#I've been in a cold sweat over this since finding out about it yesterday

[solradguy]

Me when confronted with the option to have a custom real leather Sol Badguy (Strive) jacket made

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's the RPD's annual Secret Santa, and Leon's at his wit's end finding the perfect gift for his work crush. No competition, of course, except for the part where you make him promise not to bring something lame. Leon's got a week. He can do this. Right?

gn / m, fluff, romance, humor, leon is a SWEETHEART, you guys work at the RPD but you're leon's senior and also love reading??, no outbreak, inspired by the teapot episode of The Office lol, tw: claustrophobia

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

a/n: vivi try not to mention christmas challenge go!!! @k1ssaphobe this one's for you <3 literally the ugliest effing banner i've ever made i'm SO SORRY but this completely destroyed my writer's block. i had so much fun <3

It’s all been downhill since Leon plucked your name out of a glass jar last week. Shit. Multiply that times three, rain down a couple red and green sprinkles for holiday spirit, and you have a great representation of how prepared Leon feels about being assigned the most crippling crush he’s had since high school for the RPD’s annual Secret Santa: you. 

Shit, indeed.

His hands shake like tremolo as he rereads your name printed on his little slip of paper, and Leon decides right then and there that the best way to go about this is to not go about it at all. Plain and simple. 

“Aren’t you excited?” you gush after your turn to draw from the jar. Poor you, you’d taken his jittery hands as enthusiasm. 

Leon grins tightly. “For sure, yeah, I um… I love Christmas. Really excited. You get who you wanted?” 

“Hey, no cheating. Not even with me, rookie.” You scrunch your face, clutching your paper to your chest. “Secret Santa’s secret. But it’s no secret that you’ve got to give it your all, so no lousy gifts allowed, got it?”

Well, there’s that plan gone. It’s back to police academy basics: Keep It Simple, Stupid. 

There’s nothing to overthink about making a good impression as the newest RPD recruit, Leon gaslights himself while haunting the Target holiday aisle on Monday night. You routinely save him from Irons’ infamous wrath, so it’s only natural that Leon spends all of Tuesday in a stupor at his desk, definitely not thinking of how he could never pay you back the favor with a silly Secret Santa gift. 

Wednesday rolls by and his coffee from yesterday sits in the break room, cold and overstirred next to today’s breakfast crumbs. How many times has Leon watched you sip tea at your desk? Five, six? 

Your eyes sparkle over the rim of your cup when he asks you about your weekend. Really, he doesn’t get the hate for small talk. There’s nothing small about the smile that bunches up your cheeks when he cracks a stupid joke about the weather, and more often than not, Leon finds himself waterboarding his notes app with the names of all the novels you drop mid-conversation so he can binge their Sparknotes over the weekend. So it goes, according to Kurt Vonnegut.

Ugh, he should have paid more attention in English. What the hell is an allegory anyway? Leon spends all of Thursday browsing your Goodreads profile and wracking his head over the hefty price tags attached to your TBR list. His wallet makes for a terrible wingman. 

But really, finding the perfect gift is no sweat at all. Leon is absolutely nonplussed (according to his 50th vocabulary-related Google search) when he steps into the RPD elevator on Friday morning with a clumsily wrapped, candy cane-striped bundle in his arms. 

“Hold it plea- Leon!”  

Liar, liar, pants on fire – he’s totally shitting his pants when you barely make it inside before the doors snap shut. 

“Thanks,” you gasp. 

Leon nods stiffly, his cheeks growing warm, and jams the second-floor button with his knuckle.

As the elevator starts its maddeningly slow climb, you hum, rocking back and forth in your snow boots. You’re cradling a package of your own, something four-cornered and fairly small. Leon, however, feels like he’s holding a bomb, the object of his affections standing less than three feet from his radius of destruction. How are you so carefree right now? You’ve probably got this gifting thing in the bag and he most definitely doesn’t. 

Leon can see everything unfold the moment he enters the office. You’ve had your gift planned months beforehand, his gift is going to be horrifically lame when you open it, everyone’s going to clap politely but you’re going to hate him forev-

And then the elevator plunges into pitch black.

“Oh my god!” 

Who screamed louder, Leon doesn’t want to find out.

The elevator shudders to a complete stop. Leon’s mental spiral of doom helpfully supplies him with an image of you two dangling in midair, suspended on wires. Maybe this is the universe saving him from delivering the worst Secret Santa gift of his life.

Leon blinks in the darkness, waiting for your unflappable voice to cut through the silence and figure a way out, headstrong as always, except you don’t, and Leon strains his ears to hear what’s surely not what he thinks it is, a whisper that sounds an awful lot like: “Leon, I don’t want to die.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna die,” you whimper. “I don’t wanna die.”

Your voice floats up from a lot lower than he remembers your head being, so he crouches down to find you with your arms hugged to your chest. You’re huddled against the wall, breathing all shallow. The package in your arms lies forgotten somewhere in the abyss.

“Hey, hey, nobody’s dying.” Leon reaches out to find your hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I have, cl-clau-”

“Claustrophobia?” He remembers that one well. Wishes he didn’t. 

You nod fitfully.

“The dark doesn’t help either, huh?” he whispers, craning his head to look at the busted bulb on the ceiling. “Damn.”

Your palm grows colder and clammier in his hand by the minute, and the shakiness in your breathing is starting to worry him. Your head pops above your knees when you hear rustling in the shadows, and then the telltale Christmastime cacophony of wrapping paper being torn to shreds. 

“What are you…?”

“Being resourceful,” Leon grits, tearing his Secret Santa gift open. He fumbles with its contents for a second, slipping something into a plastic compartment. “It’s not the best, but…”

The elevator blooms with soft, golden light.

“...it’ll do.”

“What’s this?” you murmur in awe, cupping your hands around the tiny book light Leon holds. 

“My Secret Santa gift,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I kind of, um, blanked. I’m also really bad at giving gifts, so there’s also this,” he says, pulling out a mug from the heap of trashed wrapping paper.

When I Think About Books, I Touch My Shelf, it announces with impunity. 

Leon blushes when you giggle at the inscription. Things always look better online than in person, rookie mistake. But at least you’re breathing better now. 

“This is amazing,” you laugh, cradling the cup like there’s warmth inside. 

“Not so amazing now that I’ve opened all the packaging.”

“Your Secret Santa won’t mind at all, trust me, not with a gift like this- ‘touch my shelf’, you’re unbelievable! Tell me where you got it.”

He shakes his head. 

“Leon Scott Kennedy, if you don’t stop gatekeeping this incredible mug and this super useful book light, by the way, I’m going to tell Irons you spilled coffee all over his desk. I can be very convincing, y’know.” You cross your arms decidedly, waiting. 

“There’s no need for all that!” he protests. 

“That was a promise, Leon, not a threat.”

“C’mon, be reasonable here.”

“You’re still not telling me.” 

“It’s for you, silly.” Leon tilts his head, face heating up faster than the book light bulb, “You’re my Secret Santa.” 

He must be hallucinating the pink in your cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe. 

“Yes, oh,” Leon teases, scooching to sit next to you. “I couldn’t think of anything,” he confesses, “so I just went with the basics. I know you read and I know you really miss your old tea mug, the one that broke, right? You’re my gifting competition and I got nervy from how sure you were about your person’s gift. So, um, I played safe.” Leon finishes lamely and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping the light doesn’t also illuminate the shame radiating from his body. 

And then he feels the press of an unbelievably soft kiss on his cheek.  

“It’s much better than what I’ve got,” he hears. 

His eyes fly open. Words don’t form right in his throat when you reach out for the package you dropped when the lights went out. Wrapping paper falls apart neatly in your hands (what don’t you do perfectly?) and you unveil a mini waffle iron, proportioned perfectly for somebody always running late without breakfast. Somebody like Leon.

“You keep missing breakfast and Irons is on my ass about saving you food all the time, so I guess took the practical route too,” you shuffle your feet, bashful all of a sudden. “And um, my gift’s kind of useless if we never make it out. Sorry.”

He fingers the tag in wonder. 

Merry Christmas, Leon! There’s a timer so you don’t burn them :) xoxo, your Secret Santa!

You’re so goddamn sweet. You’re perfect and thoughtful and it’s all your fault that Leon didn’t have the faintest clue what to give you. Think, Leon, think. He knows he’s not this stupid. What do you give to somebody who has everything? 

A kiss. One that’s all smiles and just as sweet as the way you kiss him back, because screw Secret Santa.

It’s hard to keep secrets when you’re Leon’s favorite one.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 7

Part 7: Burning Out

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: description of injury, infection, and other typical twd content. mentions of death. A/N: oh hi <3 im happy to be back with a new part for you guys. definitely needed that break. I had my last class of university this week and I've just been a bundle of feelings lately. thank you for being so patient and for all the lovely comments lately :) mwah! enjoy

These last few years, the fight had been constant— to find shelter, to defend a friend, to get your next meal. Each day was like a knife at your throat, leaving you to wonder when the blade would finally pierce and bleed you dry. 

It was an oddly empty feeling when there was nothing left to do. A gnawing in your gut, like you'd been doing to the raw skin of your thumb the last half hour, as if there was an answer you were forgetting. 

You ran through the list for the ninth time. The last of that antibiotic cream. Dressings coated in a layer of honey— Daryl taught you that one. A damp cloth over his forehead. As much ibuprofen as you could give him. You’d done it all. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for the fever to break. 

It was miserable. 

The room was dark, lit by a single candle. Sometimes it flickered with your occasional sigh. Otherwise, it cast a gentle glow across the small bedroom. You sat in a cushioned chair by the door, five feet from Daryl’s bedside. It had been in the living room until you dragged it in here yesterday, falling into the same routine as you did now. Chin resting in your palm and a lazy stare at the sick man ahead. 

It’d gotten bad since that first day. Infection came— of course, it did— and without much more than that antibiotic cream and the rest of the drugs you'd used for your leg, Daryl was forced to fight through it. That meant long, feverish nights like this one. 

Waiting. 

“Ya jus’ gonna stare at me all night?” 

You sat up. His eyes were narrowed into a slit, but open. With only the low flicker of the candle beside you, they almost looked black. 

“You’re awake.” 

“Guess so,” Daryl mumbled. “Hot as hell in ‘ere.” 

He was already stripped of his vest, that flannel he wore on cold nights, and his boots. Yesterday, in one of his steadier moments, you’d dug a simple black t-shirt from the dresser and made him change. It took him a couple of minutes, his shoulder still stiff and swollen with infection. It gave you time to wash his usual sleeveless button-down as best as you could, though a litter of blood stains still dried across the fabric. 

As you stepped closer, flickering candle in hand, you could see the damp mark of sweat around his collar, but if anything, the room was cool. 

“Your fever’s getting worse.” 

You grabbed the cloth from his forehead. It was tepid on the edges, warm where it rested against his skin. Puffy eyes met yours, scanning your serious expression. He’d been asleep for hours. You’d only managed to get a few with that anxious pit in your stomach waking you up, over and over. 

“Feel like shit.” He adjusted his spot, sitting up against the pile of pillows behind him with a low groan. You passed him his bottle of water and placed it back after he’d had a few sips. 

“How long I been sleepin’?” 

“Most of the night.” You sat by his legs. The bed was bare of its thick blanket; you’d torn it off him when his skin started to burn. The top sheet was thin enough that you let him keep it when the chills hit. He kicked it down when the first hot flash came. “You woke up a couple of times.” 

“Don’t remember tha’.” 

“I figured. You’ve been pretty out of it.”

Daryl nodded, eyes as tired as they’d looked at sunset. Yours must’ve been similarly drained. 

“Ya got any sleep yet?” 

“A bit,” you said. “I’m fine.” 

“Ya don’t look fine.” 

You gave him a playful, lopsided grin. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” 

Daryl huffed, eyes falling to his lap. But your tease had done what it meant: to distract away from the bloom of purple that was, no doubt, forming under your eyes. Those sickening worries about Daryl’s health were already suffocating. You didn’t need the weight of your well-being piled on top. 

“You hungry?” 

He hummed yes. That was a good sign, you thought, before drifting out of the room. 

Dawn was still a few hours away. You walked the dark halls of the house you’d come to know, and a few minutes later, that same candlelight welcomed you back into the bedroom Daryl stayed in. You had a bowl of steaming chicken soup and a half-eaten package of crackers in hand. It was a good thing you’d gone for the bag, after all. If you hadn’t, it would’ve been just another thing to worry about.

His appetite was low, but better than it’d been the last couple of days. There were still three crackers he hadn’t touched and a quarter of soup left, but he seemed adamant about having the rest later. Food was often in such short supply that he wouldn’t dare waste a bite. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

You placed his bowl of leftover soup and the half-eaten package of crackers on the dresser you’d raided for cloth, towel, anything that could be boiled sterile and made into a bandage when that roll of gauze finally ran out after his second dressing change. 

Back at his side, you gave him a small smile. “Still feel like shit?” 

He chewed his lip. “Shoulder’s throbbin’ somethin’ awful. Head too.” 

There was a small bump in his hairline left from that day. He hadn’t caught a concussion, but the fever had been giving him a wicked headache. 

“There’s another hour until you can take the next round of painkillers.” You dipped the cloth back into a small bowl of water. Rubbing your thumb along the inches that had become warm, you waited for the fabric to cool. Droplets trickled down as you rang it out, causing ripples to catch in the faint light. It was the only noise in the air, save Daryl’s slow, heavy breaths. 

Until you turned and he caught that dispirited expression across your face. It must’ve been particularly obvious; the candlelight barely reached your face at this angle. As you stepped closer, the glow curtained you in delicate gold. An easy warmth that looked quite special painted across your gentle features, even if they were hinted with regret. 

The closer you got, the harder his head pounded. No, his heart. Which seemed to echo in his head. 

His eyes shifted away when you found that spot next to him again. 

“Should save ‘em anyway.” 

“No. This is what they’re meant for.” 

He huffed as you placed the cloth on his head. As your fingers inched closer to his skin, he blinked rapidly. It wasn’t quite a flinch, but you felt the resistance all the same.

“Still. Might need ‘em later.” 

“You need them now,” you challenged. “We’ll have time to find more when you’re better.” 

When. 

“Guess you’re the boss.” 

You scoffed. If anything was in charge, it was that fever. 

“Is there anything you can think of that could help? Another pillow or…” You shook your head, not even sure what else you could offer. 

He rolled his good shoulder back, biting back a groan as he found a comfortable spot against the bed. “‘M alright.” He nodded, even sparing you the smallest curl of his mouth. 

You gave him a bittersweet smile back, fighting the urge to brush his bangs behind his pinkened ear. His cheeks were flushed too, even if he seemed to be retreating back into the warm bed. Perhaps the hot flash was nearing its end. 

“You should drink some more. It’ll help.” You handed him the water again. 

He took small sips. 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when a distant thump came from the other side of the house, and Daryl didn’t jump up, that you realized just how out of it he was. Thick in the fog of fever and pain, his senses were dull. On the contrary, the twitching in your muscles had started hours ago, a cruel mix of exhaustion and restlessness. It made you more jumpy than sharp, but demanded your attention for every small creak in the house the same. 

Your shoulders tensed, and your head snapped to the side. 

Daryl noticed that. 

“Wha’?” He grumbled. 

A gun sat on the small table next to your chair, next to the book you couldn't read well enough under only candlelight. You stood up and grabbed it, weighing the heavy handle in your palm. You made a mental note to keep your twitching finger off the trigger. 

“Stay put. I’m serious,” you told Daryl with a quick stern glance and closed the bedroom door behind you. 

The wooden floors whined even under the slowest, steadiest steps you could manage. The hallway was thin, drywall stained with cigarette smoke. There were two doors ahead, one on the right leading to a small linen closet and one on the left that passed into the kitchen. Quietly, you made your way to the general area where the noise had come from, near the kitchen, while raising the gun Ross gave you. The exit to the back porch was there and, fuck, what if someone had snuck in? What if they had a gun and cruel intentions and what if you had to— 

Deep breath. 

You hovered in the same spot for a second longer, waiting for the drum of your heart to slow. It wasn’t much, but at least you were able to open your eyes without that dizzy fog suffocating you again. 

It was only a few more steps to the kitchen’s doorway. With your back to the wall, you reached the hallway’s end and peeked around the corner. 

Good thing you only peeked. 

A figure caught under the moonlight. It shuffled past the small window, looking out to the side of the house. Shadows cascaded onto the cheap tile floors. Two— three— four walkers stumbled past the wrap-around porch. It reminded you of that first night after the prison fell. How Daryl stood watch all night with nothing but his bow as a herd of the dead moved through the street, surrounding the house he'd dragged you into. All night, you sat on that couch, nursing your hurt leg, watching the dance of their shadows along the walls, and avoiding Daryl’s abrasive stare. Waiting for the moment they finally knocked down the door and took you into their cold fingers first. 

This herd didn’t seem as big. Maybe a few dozen. You could only guess from the noise of bodies thumping carelessly into the house’s siding. 

Carelessly— that was good. It meant they hadn’t realized you were here yet. Best keep it that way. 

Delicately, you snuck back to the small bedroom. The thick curtains were already drawn, and that single candle was soft enough that you weren’t inclined to race back and blow it out. 

You opened the door again, and, well, should’ve guessed Daryl would’ve been out of bed, knife in hand and about to open the door himself. The gun slipped into the holster at your belt, and your eyes sought out his. They were uneasy, red-rimmed with dilated pupils.  

“It’s just a group of walkers passing by,” you said in a hushed whisper. “Get back in bed.” 

“How many?” 

“Maybe a couple dozen.” You gently pushed him back toward the bed, twisting the knife out of his grip as you did so. “They didn’t see me, so we can just wait it out.” 

“Ya can’t take ‘em all on.” 

“That’s why we're gonna stay here and be quiet.” 

“You should go.” 

You blinked. 

“What?” 

“If those assholes get in ‘ere, you run,” he said. His voice was hoarse and his accent thicker. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Your brows furrowed. Your whisper was soft, even if pitched with confusion, “Daryl, they don’t know we’re here. They’re not coming in.” 

There was a fog in that usual bright blue. It wasn’t from the dim lighting, either. He was dazed. 

The back of your palm landed against his forehead. Hot. Then dropped to his chest, just below his collarbones. Your hand laid flat against that black cotton, stretched over the broad expanse of his chest, and felt that same burning underneath. Daryl hadn’t flinched, he seemed to give up that impulse when the fever took control, but his eyes did flicker down to your touch. 

