#WHY DO I KEEP WAKING UP TOO EARLY AND THINKING ABOUT TESTAMENT? I NEED TO GET MORE SLEEP 7 HOURS ISNT ENOUGH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

useless-bi-otch · 2 years ago

Text

Cookies'n Cream - Chapter 12

Last chapter / MasterList / art by @aneenasevla

Chapter 12 - Out in the Open

It was early Sunday night, after waking up from a nap with a throbbing head, a beard that had grown too much and a completely silent phone on the dresser beside his bed, that Okubo decided he had whined like a little bitch for long enough.

He only left his apartment during the week to work out and have boring meetings with his trainer and sponsors. Within the confines of his place, he lived on donuts, beer and instant noodles, the hours ticking away as he played on the PS4. He didn't exchange a single message with his friends, especially Rihito. And this self-imposed isolation did absolutely no good, because Tomori didn't respond to any of his messages or answered any of his calls.

He sits on the edge of the bed, barely able to make out shapes in the darkened room, his eyes heavy with weariness, both physical and metaphorical, the latter directed at himself. Why keep torturing himself like that? She wouldn't forgive him, that much was obvious. And it was what he deserved, honestly. Second chances were beyond the reach of assholes like him who hurt and let down nice girls like her.

He just didn't understand why she hadn't blocked his number yet, but he didn't allow himself to get his hopes up. She could have forgotten. She might not yet have mustered the courage to click on his contact and see the messages he'd sent. If the second option was the right one, then it was only a matter of time...

He shakes his head. Thinking about it hurt. And he was tired of hurting. He needed to accept that there was no going back from what had happened and move on. He needed to see that experience as a wake-up call, a sign that he had to change those stupid behaviors, if he didn't want a repeat of last Saturday with the next girl... if there ever was a next one.

“I found someone amazing and fucked up my chances. What guarantee do I have that I wouldn't fuck up next time? ... Holy shit, that's enough whining!”

With a frustrated grunt, he snatches the phone from the dresser, blinking a little as the glare from the cracked screen hits him full in the face. Better to do it soon, before he chickened out and gave up. He clicks on the group chat, starting to type.

EggHead:

hey guys

yeah, i know, i haven’t been here for a whole week

no excuses, you know why

this week was hell, man

i can't go on like this, damn

i'm going crazy here, alone in this place

if you can, could you guys show up here tomorrow, later in the afternoon?

we have to talk

and yes, rihito, that goes for you too

i want to talk seriously, without fights, without beatings

please

i want to see you guys

The last message sounded extremely patethic, but Okubo had already sent it and he wasn't the type to take back his words, so he wouldn't delete it. Besides, deleting messages in that group was a testament to cowardice and the culprit was likely to suffer intense psychological torture. He knew the friends he had very well.

And he needed to apologize to these friends, one in particular. He couldn't stop thinking about the accusations Rihito had thrown in his face the previous Sunday, saying that he was prioritizing a girl he barely knew over his friends, who had lived through so much with him, who had seen so much shit with him, and who had celebrated wins and bitter defeats over the years by his side. And Rihito was right. He became so desperate to get something he always wanted that he stopped appreciating what he already had.

He leaves his phone on top of the sheets as he gets up with a grunt, desperate to wash his face and shave. Getting more presentable appearance wise was a good motivation to try to get out of the bottom of that wheel. It was also a way of showing his friends that he was willing to put it behind him and work out his differences with them. He wondered how Rihito was doing. He was the one who most deserved to hear apologies from his mouth…

When he returns to his room, his face now clean and smooth, the phone blinks, showing new notifications. His stomach twists a little at the prospect of talking to Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda again after a week of absolute silence. Would they welcome his return? Would they accept his invitation to see each other in person? Or were they telling him to go fuck himself? Well, he'd never know if he didn't open the messages right away. He does so while sitting back on the sheets, taking a deep breath to calm himself...

There were new, unread messages from Tomori at the top of the contact list.

Okubo nearly slips and bumps his forehead into one of the bedside tables on either side of the bed as he jumps up, startled, his heart almost jumping up into his throat and out of his mouth.

"What the- argh, fuck!," He curses as the phone falls out of his hands twice before he manages to steady them, checking his contact list again to make sure he hasn't been imagining things. And there was her contact, the unread messages flagged in a bright green that left no room for doubt. Holy shit, it was her! She had answered him! The sense of resigned despondency that had been accompanying him evaporates, replaced by a treacherous hope that he desperately tried to contain.

“Don't put the cart before the fucking horse! She may have responded just to say she'll report you for harassment if you continue to pester her..."

Godammit, why did his conscience like to torture him like that?! Okubo takes another deep breath, three long inhales and exhales, trying to control himself. Stalling like that was already bordering on masochism. It was better to get it over with quickly, like taking the bandage off a wound in a single pull; a more bearable pain. He clicks on her contact, anxiously waiting for the new messages to load.

Uta_Tomori:

hey

it’s me

can you talk now?

or you’re busy?

He almost sobs with relief when he sees that this isn't a permanent rejection. She really wanted to talk to him! He starts typing feverishly, not even stopping to check his spelling.

Okubo_Naoya:

hey!

no i'm not

just killing dime at home

**time

what about you?

i've been trying to talk to you the whole week

Uta_Tomori:

i noticed

i wasn't ready to respond yet

i thought you'd understand

Okubo_Naoya:

i'm sorry

i'm really really sorry miss uta

for everything

i was desperate to talk to you

still am actually

i don't even know where to start

Uta_Tomori:

then don't

not here, at least

i don't wanna talk it out via text

Okubo again felt that spark of hope ignite in his chest, and this time, he couldn't stop it from spreading like wildfire.

Okubo_Naoya

you want to talk in person then?

sure thing!

where do you want to meet??

i can take you out to eat

and it's on me!

Uta_Tomori:

stop

i'm still not over it yet

Okubo_Naoya:

i'm sorry

i don't wanna pressure you i swear

i'm really sorry

no going out to eat then

what you want me to do?

i'll do anything i swear

Uta_Tomori:

i don't wanna you making promises via text either

don't try to sway me

what are your plans for tomorrow?

Okubo_Naoya:

i have some business to attend in the morning

but I'm free in the afternoon!

Uta_Tomori:

show up at the bakery if you can

at the door, i mean

kanny still don't want you coming in

i'll talk to you at my lunch break

or at the end of my shift, depending the time in which you arrive

i wanna talk face to face

It took Okubo every ounce of his self-control not to drop to his knees and thank the heavens for that second chance. It might not even be a second chance, as far as he fucking knew! And he couldn't keep thinking about how it would benefit him. She was the priority, the person who most deserved to hear an apology from him. It was what she wanted and needed he had to think about.

Okubo_Naoya:

sounds perfect

i'll show up as early as i can

but i'll be there

thank you, thank you miss uta

Uta_Tomori:

don't thank me

i'm still pissed at you

but i calmed down enough to talk things through

anyway, see you tomorrow evening

goodnight mr okubo

Okubo_Naoya:

goodnight

see ya tomorrow!

Her profile icon goes offline, and that's when Okubo drops the phone, letting himself fall back onto the sheets, breathing slowly as he tries to convince himself that that conversation wasn't a delusion of his unhappy and needy mind.

Tomorrow... he had a very important meeting tomorrow. Two, actually...

He would show up before her lunch break. That way, he could meet up with his friends right after, if they accepted his invitation. Depending on how the conversation with Tomori went, they would either celebrate together or mourn together. But he was certain of one thing: he would need them by his side tomorrow. Otherwise, the treacherous hope that dominated him would make him go crazy for good.

* * *

"You did what?!"

"Shush! Keep it down, guys, it's too early for you to be yelling like that…," Tomori moans, her ears ringing a little after the indignant exclamations that Kanami and Hiro let out. It was a good thing it was early and the first customers who appeared only bought the first batch of bread of the day and left, because the bakery had already put on enough scandalous shows for an entire semester.

She had arrived at work on Monday morning, earlyer than usual and in a hurry, and that didn't went unnoticed by her coworkers. Kanami demanded to know what happened, and given her most recent history, Tomori couldn't blame her for worrying. She'd told the truth, somewhat begrudgingly, and her friends had exactly the reaction she'd expected.

"Girl, are you drunk? Are you high? Did Satan's fire consume all your brain cells?!," Hiro asks, ignoring her whimpers and squeezing her face between his hands, growling indignantly. She snorts, but with her cheeks being pressed together like that, the sound comes out similar to a fart.

"Stop being such a drama queen, Hiro..."

"Drama queen? That's what you're gonna be when I call the asylum and they come to put you in a straitjacket! That, honey, is almost as bad as getting back with an ex who cheated on you!," He points to her, teeth clenched. “Is this a lack of self-respect or did your hornyness overcome your common sense?"

"Hiro, cut that out," Kanami hisses, controlling her voice faster than the cashier, but still sounding just as indignant. She turns to Tomori, who has blushed hard. "Explain yourself, Tomori. What's this about you deciding to meet Okubo Naoya out of the blue?"

"It wasn't out of the blue...," She sighs as she frees herself from Hiro's clutches and goes to put another pan with bread dough inside the huge oven. "I had been thinking about it for a few days, but I only made up my mind yesterday."

"But why? That's what we don't understand," Kanami insists while starting to preheat the other oven. "Until Sunday morning you were determined not to have any more contact with him. And then, on the very same day, just a few hours later, you change your mind? It makes no sense."

"It was the loneliness, wasn't it? I knew it! I knew that we should have followed her home and decided between us who would spend the night with her!," Hiro moans "There wasn't any good friend around to put a hand on her head and exorcise the bad spirits making her make stupid decisions."

"Stop it!," Tomori screeches a little, getting even redder. "I'm not that desperate, dammit! That was an exceptional situation, and if it weren't for it, things would probably still be the same."

"An exceptional situation...," Hiro repeats with a snort. "What, did you find out that your zodiac sign matches his? Are you back to being a horoscope bitch or something?"

"No! I... I had a visit on Sunday, as soon as I got back from work," She admits, keeping her eyes on the oven "Rihito showed up at my house."

