompts and I'm very sorry I didn't get it written earlier, like in December, but I'll be on to the white lingerie New Year's fic and January prompts now, plus literally everything else I have planned and in my inbox!

It got smutty on accident, but here's December prompt 10, lips against a hipbone.

**This is adult content, proceed accordingly**

Matty is so, so soft, everywhere. His hands are calloused and a little rough from playing guitar, and so are his knees from years of dramatically falling to his knees on rough stages, but everywhere else is so, so soft. The inside of his wrist, up to his bicep, the point where his neck and shoulder meet, down his chest, then his belly, over to his hipbone, then dipping down to the inside of his thigh, all so soft. George loves how soft he is, as soft as the way George loves him, and George's love is soft. It's a soft, gentle thing, all soft pinks and yellows and oranges that fade into something bigger, darker, like a sunrise.

It could be harder, of course, George's love could be something firm and strong, something that gathers deeper, darker colors, something that stands up and guards, but it doesn't need to be. It doesn't need to be hard, not when Matty is so, so soft and spread out in bed all for George.

Matty's just showered, so his hair creates a damp halo on the pillow, something they'd both complain about, but that's not on either of their minds now. Matty's big dark eyes follow George's every movement, watching as George presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist, then moves up, one to the crook of his elbow, one against his bicep, then over to the point where his neck and shoulder meet, then moves down his chest, pausing periodically to leave red marks against his collarbones, the moves further down, pressing gently kisses against the soft skin of his belly and then over to his hipbone. Matty lets out a quiet little gasp when he feels George's teeth leaving another mark there, then a little sigh when he presses a gentle kiss there as if to soothe the sting. Then George moves on to Matty's inner thigh, pressing a gentle kiss, then leaving a another red mark against the soft, pale skin there and then repeating. Then he moves to Matty's other thigh and does the same thing.

When he's satisfied, George moves up to press another kiss to Matty's other hipbone, before finally giving Matty's cock some attention, dragging careful fingers up the underside. George continues to take his time--it's not often that he gets Matty still and patient like this, just waiting for him to do what he will. That might have more to do with the fact that George has spent all day getting Matty as submissive and quiet as he possibly could just to enjoy this that anything else, but that's beside the point.

"Doin' so good," George murmurs. "Just want you to be patient. You can do that, I know you can."

Matty doesn't say anything. George doesn't expect him to, but he glances up anyway to meet his eyes, before going back down to lap at the head of Matty's cock, then take it into his mouth. Matty gasps.

George takes a moment, then sits back up a bit and asks, "How do you want it, love?"

"Want more," Matty whines. "Please."

"Oh, I know," George murmurs, teasing Matty's cock with gentle fingers. "To well behaved to tell me what you to do, aren't you?"

"Please?" Matty repeats.

"I know," George repeats, "I do, but this is about you, sweetheart. Tell me how you want it."

Matty breathes for a moment, looking very much like he's trying to figure out how to ask for what he wants. George finds it a little bit endearing to watch him try so hard to think, so hard to figure out what the right answer is. There's no right answer, of course, but Matty's looking for it anyway.

"Go on," George encourages, "tell me what you want and you can have it."

"Want you," Matty decides.

"You have me."

Matty shakes is head. "Want you, please."

George presses another kiss to Matty's hipbone, then strokes his cock once, asking, "Like this?" before pressing two fingers against his hole, just teasing, and asking, "Or like this, maybe?" he asks.

Matty nods. "Like that, please, please."

"Oh, you want me like that, do you?" George asks, still just teasing.

Matty nods.

"Not like this?" George pushes, taking the head of Matty's cock back into his mouth.

Matty gasps. "Like that, too, please, G."

"Gettin' greedy, love," George murmurs, sitting back up.

"No, no, 'm sorry," Matty says quickly. "'ll be good, I promise, please."

George strokes gentle fingers over Matty's hip and offers a gentle, "'s alright. 'm just teasin'. You're gonna get whatever you want."

"Not mad?" Matty asks, eyes wide.

"Not at all upset in any way," George promises, reaching for the lube. "I've got you. Don’t worry."

Matty relaxes at that and makes it very, very easy for George to slide one, then two slicked fingers inside him. He's warm and tight and George wastes no time in searching out Matty's prostate with gentle strokes of his fingers, repeating the motion until Matty whimpers. At that, George strokes his fingers over Matty's hip again and stills for a moment, waiting until Matty looks like he's about to beg, then moves again. He teases Matty like that, over and over, never going so far as to make him utter a sound beyond those made out of pleasure, until his cock his leaking precum against his belly.

George's own cock is heavy and hard in his boxers simply from watching Matty fall apart, and even though this is about Matty and making him feel good, George has to resist the urge to reach down and touch himself or change his plans and fuck Matty properly. Matty wouldn't object to that, George is sure, but he's not about to go changing things on Matty when he's as empty-headed as he is.

When Matty lets out another gasp that turns into whimper after a particularly firm thrust, George leans down to press a soft kiss to Matty's hipbone, then glances up, saying, "I want you to cum whenever you want, ok?"

Matty nods, half desperate.

George doesn't move, just raises his brow and encourages, "I need you to say, love, come on."

Matty nods again and says, "Ok, I will, please keep goin'."

"That's it," George murmurs. He presses his lips to Matty's hipbone once more, then moves to take Matty's cock into his mouth, as deep as he can.