You shook your head. “You’re burning up. You don’t know what you’re saying.” Your hand hadn’t fallen off him yet, a lingering touch as the rhythm of his heart became a soft pulse underneath your palm. Gently pressing him back toward the bed, you hushed, “Lie back down. Relax. We’ll be fine.” 

He listened. Whatever that outburst had been about seemed to slip away with the cushion of an old mattress underneath him. It felt like a new weight lifted off your shoulders; you weren’t sure if you could sit through a lecture about how you should leave him for dead. After all he’d done, all you’d done, that just wasn’t an option. 

You sat beside him again. “Here.” You held a pill in the same palm that’d landed on his chest. 

“Thought it was too early?” 

“One more isn’t gonna kill you.” 

The fever could.

He glanced down at the small blue capsule. “How many left?” 

You almost laughed. Feverish, incoherent, and still stubborn. 

“Enough. You need them.” 

If you told him there were only three more pills in that bottle, he’d refuse. You held your tongue and he tossed them into his mouth. Swallowed, leaned back, and groaned. 

“Water?” 

“Elderberries,” he muttered. Your brow furrowed, and he gave you a weak shrug. “Hershel used ‘em for the fever, ‘fore we got back.” 

Hershel. 

You remembered that name. Of course, you did. The Governor had called it out right before he used him as a bargaining chip. Hershel, the man with the long white hair. He’d kneeled in front of that fence, tan shirt damp with sweat and hands tied behind his back. Even tried to reason with the Governor. It was his neck that poured blood, him that inched his way around the cars you were hiding behind when the bullets started flying. 

Until the Governor cornered him. Chopped into his neck three times before his head finally rolled across the bloody grass. 

The memory made your skin pale, your breathing pause. 

A second later, when your vision focused again, Daryl’s eyes were closed. His chest raised and fell with deep breaths, his heavy exhales tickling your clammy skin. 

After you’d had a moment to regain your composure, you asked, “‘Got back’?” 

You weren’t following his train of thought. It seemed to go beyond the weeks the two of you had shared, reaching into his time spent at the prison. That part of his life had been mostly out of bounds for you. Blocked from the casual conversation you sometimes fell into. 

The fever seemed to tear those boundaries down.

“The vet college. We had to— to get the meds for the sick ones,” he muttered under his breath. 

The cloth sitting on his forehead had fallen onto the bed, presumably when he’d gotten up to follow you. Your boundaries seemed to slip away, too; you finally brushed away the damp mess of bangs on his forehead, tucking a few strands behind his ear. 

There was a part of Daryl that never seemed to let up. It went deeper than stubbornness. He was strong, innately, even when his body was failing him. You knew it took a lot out of him to try and follow you out, and had probably brought on some kind of dizzy spell that was making him spill his guts now. 

“Elderberries,” you repeated. “I think I remember. If you make tea, they can help bring down a fever.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Smart man,” you said under your breath. 

He still caught it. Fever and all. 

“He was.” Daryl nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to glaze over again. “He was a good man.” 

A lump caught in your throat, stealing your voice. That old feeling of guilt sunk into you again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “He didn’t deserve it. None of you did.” 

“Should’a kept lookin’.” 

It was overdue, you thought. Daryl didn’t seem the patient type, not when it came to his own body, at least. Give him a long hunt, he’d be fine. A wound that kept him bedbound? He was itching for something— anything— to do. The worrisome fact that his family was still out there couldn’t have helped. 

You sighed, “We will—” 

“For the Governor.” 

Oh.

“Maybe if I wouldn’a gave up…” 

He sunk deeper into the pillow, mouth moving as incoherent whispers slipped past. 

It dawned on you that Daryl was perhaps his most vulnerable right now. Maybe even more so than when you first cleaned his back. In this moment, that surly, reserved man slipped away to leave someone who… who seemed lost. Guilty, like you. His words left you confused, filling in the gaps in his story, his regrets. 

He’d been looking for the Governor. If you had to guess, which you did, you’d assume after he killed Merle. Daryl had issues with his brother, no doubt, but he’d proved time and time again to be fiercely loyal. To his brother, his people, even you. Why he’d give that up, you couldn’t say. But Daryl didn’t seem irrational, or disinterested. There had to have been a reason— something— to pull him back. 

There was an undeniable part of you that ached to hear more, to let him bare himself to you in ways he hadn’t dared before. Curiosity could prove to be a dangerous thing. The trust between the two of you was fresh. Delicate. Leading him on with questions or letting him ramble in the midst of a daze, could rip it to shreds. 

You refolded, then placed the cloth back on his forehead. 

“Elderberries,” you whispered again. “I’ll look in the morning.” 

The walkers outside were still too close. 

It was quiet for a while. Daryl drifted off to sleep quickly and the dead passed thirty minutes after. You curled in the chair again, chin perched in your palm, leaning over the armrest. There was still that gnawing feeling in your gut. Still that worry that you could be doing more— should be. 

But exhaustion had dulled caution when the dead passed that half hour ago. Your blinks slowed, moments of darkness stretching into seconds, then minutes, and it became nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. 

The last thing you saw was a thin ray of early morning light, slipping between a gap in the curtains. Barely noticeable, until it had landed across Daryl’s face.

It seemed as good a sign as any, you thought, before drifting to sleep.

— 

The fever broke the night of the herd. Cups of elderberry tea helped subdue the few symptoms that lingered, and the stream of puss from his wound seemed to reach an end, after all. Four more days passed by and with them, the constant stress and anxiety that plagued you those late nights. 

A few more hours of sleep under your belt and life had become calm. Idle, even. 

The wind was lazy, its soft huff could barely rustle the fallen leaves. Hues of red, yellow, and anything in between scattered the woods, stretching into the backyard. A sharp crunch under your boot. There was a bite to the air, but the new berries you found had lasted through the weather’s turn. 

All those chilly mornings and early sunsets were not in vain; autumn was here, and winter was nearing, too. Though the cottage had been good enough while Daryl healed, it wasn’t suited to become a permanent stay. Certainly not a home. The surrounding trees were too dense, the walls too thin, and it didn’t matter how many strings of cans you set as alarms since the herd passed that night, you couldn’t sleep without one eye open. 

Even if it hadn’t been for his people still being out there, you’d have to leave. 

With the small bag in one hand, you pulled the first alarm string above your head. It chimed in the wind until it steadied again. It was an effective system; Daryl was opening the back door before you even had a chance to break through the tree line. 

You passed into the backyard with a smile. 

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey. Find anythin’?” 

“Just some berries.” 

The morning’s sun had drifted away within the last ten or so minutes. It wasn’t much of a shock to find the sky had darkened with heavy-looking clouds. 

“We should go in, looks like it's gonna rain,” you said, sliding between his frame and the door. 

It didn’t take long to place those buckets around the porch, just past its cover. A couple of empty, uncapped water bottles sat next to them. It didn’t take long for the rain to start, either. 

Inside, the small table in the kitchen was homemade. Shoddy work, but it could balance the few candles you’d found in the basement when night came. You picked the berries clean of their stems while Daryl confirmed the findings of your foraging were, in fact, edible.

Maybe at the start, when your brother had found that survivalist book, you would’ve been able to tell. But that got lost a mere month after he found it. Since then, you’d only stuck with the basics. What you knew was safe, without a doubt. That meant you spent a lot of time scavenging abandoned buildings instead of the woods. 

Daryl, on the other hand, seemed to know the forest better than anyone. You could assume from that deep accent and the fact that he never cringed at mud on his skin that he wasn’t a city kid. No, he probably grew up in the sticks. The middle of nowhere. In this world, that kind of experience was invaluable. You’d spent many hungry nights, staring at a bush of unrecognizable berries, wondering what could’ve been if you’d had it, too. 

By the time the two of you were done, a damp cold settled along the walls. The rain had been pouring down for some time. It wasn’t as harsh as it had started, but the cool, moist air was sinking in. The temperature of the usually feverish sun dropped, hidden behind grey clouds. 

Daryl started a fire with that wood you’d found a couple of days ago. The pile was dwindling faster than expected; the nights had been cold. The short flames reached up to the bottom of a pot you’d positioned. You poured some rainwater inside, then tossed in a couple rags to sterilize, and waited for it to reach a boil. 

By the time Daryl heard those bubbles begin to break the surface, you had wandered back to that back door, standing with the heat of the fire to your back and the cool breeze brushing across your face. 

You heard his steps approach behind you. 

“I like the rain.” 

Daryl stood at your side, quiet. 

“I always loved that smell, too.” You inhaled a deep breath, staring beyond the porch. “Do you remember what that’s called?” 

“Nah.” Daryl shook his head. “Jus’ called it rain.” 

You grinned. “Well, regardless. I always liked it.”

He watched the rain come down. It soaked the fallen leaves and dampened the soil. The breeze was slow, weaving its way through dripping trees. The roof was a weak material, something cheap and old, and echoed a low patter of rain. It made everything feel softer. Muted. 

“Me too.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, that grin slipping into a tender smile, kind and sweet. Daryl met your look, felt that bloom of familiarity in his chest, and gestured you to come back in. The cold would become bitter again and inside was warm, so you followed. 

He sat by the fire, arms wrapped around bent knees. He’d peeled off his vest, then his flannel, and finally pulled down the left sleeve of his shirt. Just like the first day you checked his wound. You sat behind him, a small pillow under your knees and the freshly boiled rags sitting in a clean bowl to your left. 

That little routine the two of you had fallen into— you’d come back to Daryl, who’d help deal with whatever you scavenged that morning, before you cleaned his wound, then ate— came easy. He’d gotten less tense every time you had to face his bare shoulder again. Which was frequent, unfortunately, since the exit wound had proved more troublesome than the smaller entrance. 

That heavy pit in your gut at the thought of those scars and their cruelty hadn’t alleviated much though. 

“How’s it feeling today?” 

“Better.” 

You nodded and unwrapped the bandage. The fever had been the height of that infection that hit him a few days ago. During the worst of it, his wound had swelled and reddened, leaking a trail of puss that reminded you why you could have never been a nurse like your brother. Today, the swelling was gone and the redness cleared. It was improving.

“It looks better, too.” 

“About time,” Daryl huffed. 

On the other hand, his attitude hadn’t improved. 

You sighed, “It’s only been a couple of days.” 

“’S been a week.” 

“You were shot.” You passed the rag along the few dried bits of puss, careful to leave the growing scab undisturbed. “It takes a while to heal from that.” 

“We don’t got a while.”

“I know.” Your jaw tightened.

Daryl was becoming more agitated with his rest as the days dragged on. Cabin fever, maybe. It must’ve been especially bothersome for a man like him, someone who seemed to feel more comfortable in the woods than four walls and a roof, to be trapped here. Especially when neither of you had forgotten the whole point of running house to house in the first place— finding his friends. 

“But we agreed. You need to let this heal as long as it can before we leave.” 

“Trail could’a gone cold by now.” 

Even with your eyes on the back of his neck, drifting down the outgrown strands of dark brown hair reaching to the cuff of his shirt, you could almost see him chewing his lip. It turned out that Daryl’s unease had become mixed up with yours some time ago. By now you could feel that stiffness in his muscles, as if it was in you, too. 

“It could’ve.” You dropped the last strip of clean cloth back into the bowl. “It could be fine, too.”

Daryl glanced back at you over his shoulder. It made you freeze— he hadn’t offered any attention other than the small talk you shared while you patched him up. Not until now, when those narrow blue eyes burned into you, demanding your attention. 

It was almost instinctual, that warm smile you offered. Still, you were sure he could notice that somber look in your eye. The one that remembered the fear and urgency you felt while in pursuit of your brother— before it ended the way it did. 

He seemed to notice every hint of emotion that slipped past your grip. 

“Dwelling on it won’t help us find them any faster,” you said. 

You glanced over his expression, almost leisurely in your inspection. His lips were parted slightly, jaw slack. Though he wasn’t angry, there was a heaviness in the pretty blue of his eyes. Lately, you were realizing that might be permanent. 

While it was sweet, your smile didn’t do much to soothe his urgency or frustration. He turned back. 

“I can’t keep doin’ nothin’.” 

You swallowed, bandaging a clean strip of cloth around his shoulder as the tone shifted. 

“Four days ago you could barely get out of bed.” you firmly stated. “And two days ago, you could barely lift your bow.” 

“‘M fine now,” he snapped. 

“You’re still healing.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” 

The cloth reached its end and you paused. Going in circles with him was exhausting. It made your stomach flutter with anxiety, too. This routine the two of you had fallen into, something idle and restful, was comfortable. He was comfortable. 

Maybe even a friend. 

“Well, I do,” you replied. “I guess I like you too much to risk you getting hurt worse.” 

Daryl glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Subtle enough that you almost hadn’t noticed. 

“Thought we didn’t have to like each other,” he retorted in a lighter tone from his previous. 

“It makes things a lot easier, don’t you think?” You smirked. “And if you can’t aim that bow, you’re kinda stuck with me anyway.” 

You, like anyone else nowadays, knew what it was like to lose a friend. You certainly didn’t want to lose Daryl— whatever it was you had with him— from perhaps a curse of your own overprotectiveness. It was hard to let someone go back into that dangerous world after you learned how bright their blood ran, but this thing you two shared was fragile. Trusting. If Daryl said he was ready, you had to be willing to give him a chance. 

So, with a cautionary glance at his new bandage, you gave in an inch. 

“One more day.”

His mouth opened, but you snapped before he could, “It's bad enough we’re leaving while you’re still hurt. I’m not doing it in the middle of a storm, either.” 

The rest of the day Daryl was still tense. Emotionally, at least. He practiced picking up his crossbow, balancing the weight in his hands. You packed both bags, boiled and bottled all the water you could carry, and hoped this was the right thing to do. The rain didn’t let up until long past sunset. 

When morning finally came and the sun broke through grey clouds, you followed through on your word. Backpacks stuffed full, your boots landed across that empty road and the two of you finally left that little house for good.

-> part 8

A/N: slower part, but I think they need that right now. it can't all be fighting and running and shooting and blah blah. I love these little interactions between them as they grow closer <3 I hope u do too!

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[quinloki]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 14: After While, Crocodile

The days dragged on. Rain Dinners went under entirely, and quite a few people were caught up in the fall out. You didn't hear from Miss All Sunday, and it was almost a month before Alvida called you.

"(Y/N), oh girl I am so sorry," she begins, and you cut her off.

"Don't be. It's okay, I'm... I'm not exactly alright, but I'm doing okay. I tell you though, the hardest part right now is job hunting." You have the phone tucked against your shoulder; you were filling out applications when she called.

"Yeah... Yeah, Rain Dinners has been in the news so much and no one wants to deal with the fall out. But you're a great worker, you'll be back on your feet before anyone else. Well, Buggy might beat you." She admits, laughing in disbelief.

"Buggy? He's not locked—I mean, he wasn't tangled up in everything, huh?"

"I'm just as surprised, but no. They held him for a couple days and then let him go. I've been trying to figure out what happened to everyone, and got distracted, I should've called sooner."

"... Nah. I, uh... the shock, I wasn't really... good for a few days. This is better, don't sweat it, Alvida." You try to sound reassuring but hearing from Alvida hasn't done much except make you miss Crocodile all over again.

"Hey, hon, I'm not going to get into things over the phone, but do you want me to have Buggy reach out to you? I know he could use your help if he's going to get things off the ground."

Your soft spot for your hyper stressed boss was winning out over your inclination to avoid everything to do with the Grandline Metro and just move. You sigh and resign yourself to your fate.

"Yeah, you can give him my number." You stare at what is probably the 20th application you've filled out since yesterday and sigh. "It's going to be hard to find any kind of Coordinator job for a while, when the only thing people are thinking about is how coordinated Rain Dinners imploded."

Alvida snorts derisively, and you can almost picture the look on her face. "You're not wrong. Alright love, I'll pass the word along. Don't be surprised if you hear from him today, he's about as relaxed as you'd expect."

You and Alvida talked about small stuff for a few more minutes before you said your goodbyes. You closed your laptop and went about mindlessly tidying up. You had been struggling to keep up with chores, but in the last week you realized if you did bits and pieces here and there when you had the energy or needed a distraction that it helped you keep up.

Having some kind of job would likely help, especially if that job was coordinating Buggy with the rest of the world. He was good for keeping you distracted.

Alvida wasn't wrong, it wasn't even an hour, and your phone was ringing. When you picked it up, however, it wasn't Buggy's voice as you had expected.

"Hey, Buggy." You managed to sound not completely deflated when you answered.

"Miss (Y/N), my apologies, it seems you had expected someone else." The soft chuckle that followed the smooth words had done nothing more except cause your heart to drop into your stomach.

"Mr. Donquixote... I was, expecting someone – how do you have my number?"

"Oh please, Miss Wednesday, I think we're beyond trying to maintain pretenses at this point." He says with amusement.

You felt your blood run cold and wondered for a moment if you'd ever feel warm again.

"... Why have you called me, Mr. Donquixote?" You manage after a moment's pause. You're not going to address the questions you have, because you're pretty sure you already know all the answers to them anyway. No sense in verifying the specific kind of cat that has just been released from the bag.

"I think you have a better question to ask me than that, Miss (Y/N), and please, call me Doffy."

You pondered for a moment, stepping yourself through the questions you had. Was he the one who had cloned your phone? Well, of course – he wouldn't know you were Miss Wednesday otherwise. That meant he was probably the person who had been trying to get into your apartment. It also meant he knew at Baratie's that you and Crocodile were dating, but he wasn't willing to admit to his involvement with your phone, and your statement about having earned the meal was a good enough excuse he hadn't decided to argue against it.

He knew. He knew you two were in a relationship and he was a Warlord. He should've been calling Officer Smoker or whoever he wanted with that tidbit of information.

"Why am I not in jail, Mr. Donquixote?"

"Fufufufu," the laugh sends cold chills down your back. "There's the question I was expecting. Why do you think, Miss (Y/N)?"

"If I may be frank," you request, the energy quickly draining from your words.

"I prefer it, my dear."

"... I don't care." You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "However you hope to utilize me, or even abuse me, Mr. Donquixote, I do not care. If my options are your amusement or prison, I will walk myself to the nearest station and confess."

There was a long silence, and for a moment you weren't sure if he hadn't hung up on you, but then that amused chuckle bubbles up again. "How delightful! I'm afraid to say I have been unexpectedly amused by you Miss (Y/N), most unexpectedly. Well, then I shall leave you be for now. Do take care Miss (Y/N), he did so much to see to it that you could survive free, after all."