"Rihito...? Ooh, that bleached, homophobic Neanderthal?," The cashier widens his eyes. Kanami imitated him, but her expression was much darker.

"What did he want with you? Don't tell me that bald bastard sent him there just to pressure you into talking to him!"

"No. He appeared of his own free will. Mr. Okubo didn't even know he was there, as far as I know," She went to organize the kitchen utensils, just to have something to occupy her hands. "He just wanted to talk and… to tell me a few things. Details of that Saturday that I had no idea about, I mean."

"More details? What, did he end up running over and killing someone on his way to the bistro?," Hiro asks angrily, and Kanami shivers.

"Don't even joke about that, Hiro! ... But that's not it, is it?"

"No, no one was run over, thankfully," Tomori sighs "But Rihito was the only person who was with Mr. Okubo when he started drinking, so he had exclusive information to offer."

“Oh no…exclusive, never-before-seen or heard information? Sign me up!," Hiro exclaims, and Kanami stares at him with an unimpressed face.

"Your indignation went away pretty quickly, didn't it, Mr. Takeshi? No seriously, what did that male gyaru tell you? Did he come up with some outrageous explanation to try make his friend seen less stupid?"

"He…," Tomori hesitates a bit before continuing, scratching her right arm with her left hand. "He confessed to me that he was the one who convinced Mr. Okubo to drink, before our date."

"WHAT?!," Kanami and Hiro scream again, even louder than before, and Tomori covers her ears with a high-pitched groan.

"Uugh! Alright, can you guys stop?! Soon you will reach a frequency that only dogs can hear!"

"Are you serious?,” The cashier asks nervously, ignoring her complaints "He wasn’t just trying to cover his friend's ass, was he?"

“Lihito swore he wasn't. He said that Mr. Okubo arrived at that bar, all anxious and stressed because of the date and wanting to talk, to hear some advice... and that's when he suggested he drink to relax," She put her hand over the net that bounded up her hair. "He said he hesitated at first, but relented after some prodding. And then the two went to town."

Kanami and Hiro exchange a stunned look, mouths hanging open, before the baker shakes her head in disbelief.

"But why would he do such a thing? He... he wasn't trying to sabotage your date just because you turned him down that time, was he?," She grunts and cracks her knuckles "Because if he was, I swear to God...!"

"I thought the same thing at first, Kanny, but he swore up and down that it wasn't like that at all," Tomori assures. “He said he really wanted to help his friend relax. But apparently the two never understood the concept of moderation when drinking," She sighs again. "And the rest is story."

Kanami's expression remains dark, but she was still silent. Hiro, after some thought, asks:

"And does that change things for you in any way?"

"I… I don't know," She admits after hesitating, looking at the floor. "I thought he had been drinking simply because he was an idiot with no consideration for others…"

"And he was, Tomori!"

"I know, Kanny, I didn't deny it. But there's a difference between being an idiot and acting like an idiot. The first is a default state, and the second... the second is a lapse that anyone can have," She bites her lower lip. "Rihito said he was all nervous because he was afraid of doing something stupid and letting me down. I didn't imagine he could be so insecure..."

"Wait, wait! You can't be serious, Tomori," Hiro starts, staring at her intensely while gesturing. "Are you really pitying an insecure manchild now?"

"I'm not! It's just that knowing these things sort of puts everything in perspective..."

"What perspective? The reasons behind his actions do not change the results. He got drunk, drove under the influence and ruined your date. His dumb friend having a hand in it doesn't change that fact," Kanami says as if closing the matter. "He's not a child, Tomori, you can't make excuses for him just because-"

"I'm not making any excuses, Kanny! Damn, do you think I'm stupid or something? That I'm that kind of woman who forgives everything easily because she's afraid of being alone?," She asks, irritated and tired of that subject. "I know that's not an excuse. I know that he is still at fault, regardless of whether Rihito participated or not. But like I said, there's a difference between being an idiot and acting like an idiot. And if he recognizes that he acted like one..."

"Girl, for the love of God...," Hiro lowers his voice, now almost pleading "You've already told us about the kind of man he is. A womanizer, a drunkard, has some history with the fucking police... doesn't someone like that already have the word 'idiot' written all over his face? What guarantee can a guy like that give you that this wouldn't happen again?"

Tomori doesn't have to think too hard to answer. She looks to the side, brow furrowing, arms tightly crossed over her chest.

"None. I know this well. But that's why I want to hear him out. Whatever he has to say will help me make up my mind about the two of us."

Kanami and Hiro looked at each other again, seeming to be communicating with just their eyes, and Tomori knew they were thinking of some way to convince her to change her mind. The baker is the first one to try.

"I don't know, Tomori. I'm worried that he'll try to sway you, take advantage of the fact that you're his avid fan..."

"He'll just be wasting his time in that case, because that pedestal broke and fell like a building condemned by the city hall," Tomori snorts, and smiles when she manages to elicit a brief chuckle from the other two.

"Okay, that's fair… but it's going to be complicated for you to talk in the bakery, right? What, will you lean out of one of the windows to hear him put some sappy music on a boombox, like in a bad chick-flick from the nineties?," Hiro arches an eyebrow, hands on his hips, and Tomori shakes her head.

"No, I know very well that he’s not allowed to set foot here. Chief's orders. I'm the one who's going out to talk to him on my lunch break, or after work."

"I don't like that either," Kanami frowns. "What if he tries to do something to you, like touch you or intimidate you with his size? Maybe I should go with you just in case..."

"No need to. You have to take care of the bakery. You don't want to leave Hiro in charge, do you?"

"Hey! That's what I get for trying to be a caring friend. You she-wolf in sheep's clothing..."

Tomori laughs, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before continuing, "Seriously, you don't have to worry. That Saturday, even while being drunk out of his ass and acting like an idiot, he didn't force himself on me. Not even once. I spent more than twenty minutes with him in a car and he didn't trie anything," Her eyes soften. "If he didn't do anything to me while showing me his worst side, I don't believe he would while trying to show me his best."

The other two are silent for a few seconds, processing those words. And then Hiro sighs, shrugging, and Kanami crosses her arms.

"Hunf… I'm still not convinced. But if you want to do it that way, it's your choice. Just send a message if you see that the conversation isn't going anywhere. Just to make sure I don't have to run out of the bakery to beat his ass again."

“But if it comes to that, I'll be close by, documenting it all for posterity,” Hiro declares, holding up his phone, and Tomori laughs again.

"You guys are the best…"

With that out of the way, they could concentrate on their work better, although Tomori was waiting with some anxiety as the hours passed. It was great that she had the job to occupy her mind while she mentally prepared herself for the things she would do and say later. She hadn't put together any speeches, however; she would let him speak, and it would be his words that would help her make her decision.

But... what was there to decide anyway? Forgiving him didn't necessarily imply wanting to go out with him again, did it? Forgiveness served no other purpose than giving the one granting it peace of mind, and a coexistence after that was not mandatory. So why was there a small, obnoxiously hopeful part of her that wished that coexisting with him was still possible? She was a fool through and through...

It was during these thoughts, which arose between batches of breads, cakes and cookies, that Kanami and she heard Tomoyo's voice, sounding cold, coming from the entrance door.

"I thought Miss Kanami had made it clear that you’re no longer welcome here. Go away, please."

"I'm not trying to go in, I swear!," A serious and anxious male voice answers, and Tomori's stomach does a somersault when she recognizes it, "I'm just waiting until Miss Uta's lunch break…"

"She doesn't want to talk to you! Please go away before I go get Miss Kanami and she chases you away herself."

"Ooh… looks like your idiot arrived," Kanami rolls her eyes when she also hears the altercation, turning to Tomori in sequence. "Shall I go there or you can handle this yourself? The matter concerns you more than it does me, but if you don't want to see him now..."

"... No. Leave it to me," She decides after pondering, straightening her shoulders as she opened the door to the kitchens. She'd already run away enough in the last few days, and that kind of attitude didn't suit her. It was about time to change that.

She walks out the door and around the counter, trying to ignore how Hiro's eyes follow her from the checkout area, glued to the back of her neck. The altercation at the door was beginning to draw the attention of customers at the tables, who were leaning forward in their chairs to try to get a better look, some even getting to their feet. She hurried past them, muttering an “excuse me”, still hearing Tomoyo's protests.

"I'm serious, we're going to call the police!"

"I already said that I'll not try to come in! I'm just waiting for Miss Uta..."

"Ugh, are you a stalker or something? That's a crime, and also hella creepy!”

"I’m not a stalker! Look, I swear I talked to her yesterday, she said I could wait for her at the door-"

"Do you really think I'm going to believe that? Tomori doesn't even want to look you in the face anymore-"

"Tomoyo," Tomori interrupts her mid-sentence, approaching the door with the expression of someone who was preparing for a fierce battle. "All that noise is bothering the customers."

"But…," The waitress, still blocking the newcomer's entry, looked at her over her shoulder, confused and a little distressed "That guy, the fighter, came to bother you again. I've told him a thousand times that you're not interested, but he won't listen."

"No, he told the truth. I was the one who called him," She guarantees, opening a guilty half smile when the girl blinks, astonished. "Sorry, I should have warned you that he was going to show up. But thanks for trying to protect me. You can go back to work now. Let me take over from here," And she makes a gesture with her hand, asking for permission. Tomoyo hesitates, but ends up consenting, walking away into the bakery, but not before casting a suspicious look over her shoulder at the newcomer.

And there was Okubo, standing right in the doorway, wincing his shouldres as if wanting to look small and harmless. He widens his eyes at the sight of her, opening his mouth as if he wants to say something, but seems to think better of it and closes it again. He wore simple clothing: a short-sleeved blue shirt, jeans, his baseball cap. Nothing flashy or denoting his status. And he looked in good health. He wasn't pale, at least. And from that distance, Tomori couldn't smell any alcohol. Thank God.

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her arms crossed as if to protect herself. She hadn't seen him since that Saturday night, when she'd left him on the sidewalk in front of that bar. She remembered his devastated expression before she'd turned her back on her. And now, she didn't know what to say or how to feel. She chose only to raise his eyes to him and murmur a, "Hi..."