Matty has a full body reaction to that, shuddering and clenching his muscles around George's fingers. George pays that little mind and keeps going, now intent on getting Matty to cum. He does cum fairly quickly, ever receptive and in tune with George, and George swallows it down and keeps up his careful movements until he feels Matty's hands in his hair, pushing him away. George lets himself be pushed away, this is about Matty after all, and sits up to carefully remove his fingers and grab a tissue from the nightstand to wipe away excess lube from his fingers, then precum from Matty' belly, before tossing it aside and laying down and to take Matty into his arms.

Matty cuddles close, almost instinctively, head on George's chest, still-damp hair almost ticklish. George strokes a hand through Matty's curls, letting him come back to himself in his own time, still so soft and wonderful.

As it turns out, though, it doesn't take Matty all that long to come back to himself because soon enough he's nudging his thigh against George's slowly softening cock, quietly asking, "What about you?"

George runs a hand down Matty's spine, then back up, murmuring, "Later. If you want. You don't have to though, I'm ok. This was about you."

Matty hums and agrees, "Later."

George just keeps rubbing Matty's back, content to lay there and be in love.

#my fic #matty healy #george daniel #matty x george

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aleksa-sims · 1 year ago

Text

Simselfstory

The next day D. & I went to my parents to pick up our cat and some of my stuff. Last night, we talked again. We decided to just stay together for now, to see..... how things will turn out.

There was also something else D. told me. Since he was getting better while he was away, he thought about starting his own business, bcs he quit his job. My Dad offered to help him.

The two had this in mind anyway. They talked about it months ago and now it was time to inplement things. I don’t want to go into too much detail rn. It will explain itself over time.

Mom: You have to take your pills regularly, D. This is important! The same goes for you, A.! The more time passes, the better you’ll be and hopefully..... forget what happend. 😞

Dad (to Daniel): The main thing is that you are safe & fine. Soon we have a lot to do and distraction is always good! But one thing I want to mention again. No matter what probs you two have, even if you relapse, talk to us!! None of us will blame you for asking for help. We want you two to be well, okay?

Daniel: Yea, I got it. 😔

Dad: And what about you A.?

Me: Yea, ok! But I want you to help D. with that job thing.

Dad: Of course I’ll help him. And actually we could start immediately, but if we proceed as planned and discussed, it may be that you and Daniel have to move. 😕

Me: Um... okay. I am prepared to do whatever it takes. 🙂(😟)

Daniel (to me): You...are really ready to move? To.... my house!? 😯

Me: We’ve talked about it before, and..... now that I’m pregnant, why not? You, me and.................. our Baby? 😳

Daniel: I love you, so I’ll love your Baby, too. Our Baby! And well, N.'s Baby. 🤨

Mom: Are you serious about this, D.? Can- and do you even want that?? 😟

Daniel: Yes!

Me: We decided to try and I have to talk to N. about it too.

Dad: However you decide to continue, together or .... separately, I will help Daniel. I’m just clarifying this, so you don’t make your decision dependent on that.

My Dad and Daniel kept talking about their new plans, while my Mom couldn't stop asking me questions.

Mom: You really wanna move? You know what kind of... strange things his mother did there. In that house! 😟

Me: It's a pretty house. I like it there. And she moved out, it's all fine. Besides, I have other worries rn, as you know.

Mom: That’s what I’ve been trying to make clear to you these past few weeks. But well, now you're pregnant. Either you two accept this and move on, or you’re really getting a divorce.

Me: He wants us to stay together. And actually I want the same. I don't wanna lose him.... I’m moving back to our apartment with him for a short while, see if Daniel and I can make it? And, I'm gonna talk to N. I don’t want to disappoint N. or hurt him. I have to come up with something. A soloution! 😟🤯

Mom: In other words, it's either/or? There is no other way out, A.!

Me: Who says that? You?.... I’m gonna do what’s right for me, Daniel and Nico, not for you or anyone else. 😒

Mom: What are you trying to tell me?.... You can’t do the same thing you did back then. This isn't normal!.. And you were unhappy! That’s not what you want! And I’m sure Daniel won’t agree with that. 😦

Me: I'm going to do what I got to do.

Mom: I know you A.! You won’t do anything. You will wait until one of them.......... goes nuts.

Me: I don’t think so. 😒

Just before Daniel and I wanted to leave, Ana also had some questions for me.😩

Me: Everything you are about to say, drop it pls.

Ana: Um.... ok! Have you had makeup sex? Or, no! I’d rather call it... homecoming-sex.🧐 I mean, you didn’t really fight, he just... took off.🤷‍♀️

Me: No, we didn’t!! We talked!

Ana: Then it's obvious! You want N.! With him you couldn’t wait even 24 hours. Plus, he knocked you up. 🤷‍♀️😬

Me: Ah...yup. You know, we'll see S. later. Are you joining us?

Ana: Nah! Sounds like a double date, I really don’t feel like it. I have other plans. And now go and have fun with your..... man. 😏

Me: Who are you having fun with, Ana? 🤨 Dennis?

Ana: Are you jealous of me for Dennis? 😜

Me: Ugh!... NO! 😖

Ana: Don't worry, sis. I’m not dating Dennis, a messed up guy. NO thanks! I have fun...... with myself. 😄

Me: Hmm?... I know you Ana! You have a secret. And you know me, baby sis. I'll uncover it. 😏💁‍♀️

Ana: Weirdo!