There's a click, and then line's certainly dead now. You look at your phone for a second and nearly hurl it across the room in frustration. You hadn't wanted to give that fluffy pink bastard a moment's satisfaction and you ended up doing so anyway.

The sick bastard had gotten off on your sour mood, and you weren't even sure why. If he had intended to worm his way into your good graces, then he would've come at you softly. To offer support, or comfort, or he probably would've provided you with proof that someone else had cloned your phone and used it to gain your trust.

Instead you're fuming, because it feels like he's pulling your strings despite you being fully aware that that's what he's doing and you can't do anything to stop him. Manipulative bastard.

Your phone rings again and this time you take a second to look at the number. Buggy's name pops up and you relax before you answer it.

"Hello," you say, no long confident in who'll be on the other end.

"(Y/N)!" Buggy screeches in such joy you have to move the phone away from your ear for a second. "Alvida told me the good news! I would love for you to come work for me. No one else has your work ethic and I need to get things up and moving as soon as possible. I can pay you well, there's plenty of investors on the front end of this, and once we get the feet moving it'll be bringing in solid revenue."

"I – Buggy, what even is your business?" You ask. There's comfort in talking to Buggy. It was nice to have something unchanged screaming into your ear this way.

"Hahaha, I never did say, did I? It's an odd jobs service. You know, need a security guard for a night or few? We've got that. Day laborers, armed escorts, coordinators, temp office workers, factory personnel, that sort of thing. Anything and everything. Buggy's Delivery Service is here to deliver you the service you need!" The well-practiced line makes you smile. "Flashy, right?"

"Sounds like an organizational nightmare." You admit honestly. "Do you have things categorized so you can maintain numbers by service? Do you have specific service leads, group leads, and district organizers? How are you going to maintain records? Do they need to be hard copy for privacy reasons? I hope the HR department is robust, personnel for come and go work like this can have a pretty high turnover rate. How're you going to protect against people hijacking your service networks for out of pocket or illegal activities?"

You sigh a bit at the silence that follows. "Buggy."

"Please work for me, (Y/N)." Buggy's voice sounds to be on the edge of tears.

"I have conditions."

"I have a pen and paper." Buggy says, and you're quite sure he does. It only took you two years to get him into that habit to the point that he started taking notes no matter who was talking to him.

"I want competitive pay, not some flashy amount. I want you to give me authority to hire and fire, at least for 366 days. I need to be able to organize the system and the people with autonomy. After 365 days, I'd like to switch back to an internal coordinator role, and maintain internal relations between branches, teams, districts, groups, and such. I'd even be open to acting as a secondary secretary for you again." You say, speaking just slowly enough to allow Buggy a chance to keep up with his writing.

There's a bit of silence as he finishes writing, and you can hear him muttering softly as he goes through and re-reads what he wrote. "Competitive pay, hire and fire, internal coordinator, secondary secretary. That's easy enough!" He says triumphantly. "Do you want to go over the current details and logistics first thing Monday? I should have enough time to do a 2-hour walkthrough at 3pm."

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, even though Buggy can't see. "I'm impressed. Is Alvida already working with you?"

"Her and Galdino," Buggy says with a sigh. "You could've just had faith in me, (Y/N)."

"I do have faith in you. I have faith in your ability to know you need good people around you." You say with a smile. "I'm glad I'm included in that; I haven't had much luck job hunting."

"I would've contacted you sooner, but the number I had for you was disconnected." He laments. "Fortunately, Alvida was able to do her gossip magic and track down a new number for you."

"Oh, huh. I wonder if I wasn't even listed. Sorry about that, I would've reached out sooner if I had realized it."

"Bah, it's fine. You probably needed the time anyway. You always worked too hard. It's kind of flashy in its own way, but you could probably use another month of sleep."

"Buggy, I will cry if you make me take a month off." You say it in an exaggerated pout, so he thinks you're kidding, but honestly you probably would. You needed something to distract you, and this was a great opportunity.

Buggy laughs. "I'll see you Monday, call me if you need anything before then."

"Will do, boss." You assure him and hang up.

Leaning back into your couch you let out a long sigh. You had plenty of savings, you could've managed for a long time before you would've needed to work, but even so this was a welcome result. You already know Buggy, and Alvida, and Galdino. You were also relieved to know none of them were part of the deeper parts of Crocodile's organization. You had assumed they were all aware of Crocodile's Warlord affiliation, though now, you guess the whole world knew.

In two months' time you, and just about all of Grandline Metro, had learned that Crocodile – or rather the organization he controlled, Baroque Works – had attempted to overthrow the government of an island nation. They had used a mix of propaganda and other illegal activities to cause the people to rise up in revolt, and the whole plot had been uncovered just before things had come crashing down.

You didn't know what to think of it all. It felt hypocritical of you to have understood he was a criminal without being understanding of just what that could entail. At the same time though, it felt like a matter of degree.

Sir Crocodile the Pirate was acceptable. Same for Warlord, Mafia Boss, Gang Leader, secret underworld mastermind – okay the last one was pushing it a little bit, but Crocodile the Overthrower of Desert Kingdoms just felt like too much.

Not that it mattered. Where the line was, and whether or not you were comfortable with it, were all moot. Suwani was in prison. The trial had been laughably short, and if you reached out to contact him in any way it could ruin whatever he'd done to keep you out of things. That was, for better or worse, the thing that made you want to forgive him no matter what he had done.

He had protected you.

There was absolutely no objective benefit for him to have done so. You didn't know any of his terrible secrets. You had nothing you could've given the Marines to help them win their case. If anything, you might've been able to be a sympathetic face to put on things.

It wasn't likely it would've worked, but objectively, he would have had more options available if he hadn't kept you away from everything. Especially since the Grandline Metro prison wasn't segregated by sex.

If he had just meant to use you then...

You let out another long sigh, looking up at your ceiling. Complicated feelings were, unsurprisingly, complicated. For right now, you didn't want to think about them. You didn't want to think about him. You needed to put one foot in front of the other, and move forward. You had plenty of time to sort everything out, there was no reason to try and decide tonight.

You may never come to a final answer.

"Whatever. For the next year all you have to do is organize Buggy's overzealous business plan. You won't have to worry about thinking about things like this, you'll be too bloody busy." You grumble into the empty air of your apartment.

Throwing yourself into your job wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it was better than nothing, and you had no prior experience in trying to cope with something like this.

[sir-sunawani]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

20 Chapters - 46,838 words

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 14: After While, Crocodile

The days dragged on. Rain Dinners went under entirely, and quite a few people were caught up in the fall out. You didn't hear from Miss All Sunday, and it was almost a month before Alvida called you.

"(Y/N), oh girl I am so sorry," she begins, and you cut her off.

"Don't be. It's okay, I'm... I'm not exactly alright, but I'm doing okay. I tell you though, the hardest part right now is job hunting." You have the phone tucked against your shoulder; you were filling out applications when she called.

"Yeah... Yeah, Rain Dinners has been in the news so much and no one wants to deal with the fall out. But you're a great worker, you'll be back on your feet before anyone else. Well, Buggy might beat you." She admits, laughing in disbelief.

"Buggy? He's not locked—I mean, he wasn't tangled up in everything, huh?"

"I'm just as surprised, but no. They held him for a couple days and then let him go. I've been trying to figure out what happened to everyone, and got distracted, I should've called sooner."

"... Nah. I, uh... the shock, I wasn't really... good for a few days. This is better, don't sweat it, Alvida." You try to sound reassuring but hearing from Alvida hasn't done much except make you miss Crocodile all over again.

"Hey, hon, I'm not going to get into things over the phone, but do you want me to have Buggy reach out to you? I know he could use your help if he's going to get things off the ground."

Your soft spot for your hyper stressed boss was winning out over your inclination to avoid everything to do with the Grandline Metro and just move. You sigh and resign yourself to your fate.

"Yeah, you can give him my number." You stare at what is probably the 20th application you've filled out since yesterday and sigh. "It's going to be hard to find any kind of Coordinator job for a while, when the only thing people are thinking about is how coordinated Rain Dinners imploded."

Alvida snorts derisively, and you can almost picture the look on her face. "You're not wrong. Alright love, I'll pass the word along. Don't be surprised if you hear from him today, he's about as relaxed as you'd expect."

You and Alvida talked about small stuff for a few more minutes before you said your goodbyes. You closed your laptop and went about mindlessly tidying up. You had been struggling to keep up with chores, but in the last week you realized if you did bits and pieces here and there when you had the energy or needed a distraction that it helped you keep up.

Having some kind of job would likely help, especially if that job was coordinating Buggy with the rest of the world. He was good for keeping you distracted.

Alvida wasn't wrong, it wasn't even an hour, and your phone was ringing. When you picked it up, however, it wasn't Buggy's voice as you had expected.

"Hey, Buggy." You managed to sound not completely deflated when you answered.

"Miss (Y/N), my apologies, it seems you had expected someone else." The soft chuckle that followed the smooth words had done nothing more except cause your heart to drop into your stomach.

"Mr. Donquixote... I was, expecting someone – how do you have my number?"

"Oh please, Miss Wednesday, I think we're beyond trying to maintain pretenses at this point." He says with amusement.

You felt your blood run cold and wondered for a moment if you'd ever feel warm again.

"... Why have you called me, Mr. Donquixote?" You manage after a moment's pause. You're not going to address the questions you have, because you're pretty sure you already know all the answers to them anyway. No sense in verifying the specific kind of cat that has just been released from the bag.

"I think you have a better question to ask me than that, Miss (Y/N), and please, call me Doffy."

You pondered for a moment, stepping yourself through the questions you had. Was he the one who had cloned your phone? Well, of course – he wouldn't know you were Miss Wednesday otherwise. That meant he was probably the person who had been trying to get into your apartment. It also meant he knew at Baratie's that you and Crocodile were dating, but he wasn't willing to admit to his involvement with your phone, and your statement about having earned the meal was a good enough excuse he hadn't decided to argue against it.

He knew. He knew you two were in a relationship and he was a Warlord. He should've been calling Officer Smoker or whoever he wanted with that tidbit of information.

"Why am I not in jail, Mr. Donquixote?"

"Fufufufu," the laugh sends cold chills down your back. "There's the question I was expecting. Why do you think, Miss (Y/N)?"

"If I may be frank," you request, the energy quickly draining from your words.

"I prefer it, my dear."

"... I don't care." You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "However you hope to utilize me, or even abuse me, Mr. Donquixote, I do not care. If my options are your amusement or prison, I will walk myself to the nearest station and confess."

There was a long silence, and for a moment you weren't sure if he hadn't hung up on you, but then that amused chuckle bubbles up again. "How delightful! I'm afraid to say I have been unexpectedly amused by you Miss (Y/N), most unexpectedly. Well, then I shall leave you be for now. Do take care Miss (Y/N), he did so much to see to it that you could survive free, after all."

There's a click, and then line's certainly dead now. You look at your phone for a second and nearly hurl it across the room in frustration. You hadn't wanted to give that fluffy pink bastard a moment's satisfaction and you ended up doing so anyway.

The sick bastard had gotten off on your sour mood, and you weren't even sure why. If he had intended to worm his way into your good graces, then he would've come at you softly. To offer support, or comfort, or he probably would've provided you with proof that someone else had cloned your phone and used it to gain your trust.

Instead you're fuming, because it feels like he's pulling your strings despite you being fully aware that that's what he's doing and you can't do anything to stop him. Manipulative bastard.

Your phone rings again and this time you take a second to look at the number. Buggy's name pops up and you relax before you answer it.

"Hello," you say, no long confident in who'll be on the other end.

"(Y/N)!" Buggy screeches in such joy you have to move the phone away from your ear for a second. "Alvida told me the good news! I would love for you to come work for me. No one else has your work ethic and I need to get things up and moving as soon as possible. I can pay you well, there's plenty of investors on the front end of this, and once we get the feet moving it'll be bringing in solid revenue."

"I – Buggy, what even is your business?" You ask. There's comfort in talking to Buggy. It was nice to have something unchanged screaming into your ear this way.

"Hahaha, I never did say, did I? It's an odd jobs service. You know, need a security guard for a night or few? We've got that. Day laborers, armed escorts, coordinators, temp office workers, factory personnel, that sort of thing. Anything and everything. Buggy's Delivery Service is here to deliver you the service you need!" The well-practiced line makes you smile. "Flashy, right?"

"Sounds like an organizational nightmare." You admit honestly. "Do you have things categorized so you can maintain numbers by service? Do you have specific service leads, group leads, and district organizers? How are you going to maintain records? Do they need to be hard copy for privacy reasons? I hope the HR department is robust, personnel for come and go work like this can have a pretty high turnover rate. How're you going to protect against people hijacking your service networks for out of pocket or illegal activities?"

You sigh a bit at the silence that follows. "Buggy."

"Please work for me, (Y/N)." Buggy's voice sounds to be on the edge of tears.

"I have conditions."

"I have a pen and paper." Buggy says, and you're quite sure he does. It only took you two years to get him into that habit to the point that he started taking notes no matter who was talking to him.

"I want competitive pay, not some flashy amount. I want you to give me authority to hire and fire, at least for 366 days. I need to be able to organize the system and the people with autonomy. After 365 days, I'd like to switch back to an internal coordinator role, and maintain internal relations between branches, teams, districts, groups, and such. I'd even be open to acting as a secondary secretary for you again." You say, speaking just slowly enough to allow Buggy a chance to keep up with his writing.

There's a bit of silence as he finishes writing, and you can hear him muttering softly as he goes through and re-reads what he wrote. "Competitive pay, hire and fire, internal coordinator, secondary secretary. That's easy enough!" He says triumphantly. "Do you want to go over the current details and logistics first thing Monday? I should have enough time to do a 2-hour walkthrough at 3pm."

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, even though Buggy can't see. "I'm impressed. Is Alvida already working with you?"

"Her and Galdino," Buggy says with a sigh. "You could've just had faith in me, (Y/N)."

"I do have faith in you. I have faith in your ability to know you need good people around you." You say with a smile. "I'm glad I'm included in that; I haven't had much luck job hunting."

"I would've contacted you sooner, but the number I had for you was disconnected." He laments. "Fortunately, Alvida was able to do her gossip magic and track down a new number for you."

"Oh, huh. I wonder if I wasn't even listed. Sorry about that, I would've reached out sooner if I had realized it."

"Bah, it's fine. You probably needed the time anyway. You always worked too hard. It's kind of flashy in its own way, but you could probably use another month of sleep."

"Buggy, I will cry if you make me take a month off." You say it in an exaggerated pout, so he thinks you're kidding, but honestly you probably would. You needed something to distract you, and this was a great opportunity.

Buggy laughs. "I'll see you Monday, call me if you need anything before then."

"Will do, boss." You assure him and hang up.

Leaning back into your couch you let out a long sigh. You had plenty of savings, you could've managed for a long time before you would've needed to work, but even so this was a welcome result. You already know Buggy, and Alvida, and Galdino. You were also relieved to know none of them were part of the deeper parts of Crocodile's organization. You had assumed they were all aware of Crocodile's Warlord affiliation, though now, you guess the whole world knew.

In two months' time you, and just about all of Grandline Metro, had learned that Crocodile – or rather the organization he controlled, Baroque Works – had attempted to overthrow the government of an island nation. They had used a mix of propaganda and other illegal activities to cause the people to rise up in revolt, and the whole plot had been uncovered just before things had come crashing down.

You didn't know what to think of it all. It felt hypocritical of you to have understood he was a criminal without being understanding of just what that could entail. At the same time though, it felt like a matter of degree.

Sir Crocodile the Pirate was acceptable. Same for Warlord, Mafia Boss, Gang Leader, secret underworld mastermind – okay the last one was pushing it a little bit, but Crocodile the Overthrower of Desert Kingdoms just felt like too much.

Not that it mattered. Where the line was, and whether or not you were comfortable with it, were all moot. Suwani was in prison. The trial had been laughably short, and if you reached out to contact him in any way it could ruin whatever he'd done to keep you out of things. That was, for better or worse, the thing that made you want to forgive him no matter what he had done.

He had protected you.

There was absolutely no objective benefit for him to have done so. You didn't know any of his terrible secrets. You had nothing you could've given the Marines to help them win their case. If anything, you might've been able to be a sympathetic face to put on things.

It wasn't likely it would've worked, but objectively, he would have had more options available if he hadn't kept you away from everything. Especially since the Grandline Metro prison wasn't segregated by sex.

If he had just meant to use you then...

You let out another long sigh, looking up at your ceiling. Complicated feelings were, unsurprisingly, complicated. For right now, you didn't want to think about them. You didn't want to think about him. You needed to put one foot in front of the other, and move forward. You had plenty of time to sort everything out, there was no reason to try and decide tonight.

You may never come to a final answer.

"Whatever. For the next year all you have to do is organize Buggy's overzealous business plan. You won't have to worry about thinking about things like this, you'll be too bloody busy." You grumble into the empty air of your apartment.

Throwing yourself into your job wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it was better than nothing, and you had no prior experience in trying to cope with something like this.

[billie80808]

In 2015 I had a strange dream. Or at least it seemed like a dream.

I woke up in the middle of the night absolutely parched. Everyone knows water never tastes as good as it does when you're guzzling it in the middle of the night. Problem is, my bedroom is upstairs, my kitchen is downstairs, and I'm sleepy. Next to my bed is a closet, and on the sliding doors of that closet are two closet-door sized mirrors, and when you slide open either side of the closet, the mirror on the left door is concealed behind the right door. When I look at my closet, I see a tall glass of ice water reflected back at me in the left mirror.

The glass is frosty, like a glass you'd be served a draft beer in. It is sitting in what would appear to be an endless void of white, and it's enormous. It's closet-door sized. I push off my blankets and step out of bed and despite the chill of the air conditioning, this ice-cold glass of water is absolutely tantalizing. But it's weird, because as far as I can tell there isn't a closet-door sized glass of ice-water sitting in front of the mirror in my bedroom.

I open the left side of the closet, and by doing so I block my view of the odd water. When the closet is fully opened, I hear the clink of ice in the glass, like you would if you were to slide a glass of ice-water on a table and suddenly stop it. I also hear a giggle. Impish. Antagonistic. The contents of my closet are the contents of my closet. I slide the door closed.