"H-hi!," He replies, one hand going straight to the back of his head. "Sorry for the confusion just now. I swear I wasn't trying to get in, it's just that the girl wouldn't even let me explain..."

"She knows what happened. She's just trying to protect," She says simply with a shrug, turning her head a little to the side. "I thought you'd already seen how we take care of each other around here."

"Uuh… yeah, I've seen it. And I've felt it too, haha...," He touches his jaw, and Tomori notices the bruise there. It was already healing, but it was still perfectly visible. She can't help herself, smirking.

"Yeah, Kanny doesn't play around when it comes to handing out sandwiches. The knuckle ones are usually on the house."

This elicits a genuine, if nervous, laugh from him. Tomori had expected him to be hurt by her comment…her traitorous heart flutters briefly, and she curses it in her thoughts.

"Hahaha! It's- It's very kind of her to hand out samples like that, but I've had enough for a lifetime, so I’m sorry for not wanting an encore," He shakes his head before turning back to her, suddenly shy "Anyway... I'm here, as you asked. How... how have you been, Miss Uta...?"

She silences him by raising a hand, saying seriously, "I'm in the middle of my shift, so I can't be having a chat right now. My lunch break is in an hour and a half," And she plays with a lock of hair that had escaped the net, again feeling that disconcerting nervousness "Maybe you shouldn't wait out here, or other people might think you're stalking someone... do you know the square that is close by?"

"I- I do. It's close to the office of an old acquaintance of mine too," He nods quickly. "Do you want me to wait for you there? Alright," He nods, licking his lips. "If- If you want to look for a more shaded place later-"

"The square is already a good place. You can wait for me there," She interrupts him without pretense, and makes a move to go back inside the bakery. But she stops halfway to closing the door behind her, looking at him over her shoulder. "And… you don't have to be so nervous around me. I don't want to fight. I just want to talk to you... see you soon, Mr. Okubo."

And the last thing she sees, before closing the door, is his expression half astonished, half delighted. Shit… she hoped she had enough willpower not to get caught up in his idiotically adorable disposition. She wanted to say everything he needed to hear without being bombarded with cuteness, dammit...!"

"… Tomori?"

She looks up. Hiro and Tomoyo were looking at her from the counter, a little uncertain. Kanami, on the other side of the pantry window, watched her with her arms crossed, her expression serious and a little suspicious.

"So? Did he put up too much of a fight?"

"No. He agreed to wait for me elsewhere with no fuss. But...," She looks out one of the windows, without thinking too much. And she blinks several times when she comes face to face with Okubo, his hands flat on the window pane, staring into the bakery with a puppy-like face that would have been adorable in another situation. He widened his eyes, getting very red when he saw that he had been caught, both by her and by the other bakery employees and the customers at the table next to the window, who were staring nervously at him. He quickly walks away, going up the street while hiding his face with the brim of his cap, mortified. Tomoyo rolls her eyes, Kanami pinches the bridge of her nose with the forefinger and thumb of her right hand and Hiro shakes his head in disbelief.

"Good lord, I don't know if that was cute, pathetic or disturbing…," He blows a lock of hair away from his forehead. "Probably a Frankenstein-like amalgamation of the three…,"

Tomori can't help it, letting out an embarrassed laugh as she heads back to the kitchens.

"Ahaha, yeah… and that's what I'm worried about. I don't want him to try to sway me with this..."

"You already know what to expect, so you certainly won't fall for that," Kanami assures, opening the kitchen door for her "But if he insists, you knows what you have to do."

"Yes I do. I have to get a few samples of the famous knuckle sandwich, Oomori Kanami's specialty," Tomori raises a fist, smirking, and the baker laughs, nodding approvingly.

"That's my girl."

* * *

The small square was full of people walking alone, with someone else or walking their dogs, families with young children and couples having a private moment. Okubo hoped that the peaceful atmosphere would help calm the nervousness that was making him feel that beginning of heartburn, but apparently his traitorous stomach wasn't in the mood to cooperate.

He would love to be able to say that he had a speech all rehearsed, that he knew exactly how to pour out his heart and express his regret to Tomori, but if he said those things, he would be being a bloody liar. The excitement at the prospect of seeing her and talking to her had not allowed scripts to be put together. But maybe it was better that way. A conversation like that shouldn't be scripted, rehearsed, otherwise it wouldn't ring true in anyone's ears. Especially hers.

He plays with his own fingers, staring at his feet as he shifts from time to time on the bench where he sat, unable to find a comfortable pose. And here comes the damn nerves again...

"Excuse me? Sir?"

He looks up, a little startled. In front of him were two teenage boys, one of them wearing coke-bottle glasses, both in school uniforms. They were staring at him with their mouths hanging open, their eyes wide with clear excitement. Okubo blinks in confusion.

"Uh… yes?"

"Sorry to bother you, but... are you Okubo Naoya, by any chance?," One of the boys asks excitedly. "Ultimate Fight's heavyweight champion?"

... Oh. The boys were MMA fans. Being recognized like this usually made him happy and excited, but this time his mind was elsewhere, focused on a much more pending matter. He turns his head to the side, looking at the small path that cut through the square, before turning back to the boys and trying to give them a friendly smile.

"Ahaha, yeah, it's- it's me!"

"Holy crap!," The boy screeches, fascinated, while his friend, the one with the glasses, points to Okubo and exclaims excitedly:

"See? I told you it was him! Can you take a selfie with us?"

"Oh... I'd love to, really, but I'm kinda expecting someone...," He starts to say, a little embarrassed, but the boys surround him on either side of the bench, not giving up.

"Please! It's just a selfie, so we can show it to everyone at school!," The boy with glasses assures, while the other nods vehemently.

"And an autograph too! No, two! That way we don't have to fight each other to see who's going to keep it!"

Okubo can't do anything but laugh, scratching the back of his neck shily.

"Hahaha, don't do that, otherwise you'll get suspended from school and I'll feel guilty. And I'd be happy to, I swear, but I'm really waiting for someone and-"

"Are you going to refuse the boys' request like that? That doesn't sound like you, Mr. Okubo."

Both Okubo and the boys turned around, surprised, and his eyes widened when he saw Tomori. She had come through the trees that bordered the path, stopping behind the bench where he had sat, and she was facing him with her arms crossed, a little disapprovingly.

"Miss Uta!," He exclaims, startled, while the boys look from Tomori to him, confused. "I- I didn't see you coming, sorry! The boys came over to talk a little, so I thought it was okay to give 'em a bit of my time..."

"And it is. They're your fans, after all," She uncrosses her arms. "You don't usually refuse when asked for an autograph or a selfie, do you? You don't have to start with that now. Look how excited they are," She indicates the boys, who straighten their backs, both blushing a little. "It doesn't cost anything, right? I don't mind waiting," And she smiled candidly, which only made the boys blush even redder.

Okubo blinks again, a little stunned, but also relieved to see her acting naturally around him, when an hour ago she had been serious and formal. He probably had those kids to thank for that. He rests his hands on his knees and stands up with a small grunt, putting his hands on his hips and grinning wider, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Alright, if you say so... c’mon, let's make your classmates die with envy!"

The boys let out gleeful exclamations before the one with glasses feverishly searches his backpack for his phone. Tomori watches, with a small smirk, as Okubo picks up the phone and holds it up, the three of them smiling and forming V shapes with their fingers as he takes the picture. Afterwards, he signed two sheets of the boys' school notebooks, and they vibrated with happiness as they compared autographs.

"Holy shit, I can't believe our luck!"

"I know, right! It was worth skipping the last class before the club activities started..."

“Whoa, whoa, are you skipping school? Seriously?," Okubo crosses his arms, disapproving, and the boys flinch, a little embarrassed.

"Uuh… it was his idea! The English teacher is picking on him about his low grades, and he dragged me away when he wanted to escape the next lecture!," The boy with glasses points to his friend, who glares at him.

"You also got a low grade in English, asshole, don't lie!"

"No matter the reasons, skipping class is wrong! Accept your teacher's scolding and see it as a pathway for improvement," He points to the boys imperiously, puffing out his chest. "Now go study so you don't end up having to punch people in an octagon to make ends meet! Your hero Okubo Naoya commands!"

The boys laugh, nodding, and then they wave as they walk away down the path.

"Alright. Thanks, Mr. Okubo! Your next fight is in January, right? We will watch it and cheer for you!," The boy with the glasses promises, and Okubo gives them a thumbs-up.

"Hahaha, then I'll do everything to win!"

"Nice! And thanks a lot too, lady!," The other boy waves to Tomori "We'll owe you for this one!"

"Nah, don't worry about that," Tomori makes a careless gesture before also waving. "Consider it a little help from fan to fan. But don't skip class anymore!"

They quicken their pace after nodding, looking sheepish again. Okubo watches them walk away, thinking he couldn't blame the kids for being awkward. He was also embarrassed when that beautiful woman gave him lectures. And a little help from fan to fan... she still considered herself a fan of his, then? He had to stop himself from doing a ridiculous little jump of happiness.

"So…," Tomori starts suddenly, and he quickly turns to her "Skipping class is wrong, accept your teacher's scolding… nice speech, worthy of a public figure who wants to set a good example."

"Ahaha, no… that was me trying to sound cool," He admits while scratching his scalp, opening a very idiotic smile. "I was a little shit who skipped classes left and right and who even led a whole gang of delinquents. But you know how it is... 'do as I say, not as I do' and all that shit..."

She laughs, but with a face of someone who knew she shouldn't be laughing and felt guilty about it. It was adorable. He missed seeing her like this. And it hurt too much to think that he could lose that privilege, depending on how that conversation went.

“I didn't know about these things. I think it's the kind of trivia you don't usually find in Black Belt Magazine interviews or fighter trivia,” She comments, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Okubo probably would have done the same, if he'd had the hair for it.

"Ahaha, yeah... that's the kind of thing you only know when you know someone deeply, I guess," He shrugs. And then regrets it when he sees her deflate a little, lowering her head.

"Yeah..." She ends up nodding, and Okubo didn't need to be a telepath to know what she was thinking.

“She thought she knew me, and was disappointed when she found out how wrong she was.”

"Miss Uta... I...", He begins uncertainly before sighing and asking, "Would you like to sit down? I think this will take a while..."