Ana really had a secret. At first I thought she was back with Adam or something, but no, it wasn’t Adam. Just that much, I get why she kept it a secret. 🤭

Previous/Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #rl story #myrlgameplay #cw addiction #cw pregnancy

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takeiteasyonmeimstilllearning · 3 months ago

Text

I Hear A Sweet Voice Calling: Ch 4

first of all, thank you @tiredcatiwannaslep for beta reading as the chapters come out! 🙏🙏 (Also they have some really nice Lupin fics to read)

WARNINGS: NSFW 🔞, Graphic depictions of torture, bodily harm, r-ape, and mental distress. Proceed with caution. 6,666 words

Yata awoke with a start. The last thing he remembered was being taken into a room and having a needle jabbed in his arm, but there was something else that was missing. Something really important.

Yata gasped, "Inspector!" Bits came flooding back. The market. The fight.

"So you're finally awake."

Yata turned his head to the voice, the movement making him feel a little nauseous. It was Inspector Zenigata.

They were in an entirely new room now. It looked like it was a cellar. This was definitely larger than their previous accommodations, but in exchange for quantity they lost quality, it seemed. The floor was dirt, the walls were crumbling slate that had looked like they had been painted once, half-heartedly, many years ago. The cathedral ceiling exposed its weathered rafters, and there were a couple of columns spaced evenly throughout the room, supporting weight bearing beams. Not a single window was in sight, and the only exit was one door at the top of a flight of rickety old “L” shaped stairs. And to top it off the air smelt stale and musty.

"I was starting to get worried. How're you feeling?"

"Fine except my head's.... not pulsing… not pounding..." Yata paused a moment, trying to find the word that matched what he was feeling, but the right word just skirted around his brain, and he simply couldn't catch it. "Who are these guys?"

"My guess is that they're some yakuza or mob I've pissed off. I'm not sure what they want, but I do know they intended to grab you to get to me. Eventually. I don't think they've figured out that they have the genuine article yet, but they are suspicious. We shouldn't stick around to let them find out either." The Inspector eyed Yata again. He looked slightly confused, like the detective was just told to solve a nonsensical riddle, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes sir, got a few knocks giving you back up… I'm alright, sir," Yata's face hardened, "Looks like they roughed you up good."

"Oh this?" Zenigata sounded casual, "This is nothing. I've had worse." The sad part was that it was true. The things Lupin put him through over the years prepared him for anything. Or so he thought.

Yata's blood boiled at the same time his heart sank. How could he say that those were nothing? What has he endured worse than this? Who would dare to even consider doing such things? Why?

The Inspector looked away, Yata got that look again, and when he got that look, that mouth of his spat fire with absolutely zero filter applied. The subject needed to be changed, he decided, before Yata could spout off on God knows what, "We need to find a way outta here. What are your hands tied with?"

Yata shifted. He felt his wrists behind the chair with his fingers, "Rope."

"Just your wrists? Are they connected to the chair?"

"Um... no. I can't really move my ankles either."

"Hmm." The Inspector was tied to a chair as well, except his chair had arms that his own arms were tied to, his legs were tied to the chair's legs, and there was an extra piece of rope that tied his waist to the lower back rail then looped back around to secure him to the seat.

"Do you think you can wiggle an arm free?”

“Maybe? I think so.” Yata's binds were snug but poorly knotted, he could slip out of them with time.

“Good. We can play that to our advantage. I'll create an opening so you can knock the guard out."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Just wait for my signal."

"What signal?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

There was a long pause as the dots connected, "You don't have one, do you."

"Nope."

Just then, the door opened. Ox and two new thugs walked in. Not a word was uttered as they descended and went straight to Zenigata and Yata. One thug positioned himself behind Yata. Ox and the other stood in front of the Inspector.

"If you resist us in any way, the kid might not live." Ox sneered as he waved a finger in Yata's direction.

The brawny one put Yata in a chokehold, constricting his elbow just enough to make Yata's face flush. A satisfied grin crept on the gorilla's wide face when he felt the detective's skin break out in a cold sweat.

"Alright. You've made your point! I won't resist, dammit." The Inspector half-grumbled. He tried to disguise his apprehension, but the anxiety nipped and bit away at him.

The gorilla met Inspector Zenigata’s alarmed expression and raised an eyebrow, looking even more smug than before. He tightened his hold. The boy's face turned beet red. A squeaky gurgle escaped his windpipe. His eyelids sank till they were barely slits, and what little pupil that did show was hidden behind the moisture that was being squeezed out of him.

The Inspector snapped, panic consuming him, "LET HIM GO! I GAVE YOU MY WORD!! I WONT RESIST! LET HIM BREATHE YOU GODDAMN BASTARD! DAMN IT! PLEASE!!!" His voice cracked in desperation.

Ox nodded his head, and the brawn released enough to let air pass through. The young boy shoveled air so deep and so fast his lungs ached from the intake. Zenigata closed his eyes and sighed in relief.

The other lackey and Ox untied the Inspector's wrists from the chair, and like lightning they seized his forearms, anticipating a fight, but the man they held didn't move an inch. Cautiously, they repositioned their prisoner's arms, allowing Ox to fasten new binds around his wrists, practically fusing them together.

As he finished, Ox stared Zenigata dead in the eye. "Now we're going to untie your legs, and if you so much as cough, my friend will kill your friend."

"Whatever you're planning. I swear you definitely won't get away with it."

"Is that a threat?" The gorilla behind Yata asked, tightening his hold ever so slightly.

"No." The Inspector replied quickly, "It's a promise I—" he was interrupted when the brute picked Zenigata up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It took every ounce of his self-control not to struggle against the mammoth of a man and instead ground his teeth. A few frustrated tears slipped down his cheek. He hated this. He hated them. He hated everything about this whole situation.