Something has changed. The ice-water remains, but the configuration of the ice has shifted, not so much as to be unrecognizable but enough to be noticeable, and too much for it to have been caused by the change in velocity. I repeat my experiment.

The same thing happens, another giggle, clearly coming from the plane reflected back at me. The ice-water dimension, I guess. Deliriously I repeat this experiment far too many times for anything novel to happen, and the giggles have stopped. The joke got old. On maybe my ninth or tenth repetition of this cycle, I notice that the ice is melting and the glass is less frosty than it was when it initially appeared in my mirror. And I'm still absurdly thirsty, and the most convenient source of water is getting warmer by the second.

Something in my head is screaming to not drink this water. This is bad water. But I'm so thirsty. I tentatively reach towards the water and am met with the familiar resistance of a glass mirror. Obviously. But it's cold. And when I push, there's more give than a mirror should have. More elasticity. I push with roughly the force required to puncture saran wrap and now I've breached the sacred boundary between reality and reflection. I feel doomed.

I should not drink this water. But my lust overpowers my restraint and my head is pushing through the veil and I'm submerging it in the water and guzzling as much as I can handle and it isn't as cold as it was when it was gifted to me but instead the perfect temperature and there is just enough for me to quench myself and when I'm sated nothing remains but a pile of ice and the shame that I've broken a rule I will never and could never understand.

That's the dream. Every day since has been routine.

Yesterday on my lunch break I went to a nearby coffee shop and sat down to eat my meal. I'm replying to some emails, halfheartedly paying attention to the radio being played through the establishment's speakers.

"In other news, [redacted] Health Department has issued a release regarding an odd phenomenon. Over 500 residents have related stories of an unusually similar, possibly hallucinatory experience in which they find themselves gazing upon the reflection of an alluring glass of deliciously cold water. These mirages seem to appear in the middle of the night, which we all know is the best time to drink some cold water, hahaha. Oh man. Anyways, officials say that these experiences are nothing to be concerned about, so long as you do not drink the water."

I'm pouring sweat and guzzling my coffee and it's too hot and it's burning my mouth and my throat but I feel like I need to sanitize myself from the inside. That really happened? That's all the info they're giving me? Why isn't anyone acknowledging the absurdity of this situation? No one else drank the water? I drank ALL of the fucking water.

I go back to the office and I'm soaking through my cornflower blue button-down and I'm breathing wrong and my brain won't focus on a task long enough to even consider starting it. I need to know what happens if you drink the water, what is going to happen to me.

I call the health department. I argue with a call-screening bot and its fake typing sounds make me want to drown myself in the bathroom. After 15 minutes I reach an operator. I tell her my story as clearly and calmly as possible.

"Hi, I'm calling because I just heard the release about the mirror water and the radio guy said that I should be totally fine as long as I don't drink the water but it'd be nice if I could get a little bit more information about this because that seems like a bizarrely tiny amount of info to give about weird giant glasses of water showing up in my bedroom mirror, and also-"

She cuts me off, "Hahaha, sir, calm down, it's really nothing to worry about. As of right now we're considering it some kind of shared delusion. Social media has our brains all scrambled ya know? There's just too much going on. Anyways, luckily no one has actually drank the water, so there's no cause for alarm yet."

"No, that's what I'm saying, I drank the water. What happens if you drink the water?"

A few seconds of silence. I hear a sniffle, she's crying. Now she's sobbing. She's saying "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Why would you do that? I'm so, so sorry sir."

Dial tone. I call back and I don't even get the bot. I get a busy signal. I call again, I get a "the number you are trying to call is unavailable." I call again, the call doesn't even go through, it just hangs up.

Someone else must've drank the water right? Anyone? Does anyone know what's happening? Did any of you drink the water? What's going to happen to me?

[ilici]

drunk on you.

Summary: C!Schlatt was known as the drunk who didn't care about anything besides himself. That all changed when Y/N showed up, he's never been so infatuated with something like he was with Y/N.

NSFW MINORS DNI !

Warnings: Size kink, choking, subspace, gagging, unprotected.

Word Count: 2117

Schlatt was in his office, when he heard Tubbo and Fundy's muffled voices growing closer to his office. He was in no mood for business, he was slightly buzzed from drinking more vodka. If he drank anymore, he'd be absolutely hammered, but he held himself back as he had a meeting for Manburg later that day. Hearing the knock he dreaded the most, he grunted wanting to ignore them, but once again a knock was heard this time more eager sounding. "President, we need to talk to you. It's urgent." Funny's voice ripped out into the silence, and Schlatt just glared at the shut door. Not answering, the door was swiftly opened by Tubbo, and Fundy looked at him as if he were crazy.

Tubbo walked in, his horns showing prominently after his haircut, "Hello Schlatt." Tubbo said, nonchalantly as if he's done that more times than once. Funny gave Schlatt an apologetic look, before following Tubbo inside, his orange fur popping as Schlatt's office was dark and dull. He wanted it to match his "heart" as if he even had one. So he forced Niki and Fundy to paint it, "What do you guys want?" Schlatt said, already annoyed at their presence, "We have someone new who joined Manberg, we tried to tell you yesterday but you kept yourself locked in here." Fundy explained, on edge afraid if he said one thing, the bottle of vodka that was on Schlatt's desk would be thrown at him.

Schlatt slowly looked over at the fox, as his eyes were glued on Tubbo, annoyed that he entered without permission for the eleventh time. "So? What's it to me?" He asked, and Fundy sighed, "Sir you're the president, it's mandatory for you to know if someone joins or leaves." He announced, and Schlatt just stared at him, face holding no emotions. Fundy gulped, fairly loudly, which made Tubbo glance over at him, grabbing his wrist so he would relax. "Well, who are they?" Schlatt asked, wanting this conversation to end already, "Apparently they are Sapnap's adopted sister. Dream and them went into the snow biome across here, and found her there. They took her in for a couple days, then she left and wandered into Manberg and asked if she could stay." Tubbo said, noticing how on edge Fundy was. Schlatt looked at him, "They didn't kill her on the spot?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"No, probably because she was already on the brink of death from starvation. She has amor, netherite to be exact, I've also heard from George that she is good at combat." Tubbo added on, catching Schlatt's attention. "Why didn't they just leave her there to rot?" He asked once more, and Tubbo sighed, growing annoyed at the fact that Schlatt keeps asking why they didn't let her die. "Sapnap apparently felt guilty, and wanted to take her in. I'm guessing it took a lot of persuasion, because Sapnap now has a cut down his face from which I am assuming is from Dream." He explained, "Where did you get this Information?" The president asked, and a new voice spoke up from behind Tubbo. "Me." A much softer voice said, which caught Schlatt off guard.

Schlatt wondered how he had not noticed her before, but what threw him off even more was the fact that he could not see the girl. She was behind Tubbo, and Tubbo was already very short, so how old was this girl and how short was she? "Show yourself." He said, intrigued, and a small girl, decked out in netherite stepped out from behind Tubbo. It amazed him how small she was, she had to have been an inch smaller than 5'0. "What's your name?" He asked, and Y/N looked him in the eyes, her eyes held little to no emotions, "Y/N." She said, her voice strong and confident, "How old are you?" He asked, and Y/N just looked down, as if this conversation bored her. "I'm legal, if that's what you were wondering perv." She said, noticing that Schlatt was indeed checking her out.

Schlatt chuckled at her, "Fiesty aren't we?" He said, and Y/N glared at him, her E/C piercing through his skull. "Only with old men like you." She replied, and Schlatt let out a huff of air through his nostrils, almost as if it were meant to be a laugh. "She's welcome to join Manberg." He said, and Tubbo looked down at the girl, "Come on let's go Y/N." He said grabbing her wrist, his other hand still occupied with holding Fundy's. Dragging the two out, quite literally, the other two were stumbling on their feet trying to keep up with the teenager. "Slow down." Fundy pleaded, and Tubbo finally came to a halt when they were out of the building, "Y/N you will need to take your armor off, it's sorta a rule not to wear it in Manberg." He said, and Y/N audibly sighed as she took off her amor. Once her helmet was off her H/C hair finally showed itself, her H/L blowing in the gust of wind.

"You look pretty." Fundy said, now being able to see her without the amor, "Thanks I guess?" Y/N said, not really used to compliments. Her outfit consisted of F/C shirt and jeans. Her combat boots complimented the outfit, "Well we already gave you the tour yesterday, so if you need anything, you know where to find us." Tubbo said, as the two walked to their designated areas. Y/N looked around to try and find something to do, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up behind her. "Hello Schlatt." Y/N said, turning her head to the side where he now stood. "How'd you know it was me?" He asked, and Y/N just looked away, "You reek of alcohol, I basically smelt you." She said, and Schlatt scoffed and looked at her side profile. Schlatt being way taller than her, made him think of very inappropriate things he could do with her. "I don't appreciate that." Y/N spoke up, and Schlatt gave her a weird look, "I can hear your thoughts. They are very loud and fairly annoying." She told him, and Schlatt just looked away.

"How can you read minds?" He asked, and Y/N looked away, "I don't want to talk about my past." She mumbled, and Schlatt just nodded looking back at her, "So tell me what I am thinking of right now. Prove me wrong, because I don't believe you." He said, and Y/N looked over at him blankly, "What happens if I don't?" She said, wanting to bother him. Schlatt smirked, "You already know." He whispered, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "You're disgusting." She said walking away from him. Schlatt chuckled watching her walk away, before he walked away to go to the meeting he was having with Quackity and George. The entire meeting, his mind was thinking about Y/N in many ways.

It's now been four months since Y/N joined Manberg, and Schlatt has been on her ass at any moment he could. Y/N couldn't deny the feelings she was growing for the overly horny man. She could hear everyone's thoughts, but Schlatt's always overpowered theirs, which annoyed her because he kept her awake during the night with his lewd thoughts. "Fuck you Schlatt." She groaned tossing and turning in her bed, trying to sleep. Currently, Schlatt was having another daydream of him ruthlessly fucking the shit out of Y/N. She mainly couldn't sleep because of how loud his thoughts were, but she also felt this itching sensation that she tried to get rid of by touching herself but she simply couldn't cum. She never could, which was causing her sexual frustration to sky rocket. Letting a frustrated scream out, she threw her pillow at the wall before she got up.

She was now wearing her night shorts, and one of Fundy's shirts that she borrowed, from three months ago. Slinging her door open, she didn't care about the cold air biting at her bare legs and feet as she stomped her way towards Schlatt's house. "You fucking horny fuck." She grumbled on her way there, and Jack, who was awake watched her angrily make her way to Schlatt's house. He silently laughed to himself, as he knew why she was going there. He's caught her doing this many other times, which they bonded over and now the two were super close. "Don't kill him." Jack slightly shouted, and Y/N just flipped him off as she continued her way towards the rather ugly birch wood house. Ripping the door open, not even caring to knock at this point she basically bolted to his room. "Schlatt you motherfucker." She said, slinging the door open, and Schlatt looked over at her.

"What seems to be the problem princess?" He asked, and Y/N glared at him, as his eyes were glued to her thighs. "I will rip those horns right out of your goddamn head." She threatened, and Schlatt laughed getting up, his white t-shirt and black sweat pants, now visible. Walking over to her, he stood in front of her, dangerously close, "Do it." He whispered, and Y/N shoved his chest roughly, which he just stumbled back a bit before going back to his spot. "It's two in the morning princess, and yet here you are. In my room." He whispered, this time his voice huskier which sent a chill down Y/N's spine. "This is your room, what are you going to do about it?" She dared, and Schlatt chuckled darkly, "You already know." He said, as Y/N got deja vu from their first interaction like this.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, as Schlatt roughly grabbed her thighs hoisting her up and throwing her on his bed. Y/N let a giggle rip through her throat, as Schlatt was now hovering over her, his shirt already discarded. "Eager are we?" She teased, and Schlatt growled, "I could drink so much alcohol and be absolutely wasted, but somehow you make me so much more drunk." He said, and Y/N grinned, "Do it." She whispered, as Schlatt thought of just fucking her then and there. Schlatt groaned, and ripped her clothes, literally. "That was Fundy's shirt.." She groaned out, and Schlatt chuckled, "That's why I did that princess." He said, before flipping her over, "Ass up now." He said, giving it a harsh slap as he quickly took off the remaining clothes he had on.

"Mouth open, now." He said, and Y/N opened her mouth as he quickly shoved his fingers down her throat keeping them there as she gagged onto them. Chuckling, he teased her entrance with his tip, before he roughly thrusted into her, making her gurgle from a moan, choking a bit from his fingers. Using his other hand, he pushed her down into the mattress as he thrusted into her with no remorse. Once he saw tears streaming down her face, he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, letting her cough to catch her breath. "God you're so beautiful." He whispered to her, as he sped up his thrusts, not caring if she was now overly sensitive since she had cum on him seconds before pulling his fingers out. Y/N only let out a couple sounds, which were supposed to be words. She was too far gone to form sentences, "Awh, is my cock that good that you can't speak? Did my cock do this to you princess?" He teased, and Y/N barely heard him, making him realize how far gone she was. Wrapping his hand around her throat, he choked her smirking.

This only made him feel even more egotistical, as he did this to her. After a couple rough sloppy thrusts, he let his cum feel her up to the brim. Pulling out, he fell down beside her, catching his breath while Y/N was attempting to come back. Getting up, he walked over to his bathroom dampening a rag before coming back and cleaning her thighs, and wiping the sweat off of her body. Throwing the rag back into the bathroom, he laid beside her, pulling her body to his gently not to hurt her. Jack smirked, as he realized what happened when he saw a stumbling Y/N walking out of the house, wearing a pair of Schlatt's sweats and one of his shirts that reached her knee's basically. "Well I'll be damned, he killed your guts." Jack said, and Y/N picked up a rock chucking it at him, "Fuck you."

[yaomomvs]

— THE VALENTINE’S COUNTDOWN, 1

ONE: In which you have 28 days to win over oikawa tooru’s heart

previous chapter

Oikawa was pissed.

The gentle breeze from the window that was conveniently to the side, by the seat of his, allowed the cold to brush against his cheeks and give him some calm. As if the petals of the trees that crept in when touched him, gave him peace.

Who the hell did you think you were?

The thing is, all day yesterday he was unconsciously looking for you all over AOBA JOHSAI. Since that Tuesday, January 14, at the end of the training, he thought a bit about the consequences that having accepted your proposal would bring. And he realized that it was actually absurd, and that it scared him, but that he wouldn't tell you right away. His plan was to let you try to do it the next day and finally tell you that he thought about it and that he wasn't interested. But since yesterday, and until noon of today, he has not even seen your shadow.

Do you really think that just because you were brave you had the privilege of doing that to him? To leave him waiting for something that wasn't even his idea? But what bothered her him the most was something else. What really bothered him, and that Oikawa didn't want to accept, is that for a moment, you piqued a genuine curiosity in him.

And now you were mocking him from afar. It did not happen with many. Truthfully he was constantly searched everywhere, so the setter preferred to keep his distance with people he had not known for a long time, or with whom he was not sure that they could collaborate in something or at least trust.

Oikawa hated when people made fun of him. And for the little rational boy, that was what you had done.

Iwaizumi noticed his friend's haddock and instantly chuckled, hearing the bell, he grabbed one of his recent qualified exams and rolled it up to give the brown haired man a slap.

"Stop listening to your stupidity" Iwaizumi's emerald gaze was judgmental.

"It's not stupid, it's common sense." Oikawa grunted, but inevitably followed the ace to go out for something to eat.

With his hands in his pockets and throwing his head back in frustration, he ignored the usual stares they received. Around the corner, at a table, which were common to see inside of the building, he noticed his two other friends rambling on some topic that right now, did not interest him.

"Feeling betrayed for not being the center of someone's universe is not common sense," Iwa said once more.

"Smooth, Iwa, smooth" Makki celebrated his friend as they both contained a laugh. Being the wonderful quartet that they were, his teammates were aware of the situation because when Oikawa told them, he seemed lost.

"I'm starting to like the girl." It was Mattsun's turn to speak.

"She's the most annoying girl I've ever met," Oikawa rebutted, resting his chin on his hand.

"You haven't even met her!" Iwaizumi laughed.

"Neither does Mattsukawa!"

"Anyone who brings you down to earth is enough for me"

"My cloud is way too high for anyone to reach it" Oikawa irritably took the juice he had brought from home and took a sip.

"Besides, you know her name right? Why not go find her and be mad to her face?"

"She's the one who looked for me!" he whimpered himself.

"Oh and your pride won't let you look around for her, right?" Hanamaki teased, the setter was from his closest friends, yet he didn't take away the fact that he could be as irritating as his reputation didn't mention.

"The thing is ..." Iwaizumi was quick to reply "Being the idiot that you are, you never take long to make someone the enemy, although deep inside you know that what bothers you is nothing more than ..."

"The fact that you don't even have a solid reason to complain." Mattsun took a potato chip from the captain's plate, giving a fact.

Oikawa whimpered, giving up.

"I hate when you are right."

Five hours later, and with sweat running down Oikawa's temple, his frustrations had somehow been drained on the court. And he even felt foolish for having made something so small an exuberant thing.

Like, if you were about to ghost him, that would only mean he could pretend as if nothing had happened.

He spotted Makki laughing at something stupid that probably Iwa said. While Kunimi was wondering whether to interrupt her elder's talk to ask something.

While coach Irihata gave them the go-ahead to finish practice, Oikawa couldn't take another ball because his teammates knew how to limit the extra practice time to avoid problems, so they picked up everything.

Sitting on the floor, he felt a stream of water run down his back and indignantly turned to see how Matsukawa gave him a malicious smile with the bottle in his hand. Makki put a hand to his mouth to reduce the noise of his laughter as Watari gave him not so discreetly a 1000 yen bill.

Oikawa's gaze changed, becoming psychotic and Makki began to panic for his life.

"You are a dead man!"

"MERCY OIKAWA MERCY!"

It was a fun scene to watch, as the newly pranked guy ran around the gym chasing his friend with droopy eyes that now seemed very vivid.

During that time, Oikawa managed to pick up one of the bottles that laid on the floor, if he was going to pay he would do it entirely. So being the brute that the setter sometimes was, his plan had no flaws, more than anything it was perfect.

As if it were a bad joke, when he saw Mattsun, the doors of the gym opened.

"OIKAWA-SAAAAAAAN!"

And once again, and to the surprise of the boy, life slowed down.

Spinning in the air, you could see the captain's bottle floating towards you, from one moment to the next you were now standing between the target of the bottle.