"Yeah, but not much. I need to get back to work...," She looks at the park bench. And then she moans a little. "You should've come at the end of my shift..."

"S-Sorry! I didn't want to be in the way, it's just that you didn't specify a time and I thought I'd better come as soon as I could-"

"I'm not complaining to you! I'm frustrated with myself, actually," She interrupts him. "I should've said that it was better that you came in the late afternoon, because we'd have much more time to talk. Just one hour is not enough to say everything I want..."

"...Oh," He understands, nodding, a hand automatically going to the back of his neck. "Yeah, one hour is not enough. That's... that's what I thought every time I showed up at the bakery with the guys to see you, you know?"

She bites her bottom lip, looking away as she blushes. And then shakes her head, saying seriously, "Stop trying to be cute, dammit! I'm going to think you're trying to sway me and that's not happening!"

"I know, I know. Sorry, it just came out. I can't shut up even when the situation calls for it...," He groans frustrated, rubbing his face with one hand. "But there's nothing I can do. I- I always get like this when I'm around you, it's kinda inevitable..."

"Well, it better not be! I was very serious when I said that I'm still pissed at you, and that silver tongue of yours isn't going to change that!," She warns him, gesticulating nervously, and oh, there was the angry Tomori he'd seen that Saturday night, grinding her teeth, her brown eyes burning dangerously. She points her index finger at him, and Okubo flinches as if threatened with a whip.

"I wasn't...! I'm sorry, I... aaargh, fucking hell! Why do I screw up with everything I try to do?," He whines, grabbing his head with his hands and sitting on the bench. "I won't say anything else then. Not until you say everything I deserve to hear. That's what I came for, after all..."

He lowers his head and lifts his gray eyes to hers, unhappy, but looking resigned. Ready to take the moral spanking she so wanted to give him... and just as it had been with Rihito, she couldn't see any malicious deliberation in that gesture. Maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see...but just this once, she chose to believe her intuition. She might regret it later, but now that she had the chance to tell him everything she wanted and be heard, she didn't want to waste it.

"Hnf… did you come just to hear me talk? Or do you want to say something too? Because I think there are some things I deserve to hear too, you know."

"Yeah, of- of course you do, I don't-"

"Some explanations, at the very least," She interrupts him again, raising her voice "Not that there's any excuse for your antics, but there must be some explanation for someone thinking it's a good idea to drink themselves to oblivion before a date he himself suggested!," She starts pacing back and forth in front of the bench, too agitated to sit down, and Okubo follows her with his eyes, swallowing hard. "To think that this is a good solution for a nervous breakdown is sheer idiocy, even more so when I never did anything to cause all this nervousness!," She stops in front of him, gesticulating through gritted teeth and holy shit, that was so, so different from the sweet, lovely girl he thought he knew… "I wanted that too! I was so happy when you asked me out, so excited! I couldn't believe my luck! And then you went and did...!," She opens and closes her fingers as if she wants to throttle someone "Did such a shitty thing!"

She was raising her voice in anger, but Okubo couldn't care less whether or not they were drawing the attention of the other people nearby. He could only stare at her in a mixture of shame, sadness and a strange but growing fascination. He hadn't known that side of her, not until that moment, and now he was getting a taste of it in the worst possible situation. He felt terrible about being the target of all that anger, but it was what he deserved, after all.

"Miss Uta... I..."

"I'm not done talking yet! Do you have any idea of the risks you were exposed to that Saturday?," She asks in a growl, but doesn't give him the chance to answer. "You could've run over someone! You could've hit a pole, a wall or a tree! You could've been badly hurt, or worse!

"I- I know, I swear I don't know what I 'was thinking that night-"

"And at the bistro! Do you know how much you embarrassed me there?," She interrupts him again, bringing her face closer to his. "I used to love eating at that place when I could, and now I don't even know if I'll ever be able to go back there without wanting to die in the process!"

"I...! I'm sorry, I- if you want, I'll go back to that place and kneel before the owner and all the staff to apologize!," He swears, not being able to stop the slight desperation from permeating his voice. "I never wanted to spoil your memories of that place, I swear-"

"I know you never wanted to, but that doesn't change what happened! I wanted to create new, great memories with you there, not fix the ones I'd already created," She runs her hands through her wavy hair, throwing her head back. "I was so pissed, so upset and- and a part of me couldn't stop asking myself if I was the problem," She touches her own chest, her lower lip trembling a little, her eyes undulating. "If I was the one who wasn't worth the effort..."

"No! You were and still are, always! I'm the one who screwed up, the one who didn't honor our commitment and made you feel like this," He almost falls off the bench as he gets off it, leaning on one knee on the floor, staring at her and looking close to crying too. "You were the first woman in years that made me want to try this much and you didn't deserve anything that happened that Saturday!"

"Mr. Okubo, what are you...? Oh no, don't do that...!," She asks, nervously, seeing that he was starting to bend towards the ground. "Don't kneel down, I don't want any of that!"

"But…," He raises his head again, confused and anguished. "But I want to apologize, and I want to show that you are absolutely right and that I need to recognize my mistake-"

"I know, but I don't want it that way. I don't want you to humiliate yourself to show it to me.” She sighs, the sound coming out a little shaky. He swallows again.

“But…but I humiliated you that Saturday. I just wanted to make things fair..."

"I don't want excuses, Mr. Okubo. I want admission of a mistake," She shakes her head "I don't want revenge. I don't want an eye for an eye. I…shit, I just want to understand," She bites her bottom lip. "I just saw you with those boys. You're not a complete inconsiderate idiot, I know that. But that Saturday you acted like one. Why? What happened that day?"

"I...," Okubo wanted more than ever to tell her the truth, to talk about the embarrassing memories that bistro brought back to him and how it had raised his anxiety to the point of stupidity. He really wanted to open up to her. But he was afraid of sounding like a loser to her ears, nothing like the imposing fighter she admired...

“Do you think she still sees you like that after that Saturday? Wake up and smell the coffee, sucker.”

"I- I'vebeentothatbistrobeforeanditfuckingsucked!"

"... What?," Tomori blinks, confused, when he speaks in a urried, high-pitched way, slurring the words and not making any fucking sense with them. He blushed furiously.

"I… I've been to that bistro before and… and I made a complete fool of myself there," He finally admits, his throat dry, doing his best not to take his eyes off hers. "I was there, eating , when I saw two girls staring at me at another table. I thought they had recognized me and that they were fans... so I went to their table to hit on them," He feels his face burning with embarrassment "You know...? Like one of those egotistical sub-celebrities who get pissed off when they aren't recognized on the street. I was inconvenient with them and... and they didn't feel sorry for me when it came to making it clear that they didn't know who I was. I embarrassed myself in front of the entire bistro... my self-esteem kind of took a hit, I don't know...," He looks to the side, mortified, no longer able to hold her gaze, not wanting to see her pitying look or any sign that she found him pathetic…

"You…" He hears her say, her voice weak. "But… why didn't you tell me before?," He lifts his head and sees her perplexed expression. "Why didn't you say you knew that bistro and didn't like your experience there? I wouldn't have minded choosing another place!," She gestures again, now looking almost as distressed as he was. Okubo blinks again, his jaw dropping a little.

"You... you wouldn't?"

"Of course not! For something like this to work, both parties need to reach a consensus! Neither of us would enjoy the date if the other was uncomfortable," She points at him again. "We could have talked and chosen together a place that we both liked. But no, you chose not to say anything and your nerves got the better of you! I know that we are nothing to each other, but this is no way to start any kind of relationship. This is not what I want for my life!"

Okubo stares at her, speechless, struck by the vigor he felt coming from her speech. Again, not at all what he would have expected when he still thought of her as a docile, gentle creature whose love for the martial arts stemmed from an innate desire to have a man of his stature to call her own.

But now he was finally understanding how shallow his initial view of Tomori was. She was still that docile, soft creature…but there was iron hidden beneath all the silk. Willpower, firm convictions, the security of someone who knows what she wants and is not afraid to express her opinions and demands. Someone who didn't hesitate to fight on her own way.

He remembered clearly now what he had seen on her face, in that dark alley, when she had threatened a group of troublemakers with the shards of a glass bottle. That wasn't the look of a weeping woman, praying for help to come quickly. It was the look of a woman who was ready to fight for her life and take down as many as she could with her, in case she fell.

He felt that same energy emanating from her now. He could see that she was exposing herself, revealing to him a side of her he didn't know. And he felt that she deserved the same from him, more than anyone else.

“I… yeah, I know. You're absolutely right," He stammers before forcing his voice to become firmer. "But even knowing these things, I - I couldn't stop myself from doing something stupid that screwed up a night that should have been nice for both of us," He touches his chest with both hands as he leans towards her, and Tomori blinks, half startled, as he raises his voice, sounding almost angry. "The truth, Miss Uta, is that I'm far from being the suave, cool guy you imagined! I'm only like that during matches and press conferences! In real life I'm an idiot who can't talk to chicks to save his life! I love having fun and messing around with my mates, but I always end up going to far, which has even gotten me into trouble with the police!! I- I was afraid that you wouldn't like me if you saw who I really was, and that fear blinded me to the point that it actually came true!," He shakes his head, closing his eyes. "I should have suggested another place for our date, I know, but… you said you liked that bistro, that you could only eat there when you had some money to spare, and I didn’t want to take that away from you. But it also made me so nervous that I ended up accepting it when Rihito suggested we drink... yeah, that was his idea, I'm not lying! But still..."

"But still, that's no excuse," Tomori completes the sentence for him. Her tone was still hard, but her eyes had softened a little bit. "Rihito's idea was pretty stupid, but he didn't force you to drink. That was your choice, your responsibility. You need to own up to your mistakes, Mr. Okubo, face their consequences head on. Like all the challenges I've ever seen you facing, with your head held high, inside an octagon," She opens a tender half smile. "That's the person I've always admired."