The brute carried the Inspector over to where a chain and pulley system was fixated on one of the rafters. The other thug took the hook at the end of the chain and hitched Zenigata's bound wrists to it. He then hoisted Interpol's officer off Ox's shoulder and suspended him three feet off the ground. The Inspector tensed his shoulders and kept his elbows bent and apart, trying his best to stay in an active hang. The brute grabbed two lengths of rope and tied his feet together then did the same to Zenigata's knees.

"I'm a man of my word. So believe me when I tell you I will personally arrest Every. Single. One. Of you bastards, and make sure you're locked in cells so deep you'll never see the light of day again." Inspector Zenigata's voice rumbled so low and with such fire that even the devil would have been shaking in his boots.

"Who do you think you are? You are in no position to talk threats. You can't escape. You have so much fight, and look where it's gotten you. Nowhere. You're gonna to stay here. You're gonna take what's dished. No one knows you're missing. No one's going to come to your rescue. You're stuck here, to be our playthings for as long as we like. If you behave, you might even live a little longer. So do your friend and yourself a favor. Give. Up."

Zenigata took a deep breath, holding it for a second before he growled in the brute's face, "Unfortunately for you, I'm bad at giving up."

Ox's mouth twisted into a snarl before he spat, "Let's go!"

The ape behind Yata looked hesitant. He cast a glance down on the young detective, twitching his sculptured forearm indecisively.

"MOVE IT ARNOLD!" With that, Ox stormed up the stairs and left the decrepit place, slamming the door behind him. Arnold finally let go and followed the last remaining thug out with a disappointed huff.

The silence left in their wake was thick and heavy, the only sounds to break the air being that of the Inspector's binds creaking and his concentrated controlled breaths.

Excruciatingly long, pregnant minutes eked by.

"Inspector Zenigata?" Yata's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Hmm?" Zenigata tried to sound casual and attentive.

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

"Wut?" The Inspector sounded incredulous. "What for?"

"If I had been a better detective, a better officer of the law, none of this would have happened. When I came to give you the keys and saw what was happening, I got a couple of shots off, but I missed. If I had better aim, they wouldn't have gotten close enough. Had I been more diligent in my hand-to-hand combat training, I could have taken out those guys who ambushed you. I'm so sorry, sir. I don't, I don't know why I missed. This is all my fault. If we make it out alive, I promise to be better. At everything. Sir. I'm… sorry."

"None of this is your fault, Yata." The Inspector consoled with a grunt, "ur already a diligent detective. You're quick to learn and dedicated— although a little oblivious at times... and rash. And you don't know when to shut up, but, uh, that comes with experience. I couldn't take those guys out—and that's with years of training. Don't let one mishap get you down. Even monkeys- fall out of trees."

"But—"

"None of this happened because of you, dammit!"

Yata looked at the Inspector suspended between heaven and earth. He saw his arms were beginning to shake as he fought to keep his elbows apart.

"I'- Didn't mean... "

"...." the younger man simply looked like their prison, solemn.

Zenigata took a shaky breath in, then slowly exhaled, "So what is this?" Yata's brow furrowed.

"Are you- responsible for this?" The Inspector clarified.

"No."

"No, what?"

''I am not responsible for this."

"Say it again. Clearly."

"I am not responsible for anything that’s happened." Yata said the words, but his heart didn't believe them.

"Right. None of this is because of you." He strained a smile.

Technically speaking, he was the whole reason any of this happened, but the good Inspector wasn't about to tell his protégé that. Yata was barely keeping it together as is. It wasn't that Zenigata was blaming himself either. It was more or less a fact of life that he knew came about because of his skills at delivering justice. Probably. He just felt bad that Yata had gotten mixed up in all of it. Maybe deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.

The Inspector looked back at the officer he had taken under his wing not even a year ago. His head hung low, hiding behind disheveled bangs.

"Yata-" He didn't raise his head, "Look at me, Yata."

The young man did as he was told, reluctantly. Yata looked into the large, long-lashed eyes of his mentor, his voice caught in his throat, and tears threatened to fall.

"This is stupid," the boy spluttered, "There you are, strung up like some animal with who knows what done to you, and here I am in a chair with… minor- bruises. This is stupid! You don't deserve this! You don't deserve m– You deserve a much mor-"

"Shaddup." Zenigata cut Yata off.

"Huh?" Yata looked back at the Inspector.

"I said- shut up." The Inspector repeated. Yata had to have a concussion. The kid lost control of his mouth lots of times, but those were different. Those were usually when his honor or character was attacked, or it happened when he came to the defense of someone else, but even then, never to the point of crying. Not even in high-stress situations.

"If you keep thinking like that—ah—we'll never get out of here. So think about- literally anything else except our current predicament."

"Yes sir." Yata's face tinged red, and his lips pursed.

Without the distraction of conversation, Zenigata noticed it was starting to get uncomfortable to breathe. He felt like he should talk to help distract them both, but he didn't know what to talk about. And even if he did, he didn't have the air to carry on a conversation, so a dead silence settled like a dreary fog around them. Every second permeated into their bones. An eternity passed before the weathered timber door finally opened, letting in a smog that replaced the atmosphere with dread.

Diffenbaugh was the first to appear. He carried a thin, almost sheet-like lap blanket. Ox and Arnold followed behind. Arnold carried a whip and a hose. Ox carried a few different weights.