And thanks to fate, or to the ability you had for encountering situations like that, you weren’t fast enough to at least try to catch the bottle. So your temple took the hit.

"Son of-!" you said panting, and trying to lessen the pain in your head by putting a hand on it.

"Oh my god, are you-" Yahaba started and then he ended up being startled.

Yes, that boy definitely needed to learn to interact with pretty girls like you.

Without even noticing the interaction, Oikawa approached you.

Oikawa's eyes widened when he met you, and in a way the annoyance returned to him without knowing why.

Oh no wait, he knew why.

"Well karma has a way of-"

Before Yahaba could continue, or even Oikawa, you raised your hand to silence them.

"Sorry" you started while looking at the captain, still catching your breath

In shock, the brown-eyed boy did not know what to say, because he could tell that you had rushed to the gym, your figure was full of stress and concern.

The guys on the team looked at each other. First of all because of the fact that, physically speaking, you were not what they imagined you to be, in a way you exceeded the boys' natural expectations. They knew that Oikawa occasionally attracted beautiful girls, but you were definitely a special case. And in second place, because what they least expected after how irritating their captain was, is that you asked for forgiveness.

“In my defense, although I know I shouldn't have excuses, yesterday they asked me to write an article which I didn't have planned and I had to spend extra time here, plus extracurricular is a pain in the ass. And also, for being the most wanted guy, you're not easy to find, so it's not my fault that you- "

Oikawa saw how you realized how loud you were talking. and how his teammates were attentive to you, noticing your presence. He noticed how by being in the public eye, you made yourself small, observing your discomfort.

"So i’m s-sorry" you finished as best you could with red cheeks and looking at the ground.

Oikawa's confused look revealed that he didn't know what to say. And he just decided to intimidate you more. He smirked.

When you noticed it, you couldn't help but get angry, what was the need to make you feel this way? Yes, you made a mistake but still: "Moron"

You put your hands to your mouth, having accidentally thought aloud.

A silence fell but not even five seconds passed when Oikawa's friends began to laugh out loud.

"You didn't have to insult me, look what you did! Besides, the upset one should be me!"

"Sorry! But you were being petty! "

Oikawa raised his hands to his eyes in clear frustration. But, a feeling of relief came to the boy when your gazes connected again, he didn't know why, but he simply cataloged it as something that he would discover later.

Before your repentant look, the boy put his hand on your shoulder, as if to say 'it's okay, I guess ...'

"We will fight later" declared the captain, clapping his hands happily as if forgetting what had happened before. "Right now…"

"Let's eat," he heard from you, as you instinctively held the hem of his jacket to get his attention.

When you realized that, you took your hand away, blushing. Oikawa didn't know how you were so brave to ask him out on a date but too embarrassed to even have a conversation with him. "I suppose you are hungry right? I pay."

He followed your gaze. Ah, it wasn't him.

Oikawa looked carefully at his friends with whom he suspected, he could come up with something to show you which of you had the lead.

It was a cruel thing to take advantage of your nule abilities to socialize, but it was the only thing he could think of.

"I would love to (y/l/n)-chan! Come on guys, you heard the lady" he exclaimed ‘innocently’. He saw your eyes wide in surprise, and he continued "Is there a problem with that?"

Your eyebrow twitched with rage when you saw the playful smile of the idiot that were attracted to.

Of course you knew his intentions, he just wanted to make things more difficult for you. You could resign there, anyone seeing that he was a fool would have done it. But for some reason, that only made it more interesting to you.

"Hey Oikawa I don't think-" Iwaizumi tried to reprimand his friend.

"Not a single one." You answered the question by wrinkling your nose as well as challenging Oikawa, you took your bag tighter and began to take confident steps. "I’ll wait for… all of you outside"

Would your wallet cry? Of course yes.

You growled out of sight of the team, and using your phone's speed dial, Izuki answered.

"The boy I like is an idiot."

-

Sipping your lemonade, it was clear that the first few minutes sitting in that sushi place were somewhat peculiar.

Uncomfortable.

On the one hand, the team was expectantly staring at Oikawa for dragging them into such a personal situation. The aforementioned simply kept a half smile on his face looking at you who, for some reason, found the corners of the table way too interesting all of a sudden.

When you had everyone's orders, as an excuse, it was you who took them to the bar to order them.

"May I be the first to say that you are an asshole, Shittykawa?"

"Thank goodness, I thought I would have to put up with it all evening" Hanamaki agreed with Iwaizumi.

"WHAT DID I DO?"

"You made that poor girl pay for a whole party!" Watari scolded, which was amazing since sophomores never questioned Tooru.

"And you used us to intimidate her" Mattsun said.

"I feel sorry" Yahaba dared to express "Although well, Oikawa knows what he does right? If he doesn't trust her ... "

"Don't make me hit you" Mattsun growled alerting his underclassman.

Although Yahaba had a solid point, as nice as you had been, the rest of them did not know whether to trust you. They had experienced firsthand how terrible girls cast by their captain could be, and even though it had been years, they never interacted with them. What were they supposed to do?

But the anger towards his friend was greater than the feeling of discomfort.

"Hey! I have no information about her other than assumptions, and to win this, I need your help. " Oikawa explained in a tantrum crossing his arms.

They saw how you returned to the table with several plates, so Yahaba and Mattsun were the first to get up to help.

Although you were a few steps away, Oikawa's intention to help you was genuine, but he stopped when he heard Iwaizumi say "Idiot."

"Huh?" you asked turning to the emerald eye guy "Everything okay?"

"You don't have to pay for all this-" Watari kindly suggested followed by Iwaizumi.

"We just want to emphasize to our dear captain what an idiot he is," Hanamaki said before going for the first bite of him.

"Nothing new," Kindaichi agreed, wanting to join.

"And the truth is, you make us question your tastes" Mattsun turned to you, shrugging.

Oikawa was starting to regret bringing in the most irritating people he knew, especially that for some reason he wasn't liking how particularly interested they were in you.

Your eyes narrowed at the statements of his friends.

"How many gifts have you lost?" Makki inquired.

"No, she has the face of writing letters" continued Kunimi, unbothered.

Oikawa didn't miss your face turning red, but ...

The team's comments weren't bad, however anger quickly filled your veins. Were you supposed to be sorry that you liked him?

You knew they weren't bad people but maybe you also felt that in a certain way they wanted to find common ground with the fangirls. You didn't know them, but you hated it when people made suppositions about you.

"What if-"

"Just because I’m attracted to your friend it does not mean i have him on a pedestal" you said voice down and closing your eyes. In a certain way, it was adorable.

Oikawa opened his mouth in surprise and silence appeared, leaving everyone shocked. But the setter wasn't upset, it was the first time that he actually didn't have a posture of… you.

Makki started clapping as she laughed and Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow: "Then why is it 'drawn to you'?"

Oikawa saw how apparently his best friend had also noticed the word you used, expectantly, Oikawa fixed his gaze on you.

As his brown eyes connected with yours, the nerves did not take long to appear in you.

“Somehow, Oikawa seems… interesting. Interesting people are my type. "

A sensation ran through Oikawa's body. He felt strangely good.

Interesting, in a way he is interesting.

Wait, why did Oikawa find the confession (y/n) made comforting? Why did he find some relief in the fact that the girl couldn't even see him like everyone else did?

He shook his head.

"Hey, that was mine!" you said while you watched as OIkawa stole one of your rolls with his chopsticks.

Before you could do anything, the boy had already put it in his mouth laughing at how you rolled your eyes.

"I have a question dear gambling girl" Oikawa blurted out as they walked out of the restaurant.

The meal had been uneventful after your confession, so after paying for dinner, Oikawa made sure to keep up with you as his team went ahead to leave.

"I hope I have an answer" you answered, taking your school bag, arranging unruly hair behind your ear at the same time taking a few steps ahead of him, because you did not want him to see your face afraid of the question.

"Why put up with something that bothers you so much, in this case strangers, just to get a date with me?"

Oikawa saw your hands tangle with each other many times, your eyes focused on him, and not to mention many other things.

You stopped in your tracks, already being outside the local, you actually had many answers for that, but none seemed correct.

You saw how his friends were waiting for him on the sidewalk, and you remembered that it really wasn't as bad as you expected.

You brought your hand to your chin and after a few seconds looking at the floor, the most obvious answer came to you.

"Well, each victory requires their sacrifice" you said, putting your hand to the cack of your neck and smiling genuinely.

Oikawa's expression radically changed to a softer one.

And as Tooru watched your figure walk away, waving goodbye, he chuckled.

"I guess at least we'll get along." he whispered.

And then Iwaizumi smiled.

next

taglist: @triskoof @kaispaced @agirlcalledcam

if it’s crossed it doesn’t let me tag you ):

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Three

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, small angst

Characters: Dean, Reader, Benny Lafitte (mentioned only)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Dean let you sit in his car until the rain let up a bit. "God, I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"I love it." You whisper, your eyes wandering the parking lot. "When I was younger, and there was a thunderstorm, me and my siblings would make a fort and huddle underneath it together. We loved it when the power would go out. We would light candles and grab flashlights and play board games in the dark. Sometimes Andrew would read to us. But uh - it would be scary stories," You smiled. "He would scare the ever living crap out of us. Lena and Josh would would cuddle into my side, no matter how much I hated it, they would still do it."

"You really love your siblings." Dean noted, swallowing hard, memories of Sam flooding his head.

"I do." You nodded. "They're all I have. Sure, I have my parents, but it's not the same, you know? Growing up, my siblings and I fought like dogs and cats, but we knew each other better than anyone, even our parents. Even when I go months without seeing them, when we all get together, it's like we're still little kids, ya know? We goof around, we argue, we joke. It's like none of us ever grew up."

Dean stayed silent for a moment, and you weren't sure if your message was getting across. "Look, I know we don't know each other very well, but what I'm trying to say is, call your brother. I don't know what happened between you two, but it's obvious that you love him. You shouldn't waste all your time worrying about whether you should contact him first or if he's angry with you. Time is a precious thing and people often waste it."

"Damn, you're wise." Dean gave a quiet chuckle. "But you're right. I will call him soon, I'm just not ready yet." And with that, the Impala was enveloped in silence again. That is, until Dean's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Sorry," He apologized with a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry about it." You shrugged. "It looks like the rains letting up. Do you want to come inside and I can fix you some food?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." He shook his head.

"Nonsense. You gave me a ride home, this is the least I can do."

Dean silently debated whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but ultimately agreed, seeing as he was starving. By the time you were under cover, you were both soaked.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you were met with a warm blast of heat. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You began to click your tongue, calling out for your moody cat. "Storm, c'mere buddy." Your cat glared at you stubbornly from his place on the window seal. You rolled your eyes, slipping off your jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Sorry," You apologized to Dean. "My cat's being a little bitch." The man let out a laugh at your comment. "I gave him a bath and clipped his claws yesterday; now he's pissed at me."

"How in the hell do you cut a cat's nails?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Very carefully." You noticed that Dean was shivering. "Let me grab you a towel. I think I have some of my exes clothes. You're about the same size."

He was going to object when you silenced him with a look. You went to your room and began rummaging around in your draws, eventually finding a pair of black sweat pants and a grey hoodie.

"Try this," You said, handing Dean the clothes. "They should fit. You can change in the bathroom; it's the first door on the right."

While Dean went to change, you did the same. You exited your bedroom dressed in a pair of black leggings and a UK sweatshirt.

You noticed that Dean still wasn't out yet, so you went to start some food. You contemplated on what you should cook before ultimately deciding that mac and cheese would do. It was a comfort food, after all.

It would take a bit longer than usual, since you were making it from scratch, but Dean had said earlier that he had nowhere to be.

"Smells good in here." Dean noted when he walked out of the bathroom. Seeing him in Michael's clothes made your heart stop for a second, and not in a good way.

Dean and Michael had many similarities, the hair color, height, demeanor, etc. And you didn't want to be reminded of that man.

"Thanks," You said nonchalantly. "It's nothing special, but I thought you'd like it."

"So," Dean started, leaning against the counter. "This is a nice little set up you've got here."

"It's not much, but it's home." You shrugged as you stir the pot of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Storm sneaking around the corner of the kitchen, hoping for some food or a treat.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked.

"About five years." You informed him. "Ever since I turned eighteen I've been living on my own."

"How come?"

"You know the thing parents always say? 'As long as you live in my house, you follow my rules'? Well, I didn't like their rules so I got myself this apartment and I've lived here ever since."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, my old man was like that too. I actually did the same thing as you did. 'Cept I came back 'bout a week later." He laughed. "I was too dependent on my dad and brother. I have never lived alone before then; and to be honest, I hate living by myself. I still do."

"You never got roommates?"

"I had a few. There was Mick and Cas. Of course, I can't forget Benny." He grinned. "But they're all gone now."

"Benny?" You mumbled. "As in Benny Lafitte?"

"Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Do I?" You rolled your eyes. "That idiot's my cousin."

"Really?" Dean said excitedly. "I haven't heard from him in ages, how's he doing?"

"He's loving by the coast, and the last I heard, he met some girl named Andrea and he is head over heels in love."

"That's great." Dean smiled. "I really happy for him."

"Yeah, I expect to get an invitation to his wedding so enough. The way he talks about her, you would think he's known her his entire life."

"That's sweet. Benny seems like the guy that falls hard after one date."

"Oh yeah, he definitely is." You giggle. "He calls me after one date and says, 'Y/N, I think I'm in love. If I sent you a picture of a wedding ring, would you look at it and tell me what you think?'"

"No way!" Dean laughed.

"Yes! I had to talk him down from buying an engagement ring! I told him to wait for a year and a half, and then revisit the subject of marriage. Times almost up and he's still fawning over her. But I'm happy for him, he definitely deserves this."

You sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the Mac and cheese before popping it in the oven for a few minutes.

"You put break crumbs on your mac and cheese?" Dean questioned.

"You don't?"

"Never tried it." He shook his head.

"You caveman." You sighed. "I will just have to train you." Dean gave a harmonious laugh, which, in turn, made you laugh as well.

You grabbed a towel and pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven. You scooped some onto a plate and handed it to Dean. Both of you sat down at your small kitchen table and began to dig in.

"Oh my god." Dean said, his mouth full with food. "That is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

"See? Told you it would be good."

"I'll never doubt you again." He mumbled as he shoveled more into his face.

You ate in a comfortable silence until there was a knock at your door. "I'll be right back." You told Dean as you opened the door.

"Mr. Pierce." You said nervously. "What can I help you with?" You knew what he wanted. And you sure as hell didn't have it.

"You're behind on rent, Y/N. I need the money, or I'll have no choice but to evict you." You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"I-I don't have it right now. My hours have been cut and I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You're a good girl, but I need someone who will lay rent on time every month. I really hate to do this, but I want you out in two weeks."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Pierce," You assured him shakily. "I understand." And with that, he was gone. You gave a shaky breath as you leaned on the door.

"Y/N?" Dean called, approaching the living room. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be." You nodded.

"What happened?" Dean questioned gently.

"I just got my eviction notice." You deadpanned. Dean's mouth popped open in shock. "I have to be out in two weeks."

"Crap, sweetheart. I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Couch surf for a while, maybe? I know Jo will let me stay with her for a couple of days, but if her landlord catches me there, he'll throw her out too."

"What about your parents?"

You gave a cold laugh. "No, they'll never let me come home. I would stay with my older brother, but he's overseas right now. So honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Dean stayed silent for a moment before speaking up. "You could come live with me." He suggested.

"Dean, I really appreciate the offer, but I can't impose on you like that."

"It's okay," He assured you. "I have an extra bedroom. And it's not imposing if I'm asking. Besides, like I said before, I hate living on my own."

"Dean, we barely know each other." You tried to reason.

"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." You let out a loud laugh. "There, now you know more about me."

"Dean-"

"Just think about it. If you can't find anywhere else to live, my door's always open. I have to go, but here's my number," He said, writing down his phone number on a sticky note. "If you need anything, call me." Dean gave you a small smile before he walked out the door.

You flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live wYou flopped on the couch, staring up at  ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live with Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."ith Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tag List:

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags

@vicmc624 @lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278​

And if anyone else wants to be added to any tag list, let me know!

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 10 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

Monsters Lurking In The Dark

Yesterday's happenings are making a lot of people talk to you today. They ask if you're alright, if you had to go to the hospital, why Billy ran like a lightning bolt to reach you... Some of them are actually being kind. Others, not so much. It feels like they're trying to get you to say something else, scavenging for a secret. Jason is the only one to actually get into a long conversation, making sure you're alright and giving you tips to avoid heat exhaustion again. But the others, mostly the girls, make awkward questions. You get that Billy's behavior is changing. Monica is often telling you about how some girls ask her if she knows what's going on between you and Billy. She never answers though, saying this isn't their business.

As you pace around the pool, a bottle of water on your hand since Billy is literally forcing you to drink water by the hour, you spot him chatting with some of his friends. Tommy and Carol are the only ones you can name, and you never got why you only hang out with your friends and not his. Billy has his eyes on the pools and the whistle between his lips. Tommy goes on about something, and suddenly, Billy lets the whistle fall, giving Tommy a weird stare. You giggle a little at his expression, crossing your arms.

“Look who's staring now,” Monica says in a provoking tone, stopping by your side. “But I totally get it. I'd be shamelessly staring too if I didn't have my sweetheart.”

“How's Christopher by the way?” She told you he had an accident in the garden, which got him a nasty cut on the leg.

“Complaining. But I'm enjoying taking care of him.” She smiles, and her eyes shine. Every passing day you're more convinced they're in love with each other. That you'll be attempting to their wedding one day. “What about you? You gotta be careful with the sun.”

“I am.” Raising your hand, you show her the bottle. “Billy is driving me insane. I swear I can't drink any more water today.”

“Can you blame him? I thought he'd have a heart attack yesterday.” He tilts her head to where he is, across the pools. His eyes meet yours and he winks. “Poor guy, he has it bad for you.”

Giggling, you look down because you're surely blushing. “Oh, tell me something. Some people came to talk to me, you know. Asking if I was alright. But some of them made some very awkward questions.”

“Yeah, that's because they think you're pregnant.”

Your eyes go wide, and you gasp, feeling your whole body numb for a moment. “What the hell,” you exclaim, a little too loud. Looking around, you notice some eyes on you. “Holy shit, Monica. Tell me you're joking.”

“Small town, (Y/N), people talk.” She puts a hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, half the women here went through something like that. They'll let go in a few weeks.”