"But…," He blinks and swallows again, now gesticulating as she had. "But I just told you, I'm not the person you thought I was-"

"That amazing, perfect guy who could do no wrong in my eyes? Yeah, you aren't that," She nods, serious, staring at him with an intense expression. "I learned that the hard way. But you still came to me, admitted all your mistakes and on top of that, you opened up to me about your insecurities, without me even having to demand it. You faced the problem head on. That remains something I will always admire about you. You don't run away when thing go south," She clenches her mouth, again seeming to be trying to contain her tears. "And as for the rest… well, you can't start anything without the parties getting to know each other well first, can you?"

Okubo couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had arrived here prepared to be brutally rejected, morally slaughtered, asked never to appear before her again. It was what he deserved, honestly. But not only had she listened to him, let him explain himself, but she had also shown herself willing to get to know him, to know who he really was.

That woman was stronger, braver, and more incredible than he'd given her credit for. And now, he wanted more than anything to get to know her better too, if she'd let him get close again. He lets out a shuddering breath, happiness building inside him, swelling like a bubble until he's almost gasping for air.

"Miss Uta...! Thank you, thank you, I know I don't deserve it, but I swear I won't waste this second chance-

"Whoa! Easy there," She holds up a hand suddenly, cringing a little. "Hold your horses. I haven't forgiven you.

"...Oh." He deflates like a punctured balloon before her, arms falling to either side of his torso. Hell, it was like he'd been thrown a bucket of ice water and the cubes had seeped into his pores. "I thought… sorry… here I am, rushing into things yet again…"

"Yep," she nods. But her expression softens again "Look, you can't expect me to easily forget what happened. You screwed things up that Saturday. I... I need some time, okay? I need to know if you really regretted it or if all these words of yours are just lip service. So for now... I want to see it for myself. I want to see who I'm dealing with, who you really are. The Okubo Naoya outside the rings, I mean. I want to know if I still like him. And for that I need some time. And I need you to stop trying to be something you're not. Did you understand?"

"…I did," He nods after hesitating, trying to look as serious as she is, his shoulders stiffening. "I'll do what I can, I swear. I'll not hide anything from you. I can be different, I can be better, and I will prove it to you."

"Don't make promises you don't know if you'll be able to keep," She asks quietly. "I don't even know if I can trust you anymore..."

"I'll prove that you can. I promise you this, not as the King of Combat, but as the guy who has a game soundtrack as his ringtone, makes nerdy references to anime and super sentai and is crazy about your cookies," He clenches his fist with conviction , and flutters inside as he catches her trying to stifle a laugh. "Thanks anyway, Miss Uta. For listening to me..."

"Yeah… don't thank just me," She says suddenly, playing with a lock of her hair, winding it around her finger. "I probably wouldn't have even sent you those messages yesterday if it weren't for the visit I received…"

“Uh…visit?," He frowns, confused. "From who? If I may ask-"

"Rihito."

"... Huh?!," Okubo jumps up from the bench, stunned, his cap almost falling off his head "Rihito? He showed up at your house?!"

"Yup. Yesterday afternoon, after I got back from work," She can't help but be amused by his reaction, despite everything. "He was standing in the rain, looking like a wet dog still but totally determined to talk to me. He... he confessed to me that he was the one who came up with the idea of you having drinks that Saturday, before our date. And he practically begged me to talk to you, to listen to your explanations. So... yeah."

Okubo could only stare at her, jaw dropping, his mind wandering back to that disastrous Sunday, that horrible fight he had with Rihito, all the cruel and hurtful things they'd said to each other…especially the ones he, Okubo, had said. His throat closes again, making it difficult to breathe.

"He… he didn't need to… that idiot…," He mutters, grabbing his cap and twisting it in his hands. "I… I said some pretty shitty things to him, accused him of ridiculous stuff, and even so he still..."

"Yeah, I did the same. And apparently we were both wrong," She shrugs with an embarrassed smile. "Seriously, go talk to him. He may be an inconvenient idiot and a good-for-nothing womanizer, but he's still your friend. And a good one at that."

"Yeah, he… he is," Okubo nods, sniffling low. "I already intended to talk to him before you sent those messages. Now I want it even more."

"Then don't wait any longer! I need to get back to the bakery anyway. But first...," She frowns a little "You didn't write down my address or anything, did you? For him to be able to find my house that easy..."

"We didn't write anything down, I swear! But...," He thinks a bit before continuing, now embarrassed "Rihito used to work in a transport company, if I'm not mistaken. I think it's easy for him to find addresses he's already visited because of that...?"

"Oh. That explains it. But it was still kinda stalkerish."

"… Yeah, I won't deny that."

“Tell him that if he ever goes over there to bother me for my friend's number or something, the next umbrella hit will be on his other, smaller head."

Okubo lets out a high-pitched laugh, a hand on his stomach. Damn, he hadn't laughed like that in days. Seeing her clearly struggling not to join him only added to his happiness.

"Ahahaha, okay, I’ll pass the message on. But anyway…," He clears his throat, shy again "I… when will I be able to see you again, Miss Uta?"

She looks away, thoughtful, a little uncertain. And then she sighs, giving up.

"I can't promise that Kanny will let you into the bakery again. I wouldn't ask her that. But if she decides to give you another chance and let you in, I'll let you know. Then you can show up there. If not… look, we'll talk about this later," She shakes her head, looking a little tired. "This whole conversation wore me out and I need some time… but thank you, Mr. Okubo. For being honest with me. For wanting to be better."

"I'm the one who should thank you. For allowing me to try to be better," He smiles tenderly, waving to her. "Good afternoon to you, Miss Uta."

“For you too…,” She gives a little curtsy, then turns her back on him, walking down the path. Okubo waits for her to turn to look at him over her shoulder, but she doesn't. She was trying to be strong and stick to her convictions, he concludes. It was admirable, as much as he regretted having that little privilege revoked for now.

He turns too, retracing his steps to the train station. He needed to go home. There was still another very important conversation that needed to be had.

* * *

"What's with the box, Rihito? Is it a peace offering?"

Rihito looks up, a little startled, when the elevator door opens in front of Himuro, Kaneda and him, ready to take them to the floor where Okubo's apartment was. He passes the box from one hand to the other, looking away as he pouted.

"Uh... it's a matter of courtesy, man! Isn't it customary for guests to bring a souvenir to their hosts? How could you not know that, you savages?!," He tries to dismiss the conversation, to which the other two look at each other.

"Have we ever gave “souvenirs” when we visited each other's apartments?," Himuro asks while the three enter the elevator, to which Kaneda shrugs.

"Only if we count food as a souvenir. And alcohol too. That would've been a more appropriate souvenir, all things considered..."

"You're insane if you think I'm going to bring booze here after that Sunday! Egghead might smash the bottle in my head...," Lihito snorts, pressing the button for the floor they wanted to get to. He does this with the hand that’s holding the box, and that's when Himuro and Kaneda notice the logo stamped on the lid.

"Wait, is that from the Heavy Bakery?," Himuro asks "When did you went there?"

"And without us, even after we called you lots of times...," Kaneda comments in a somewhat accusatory tone, to which Rihito grunts impatiently, even blushing a little.

“Do we have to go everywhere together now? What, is this preschool? Will you want to go hand in hand with me to the bathroom to check if I cleaned my dick properly after taking a piss?"

"If you wanted to surprise Okubo, you just had to say so," Kaneda comments casually, while Himuro stares at Rihito with a disgusted face "You bought the box earlier today, didn't you? Since we got that message from him last night..."

"Are these cookies?," Himuro asks before Rihito can say something, as the elevator stops and the doors open for them. "Kind of a dick move, considering everything, but maybe it's good for him, since he must miss them..."

"Or not. It's still a little too soon, he barely entered the acceptance stage… you know, the grief thing," Kaneda commented, and Rihito cursed as they left the elevator, heading towards the door, him already feeling his stomach start to twist from nervousness.

“Stop shitting on my peace offering, damn it! And that grief thing... we don't even know exactly in what foot his situation with Miss Uta is...," He looks to the side, stopping a few paces from the door, right behind the other two. "I dunno, we might be surprised..."

Himuro and Kaneda stare at him, frowning suspiciously, but they say nothing. Himuro knocks on the door with his knuckles and the three of them look at the electronic peephole, knowing that Okubo could see them on the small screen that was next to the door, on the inside. Rihito discreetly tries to hide behind the other two, tense, and then mutters:

"Uuh... welp, guess he isn't home..."

"Of course he is. The doorman wouldn't even have let us up if he's not."

"But he's taking too long to answer. Maybe the doorman got confused, I don't know..."

"Are you shitting yourself or what, Rihito? Get a fucking grip, you were the most eager of us to come here, considering you even brought a gift..."

"It's not a fucking gift! It's just a little treat!," Rihito snarled, taking another step back, staring at the door as if he feared it would explode. "Oookay, I think the doorman was really confused. ‘Come on, guys, we'll call Okubo and curse him 'till his next generation for making us come all the way here for nothing-"

"I'm coming!," They suddenly hear a familiar voice shouting from the other side of the door. Rihito flinches, eyes widening, while Himuro and Kaneda throw him unimpressed looks over their shoulders.

"See? Stop being a wimp, man. Okubo wouldn't have made a point of mentioning you in that message if he didn't want you here," Himuro says, and Kaneda nods in agreement.

"That's right. But anyway, let's leave conversations about what happened on Sunday for later, when things are calmer," He warns, seriously, the three of them taking a fes steps back when they hear the lock being opened. "Okubo must not be well. Let's just offer our support, like the good friends that we are-"

"Guys!," The door opens with a bang, and Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda almost fall backwards as they jump in fright, letting out screams louder than could be considered manly. Okubo leans out of the apartment, gray eyes bulging, grinning so hard his face lookes like it was about to rip open "Fucking finally! C'mon, don't just stand there like a bunch of morons! Come in!"

"You were saying, Kaneda?!," Himuro turns to Kaneda suddenly, gritting his teeth while breathing hard. Kaneda, with a hand on his chest, shakes his head.

“How could I have predicted he'd get manic like that, so quickly?! It's only been a week!"

"No one's manic here, damn it! Come on, come on in, I've got some good news to share!," Okubo takes a step to the side, making room for them to enter, gesticulating excitedly. "You can’t celebrate with me properly in this tight hallway!"