Arnold circled behind Zenigata and connected the hose to an old spicket that was mounted on a pipe that trailed down the wall. Ox stepped next to the Inspector and set the weights beneath him, then went over to Yata and pulled a long swathe of black cloth from his pocket and tied it around the boy's head, completely blinding his eyes.

Diffenbaugh lingered to the side as he watched Ox finish his task, "Ox, do the smallest first."

Ox looked at Diffenbaugh and gave a small nod. He went back to the weights, took the lightest, and carefully kept it lifted in the air as he hooked it to the rope that bound the Inspector's ankles with a large metal 'S' hook. He paused for a heartbeat before he released it, letting the 12 pounds fall deadweight.

Zenigata involuntarily yipped at the weight. The sudden over-stretching of his spine and ligaments was too much. His tired, aching arms collapsed. The rope around his wrists burned and dug into his skin.

Diffenbaugh directed the brute to stand outside. He looked behind his captive's suspended figure; Arnold had picked up the multi-tailed whip. The primitive weapon's leather plapped against the ground in practiced movements, the metal tips tinked against each other. Like a musician tuning their instrument, silence prevailed before the performance.

Arnold lashed the whip beneath the stretched shoulders. The metal tips tore through his shirts like tissue paper and slashed across the Inspector's back. The pain surged through him then receded, leaving behind a lingering sharpness that never dulled. Quickly the blows came one after another, long before his flesh had time to recover. Inspector Zenigata didn't want to give either of his captors any satisfaction that their torture burned like hell, but the pain was too much to bear. An agonized shriek ripped through the air.

"INSPECTORZENIGATA!!" Yata blurted out, realizing all too late what he had done.

"Inspector?" Diffenbaugh said more than asked.

Another strike hissed through the air. Yata heard the Inspector's scream mingle with the sound of multiple little thwacks ripping through his mentor's skin. The entirety of Yata's slim frame stiffened and braced as each whip crack sounded. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down. The black blindfold absorbed each droplet.

Diffenbaugh moved to the front of the detective, and bent down, narrowing his gaze as he scrutinized the officer behind the blindfold. Yata's brow was furrowed, his mouth was set hard as if biting his words, and his chin scrunched with shame. Or was it frustration? The man couldn't tell.

Diffenbaugh looked to the Inspector whose blood began to soak through his shirt, "It seems I was correct."

He changed his focus to the whipper, "Arnold. Keep our guests entertained." And with that the man abruptly and briskly left the abysmal room.

Yata wasn't sure exactly what tools they were using on Inspector Zenigata, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know either. Yata was scared. He was so scared he thought his heart might explode. He was scared of what was being done to the Inspector. He was scared of what more they might do. He was scared that he was there. Of what else might happen. But he wasn't going to stand by and do nothing. He had to do something. If nothing else, he had to help the Inspector. At best, escape. At worst, give his superior a break. Even if that meant... even if that meant he had to endure some torture himself.

Another crack of the whip tore across Zenigata's back, "Why don't you just leave him alone, you big lug!"

"Yaataaa-" the Inspector warned in a weak grunt.

"People like you always pick on smaller people. What happened to that, huh?"

"Yata don't HNNNNAAA—" Zenigata was cut off by the whip, and the world blinked away.

"What was that pretty boy?"

"I said, why don't you pick on someone your own size, pipsqueak!"

To hell with the Inspector's nonexistent plan; Yata couldn't stand it anymore. He had only been assigned to Inspector Zenigata for eleven months, but when you spend every waking hour with a man who has such a strong sense of standards, character, and justice, it's impossible to not get attached. If he can just get Arnold close enough to—to what?

"I should pick on smaller people than me? You got any suggestions? There's only 2 of you here." Arnold paused for an uncomfortably long moment before Yata heard him slowly walk in his direction.

Oh crap, what was he going to do? Time was running out to think of a plan. Yata's mind raced so fast it went blank; he wanted to take the gorilla out, but he didn't know what he could do. So he tensed. If the Inspector can take it, so could he.

Thick fingers combed through the young officer's raven hair, grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him into a kiss. Disgust mixed surprise filled Yata's mind. He was prepared for pain, but not this. This was altogether repulsive. The kiss quickly became greedy as the thug forced his tongue past Yata's unwilling lips.

He struggled against Arnold, protesting as he grunted his rejections through a clamped shut jaw. He tried to pull away, but the gorilla's hand was firm and unrelenting. Arnold's leg wedged itself between his thighs, and his shin rested on the chair, allowing his knee to just barely touch his crotch as he leaned more weight on it for support. A grip slipped onto his privates, firmly caressing them. Yata let out a yelp; Arnold took the opportunity to slip his tongue past the young detective's teeth. The detective tried to close his jaw, but the thug dug and squeezed his fingers into the hold he had on Yata's package.

The paw released his crotch only to unbutton his vest, untuck his shirt and unfasten his belt and his dark blue-gray trousers. The hand explored roughly before finding its way back down to his flaccid shaft. The gorilla's calloused hand groped and teased the soft flesh.

Tears soaked into the cloth that blinded the boy. This couldn't be happening.

A leathery thumb traced circles on the head. Please no no no nonono.

Arnold reached behind the detective's lower back with a loose hug and pulled the detective's hips to the tip of the seat, tilting him up. Yata couldn't hear anything except his own mind screaming.

The hand rotated to cradle his balls, gently fondling them and tapping a rhythm out with his middle finger.