“Do you think Billy knows?” You lift your eyes to look for him, but you only find his friends.

“Probably. But look, don't worry about it. You're the new girl who managed to hook Billy Hargrove, the town's bad boy. People will talk, but don't let it ruin what you have with him.”

“No, of course not.” As much as it bugs you, it doesn't change anything. “You know I'm falling for him, right?” You burst out, feeling the sudden need to let it out your chest. “Completely.”

“I'm noticing. You–”

She's cut short when you're pulled into something. Someone. You roll your eyes because you know who it is. Billy pulls you against his chest, his lips on your ear. “Do you know what they're saying about yesterday's episode?” He whispers, a hand coming to caress your belly.

Great. Now this will certainly make people forget this story. “Yeah. They think I'm carrying a tiny Billy.” You mutter, waving at Monica as she walks away with a smirk on her lips. “Was that what Tommy told you? You made a funny face.”

“Yes, but he said it in a way that almost had me breaking his ugly nose.” He keeps you close, despite the public. And honestly, you don't mind. A few days ago you'd push him away, but now... They'll speak anyway, so it doesn't matter.

“Hey, why don't we never hang out with your friends?” You take the chance to ask. “You don't want them to see you with me?” It's impossible not to follow this train of thought, and it does sound stupid judging by the way he's holding you right now, for everyone to see.

“Of course not. It just that I know the kind of assholes they are and I'm sure you won't like them.”

“But it's weird. I don't want you to think I'm forcing you to only hang out with my party.”

He takes a deep breath, and you feel his chest moving. That reminds you he's shirtless... “I'll introduce you to them... In the funfair tomorrow.”

“Oh my God, the funfair!” You exclaim. People have been talking about it for a few days, but you totally forgot. “I've never been to anything like that.”

“You're gonna love it.”

“You two. Back to your chairs.” The manager shouts from somewhere behind you, and you both roll your eyes at the same time.

“Talk to you later,” you tell him, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek.

“Remember to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Water, stay in the shadow. If I feel dizzy I'll shout for my knight in shining armor.” Walking backwards, you smirk at him. “Eyes on the pool, Hargrove,” you warn him, turning around and making your way back to the chair.

You're glad you're feeling good, no sign of anything you felt yesterday. And it isn't as hot as it was, so that's a bonus. You're peacefully watching the kids, yelling at some, threatening some teenagers to ban them for life, just the normal stuff. Through the corner of your eye, you notice Billy gesturing. When you look at him, he shows you his bottle.

Shaking your head no, you try to ignore him. But you are a little thirsty, so you sigh before jumping to the ground. On your way to the cafeteria, you stop by his chair. “Want some?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Don't act like you can't be beaten by heat exhaustion too, Hargrove. I'm bringing you some cold water.” Punching his leg playfully, you go to the cafeteria.

You're a little startled to find James in there, seated on the table next to the wall, both hands on his head. As you silently open the fridge, you wonder if you should just leave him alone. You never really spoke, and since he switched his schedule with Billy, you have seen less of him. Today should be his day off if you're not mistaken.

“Hey, James,” you say in a soft voice, standing by the fridge as you take one of the bottles Billy has for you. “You ok?”

“Huh?” He looks up abruptly, suddenly aware he's not alone. “Hey.”

You were going to leave, but he seems scared... Red eyes as if he didn't get any sleep. “Is something wrong?” You sit before him, placing the bottle on the table. “You look... sad.”

“Oh, it's just... Nothing, really. It's stupid.” He's mumbling under his breath, a line of sweat on his forehead.

“Whatever it is it's not stupid. Who told you it was?”

“My parents, my brother.” He breathes out, his eyes suddenly meeting yours. “You're new here, right? Did you move from a big city?”

“New York. Why?”

“I'm from Washinton. Have you ever crossed paths with something in the woods? Some... Some kind of animal? And when you told someone they just said it was because you're some big city kid who's not used to live so near the forest and because of that you're easily impressed by anything weird you see?” James speaks fast, so fast it's hard to keep up.

“Actually yes.” You nod, keeping your voice low and soft in an attempt to calm him down. You never saw anyone so scared. “A few weeks ago I saw something, but I didn't get a good look at it. Don't know what it was.”

“I don't know what species of-of... Things they have here, but what I saw... I couldn't sleep. I thought about telling the chief of police but everyone keeps saying I'm crazy.”

“What did you see, James?”

He puts his hands on his head again, looking at the table. “It... It was the size of a dog. And I thought it was a stray dog so I stopped the car and followed it.” His voice cracks, so you get up, moving to sit on the chair beside him, touching his arm. “It was so damn dark and I had no flashlight. It was near a tree, eating something. I started calling it, trying to show it I was just trying to help but then... It-It turned at me and... Shit, the damn thing had no face. It was blank. Sticky... no fur, no eyes, nothing.” He moves suddenly, holding both your shoulders roughly. You gasp at the sudden change, looking at him, tears threatening to roll down from his eyes. “I ran like hell. I told my parents the moment I got home but they said it was something in the woods playing tricks on me but I know what I saw. The damn thing had no face, I swear–”

“Let go of her right now.” Billy's thunder voice makes James jump up, making his chair fall backwards. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Billy, it's alright.” Quickly, you stand up and walk over him.

“I'm sorry, I just...” James tries to speak, hands raised in defeat. It looks like he didn't know what he was doing. “Sorry, (Y/N).”

He walks around the table, eyes on the floor. Billy gives a step towards him, but you hold him back, both hands on his chest. “Billy, no. Listen...” You whisper to him, your eyes meeting his when James finally leaves the cafeteria. “He wasn't trying to hurt me or anything, he was just scared.”

“Scared of what?” He looks down at you, his hands softly rubbing the skin of your shoulders. “It'll leave bruises. What the hell did he think he was doing?”

As much as you melt a little to feel his touch after the sting from James' grip, you have this feeling in your stomach. You can't seem to shake it away, and the more you think, the worse it gets. “Billy... Remember when I told you I saw something in the woods?” He nods, confused. “James saw it too... Same description. He... He said it had no face, and I... I think that's exactly what I saw.”

His expression changes, and you can't read his face. Taking a deep breath, he sits on the table, pulling you to sit beside him. “James came here a few months ago. From a big city too, so it's normal to be scared when–”

“He was desperate because that's exactly what people are telling him.” You cut him off, running a hand through your hair. “Billy, he wasn't scared. He was terrified.” Your voice gets lower, as your mind floats back to what you saw. Naked skin, as if it was green, covered in some disgusting thing... “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear to God his description matched what I saw that day.” It suddenly comes to your mind... There was a lab here. A lab and a bunch of weird stories about it. “Hawkins National Lab!” You exclaim, jumping to your feet. “What if they made an experiment with some kind of animal and now it's free in the woods?”

“Hawkins Lab was closed years ago.”

“I know but–” Billy takes your hand, pulling you close. He holds you by the hips, raising his head to meet your eyes from his seated position.

“Princess, listen. It's true there was a lab, and it's also true that the darkness and these woods play tricks on people who aren't used to them.” He speaks slow, eyes never leaving yours. “It may be something but it could also be a big misunderstanding. If it happens again, if you or anyone else sees anything like that, we'll tell the cops and let them deal with it.”

Taking a deep breath, you decide to let his calming tone relax you. “Alright...” Nodding, you take a look at your shoulders, spotting the purple marks of where James fingers dig into your skin. “The guy was really out of his mind,” you mutter.

“Yeah...” Billy stands up, placing a kiss on both your shoulders before straighten up, his index finger on your chin. “Let's go back there before Anthony notices we're gone again.”

Nodding, you follow him back outside.

• • •

You wish you knew how to draw. If you did, you'd make a scratch of the animal you saw, and another one of what James described, just to see if they would really match.

You're staring at the ceiling, on your unusually empty bed. Having Billy here was amazing. Beyond amazing. Having his strong arms around you, and waking up next to him on the morning was pure bliss. You never thought such a feeling existed. It felt like home, like life was nothing but a long road leading you to that very moment. To his embrace, so warm and calming.

You chose to think about that instead of the unclassified animal. That brings a shiver down your spine, different from the shivers Billy causes. The last ones are made of nervousness, excitement... All those silly things. Tossing around, you sit up, your feet on the cold floor. Your eyes fall on the necklace, that you always keep on the nightstand. Billy kept his promise, and he wears his piece every day. You have to tell him he doesn't have to, not anymore. He already made his point, and you know he has other earrings to use.

Smiling to yourself, you pick the necklace up, fingers caressing the metal. You need to tell Billy what you feel. Openly. You do have something going on, but it's still unnamed. And there's no reason to remain that way. If he wants you, if he truly wants to keep you... He has to know you want him too. That you want to be with him, and screw the rest of the world. Screw the past, the gossip, whatever people of Hawkins think. This is about both of you, nobody else. It's useless to keep pretending Billy Hargrove doesn't own your heart. This torture can't continue, there's no reason to.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the phone's loud ring. You're about to answer when you hear your aunt's footsteps downstairs. It's probably Robert, she was saying something about him calling her today. As she picks up, you put the necklace down and walk over the window, feeling the fresh summer breeze tickling your skin.

“(Y/N)!” Diane shouts, and her urgent tone startles you. “(Y/N)! Pick up the phone!” Her rapid footsteps bring her to your bedroom, a worried expression on her face. “Pick up now. It's Max, she's crying. I don't know–”

The mention of Billy's sister has you moving, picking up the light pink phone you have on the nightstand. “Max?” You breathe out, eyes focused on Diane as she breathes fast.

“(Y/N)..!” Her voice is weak, like a low scream. You hear voices behind her, and you immediately recognize Billy's. But there's someone else, a man's voice. “(Y/N), please, you need to–” She's cut short by something breaking. “It's Neil. He's here, please–”

“Hang up the damn–” Then it's over.

For a moment, a second, you just stand there, frozen, looking at Diane. But on the next one, you're moving, your heart threatening to beat its way out of your chest.

“Honey, what is it?” Diane follows as you rush downstairs, grabbing nothing but the car keys.

“Billy's father. I gotta go.” It's everything you manage to say before storming outside.

×

A/N: Things are about to get chaotic...

×

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @tilesandtokens @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @dontxfearxthereaper

[nicistrying]

A bullet point update bc I just finished my 6th shift in a row and am extremely ready for my day off tomorrow:

Monday, the sun was shining so we went to the coast for a walk. I wasn't supposed to be at work but manager asked me to go in 4-10pm so we still haf plenty of time. It was really cold and foggy by the sea but still a lovely walk and we sat in our favourite spot and had chips and hot chocolate.

Yesterday (Tuesday) I had some spare time in the afternoon so I did a quick little workout before work and it felt great to work up a sweat for the first time in what felt like ages!

Today I'm hormonal af. I had warned Matthew a few days ago that I could feel myself getting really irritable, but this morning when I was stressing out looking at houses and not getting anywhere, he was talking about moving to the other end of the country for an internship he wants to do, and just kind of expecting me to drop everything and go with him. Which of course I would but I had just spent 2 hours scrolling through letting websites looking for a nice little house for us to move into, get settled and stay in for a few years until we can afford to buy a house of our own - and then he said that and I feel bad but I was so annoyed. Like why am I even bothering trying to find us a nice home if we're potentially not even going to be living here? What about our families etc? My job where I have only just now, after 9 months, started to come out of my shell and make meaningful friendships?! I went in early today to ask Manager for advice. I sat down and explained I just feel like everything is fucked and I feel so bad now bc his first question was 'well do you love him bc you have to make compromises' and I feel so bad bc now I realise I was just being selfish. Like, these internships are so hard to come by and of course I would want him to do it if he gets accepted. I can totally transfer to one of our stores down there and then come back to my current store when we come back. But then what if he finds a job there off the back off the internship and we don't come back?! I don't want to live so far away from my family. And like I said to my manager that I would just be gutted if I had to leave our store bc I really like working there, I've finally started to get a bit more confident and actually speak up a bit and I just don't want to have to start all over again. And bless his little heart he said if I was worried about friends he'd come and visit me when he and his girlfriend are there visiting her family bc that's where she's from 😭😭 which is so so sweet of him but I just feel bad now I've had the day to think about it. I feel like the glaring answer is to go with Matthew and just see where it takes us. Either we'll come back or we won't. Maybe we're not supposed to find a house and settle down yet. It just kind of freaks me out how uncertain every aspect of my life is after August since that's when the lease on our flat runs out. I'm happy at my current job bc I'm gaining a lot of experience and there are definitely opportunities to progress but I'd be putting any kind of other career plans of my own on hold to go with him. And idk am I just being selfish bc I don't even really know what I want career-wise and he does so surely we should work towards his goals first?? Yikes. This has been a rant. But that's what's been playing on my mind today. Other than worrying constantly about it and feeling guilty for being so snappy and horrible to Matthew this morning, all is well I guess. I just got home and am going to make a nice meal ready for Matthew getting home as my way of apologising and letting him know that of course I would go with him to another city where he would have an awesome opportunity. Bring on my rest day tomorrow so I can try to get my head straight 🙄

[katedrakeohd]

My Own Favorite Dialogue and Why

Drake and Liam may be best friends in TRR canon, but for me the dysfunctional bromance that I've created between Maxwell and Drake is my favorite friendship. For this one from The Lake I loved the angsty/comedy so much I couldn't just select a small part, so I had to post all of it.

From The Lake

Out in the middle of the lake the air is still, the water smooth like glass. It's been an hour since the men cast their fishing lines, and for Maxwell an uneasiness was setting in.

"Are you sure there are fish in this lake?"

Drake looks up from the magazine he's reading, his last bite of sandwich in his hand. "Of course I'm sure. I oversaw the stocking of trout myself."

Maxwell looks down at the half empty can of low alcohol beer in his hand, resenting the lack of buzz he was feeling because of it. "I thought we would have gotten a nibble by now."

Drake shrugs, popping the last piece of his bread crust into his mouth. "You just have to be patient, Max. Sometimes they bite, sometimes they don't."

Maxwell shades his eyes with his hand and gazes off toward the Manor in the distance, it was so tiny and the shoreline seemed so far away. He tried not to imagine how deep and cold the water was beneath them, but it still gnawed at him anyway. He squeezed the backpack between his feet, its contents giving him a slight sense of reassurance.

Drake glanced down at Maxwell's backpack sitting in the belly of the boat. Since leaving the shore he's seen him take out a tube of sunscreen, a granola bar, his mobile phone to take pictures, and repack his sweater when he got too warm. Each time he set it back down there was a strange heavy thump against the wood, and so far it didn't seem to belong to any of the things he'd seen.

Drake shifted his ass on the boat seat, trying to combat the numbness he was feeling. The boat rocked slightly, causing ripples in the water, and for Maxwell to snap at him.

"Hey, man. Don't rock the boat."

Drake rolls his eyes, "Jeez, Max. Paranoid much?"

Max rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen up but he can't, "Seriously, you don't find it creepy? The whole time we've been out on the lake I haven't heard or seen a bird, you'd think there would be some ducks or geese or something."

Drake takes a deep breath and looks around, squints up at the sky, and then looks over to the mountains and trees in the distance. He listens for anything other than the sound of the water lapping at the side of the boat.

 "I suppose it is a little odd. Just yesterday there were lots of geese and ducks paddling along or flying and honking over the lake."

Maxwell lifts and bobs his fishing rod and line in the water. Looking down into the depths he's struck by how it goes from clear to pitch black so quickly. He scoffs and makes a joke, feeling uneasy as the words leave his mouth, "Maybe Gaga ate all the fish, and scared the birds away."

Drake chuckles, "Say, what now? Who or what is Gaga?"

Maxwell's eyes go wide and he looks at Drake with disbelief, "You mean you haven't heard the legend of Gargantua? The monster of Lake Valtoria?"

Drake shakes his head and opens the cooler to get another beer, "You can't be serious, Max. Not every big lake has a monster living in it."

"Trust me, Drake. My house sigil is a giant squid remember? I know my monster legends. How many years have you been stocking the lake, and have you ever caught any of the fish afterwards?"

"As a matter of fact, I caught a fish standing on the dock yesterday. So I know there are fish in the lake." Drake insists as he opens his beer and takes a long swallow, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Ok, well what about the lack of birds?"

Drake sets his beer down with a sigh, scrubbing his forehead with his hands and then raking them back through his hair, "So, now you think some monster is yanking ducks down into the water from underneath?"

Maxwell shrugs, "You never know. Maybe Gaga has a taste for water fowl and fish?"

"Now you're just sounding crazy, Max."

Maxwell shifts forward in his seat, causing his pack to fall forward and make another thump, Drake looks at it again and frowns. Maxwell points an indignant, angry finger at Drake. "Don't you dare call me crazy!"

"You're the one talking about lake monsters, when there's probably some logical reason to explain everything." 

Maxwell picks up his backpack again and hugs it in his lap, his hand finds the weighty item from the outside and shifts it carefully. Drake looks at him suspiciously, "Max?"

"What?" he asks, nervously.

"What's in your backpack?"

Maxwell shrugs, "You know, just the usual 'day out on the lake' sorta stuff."

Drake's eyes narrow, "Why don't I believe you?"

Maxwell hugs the backpack a little tighter to himself, he tries to avoid looking at Drake. Off in the near distance, behind Drake, there's an odd rippling splash on the surface of the lake. Maxwell gasps, trying to swallow the sudden fear constricting his throat.

"Why won't you believe me when I say there's something creepy about this lake?" Maxwell croaks out, pointing over Drake's shoulder.

Drake sighs, turning in his seat to see what Maxwell's pointing at. "I don't see anything."

"There..there was a ripple and a splash on the water. Like..like something big moved it."

When Drake turns back around Maxwell has his hand buried in the backpack, fishing for something. "Max, what are you doing?"

Maxwell's eyes are wide and he's scanning the surface of the lake for more movement. "Ssshh, Gaga will hear you."

Drake frowns with concern and then sits up straighter in the boat to look around again.

"It was probably just a big fish, Max," he says quietly. "Maybe we're finally going to catch something."

A breeze ripples the surface of the lake, and the boat tugs at its anchor line. Maxwell jumps when their fishing rods shift as well. He jerks his hand out of his bag and pulls out an antique pistol.

Drake braces his foot against the end of his fishing rod and puts his hands up and waves them back and forth frantically. He looks at Maxwell and can't believe what he's seeing, "What the Fuck?! You brought a gun on a fishing trip?! Put..that...away."