Himuro and Kaneda look at each other, perplexed, but don't argue. Rihito enters right behind them, head down and box clutched to his chest, barely able to look Okubo in the eye. He is careful to walk away, taking several steps towards the largest of the sofas in the room, while the other two turn to face Okubo, confusion etched in every line of their faces.

"Okay, first of all: hi," Himuro waves shortly. "Good to see you again after a whole week of ignoring all our messages and calls, asshole."

"Calm down, Himuro...," Kaneda tries to appease, but Okubo shakes his head, stopping smiling for a moment to have the decency to appear remorseful.

"I know, I know… I'm sorry about that, but I wasn't well after everything that happened. I needed some time to get my head straight," He explains, looking sideways at Rihito hesitantly. He looked remarkably intent, inspecting the new coffee table he'd ordered after they'd both destroyed the previous one, like the troglodytes they were. Himuro snorts, while Kaneda nods.

"Yes, we can imagined. Either way, it's good to see that you're on the mend, or at least trying to... maybe that good news helped-"

"Yes! You would'nt believe what just happened!," Okubo throws his arms over Himuro and Kaneda's shoulders, bringing them into a rib-breaking side hug, which both gasp loudly with the grip.

"Ugh...! Did you- Did you get a proposal to be the poster boy for the next Whey Protein commercial?"

"Even better!"

"Did you receive a proposal from a compounding pharmacy to test a miracle drug that reverses the effects of baldness?"

"Fuck you, Himuro, you know that I shave my head by choice!," Okubo growls, and that makes the others laugh. "Let me finish, damn it! After the message I sent you yesterday, I received another one shortly after. Guess from who?," And when they looked at him at a loss, he declared, smiling like an idiot again, "From Miss Uta!"

"What?! – Himuro and Kaneda exclaim together, while Rihito immediately raises his head, turning to the other three with wide eyes. "Are you serious?"

"I'm dead serious! She asked for us to meet so we could talk properly about what happened. I was there in the square near Mr. Yamashita's office until a couple of hours ago," He says, gesticulating so much that the two had to move away to avoid being slapped. "It was a straight talk, everything was out in the open, as they say. I still can't believe that I could open up to her, explain myself..."

"Wow… but wait, you were honest with her, right? You didn't try to justify yourself or make up preposterous excuses for your behavior, right?," Kaneda asks, arching an eyebrow, and Okubo shakes his head in denial.

“No, I didn't do any of that. She would've left me standing in the middle of the square like an idiot if I'd even tried," He widens his eyes. "I'd never seen her like that, guys, I'm not even joking. She made it clear without even hesitating how she was feeling, gave me a scolding like a preschool teacher... how can such a small and cute girl manage to be so imposing and inflexible when she is determined to? She'd give her boss a run for her money, I swear to fucking God!"

Himuro and Kaneda look at each other, startled, while Rihito puts a fist in front of his mouth to stifle a small coughing fit, or a laugh. It was hard to tell from his face.

"Yeah, we can imagine, but… you don't exactly seem disappointed with this new facet of hers," Himuro raises an eyebrow, and Okubo throws his head back with a grunt.

"Disappointed? Fuck, I almost fell on all fours with that free demonstration! I just concluded that I don't know her as well as I thought...," He clenches a fist, gray eyes burning in determination "But you can bet I'll change that! I'm not wasting this new chance! I want to show her that I can be better, guys, and I won't rest until I do so!"

"That- That's great, Okubo! But we're still kinda lost here," Kaneda manages to move his friend's arm a little, freeing himself from his grip "What made her change her mind about accepting to listen and forgive you? Because Himuro and I visited the bakery on Wednesday and she seemed pretty determined not to give in, sorry for being honest..."

"Uuh… yeah, about that…," Okubo's smile fades a little, becoming an embarrassed grimace "She hasn't forgiven me. Not yet, at least."

"Huh?," The two blink, even more astonished. "She didn't? But we thought- weren't you talking about getting a second chance just now?"

"The second chance was to try to prove to her that she can trust me again. She said she wants to see for herself, to get to know who I really am, and then she'll decide if I deserve a second chance or not," He scratches the back of his head "I guess we could say I'm in the observation phase? Yeah, sounds good enough..."

"Damn… it's like a student who found out he didn't flunk the school year, but he's still going to need a retake test to save his ass," Himuro shakes his head. "It's the first time I've seen someone happy like that for being in 'observation phase'...

"But that's what I'm talking about, dude! That's better than being rejected outright, dammit!," Okubo gestures, getting excited again. "I'll be able to continue seeing her! I can try to win her back! After what I've done, it's more than I deserve, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah… but are you really determined to do this?," Kaneda asks, and then he opens a proud smile. "Are you willing to go through this process, with no guarantees that it will be successful?"

“And all this for a girl you only intended to bang?," Himuro turns his head to the side, crossing his arms. Okubo blushes, looking away. But when he speaks, his voice is firm, decisive, without any trace of hesitation in the syllables.

"Yeah. That's exactly it. It's what she deserves, after everything I've done. She is worth the effort."

"Heh. Would you look at that...," Himuro smiles too, and Kaneda pats Okubo's shoulder in congratulation, very satisfied.

"You said it, Okubo! Boy, when they say that bad experiences are the ones that help us evolve the most-"

"Don't give me that 'evolve' crap!," Rihito suddenly screeches, sounding indignant, to which the other three are startled and turn to him. "That's bullshit! I could've swore she had forgiven you, for crying out loud! And after all the things I said to her yesterday! It went in one ear and out the other-"

"What?!," Himuro and Kaneda exclaim, again in unison; they were freaking out a lot that late afternoon. "Did you talk to Miss Uta yesterday?"

"Wait, wait! So that's how you got that box of cookies?," Himuro points to the box that Rihito was now holding as if it were a shield. "Did you go look for her at the bakery and then enjoyed a little snack?"

"Uh… actually, snack time took place in a more private environment…," Lihito passes the box from one hand to the other, smiling weakly. "I wanted to talk to her more calmly, and the bakery was too noisy, so..."

"Holy crap. You went to her house, didn't you?," Himuro asks, disbelieving, while Kaneda moans, dragging a hand across his face.

"I can't believe it, Rihito. We've only been to her house once, and only two types of people memorize addresses this easily: geniuses and stalkers. We already know you're not the first, so..."

"Oh, fuck you!," Lihito growls, blushing furiously. "It was for a good cause!"

"This is questionable, to say the least! If you went there just to pressure her to accept Okubo's apology-"

"No," Okubo interrupts Kaneda's babbling, taking a step forward, facing Lihito with an intense expression, "He went to Miss Uta's house to confess that it was his idea for us to drink before that date."

The apartment hall went completely silent after that. Himuro and Kaneda look from Okubo to Lihito, dumbfounded. But the two only had eyes for each other at that moment. Rihito swallows, nervously drumming his fingers on the lid of the box, shoulders tense. Okubo, on the other hand, looked almost emotional, his gray eyes glistening as if teary.

"So... you already knew?," Rihito finally asks, looking to the side with a frown, trying to appear indifferent and failing miserably. Okubo nods slowly.

"I found out today. She told me herself when we were saying goodbye," He gets closer, and Himuro and Kaneda have to move out of his way when he stops right in front of Rihito, both of them facing each other. "She said that you took a share of the blame for what happened and asked her to give me a second chance. She said that she probably wouldn't have even sent me those messages if it weren't for you..."

Lihito clenches his mouth shut, his face reddening so much it lookes like he'd been scalded. He crosses his arms with a huff, nearly knocking the box to the ground.

"Well, fuck, what else was I supposed to do? You said so yourself that Sunday. That shitty idea was mine, so I had to take accountability, damn it! I couldn't even consider myself a man if I didn't do at least that!"

"Oh… wow, Rihito, that was really nice of you," Kaneda says, opening an emotional smile, while Himuro shakes his head.

"Yeah. Kind of humiliating, but it was worth it considering she agreed to hear what Okubo had to say..."

"It wasn't so worth it, if she didn't forgive Okubo! Hell, that girl is more stubborn than I thought!," Lihito gestures indignantly. "Now he'll have to bust a fucking gut to prove that he is worthy of being forgiven, with no guarantees that he will even earn that forgiveness? Poor motherfucker can’t catch a break! But… yeah," He ends up sighing with a shrug. "I guess this is better than nothing. And at least she gave this peace offering...," He shows him the box, embarrassed. "I already ate half of what was inside, but there's leftovers. Thought you'd like it, you must've been missing her cookies and... aaargh, enough of that fag shit! Just fucking take it already!," He holds the box out to Okubo, mortified, not even managing to look at him "And don’t even think about thanking me, otherwise I swear I'll beat the everloving shit outta-"

And Rihito is silenced mid-sentence, gasping in shock, as Okubo grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into a tight hug, slapping him on the back as he sniffles, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, which he had slammed shut.

"Man, I don't even know what to tell you...! After all that shit I said to you that Sunday, you still went and did something like that for me... damn it, Rihito!," He lets out a dramatic sob, and at that point he was almost squealing, his voice cracking. "I don't deserve you, man, I swear to fucking God!"

Himuro and Kaneda can only laugh, embarrassed by the sappy scene, but they still seemed relieved. Rihito, on the other hand, had deflated in his arms, the shock in his expression slowly dissipating, his eyes also filling with tears. And he throws the towel as he returns the hug, hitting the box against Okubo's back with the impact of his hands.

"Don't say that, dammit! I really screwed up and I needed to fix it... I...! I'm sorry, Okubo, I never should've told you to drink that day...!"

"No, I shouldn't have accepted it, I was my fault too! You were right, man, I was a shitty friend...," Okubo moves away enough to look the other in the eyes, chin trembling. "I can't let a girl come between you guys and me, no matter how adorable she is... I need to learn to separate these things..."

"Yeah, but- but I was kinda wrong about her too," Rihito wipes the insistent tears, still sniffling. "She's nicer than I thought… that's why you can't give up on her! You will do what you can to get that second chance, and we will help you with that!"

"Yes! Thanks, man-"

"After all this hullabaloo, I'll be pissed if you don't bang her! It's a matter of honor at this point!"