The odor of sweat and smoke pummeled his mind as his inner thighs were slowly stretched further apart and the thick and heavy form pressed closer. He felt his blood rush downwards. A low moan escaped Yata's throat.

It shouldn't feel good. It shouldn't feel like this, It shouldn't—the hand returned to his member in a firm grip, stroking long and slow. He needed to think of something, anything else. He tried to imagine himself in those dingy record basements. Pouring over file after file, folder after folder, night after night.

His whimpers turned to airy little gasps. They caught in his throat as his chest hitched and heaved, torn between pleasure and despair. His face felt like a throbbing furnace, and his body poured sweat.

Arnold pulled away from the devouring kiss, lightly biting Yata's lips as he breathed heavily, "Weren't you told when you stand up to a bad guy, the bad guy stands up to you?"

The paw that clenched Yata's hair let go and slipped to the detective's throat. "What's wrong? You asked for it. You wanted this. Your cock is hard. You like it. You really like it, don't you, pretty boy?"

The ape's hands slid away as he straightened his posture. He manipulated his jeans open and flicked his erect dick out. A lewd, guttural groan slipped from Arnold's lips. He looked down at the bound and completely defenseless detective. His fingers teased his own dick, milking out pre-cum. His palm collected it and smeared it on Yata's shaft. Then he spit in his hand and smeared it on his own dick.

The gorilla swung his leg over Yata's upper thigh, steadied himself, and slowly, sensually began to buck his hips, dragging his junk across Yata's leg, rubbing his erection against the detective's hardness, and buried the head into the soft cotton dress shirt. His thrusts slightly quickened.

"Auuugh... yeees.... admit it....uuuuuuuuwwwe... you like it, pretty boy..." Arnold gave another satisfied moan into the detective's ear, "You wanted this. You deserved this."

Yata's back arched. His head tilted back, and needy gasps kept rising up in his throat. His pelvis lifted higher, begging for more. Was Arnold right? Did he want this? Did he ask for this? Yata did technically ask for it. He did get hard. And it did feel good. It felt really good. Perhaps Arnold was right. Maybe he did ask for this to happen.

"Aaawe.... You're gonna come..... " Arnold grabbed Yata's hair and pulled his head forward. He licked his own lips hungrily then Yata's. He traveled his mouth over the boy's face, biting his cheek. Jawline. Chin. Neck.

The gorilla stopped abruptly and unmounted the saddle he had made of the slightly younger man's leg and backed off only to quickly reposition himself between the detective's legs. He kneeled down and guided Yata's dick to his mouth.

Yata felt the ape's thick and heavy form down at his knees; calloused hands pushed his legs further apart, spreading the boy as wide as possible. A warm wetness landed on his helmet, gently sucking the tip. Oh God, it felt so good. The warmth completely enveloped his rod, sliding up and down, faster and faster.

His hips bucked by themselves. An intensity he had never felt before rose up in his member. He felt so much pressure. His legs and arms went numb as his groin and torso tingled and shivered. Yata's mind blacked out in his ecstasy, and he climaxed into the tonsils of his tormentor.

Arnold swallowed the load, the cum still spilling from the corners of his mouth back out onto the detective's dick. It twitched and pulsed, slowly coming down from the carnal high. The thug licked the remaining dribbles of semen from the shaft, making sure that not one seed escaped his tongue.

◇◇◇

Zenigata's senses slowly came back. Everything felt dream-like. Fireflies flickered about the room, dancing in his peripheral. His eyes wandered to watch them when he recognized his protégé, whose head was thrown back against the chair at an uncomfortable angle. Odd. Then there was a bulk between Yata's legs that rose. Wait, who was that? What's with the wide stance?

Reality sunk in a pool of mud, but the Inspector still couldn't believe what he was witnessing. An uncanny amount of pure unfiltered abhorrence sparked an inferno inside Zenigata as Arnold rumbled the most vile and disgusting sound of pleasured satisfaction. The scumbag shuddered, releasing his payload onto his protege's chest.

He hated this whole situation already, but this was something far worse, something he could never forgive.

The sleazeball took the lieutenant's wool peacoat and used it as a rag to wipe the jizz off his penis.

The weight that pulled at his feet burned, but it was there, adding an extra nine inches. If Zenigata could just swing the weight to that slimeball's head…. He began to swing his legs to and fro, taking aim, building momentum. The ropes creaked. The pain was harsh, but if it meant freeing the world of this gutter garbage, it was going to be worth it.

"You enjoyed that. You wanted that pretty boy. You came so fast. So eager. So loud. You were delicious, and you liked every touch I gave you. Your body, you, begged for everything I gave you. You wanted it, and you will beg me to give you more. Tell me, how do I taste?" Arnold took his two forefingers and swiped a glob of his semen from Yata's shirt and stuffed it inside the boy's jaws.

The Inspector ground his teeth. Luck was with him as the wretch of society's head lined up perfectly. Just another two swings.

The gorilla stood there, and began to laugh.

Just. One. More.

Arnold took another swipe of his discarded cream.

Zenigata thrust all the power he could muster and hurtled the twelve pounds of cast iron towards the scum's cranium.

Arnold leaned forward. The weight missed, and instead grazed his back. A surprised little yelp came from the thug. He reeled round.

A black blur flashed down in front of his eyes, then a sudden sharp pain throbbed through his foot that radiated up his leg. He looked down to see the kettle that had been hooked to Zenigata's feet was now on the vamp of his shoe. Arnold roared. His arm moved like lightning to free his foot from the agony of being crushed. He flung the kettlebell to the side.