Maxwell breathes rapidly as he searches the water, swinging the antique firearm from his home's armory back and forth. "It..it was Bertrand's idea. Remember his bachelor party all those years ago, when we met up with that bear, he insisted I take it with me." 

He imitates his brother's voice as he quotes him, "No Beaumont will ever go out adventuring in the wilderness again without protection."

Drake ducks as Maxwell swings the gun back in his direction, "Seriously, Max! You know how I feel about guns. I've already been shot twice, and I'll be damned if I'll let you shoot me by accident while we're fishing."

Maxwell's hand shakes as he continues to look around nervously. Drake reaches forward with fear grinding at his stomach, he pleads with him quietly.."Max....just hand over the gun, okay? We'll pull up the anchor and just go back to shore. We don't have to fish anymore."

Nodding, Maxwell loosens his grip on the weapon as Drake wraps his hand around the barrel. Something splashes the water nearby, making Maxwell jump, causing them both to let go and drop the gun. It hits the bottom of the boat and fires. Drake screams out in pain as the bullet tears through the side of his rubber boot and lodges in the wood of the boat beside him. Water starts to trickle in, and warm blood starts to run down into his boot.

Drake yanks his boot off and pulls his foot up onto the seat and clamps his hands around his bleeding calf. "What the fuck?!" he screams, glaring at Maxwell angrily. 

Maxwell picks up the gun from the bottom of the boat and throws it overboard. "I..I'm so sorry Drake!"

Drake leans to the side, his hand shaking as he gets his pocket knife out of his back pocket. Maxwell panics and chops at Drake's wrist with his hand, causing him to drop it when Drake pries the blade free. 

"What are you doing?!" Drake barks at him with surprise and reaches for his knife again, it's now wet from the lake water pooling in the bottom of the boat.

Maxwell folds his hands over his chest, feeling embarrassment flooding his face with heat, "Oh..oh my God, I thought you were going to stab me with it, or something."

Drake grumbles as he cuts open the bottom of his bloody pant leg below the knee with the blade, "There's still time. Now either get with hauling up that fucking anchor, or calling for help before we sink goddamnit!"

Maxwell trips over the drink cooler, and soggy picnic basket as he stands up, trying to pull the anchor rope up out of the water. It won't budge, and his efforts are now causing him to rock the boat side to side dangerously. 

Drake curses to himself as he cuts a strip of denim and wraps it around his bleeding leg tightly. "Careful now, Max."

Both fishing rods teeter into the water and disappear. Drake keeps a close eye on the oars, praying they don't go next. Maxwell tries again to pull the anchor up by the rope but the nylon burns at his hands and he hisses in pain and then lets go. He stumbles back to where he was sitting and flops down heavily, wiping his sore palms on his thighs.

"I...I ca..can't. What the ..heck..did you..anchor...us to?"

Drake rinses his bloody hands in the lake, and then dries them on the sleeves of his denim shirt. "Ok then, I'll try the anchor and you try calling or texting for help."

 He cuts strips from his denim sleeves and then wraps his hands for padding. Wincing in pain he swings his leg over to straddle his seat and then reaches for the anchor rope.

Maxwell holds up his phone trying to find bars of service, "You've gotta be kidding me! Oh, wait there's a blip. I'll try sending a text to see if I can get through. Who should I try?"

Drake grunts as the rope finally starts to come up out of the water, but it was a lot heavier than it should be. Sweat bloomed on his brow and stung at his eyes, he swiped his face against his shoulder, "Preston... is standing by..in case of emergencies."

"What's his number?"

Drake rhymes off his number and grits his teeth, pulling the wet rope inch by inch into the boat. The burn in his calf muscle is intense and he wonders what ancient dirty projectile that antique pistol was loaded with. He could see Maxwell frowning down at his phone. 

"Well, did you get through?"

He shrugs, "I sent it, but don't know if it went anywhere."

Drake looks down into the water, wondering what his anchor could be tangled around to make it so heavy. He pauses to catch his breath, and feels the rope vibrate in his hands and then go still. It's almost as if something rubbed up against it and then moved on. His heart starts hammering in his chest and cold fear creeps into his gut. His throat goes dry as he takes a deep breath and drops the rope back into the water. He didn't want to see what was down there anymore. Maxwell was still trying to send panicked texts to anyone who could receive them.

"Fuck it," Drake mutters and uses his knife to cut the anchor free. 

The nylon rope floats on the surface of the water for a few seconds and then disappears into the darkness as if it were yanked. Drake jumps back with surprise and then watches, holding his breath, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Several feet down at the deepest point that was reached by sunlight, where the clearest water went dark, an even darker shape slowly sank beneath the boat and then disappeared.

............

I've written many first time moments for Drake and (MC) Kate in various timelines and stories. But it wasn't until I started writing "What Happens in Paris.." from Kate's point of view that I found my favorite passionately charged moment between them. Feeding off the emotional evening with Drake that included Liam's second bachelor party and the never have I ever scenes, I found a way to push Drake over the edge and succumb to the mutual attraction between them.

From What Happens in Paris..

"Uh, Darling?  What do you think you're doing? You know we can't..." he says, although the look in his eyes betrays the way he really feels.

"We can't what, Drake?" I say, stepping away from the door and pressing my body up against his. He's still holding onto my hands, and now our faces are so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. 

"Darling…" he warns, as I flex my hands out of his grasp and undo the next button of his shirt. It's such a tease how he's already left the top button undone for me. My thumbs push the material aside and I slide my hands in. He takes a sharp breath in when I touch him, and I feel his chest rise and fall along with the rapid beating of his heart.

I pop another button out of its hole, and lean in to kiss his throat as my hands continue to explore his chest, tugging his shirt out of the waist of his pants. He hasn't stopped me yet, and I look up at the darkness in his eyes and the pained expression on his face. 

"Kiss me, Drake." I plead. "I know you want to."

Cupping my head in his hands, he tilts my chin up and leans in. I close my eyes. But instead of feeling his lips on mine he plants kisses along my jawline and I hear his voice rasp in my ear, hitching with desire, "And if I want to.. do more than kiss you?"

I gasp, bunching the fabric of his shirt in my fists as his nose traces the shell of my ear, and his stubble bristles against my cheek. "Ye -..."

But my reply is swallowed up by his mouth as it captures mine, and he presses me up against the door.

His kisses are hungry and I struggle for breath as he grabs my wrists again and pins them up above my head. His knee parts my thighs and I can feel how hard he is underneath his jeans.

When he finally releases my mouth, and presses his forehead against mine we're both panting. "Tell me.. to stop," he groans between breaths.

....

Drake is my favorite Choices character and thus he's the one I abuse and make suffer the most. 🤣 This next dialogue is from Cordonia 1885 between Drake and a hotel employee when they share a "holy/what the f*ck" moment that confounds them both.

Because of the grisly, graphic nature of this vampire fic I will just post a link and you can read it if you want. Cordonia 1885 - Chapter One

...

There are so many other favorite scenes/dialogue that this post could go on forever..LOL

Thanks @dcbbw for the tag, it's been so much fun to revisit some of my older stuff and experience it again. I look forward to next week's Monday Funday prompt.

[lovskim]

rewind | 01

pairing; jung jaehyun x reader

genre/warnings; fluff, best friends to lovers! au, swearing

word count; 2.7k

:: summary; you find an attractive man in one of your old pictures, except you have no idea who he is. you suddenly have the urge to do everything you can to find out who he is, and maybe if you're lucky, make him fall in love with you.

author's note; yay the first chapter! as i've said before, this will be a mix of some social media edits and the actual text so don't be confused if pictures randomly show up in the middle of the story!! i really hope you all enjoy!

( gif credits to owner. )

You rummage through one of your drawers, cleaning out the stacks of papers as well as some clothes and a few books.

You were – finally – moving out of your apartment shared with college student slash best friend Mark, and you were ecstatic. This was the first time you were going to own an apartment by yourself, and just the idea of you being alone without being bombarded with Math questions made you feel giddy inside.

Once you reach the bottom of the drawer, you let a sigh of relief as you wiped a bead of sweat on your forehead. Summer was going to start soon, not like it mattered for you. You graduated from college a year ago but still got excited whenever summer came. Maybe it was because Mark had more free time than usual, but you weren’t really sure.

You pull out a crumpled piece of photo paper, wincing when you see how old and dirty it was. Dust laid on the edges of the paper because of how long it stayed at the bottom of the drawer. You carefully blew the dust away before flipping the photo around.

You stare at your appearance in the photo. You looked gross, to be honest. The photo was probably taken four years ago when you were just starting college. Your bangs looked hideous and your outfit looked like a wreck. You wanted to burn the picture, hoping it never got to see the light of day again.

Just before you were able to do the deed however, another detail caught your attention.

You had no idea who he was, but damn, you had to admit, this man was practically perfect.

His hair looked styled to perfection, he looked extra hot in the basketball jersey (no one in your college was that cute that’s for sure) and he had this smile that brightened up your day immediately (accompanied with a cute pair of dimples). You were practically drooling over him, and mind you, this picture was taken five. years. ago.

If he was this hot during college, how hot is he now? You end up wondering as you stare at the photo in your hands.

You stare at the jersey again. The team name was covered, but he was definitely not from your college. But why couldn’t you remember anything about him?

The picture looks familiar, except nothing is coming to your mind. You have no clue on who this handsome man is, or what he does, but you sure wanted to find out.

Was I drunk? You shake your head. You never drank enough to get drunk, especially in college. You cared too much about your grades and reputation, even Mark was annoyed with it. But Mark is the biggest nerd you know.

You stood up and walked to the living room filled with boxes, grabbing your phone to text your friends.

“I’m home!” Mark calls out as he leaves the coat by the rack. You run out of your room and take his bag from him. You check the clock hanging above the TV in the living room. “Why are you home so late?” You scold him as you drop his bag by the couch.

“I went out with some friends.” Mark shrugs as he drags his feet towards the kitchen, looking for something to drink. You follow him, taking out a glass and pouring Mark a cup of water.

You watch as Mark gulps down the beverage, looking away once Mark raises an eyebrow at you. You’re silent, playing with your fingers as Mark practically stares you down.

“Uh..did you find..anything?” You don’t know why you're embarrassed about asking Mark. You guys were best friends, and Mark wasn’t used to you being embarrassed around him. He gulps down the last of his water before wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jean jacket.

Mark's quiet for a while, setting down his glass and just staring at you, not saying a word.

“Nope. I'm so sorry Y/N.” He mutters sadly. He gives you a sympathetic look as you look down at the floor again. “Did you try asking Doyoung and Ten?” He takes your hands in his and you sigh, nodding.

“Doyoung’s out of town with no wifi and Ten hasn’t been responding to my messages when we damn well know that little shit doesn’t do anything.” Mark laughs at your comment on Ten before giving you an encouraging smile.

“You can do it. I bet you’ll find him soon.” You shake your head, losing hope and confidence. Finding him would be nearly impossible, especially since you didn’t know anything about him except for what he looks like.

“What if I grow grey and old and I still don’t find him?” Mark nearly chokes on his second glass of water at your statement. Water spills on his shirt and on the kitchen counter and all you can do is groan. “Gross! Mark keep it together!” You take a rag from the sink and throw it at him.

“Is that seriously your only concern right now?” Mark coughs as he wipes the wet spot on the counter. "You coughing your soul out of your body? Yes." You take the rag back from him before wiping the mess yourself.

"You know what i'm talking about."

You cross your arms in annoyance. Were you being irrational? Maybe. Were you taking this search a bit too far? Definitely. That didn't stop you though.

“Yes!” You argue back and he shrugs his shoulders. "Are you that desperate for love?" Mark leans against the counter. You think for a while. "Maybe." You admit sadly. You didn't date in such a long time it was getting annoying.

Mark finally decides to give up.

“Can I at least see the picture again?” Mark asks and you nod. You come back, handing Mark the photo you protected with your entire being. Mark raises his eyebrows in approval. “I see why you’re spending your time looking for him. He’s cute.” Mark says as he stares at the photo intently.

It’s quiet for a few moments. “Yo, what if he has a girlfriend?” Mark snaps his head towards you. You didn’t think about that. You shake your head. “Well, I didn’t think about that.." You reply, sound hopeless. Mark sighs before placing the photo on the table.

It was possible. A man with such a pretty face wouldn’t be single, right?

“It’s fine! You can meet up as buddies!” Mark claps, joking around and you immediately glare at him. You take the photo back immediately.

“Shut up Mark.” You mutter. It’s silent again.

“What if you guys had a relationship?” Mark wiggles his eyebrows and you nearly choke at his behavior. A relationship? Never. Right now, Mark sounded absurd. “First, I would’ve remembered that much, and second, college me would never.” You point at him.

“True. The college you would never.” Mark snorts at the vague memory of you during college. He runs his hand through his soft black hair, and you actually felt a bit sorry for the kid. You decide to drop the topic. You pat his head. “How are your scores?” You ask, referring to his finals. He got the last of his scores today, and he was worried the entire week.

“They’re actually really good. I flunked my Math and Chem, though.” Mark sighs, running his hands through his hair once more.

“What did you get? a 93?” You joke and Mark scoffs in reply. “Nope! An 89." He clicks his tongue. He walks out to the living room. You give him a look. "Yikes! Your finals were never that bad. Should I stop letting you out of the house?" You laugh and Mark rolls his eyes playfully as he enters the kitchen once more. "It’s fine. I’ll pass the subjects at least.” He gives you a goofy smile and you laugh again.

“That’s good. I know how hard you worked for them.” You say with a soft smile. He leans in for a hug and you gladly wrap your arms around the kid. He was so cute. Although you were older than him by two years, he was like your own child. “Thanks.” Mark yawns, stretching his arms.

“Go to sleep Mark. You worked hard today.” You pat him in the back and he nods. “Okay. Goodnight Y/N.” Mark mumbles as he walks towards his room.

“Goodnight. Sleep tight!” You smile, and Mark gives you a thumbs up in reply before leaving the kitchen. You take the photo in your hands and leave the kitchen, shutting all the lights in the process.

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the hard wood while waiting for your friends.

You promised your three idiotic best friends that you would treat them out for dinner today, which ended you up at a fancy Chinese restaurant at 8:00 in the evening. Of course, these losers would offer to eat at the fanciest restaurant in the district as long as they’re not paying.

After a few minutes, Mark arrives first, panting and sweating all over. He grips on to the chair, stopping you from saying anything. “Sorry.” He pants. “I got lost.” Mark pulls the seat in front of him and sighs in relief once you hand him a glass of cold water. “Those little shits. Doyoung and Ten told me that you weren’t paying today and the last one to arrive would pay for everything.” Mark wipes the edge of his mouth with the napkin in front of him.

“Hey.” You tell him in a harsh tone. “They’re still older than you. Don’t treat them like that.” You give him a look and Mark’s angry expression washed away almost immediately. “Sorry.” He sheepishly replies. You roll your eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll scold them later.” You smile playfully and Mark lets out a breathy laugh.

The next one to arrive was Doyoung, who just came home from his out of town trip. “Thanks for treating us today.” Is the first thing he says as he sits down in front of you. Mark chokes on his water, a few droplets flying out of his mouth and landing on Doyoung.

“What the fuck, Mark? Gross!” Doyoung groans as he uses the napkin to wipe the water on his shirt. "Mark this happened yesterday! Get a hold of yourself!" You pat Mark's shirt which had a few water droplets as well. Mark ignores him as he continues to cough. “Who are you?” Mark almost yells and you pat his back. Doyoung rolls his eyes in response. “I did a lot of thinking because there was no fucking wifi and data. I was practically suffering.” Doyoung sighs dramatically.

Finally, after waiting for an agonizing and painful fifteen minutes, Ten finally decides to show up for dinner. He smiles and places his fanny pack on the table. “Fashionably late as always.” He sits down beside Doyoung, smirking at his own comment. You place your phone down beside you and give Ten a smirk of your own.

“You’re paying for your own meal.” Your face tells him that you were dead serious, and had no intention of lying.

Ten gasps. “Take that back!” You give him a challenging look before raising your hand high in the air. “Waiter!” You call out, and Ten practically leaps on you, trying to pull your hand down. Doyoung chuckles as he hides behind the menu while Mark just seems to be dead hungry. Ten continues to attack you until he sees a waiter approaching. He quickly returns to his original seat, making you smile wide.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” Ten whispers in your direction and Mark stares at you, waiting for your response. You smile sweetly at the clueless waiter in front of you. “Sorry, I called you by accident. You can go now.” The waiter rushes away at once to keep up with the other orders of the customers. You turn to Ten. “Anything?”

You can practically feel Ten’s fists clench under the table before he huffs. “Anything.” He says.

“Okay! I’ll get back to you for that.” You lean back in your seat and Ten sighs in relief. “Good! Now that we’re all here can we order? I’m starving! ” Mark complains, clutching his stomach.

Ten calls the waiter as Mark gulps down his third glass of water. Doyoung just gives Mark a weird look while the waiter writes down all your orders, wrapping it up with Doyoung’s long list of orders. You sigh once you hand the menu to the waiter and drop your head in your hands. “I’m going broke.” You mutter.

You sigh, scrolling through your notifications before Doyoung breaks the silence.

“Any luck with pretty boy?” Doyoung takes a sip of his drink. Ten shakes his head in response. “No offense, but this dude’s probably dead. None of my friends know who he is, and I have a lot of friends.” Ten says and Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“There are 7 billion people in the world. It’s going to take more than your friends to find him.” Doyoung states the obvious.

“Do you wanna try asking social media?” Mark suggests, leaning his elbows on the table. Ten claps his hands. “Watch! You’ll get invited to star on Ellen!” Ten says excitedly and Mark snorts. Doyoung just chuckles at Ten’s statement.

“It’s fine. It’s not that important.” You assure your friends and Mark’s trying so hard to hold in his laugh. “That’s not what you said yes-” You kick Mark harshly in the shin, causing him to yelp in pain. As Mark rubs his shin, you notice Doyoung’s constant staring in your direction.

“We didn’t do shit and yet you’re still treating us.” Doyoung gives you a sorry look and you place your hand on top of his. Sure, Doyoung was a shithead most of the time, but he still cared about you and supported you whenever you needed it. That’s why you loved him.

“Consider this as Mark’s congratulatory dinner for acing his finals.” You clap your hands and Mark looks down shyly, too embarrassed to respond. “Yeahhhh nice one Mark!” Ten pats Mark a bit too hard on the back, causing the younger to cough and wince in pain.