Himuro grunts, rolling his eyes, and Kaneda lets out a choked laugh, while Okubo shouts indignantly:

"For fuck’s sake, dude! You had to go and ruin the tender moment we were having, didn't you?!"

"Don't give me that 'tender' shit! I'm trying to bring some resemblance of manliness back into this conversation, because you, as usual, have to act like a fagot!," Rihito punches him on the shoulder, which Okubo immediately reciprocates.

“You brought me cookies in a cute little box with a pink bow on the lid! You're the fagot!

“It was Miss Uta who gave me the box and you know that, you big pansy!

"You're the big pansy here, you-"

"Shut the fuck up already! You both are giant pansies who love each other and don't know how to show it! Now stop bitching and hug each other again!," Himuro interrupts them, impatient, making encouraging gestures with his arms. Kaneda can only laugh again.

"Seriously, you just can't make up and show each other some affection without a dose of homophobia, can you? Shame on you guys..."

"Shut up, you two! Just come here already!," Okubo calls them, practically commanding. And knowing that they'd have no choice, as they would be chased after and forced to comply if they refused, the two approach. And it's not long before all four are locked in a tight group hug, exchanging laughs, a few more tears and the usual bitching.

"Okubo, Rihito, you're both suffocating us!"

"Stop whining and bear with it just a little longer, Kaneda! Doesn't this feel good?"

"Dude, you realize that this can be interpreted two ways, right?"

"Shut up, Himuro!"

"Alright, who's the asshole that grabbed my ass?!"

"No one, Iron Fingers, stops projecting your fantasies onto us."

"I love you all so fucking much...!", Okubo squeezes his friends for a few more seconds in his arms before releasing them, taking the box of cookies that Rihito was holding out to him and raising it in the air while declaring, "And now my redemption arc officially begins, guys! Give me all your support 'cause I'm going to need it!"

Rihito, Himuro and Kaneda laugh, nodding. He was a hell of a drama queen, but if he didn't act like that, he wouldn't be Okubo. And they couldn't be happier to have him back.

NEXT CHAPTER

#Kengan Ashura #Kengan Omega #kenganverse #fanfiction #Okubo Naoya #Naoya Okubo #okubo x oc #kengan oc #Rihito #Himuro Ryo #Kaneda Suekichi #cookies'n cream #the heavy bakery series

4 notes · View notes

luimagines · 3 years ago

Note

Coul I request the chain reacting to meeting the reader who is Wild's sibling? (If background is needed shrieks science and them whatever purchase did so the reader is just sorta- 15-28 )

Masterlist

I don't understand the second sentence but I think I can infer what you're trying to say. And even then, I came up with a backstory that more less fixes it regardless so yay!

Wild is everyone's favorite chaotic creative sibling!

And I went for older sibling because reasons and just assume that sibling! Reader is in their early twenties.

Content under the cut!

You woke up one day in Hateno village, quietly aware of the silence that echoed through your house.

You miss your brother.

Not that he was here often with his Goddess given assignment nor did he even know who you were for the first half of it.

What a day that was.

Your little brother back from the dead, scars and all and then some... but he had no idea who you were.

It hurt to say the least. But you were told it would happen once the news reached you. He would wake up one day to finish his duty but he would not remember anything regarding his past life.

Even when he found you again, after he somehow remembered you, you didn’t know where to begin.

You just knew that you were so happy to be together again after so long that you hugged him as tight as you could and told him that your door was always open.

To say you both cried is the understatement of the century. It was wet and ugly and messy and neither of you really talk about it but it felt good that day.

And while you both knew he couldn’t stay for long with his adventure being no where near complete. He did come home for the night after he set that travel medallion of his by the front door.

But that was then- before the Calamity was defeated.

Now that it’s gone- so is your brother. Again.

On a different quest this time, it seems.

You don’t understand why your baby brother of all people has to be the one to do it and you would like nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and shield him from anything else that comes to hurt him- but he never let you do that as a child- let alone now.

You begin the day like any other and try to get as many mundane chores done as you can before you finally try and get the stable in the back fixed up.

You noticed Link had an affinity to horses and had checked in with the nearest stable to see that he had some lodged under his name.

There’s a place at the house, darn it. Lodge them here. It just needs to be fixed.

With your goal in mind, you lose yourself to the work and the time passes effortlessly.

It’s around noon by the time you hear it.

The familiar sound of activation that gets your heart pounding in relief and unbridled joy.

You drop your hammer and run to the front of the house with the largest grin on your face. “You’re back, you Rug Rat! Come here!”

You single him out instantly amongst the group and tackle him in a hug.

He’s long stopped trying to fight on you on this and has also returned your crushing hug with one of his own. “I’m back.”

“You brought friends too.” You grin and give the group a two fingered salute. “And here I was afraid that this loner child would end up dead in a ditch somewhere and I would be none the wiser. Thank you for looking after my little brother. I’m aware he’s a handful.”

“Ok thanks.” He says.

“Little brother?” Someone from the group asks. They’re lost amongst the sea of head but you nod regardless.

“Yup. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday.” You grin and put your hands on your hips, introducing yourself right after. “Any friend of Link’s is a friend of the family. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home. It’s not much but it’s ours. Been in the family since before the calamity struck. Let me wash up a bit and then we can get some food going, yeah?”

“I’ll start up the stove.” Link says and you’re about to disagree. After all, he just got home and should rest while he can but he ahs the most unburdened smile on his face that you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

“Alright.” You sigh and head to the back where the shower is. It’s always been small and a bit cramped and the door stopped fitting correctly about ten years ago but now that’s it’s not just you anymore, you can go around into the giving the house the TLC it deserves.

But you’re starting with the stable in the back.

When you’re finished and you’ve dried yourself off, you get into the house to find it in a delightful array of colors and chaos.

Each of the boys seemed to have made themselves completely at home in the time you were gone and you leaned against the door frame, watching them all interreact.

Your brother didn’t waste any time with getting the stove up and running. You can smell the beginning of lunch getting cooked and it appears that Link has wrangled two of the boys to be his helpers. One appears to be the youngest with bright wide eyes and a similar blue tunic to that of Links and the other looks to be slightly more timid in the process. He’s around the same height as Link but darker hair and a long white cape still clasped around his shoulders.

You recognize the Master Sword strapped to his back.

Making a note of that you look around the room again. Three of them have made themselves comfortable at the table. One is easily the biggest guy of the group, red and blue tattoos on his face and scar over his eye as he watches the others go about the admittedly small house. The other two look to be the same size and you’re sure you can look them in the eye if you needed to. They’re talking to both each other and the group that’s cooking. One has a wolf pelt on his shoulder with more tattoos on his face and other is a knight if you’ve ever seen one with a bright blue scarf around his neck.

You’re not one to judge your brother’s friends but you make a mental note to watch him in case he tries anything.

Two of the boys- one with pink hair and the other have the most solid brown mane of the whole group have made themselves spares and are talking quietly to each other and not making a fuss.

The final one looks to be the smallest but he’s got an older glint to his eye that recognize well. He’s wearing arguably the most color tunic of the group with those four patches sewn together. He’s tucked himself away into a corner with a book out, not interacting with either of them outright but he has been looking up and adding his two cents to the older’s conversation at the table.

They don’t notice you’re back which is a testament to how tired they all must be.

They’re an interesting bunch.

But Link did always surround himself with interesting people.

So you’re not really surprised.

“Sooo...” Pinky starts off, calling your bother’s attention. “You have an older sibling?”

“Yup!” He answers, not looking up from the pot. “They were waiting for me the whole time, and even manage to keep the house. Up keep still needs to be done but we’ve been working on it together.”

“But they’re older.”

“Yes. We’ve established this.”

You have to hold back your snort.

“You were asleep for one hundred years.” Four Patches speaks up, closing his book silently. ”Shouldn’t they... ummm...”

“Be dead?”

“Or at least really old?” Mr. Brunette hops in, trying to lessen the blow of the sentence.

“You’re like one hundred and seven teen right? Wouldn’t that put them at being one hundred and twenty something?” Wolf boy offers.

“I guess so. Yeah. They were old at some point.” Link stops stirring and you can see him try to run the numbers in his head. “I know that much. The village talks about them being really old sometimes, but I guess that was years ago because it’s only from the older folk that live here.”

“But they lived through those one hundred years, didn’t they?” Blue Baby Face speaks this time.

“That’s what they told me.”

“So....” The knight tilts his head and tries to put his hands out as if that would help answer the question. “They’re like the Old Man then? Old in their head but young on the outside.”

“You can say that, yeah.” You say and take extreme satisfaction at the way most of the jump at your voice. “Unlike Link, I was alive the whole time he was asleep. I’ve got grandkids in Lurelin and they visit from time to time but someone had to at least keep the house up and running, might as well have been me.”

“I...” Link starts as he takes the food off the burner. “I never asked you how you stayed young, did I?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He looks away and deflates a little. Link looks a little disappointed with himself and that won’t stand in this house.

“I didn’t realize it was that important. And I’m going to assume you’ve explained most of the situation Rug Rat.” You laugh a little with a raised eyebrow. “You can blame Purah. You know she wanted to find a way to keep the old from aging, right? It’s why she’s in the body of a little kid again. But when she tried the second formula she realized that if she tried it on herself that it might as well but poof her back into a baby and she wanted to contact Robbie but he’s too far and too old to make that trip. I volunteered.”

“Really?”

“It still didn’t really work, I was transformed into a teenager instead of a child- a horrible time to exist really. But I suppose it was a blessing in disguise. By the time this one-” You step into the house fully and ruffle Link’s hair. “-came back, it left us with the same age gap as before. So in the end I can’t complain.”

“Why’d you volunteer?” Cape guy leans on the wall. “There’s only so many times you can test it, right? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have been worse?”

“Yeah, what if it did transform you into a baby again and you forgot everything?” Four Patches stands up and comes to stand by the table, putting his book on top of it.

“I wanted to take the risk.” you shrug and pull your brother into a hug. “Is it a crime to want to see my baby brother again not matter the cost?”

“Get off.” He whines.

You laugh but do as he asks. “It was never said when he’d be back. Only that he would. I was willing to buy as much time as needed to be there for him.”