The gorilla looked to see the Inspector swing towards him again. He charged, overruling the shattered bones in his foot. Arnold aimed down and missed as the Inspector crunched his legs to his chest. As gravity pulled Zenigata back again, he extended his legs back out and caught the vile creature by the shoulder, pushing him to the ground.

The Inspector repositioned his legs to stand on Arnold's wide shoulder. The gorilla stood up, and in doing so lifted ICPO's finest into the air. The hooked rope that had been taut, slackened. Zenigata couldn't feel his hands at all and his arms were mostly numb, but with gargantuan effort, he managed to lift his arms enough to unhook himself. The brawn beneath him suddenly shifted, making him lose his footing. On instinct, the Inspector moved his arms as if to catch himself, and in doing so hooked them around Arnold's neck.

The scumbag grappled at the bound wrists around his neck, trying to release the pressure off his windpipe. He swayed as he choked, slamming the Inspector off one support beam to another. Dirt and wood dust dislodged from the rafters and sprinkled down. Arnold stumbled about the cellar knocking and crashing against everything. The wall, the table, a pale. Much like a pinball in a pinball machine. Arnold gurgled. Each wobble became even more weak until finally he fell like a yew tree that was uprooted and pulled to the ground.

The Inspector laid still, taking quick sharp breaths through his teeth. This is what it must feel like to be a rock in a dryer. Slowly he inched his way up to Arnold's head. His back screamed in agony and his arms pricked and stabbed their way back to feeling. Zenigata pushed through the needles and knives to remove his bound hands from his torturer’s neck. He crawled to the side, each movement of his muscles, acutely reminding him of the brutality his back endured, and made his way to the wooden table.

In the scuffle the shoebox that held the various tools for their torture fell to the ground. He rummaged through it and found a knife. His hand trembled as he reached down and freed his bound knees and ankles. With the soles of his shoes, he steadied the knife and cut his wrists free as well.

The Inspector stayed a moment, gently running his fingers over his chafed skin. He wasn't out of the woods yet. He needed to get Lieutenant Yata out of here. Once they were back at headquarters, back to safety, then Yata could work through the ordeal, but until that happened, the mission was to survive and to escape.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked the short distance to his protégé, "Yata. It's okay, it's safe now... Yata? Oh, what have they done to you?"

Zenigata's heart broke when he saw everything all too clearly. More had transpired than he thought. He shook the boy's shoulders. No Response.

"Oh, Yata. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He was about to cut the detective's ropes when the uncomfortably familiar voice of Ox boomed on the other side of the cellar's door, "Arnold? You okay in there?"

Zenigata looked at the door that sat on top of the 'L' shaped stairs. The handle jiggled as the lock mechanism was fiddled with. He dashed to the stairs. Just as he crouched beneath its landing, the door swung open, creaking on its old wrought iron hinges. Zenigata gripped the knife he procured tighter. There was a brief moment of silence before the great bulk built like a draft horse thundered down the stairs, and raced past the Inspector's impromptu hiding place. Zenigata launched himself at the brute's back, clinging one arm around his thick neck, and the other that held the blade was flung ferociously to the front of the torso. It sliced across the barreled chest.

Ox grabbed hold of Zenigata's shoulders and hurled him to the ground. Zenigata scrambled to his feet, every muscle ached and burned, but his instinct for survival coupled with another rush of adrenaline, subdued any pain he had. He took a defensive stance with his feet spread apart, knees slightly bent, and his reflexes readied themselves for every move Ox made.

The brute's attention shifted to the whip that laid in the dirt. Zenigata positioned himself to block the view of the weapon. Ox shuffled to the side. Zenigata shuffled to match. They circled, each locked onto the movement of their opponent. Ox lunged towards the Inspector. Zenigata jumped back, narrowly missing the brute's hands, which were like meaty pickleball paddles more than anything else. The Inspector lunged forward as Ox retreated, taking a swipe at the giant. Ox may have muscle and overwhelming size on his side, but he was clumsy, slow, and was fighting a wounded animal that was backed into the proverbial corner. The knife lacerated the brute's palm. Ox retracted his hand, holding it up by the wrist. Blood trickled over his fingers and down his forearm. Fire flashed across his face, and in a visceral outrage he charged at the Inspector.

Zenigata stepped to the side, readjusted the grip of his knife to that of a hammer, and like a baseball player hitting a home run swung the handle's butt onto the brute's neck. Ox went reeling, desperately trying to catch his runaway balance. Zenigata scuttled behind the stumbling brute, hiked the heel of his shoe onto the brute's backside and shoved his leg out as hard as he could, propelling his attacker forward. The giant's uncontrolled momentum sent him crashing into the foundation. Chunks of rock broke off from the ancient wall and fell on top of the boulder-like back. The Inspector pounced upon Ox immediately, and pounded the butt-end of the knife against his head. The brute let out a surprised cry. The brute moved, turning himself over onto his back.

Zenigata repositioned himself to straddle the mountainous bulk beneath him, and struck again. Ox may have been down on the ground, but was not defeated. He pummeled the beast's temples a third time. If Ox managed to stand, Inspector Zenigata knew this would be the end. Again the Inspector put all his might into his strike. At least the brute had the manners to look dazed. Again. A coldness grew in the Inspector's chest as he concentrated on each bludgeon. Again. He didn't even notice that there was a person underneath him anymore. His heart throbbed in his throat, and the vein on his forehead buldged even further. Again. He felt nauseous. A bitter taste flooded his paper-dry mouth. Again. The imagery of Diffenbaugh's injections flashed in front of him. Yata being suffocated by that scumbag. Arnold towering over his lieutenant, his student, his responsibility replayed over in his mind, on repeat. Again. The smell of fresh tangy iron filled the air. Something warm and slick seeped between his fingers, making them slip on the leather-wrapped handle.