Doyoung gives Mark a high five, and he chuckles, his cheeks turning a bright red.

After dinner, you recite a quick prayer as the waiter heads your way after Doyoung asked him for the bill. You reluctantly take the booklet from him, closing your eyes as you expect the worst. Doyoung leans back in his seat, looking pleased while Mark leans over to see how much your wallet has to suffer today.

“Damn it.” You mutter as you open your eyes and stare at the bill in horror. You reach into your purse and take out your credit card. Doyoung and Ten clap as you place the card in the booklet and slam it shut. The waiter looks at the four of you amused as you hand the booklet back to him. "Doyoung, you're treating for my birthday." You say angrily.

You step outside in the freezing cold, hugging your coat tighter against your body. “See you guys tomorrow?” Ten turns around and the three of you nod.

The four of you agreed to meet up the next day to go “shopping”, which is actually Ten going shopping while the rest of you lounge around, waiting for him. Mark loops his arm in yours.

“See you.” Mark says and Doyoung waves at the three of you, walking in the direction of his car. Ten waves goodbye as well, following Doyoung who was giving him a ride home. Your Uber arrives, and the Mark and you climb in the car. It’s quiet throughout the entire ride, neither of you saying a word.

The driver drops you off and you thank him, stepping out of the car before Mark slams the door shut. You wrap your hand around Mark and he smiles gratefully before following you in the apartment complex.

“Tired?” You laugh at Mark, who was already dozing off in the elevator. Mark nods, his head on your shoulder. The elevator doors open, and you practically drag Mark towards your shared apartment.

“I think i’m just going to head to bed.” Mark mutters as you enter your home. “Okay.” You bid Mark goodnight before entering your almost empty room and shutting the door.

You flop on your bed, letting out a sigh of relief as you kick off your heels and rub your aching ankles. You’re drifting off to sleep, not really caring about your current state until a soft ding! resonates through the quiet room.

You fall off your bed, too lazy to grab your phone. You practically crawl to grab your purse all the way across the room. You quickly open your purse, retrieving your phone and flopping back on your bed.

You squint your eyes as you adjust to the bright screen to your phone. An unknown user pops up on your phone. You're confused on who the hell this person is, or what he’s talking about, but nevertheless, open up his account.

You enlarge his profile picture. He looks familiar.

Another ding! resonates, and you open up your new text message from Ten. “Y/N!!! I FOUND HIM!! I FOUND YOUR GUY! his twitter is @jung1997!!” The text reads.

You open this guy’s Twitter. His username? @jung1997.

Your eyes go wide as you click on the guy's profile picture and enlarge it once more.

You immediately run towards your drawer and pull out the picture. You compare the pretty boy’s face to the profile picture displayed on your phone, and they almost look the same.

That’s when the realization hits you.

You found him. You finally found your mystery man.

“Oh…Oh…OH SHIT!”

[aceprosecuties]

So I've been really sick lately, and I was thinking about some sick day Blackmadhi. Like Simon doesn't hear from Nahyuta for a while and is worried but turns out he's sick with an especially bad flu. Simon immediately flys out to him in Khurain, to find him bedridden and really ill and sore. He's still infuriatingly pretty to Simon even when he's coughing, has a running nose, has to stick his head into a bin to throw up every hour but maybe that's the love talking. Que fussy boyfriend Simon

Ah,oh no!  I feel like so many people aresick lately and I hope you and everyone else gets better!  In case you’re interested, I did write aBlackmadhi sickficlet thing here, with sick Simon, so I’m glad you asked forthe other way around!  I hope you gethealthy again soon lovie

-----

Simon’sleg was bouncing rather uncontrollably while he tried to focus on the papers infront of him on his desk.  He kepttapping his pen on the wood, periodically checking his phone to see if Nahyutahad finally gotten back to him.  It hadbeen a few days now, and Simon hadn’t stopped worrying, which had culminated inhim being even more hostile towards everyone who dared speak to him.  At one point yesterday, Debeste had asked hima rather stupid question, and Simon had scared him to the point of tears,leading to a harsh scolding from his boss.

Nahyutahad said he was feeling a bit under the weather the last he spoke with him, andof course with every day that went by without any contact, Simon startedfearing that what Nahyuta had originally believed was just a minor illness wasactually something major.  What if he wasin the hospital?  Simon didn’t trustNahyuta’s advisers to let him rest when he needed to…what if they overworkedhim too much that he collapsed?

Many ofthe scenarios that Simon thought of were a bit far-fetched, but evenrecognizing that did little to alleviate his fears.  Soon…he caved.  He marched to Gavin’s office and banged onthe door, not even waiting for an answer before barging in.  Klavier was sitting on his ridiculous chair,and jumped a bit when his frightening coworker was suddenly barreling towardshim.

(this got longgg)

“HerrBlackquill!  What are you-”

“Silence, Gavin-dono.  I need you to give me Justice-dono’s phonenumber.  I know you have it.”

Klavierraised one of his eyebrows in curiosity and confusion.  “First off, Herr Blackquill, yelling atsomeone and then demanding a favor from that someone usually doesn’t lead tomuch success.  Secondly…why do you wantForehead’s number?  Since when did youand Forehead suddenly become close friends?”

Right…Klavierdidn’t know about Simon’s relationship with Nahyuta.  He had his inklings, but Simon neverconfirmed anything, much to his frustration. Simon growled, because Klavier suddenly had a large smug smile on hisface.

“Justgive me the number, Gavin-dono.”

“Itwould be highly irresponsible of meto just give our Forehead’s number to anyone who asks for it.  I need a good reason.”

“Ineed his advice on a case.”

“That’sthe worst lie you’ve ever told, HerrBlackquill.”  Klavier started lookingthrough his phone, humming some obnoxious tune while Simon fantasized aboutthrottling the man.  “Maybe…it isn’t Forehead that you wish to speakwith?”

“I do want to speak with him.”

“Aboutwhat? Or rather…about whom?”

Simongrowled again, but he knew he wasn’t about to intimidate Klavier into givinghim the number.  Not while Klavier lookedas arrogant as he currently did.  Hequickly thought about it, but his fears about Nahyuta’s well-being quicklyovercame his desire to not give Klavier Gavin what he wanted.  

“Fine, Gavin-dono, you win.  I want to call Justice-dono aboutNahyuta.  He’s been out of contact and Ijust want to make sure he is okay.”

“AboutHerr Sahdmadhi?  Now why would you care about him?”

“You’retreading on very thin ice, Gavin,” Simon snapped, deliberately omitting thehonorific.  But it did not faze Klavier,who just threw his hands behind his head. Simon could feel his eye twitch.  “Nahyutaand I have been seeing each other, alright? Now give me that number.”

“I knew it,” Klavier shouted, standing upin his excitement.  “I want to know-”

“Not right now,” Simon interrupted.  “Just-”

“Ja, ja. Here,” Klavier said, while texting Apollo’s number to Simon.  Once Simon heard his phone’s text alertsound, he was spinning on his heels and walking out the door, dialingApollo.  He heard Klavier shout out asarcastic “you’re welcome,” but he ignored it in favor of focusing on theringing tone coming through his speaker.

Apolloanswered, sounding somewhat hesitant. Probably because it was a number he didn’t recognize aside from thecountry and area codes.  Simon didn’tcare, though.  

“Justice-dono!”

“P-ProsecutorBlackquill?  Is that you?”

“Yes,I must ask you something.”  Simon ignoredApollo’s confused stammering and just continued.  “Your brother.  What is going on with him?”

“WithNahyuta?  Why…do you ask?”

“Justanswer the question, Justice-dono!”

“H-He’sbeen basically quarantined in the palace with a nasty flu.  Rayfa told me that he hasn’t been allowed anycommunication devices in order to speed up his recovery…though I don’t understandhow that would help at all.”

“…Isee.  Thank you, Justice-dono.”

Withoutbothering to wait for Apollo to say goodbye, Simon hung up.

Hebought the first plane ticket to Khura’in, leaving the next morning.

-----

Itwas obnoxious trying to get the people at the Khura’inese palace to let himthrough, but luckily, he was able to get Rayfa’s assistance in wearing down theguards and advisers.  He had to promiseher a few favors, but to see Nahyuta, it was all worth it.  Between the crown princess and the king-regent’sterrifying consort demanding that Simon be able to see Nahyuta, no one stood achance.

Simonran to Nahyuta’s room and had to stop himself from bursting loudly through thedouble doors.  He didn’t want to overlystartle Nahyuta, and so he decided to take a deep breath before slowly turningthe handle.

Itwas quite cold in the room; the temperature seemed to drop by a few degreeswhen Simon stepped in.  Nahyuta wassprawled out on his bed; his hair did not have its signature shine, and was notin its usual braid.  The monk triedsitting up a little bit when he heard an intruder, about to demand who wasdisturbing him, but even trying to sit up hurtso many of his muscles.  And, of course,the movement must have troubled something in him because he was coughinguncontrollably for a moment without even having recognized who was standing inhis doorway.  That coughing made hisstomach churn and it took no time before he was off the side of his bed,vomiting into the bucket that had been placed there.

SeeingNahyuta like that spurred Simon to rush over to the monk’s side, sitting nextto him and holding his lavender hair back and away from his face.  It took a few long moments before Nahyutafelt alright enough to sit back again, and he fell right into his pillows as helooked up to see Simon watching over him.

Hesmiled.  Despite his illness making hisskin pale and his hair dull and his nose runny…it was beautiful.  Simon moved some wayward lilac strands fromNahyuta’s sweat-soaked face.  Even thoughit was cold in the room, Nahyuta was hot to the touch.  

“Mypanda…what are you doing here?”  Nahyuta’svoice was raspy and hoarse, so Simon didn’t even scold him for the use of thenickname.  Instead, he just kissedNahyuta’s hand, lacing their fingers together tightly.  

“I…hadn’theard from you.  I was…concerned.”

“Heh…youoverreact, Simon.  I’m-”

“You’renot fine, clearly, so don’t say it.”

Nahyutalaughed a bit, though those laughs transformed into coughs pretty quickly.  

“Ijust wish our reunion could have been under better circumstances.  I know I don’t exactly look great right now.”

“You’rebeautiful.”  The words left Simon’s mouthwithout him really thinking about it.  

“Youdon’t need to flatter me, Panda.  I can’timagine that I’m very appealing to see right now, what with the sweat and thevomiting and everything.”  More coughsinterrupted some of his words, and he thought for a moment that he was going tobe sick again.  Luckily, however, he wasable to keep it down.

“Imean it, Nahyuta.  Frankly, it isannoying.  How gorgeous you are, evenwhile being this ill,” Simon said.  Hethought for a second, wondering if he should continue.  “…Maybe it is just the love blinding me toany of your physical ailments.”

Nahyutablinked a few times…allowing Simon’s words to sink in.  Despite how moving any of his limbs wassomewhat painful due to how sore his body was, he lifted his hand to Simon’sface, cupping one of his cheeks.  “I loveyou too Simon.  Thank you for coming allthe way here just to see me.”

Simon’sface heated up a little bit.  “Yeah well…likeI said, I was worried.  I don’t trustyour advisers to treat you well enough, so I figured I would have to come overand do it myself.  Have they been givingyou the appropriate medicine?  Been washingyour sheets?  Making sure you get enoughwater and stay hydrated?”  

“I was quarantined to make sure no one elsecaught this, so my contact with others has been minimal,” Nahyuta spurted out,groaning as he lifted his hand to his head – this headache was unbearable.  “You probably ought to leave too.  Wouldn’t want my panda to get sick because ofme.”

“Silence.”  Although Simon said his catchphrase, it wasfar less malicious or harsh than how he normally would say it.  “I didn’t come all the way here just to sitoutside your door while you suffer alone.” He surveyed the room; he could definitely clean some and then maybe getsome clean blankets and clothes for Nahyuta…it wasn’t good for him to just stayin the same stuff for so long.  “I’ll goget you some water.”  And, while he wasat it, Simon would have a few choice words with Nahyuta’s main advisersexpressing his distaste for how poorly they had taken care of theirregent.  

Hestood, but before he went to leave, he leaned over and kissed Nahyuta’sforehead.  The monk smiled, and for amoment, didn’t feel as ill as he did before.          

[katedrakeohd]

One Handsome Devil (TRR)

(Rated M 18+ for sexual content)

Chapter 21: Pumped Up

Monday morning at 6:30 am Drake was in the elevator on his way to the Ritz-Carlton's gym facilities. When he had left the room Kate was still sleeping, but he'd written her a note in case she awoke in his absence. Ever since he had left home a few days ago he had missed the training gym, especially after seeing Nicholas during his angry workout. Normally he spent time in the gym every two days, and if he was away traveling with the Royal court he found a way to fit in a workout of his own. Drake flexed his pectorals, then stood up straight and flexed his left and then right biceps. He was happy with how his muscles strained against his t-shirt, but he was looking forward to a good sweat and to see what the hotel gym had to offer. When he makes it to the exercise room he heads to the 'gentleman's locker room' to change into his shorts. Based on the lack of other guys in the room he assumed he would have the gym to himself. He removes his shirt and leaves it with his pants.

Stepping back out of the locker room he doesn't hear any machines running. He checks out the equipment. There are several treadmills, steppers and elliptical machines. And a lot of mirrors. Not a good place to feel insecure about how you look. Good thing he didn't. He sees a basket of newspapers next to a water cooler and a table with towels. Drake picks up a newspaper and a towel, and chooses a treadmill. He steps up onto it, searches through the programs for a light workout and a timer for 30 minutes. After about 20 of those minutes he hasn't broken a sweat, but his legs are definitely warm. He bumps the speed up a few notches and jogs out the last few minutes of his workout.

Megan Price and her teenage daughter Claire exit the ladies locker room, they can hear the sound of someone using one of the machines as they turn the corner to enter the exercise room. They stand and watch Drake for a minute or two, whispering between themselves:

Woah, he's hot.

Sshh, he's going to hear you.

What do you think, Pro Athlete, police officer, military, model..

Claire, he's probably married, or at least has a girlfriend..or a boyfriend.

Drake slows down the treadmill to low, breathing heavily as he walks, grabbing his towel he wipes his face and neck. Suddenly aware he's being watched he can feel the heat rise in his face, he clears his throat looks to his left.

"Good Morning ladies."

Megan blushes, smiles back.

"G..good morning. Sorry for staring."

Drake powers down the treadmill and then steps off.

"I apparently have that affect on people. I'll be out of your way shortly, just need a drink of water."

Claire pulls a paper cup out of the dispenser, fills it with water from the cooler and hands it to Drake.

He smiles, accepting it, "Thanks."

Drake throws back the cool water in a single gulp. Meanwhile Claire is mesmerized, can feel the heat emanating from his body. She steps back. "You're welcome."

"Um Claire, let's leave the man alone. We'll find a couple of step climbers to use."

Drake nods, grabbing his towel and newspaper and then goes over to where the weight benches and free weights are. OK, that was awkward. He hoped he didn't run into anyone else.

--------

Meanwhile back in the hotel room, Kate is awakened by the sound of her phone ringing and buzzing at 7am. She flounders out of the blankets and picks it up.

"Hello?"

"Oh my goodness Kate did I wake you?", says Hana.

Kate sits up in bed, realizing Drake is gone.

"It's Ok Hana, I don't mind. What's up?"

"I'm assuming you've heard the horrible news about what happened here in Cordonia."

"Yes, we saw it on CNN. Nicholas called. We were both shaken by the news of the shooting."

"We? Who else is there with you?"

"Drake and I, here in New York."

There's a pause for a moment on the other end.

"Hana, are you still there?"

"But Drake said he was going to Texas, for a family reunion. Oh my goodness! Maxwell was right. So you and Drake are..."

Kate can hear the excitement in Hana's voice, it practically bubbles out of the phone.

"Yes, yes. Me and Drake are a thing now. It's been a whirlwind of a weekend."

"Oh Kate that's wonderful! But poor Nicholas does he know?"

Kate bites her lip, "He and Drake have talked. I'm not sure if Drake went into details. I know he must be upset though."

"Nicholas has been hiding in his room since yesterday. Apart from taking the occasional meal, he hasn't been talking to anyone. Now that Madeleine is gone, he must be beside himself with grief and anger."

Kate gasps, suddenly feeling cold all over,

"Gone? I heard she'd been shot, but we hadn't heard anything else. You don't mean..Oh my goodness she's dead??"

Hana sobs , "Oh my Gosh Kate. The whole City, no the whole country is in shock right now over the shooting. We just got finished celebrating the Coronation, and everyone was looking forward to the engagement tour... But..but now everything has been torn apart."

Kate gets up off the bed, wondering where Drake is.

She sees a note next to the television.

---

6.30am Gone down to check out the gym, be back soon. Order us some breakfast.

love,

Drake xoxoxox

---

Kate smiles after reading Drake's note. "Hana sweety, I'll pass the news onto Drake when he comes back from the gym. Go see if you can get through to Nicholas. I think he could really use a friend right now."

"I'll try Kate. I miss you guys so much. Please tell me you'll be back home soon."

"We are hoping to be back in a day or two. Nicholas is supposed to be sending the Royal jet to come pick us up, maybe you and Maxwell could hitch a ride."

"Oooh Kate, I'd love that. I've never been to New York before."

"Ok well, I need to go for now. Talk to you soon Hana."

"Buh bye Kate, give Drake a hug for me."

Kate laughs, "Ok will do."

While Drake pumps iron somewhere else in the building, Kate flips open her suitcase and checks through her remaining unworn items, trying to decide what to wear for maximum comfort and cuteness. No doubt Drake was going to punish himself with his workout, so she intended to keep her promise of giving him that massage he was going to need. Kate chooses a pair of comfortable yoga pants, a tank top and a cozy hoody for later. Before Drake returned to have breakfast she wanted to do some Pilates and stretches of her own.

Down in the exercise room of the hotel more patrons were starting to show up, so Drake decided it was time for him to go. He wanted first choice at the locker room showers before there was a line up of other sweaty people. As he makes his way back to the locker room he passes by Megan and Claire who are both using treadmills. He nods and waves to them and Claire giggles, blushing. Being eye fucked by teenage girls made his skin crawl, and he couldn't wait to get out of there. Recalling the disdainful expressions on the GQ models in the barbershop magazine he sympathizes with them. Drake pulls another paper cup and fills it with water before he downs it and escapes for the privacy of the shower.

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