Zenigata's vision melted back. In front of him, Ox's face was eerily peaceful. It was battered, bruised and blood covered. That same blood coated his knuckles. The Inspector looked at his shaky hands in horror. In an instant, the weapon became heavy like a sledgehammer. It slipped from his fingers, falling to the ground with a resounding thud. He backed away. Ox lay there propped against the wall; he couldn't tell if he was even breathing or not. He was no better than the ones that took him and Yata... Yata. Yata. He needed to get Yata. Get him out of here.

He moved to the chair that held the detective, but his mind lingered on the act he had just committed. The blood-spattered blade glinted against the dirt, catching his eye. He picked it up. As much as he wanted to leave the weapon there, alone and forgotten with all its weight, it was going to cling to his side for a long time, and the stains would never truly go away. No matter how many times it had been washed.

Inspector Zenigata circled to the back of his lieutenant's chair and cut the ropes that restrained his slender arms. He circled back to the front and loosened his ankles free. Gently he pulled Yata forward, cradling his head as he slid the slight man out of the chair and onto the floor.

Hesitation and regret tore at the Inspector's insides before he muttered profuse apologies. He took a deep breath before tucking the detective's package back in his pants, fastened the fabric closed, and zipped up the fly.

A faint whimper, barely even noticeable, came from the boy's lips. He finished buckling the leather belt before he looked at the young man's blindfolded face. Carefully he reached at the thick black cloth, and tugged at it, revealing his steel-gray eyes. They were far off, gazing somewhere past the walls of their prison, and they looked... lost. Tears streamed from his swollen eyelids, and mucus ran down his nose, his chin, and his neck. The Inspector firmly cupped Yata's upper ear with his palm, his fingers stretched to support as much of the boy's head as they could. A slight comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

"Yata," his voice cracked, "It's safe, you're safe. You're safe now."

The Inspector felt his own eyes suddenly water, his throat constricted violently and became sore. God, he tried to stop the bastard sooner. He tried. He tried his absolute best, but even that was still too late. The kid did not deserve this. For the love of his ancestors, he didn't deserve any of it. If only Yata wasn't so headstrong. If only he hadn't been trying to be the hero. If only Yata had listened to him. If only. If only. What was he talking about? All of these "if only's", it wasn't the kid's fault. He didn't do anything to warrant blame. There were so many places to lay blame, and none of them belonged to Yata. Was this the Inspector's fault? Their captors? The captor's parents? Society? Fate? Who knows. But Zenigata assigned the blame to himself anyway, he sure as hell thought he deserved it.

"It's okay, kid. You're going to be okay." The Inspector took the damp blindfold and wiped away the tears and snot from the young man's face and neck.

"You're going to be okay. How about we try and get oughtta here?" He brushed the detective's greasy bangs to the side. Zenigata stared at Yata, hoping for a response, but nothing came.

For a moment, he kept his tender hand reassuredly against the side of Yata's head, "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, but we don't have the luxury of time right now, but it's alright. I'll carry you. You'll be okay. You will make it out. Alright? I promise."

The Inspector slid his trembling hands away and picked up the rope that, not a minute before, had held the detective to the chair. He folded the length in half and slipped the middle underneath Yata's head, over his torso, weaved the two tails under his legs, back up the front, and tied the ends snugly behind his head. With the sling that made the young lieutenant a backpack completed, the Inspector laid his back against Yata's chest and reached one arm between a set of straps, then pushed his other arm through the other set. He grabbed hold of the detective's forearm and brought it firmly to his collarbone. Zenigata sucked air sharply through his clenched teeth as he rolled onto his hands and knees, his back keenly reminded him of his lacerations.

Slowly he rose to his feet, grunting as he readjusted his lieutenant more securely. He took a cautious, weight-bearing step as he leaned forward, making sure that the young man's full weight wouldn't be on the ropes. Now that the weight was pressing directly onto his back, he noticed his cuts didn't hurt as bad. Surprisingly, it actually felt somewhat soothing.

"How are you doing Yata?" He asked at the foot of the stairs. Inspector Zenigata half-swore Yata made a noise. Albeit a vague, a very vague, noise. The Inspector took in a long ragged breath before climbing the stairs.

It was a small mercy that Ox had accidentally left the door open, but it was one Zenigata was grateful for. He stepped through the threshold and a cold pale blue breeze wafted onto his face for the first time since this whole thing began. He paused, drinking in the freshness. It rejuvenated him, he felt a little stronger. And he felt like some, a little amount, of the sweat, dirt, fear and grime was wiped away.

Maybe they could make it out, after all.

~ end

The finalized version of this chapter will be on ao3 in 2 ish days. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3 https://www.tumblr.com/takeiteasyonmeimstilllearning/765159395238805504/i-hear-a-sweet-voice-calling-ch-3?source=share

Chapter 2

https://www.tumblr.com/takeiteasyonmeimstilllearning/764105999566159872/i-hear-a-sweet-voice-calling-ch-2?source=share

Chapter 1

https://www.tumblr.com/takeiteasyonmeimstilllearning/763291546227523584/i-hear-a-sweet-voice-calling-chapter-1?source=share

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