“I didn’t remember you...” He mutters to himself.

“You now, don’t you?” You punch him gently. “We’ve talked about this. It’s ok. I knew it was going to happen. It wasn’t going to stop me. Ganon himself couldn’t properly get rid of me. I’m not leaving your side anytime soon.”

He smiles and turns to hug you.

“Now where’s your wolf friend?” You ask. “Are you still traveling together? There’s something I wanted to give him.”

Wolf Pelt shimmies in his seat for a second but you don’t think much of it.

Link shakes his head. “Not right now but he has been coming by every now and then.”

“Well it’s good he’s still around to look after you then in my stead.”

“We have a horse though.” Link tilts his head up to grin at you. “It’s not the same but her name is Epona.”

Familiarity stabs you in the heart and you know it’s something that Link even remember even if he lives another one hundred years.

He was too little when she passed.

“...Like dad’s old horse. Can I see her?” You say with a light constriction in your throat. “How crazy would it be if they looked alike?”

“Dad had a horse?”

“You wouldn’t remember her, you were too little. I barely remember her as it is but yes, he did.” You take a step back and motion back towards the door. “Maybe after lunch you show me. We can bring her to the back and measure up how the stable is. I’ve been fixing it up.”

“Really!?” Link blinks, an excited glint appearing in his eyes.

“Yes. That’s what I was doing when you first came in. But let’s eat first.” You put your hand to the small of his back and push him gently in the direction of the table. “And then you can tell me about your friends and this new adventure of yours.”

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #lu wild #it's a bit longer than the other one shots #and yet i think it's the most uneventful #let me know what you guys think #linked universe

315 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

Moving On - Chapter 4

Moving On: A Falcon & Captain Marvel Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader, Carol Danvers x F! Reader

Word Count: 2107

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut (MF, oral sex, vaginal sex, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism)

Synopsis: You thought Sam Wilson was the love of your life. You had planned to do it all with him - marriage, kids, see the world. Even when you’re life gets turned upside down, and you both end up international fugitives, he’s there by your side.

Then Thanos comes.

When Sam is one of the many turned to dust, leaving you alone and pregnant, you don’t think you’ll ever stop grieving. Yet, everyone tells you that Sam would want you to move on and live your life - that he’d want you to be happy. Gradually you open your heart up to another. Carol Danvers has lost people too. First her daughter, then her wife. As the two of you lean on each other, feelings grow and you move on together.

So what happens when Sam is returned to you?

Chapter 4: On the Run

It is strange how quickly your whole world can change. One minute you’re planning a wedding and living in the Avengers Compound in Upstate New York, an official agent for the Avengers. The next you’re considered a war criminal and you’re on the run with your fiance and three other people, one of them who happened to be Captain America.

It had been like a slow-motion car wreck watching everything go wrong. First, there was a completely unnecessary fight against your friends in the airport because no one wanted to listen to each other. Then you’d been arrested by people who you’d once considered not just friends, but family. Then you’d been shipped off to some secret supermax prison in the ocean for enhanced individuals with no trial, even though you weren’t enhanced. Then Steve Rogers had busted you out and you’d ended up on the run.

You were with Sam though, and you’d rather be with him on the run knowing you were on the right side of the fight than safe in New York alone.

You’d all been trying to make the most of your time working as vigilantes. There had been a lot of alien tech ending up in the hands of criminal organizations and Steve had been leading your little band of merry men to go and get it back.

Things weren’t easy for any of you. There was a lack of money coming in and everyone had had to quickly withdraw their entire savings before the government blocked all of their accounts. Thankfully Steve’s pension from the army had accrued a lot since he’d been lost at sea, but he hadn’t been able to withdraw all of it.

It had meant that a lot of the income came down to you, as out of everyone - you were the least recognizable. Yes, there were alerts out for you, but you were a spy - you knew how to disguise yourself and you knew where to find under-the-counter work when needed.

The trick was never staying in the same place for long and returning to countries that didn’t sign the accords. Even those weren’t safe for long - Ross was not above sending people into countries illegally to detain people who he was hunting - Bruce Banner was a testament to that - but they were safe for a little while and meant that once a month rather than sleep in the stolen Quinn, you could splash out and get a hotel. Although you were pretty sure that Wanda was often sleeping in hotels - with Vision most likely - anytime she said she needed to have some alone time.

You woke up and stretched on the cold metal floor of the Quinn, your spine popping loudly. Sam shifted in close to you, his arm draping over your sternum and his hand resting on your neck so his fingertips lightly caressed your jaw. “Was wondering when you were gonna wake up,” he murmured.

“Is it late?” You asked, blinking your eyes in the dark of the jet. There was light coming in through the cockpit window, but it was low and you couldn’t tell if that was because it was early or just overcast outside.

“Not particularly,” he said, his hand running down your neck and over your collarbone. “You just normally sleep like shit in the Quin.”

“Who says I didn’t,” you grumbled, rolling in toward him, and breathing him in. There was an acrid sting to his scent thanks to the fact that neither of you had showered for a few days. You were all due for a trip to somewhere remote with beds and good water pressure. Steve had said maybe going back to Wakanda for a few weeks was in order. He didn’t like to go too often because T’Challa had already extended himself above and beyond anything that was fair to ask of him just by harboring Bucky. But it had been over six months since any of you had been there, and you had accumulated a lot of alien technology that you knew Shuri would love to get her hands on.

Sam chuckled and his hands ran down to yours, linking your fingers together, and playing with the engagement ring that sat on your finger. “What if we just get married in Wakanda?”

You looked up into his eyes. They looked black in the dim light and when he smiled at you, the corners of them crinkled slightly. “I’m not sure that’s what you really want,” you said. “Don’t you want Sarah to be there? And the kids?”

Sam frowned. Sarah’s kids had been two and four years old when you’d gone on the run and every month that he missed of their lives hurt him. He’d been sending money back to his sister to keep the family business running back when you’d both had actual jobs, but these days he was barely scraping by himself.

He sighed and nuzzled into your neck. “I just want us to start our lives together.”

“I know, but life had other plans,” you said. “I love you and I don’t need to get married to know that. It’s not going to change anything. We will still be on the run and we won’t be able to build a stable life and have kids.”

Sam sighed and leaned his forehead against you. “I know, but I want you to be my wife.”

“I am your wife,” you said.

“Not legally,” he said.

“We don’t do anything legally at the moment,” you said, playfully. When Sam didn’t laugh, you sighed and wrapped your arms around him. “Sam,” you said. “If you really want to get married in Wakanda, I’ll do it. I’m sure I can get something nice to wear together, and Nat and Wanda can be my bridesmaids. I’m sure given how close we’ve all gotten they would be who I’d have picked anyway. Just like I know you’d have Steve be your best man. But I know you. This isn’t really what you want. You want the big wedding down in Louisiana like you always planned. With the catering done using fish that were caught by your family’s trawler and you want AJ and Cass to be our little ring bearers. And I know… I know that if you do this - if we get married in Wakanda without Sarah, she’ll murder you. She will murder you and then disown you post humus.”

Sam started laughing. “Yeah, she will.”

“Sam, I love you. I’m yours, no matter what,” you said.

“I know,” he replied with a sigh. “I know we’re doing the right thing now. I mean - Tony can get all on his high horse about how important the accords were, but he still broke them immediately. That fucking kid he brought to the fight is still breaking the accords and living his best life. I just… I wish we could have both.”

“So do I,” you said. “I hope they come around, but I’m scared that the thing that makes them realize how wrong they are is gonna be real bad. Like; world-ending bad.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam said. “Which is why I’m doing this.”

“So, what do you want to do? You asked.

“I guess… we can wait,” Sam relented. “But maybe we can see if there’s any way we could do something small that we could sneak Sarah to? Like … she goes to the Maldives and who just happens to be there getting married?”

“They’ll be watching her,” you said.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “But we can look into it.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “We’ll look into it.”

Sam leaned in and kissed you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of you, so the full weight of his body pressed down on the cold metal floor of the jet.

Sam groaned softly and rolled his hips, his cock starting to harden against your thigh. “Where’s Steve?” you mumbled against his lips as he continued to kiss you. He was currently the only unknown factor as Wanda was on another of her ‘retreats’ and Natasha was dealing with some ‘personal things’ that she wouldn’t tell the rest of you about. He pulled back and smirked down at you. “Why? You want him to watch?”

“No,” you giggled, smacking his arm. “I want the opposite of that.”

Sam laughed and nuzzled at your neck, pushing his hands up under your sleep shirt. “On his morning run. Just you and me, baby.”

You kissed him again - more frantic this time, and your hands dug into his shoulders. Sam began to squeeze and massage your breast as he ground down against you, sending a warm buzz through your body. He began to move down your body, taking his time to both undress you and kiss every part of you. By the time he was crouched between your spread legs, your whole body prickled like a live wire.

He gripped your thigh with one hand and reached up and began massaging your breast with the other as he dipped his head down and began lapping at your cunt. You moaned and arched your back, gripping his bicep with one hand as you reached over your head with the other. A hot current ran through you as Sam focused on your clit, sucking and nipping at it as he squeezed your breast. He moaned into your cunt, the sound sending vibrations through you. You slowly fell apart under him, writhing as a coil of hot pleasure wound itself tightly in your core. Sam thrust two of his fingers inside you, and as soon as they hit that sweet spot inside you you cried out loudly and came hard, your whole body shuddering as your orgasm crashed through you.

Sam sat up onto his knees and looked at you. “Gonna have to be a little quieter,” he said tapping your thigh. “Steve’s got pretty good hearing you know.”

You scrunched up your face. “Maybe you need to gag me.”

Sam chuckled and bit his bottom lip as you got on our hands and knees. Even on the bedroll, your knees were going to hate you after this, but right now you didn’t care at all. Sam moved up behind you, held onto your hips, and thrust hard into you. You stumbled forward a little but managed to catch yourself on the cargo trunk in front of you. He began to fuck you hard immediately, not even waiting to steady yourself. You cried out and clenched around him as it felt like a hot shard tore through you.

Sam leaned over you, kissing your neck and shoulder, as he put his hand over your mouth. “Hush now,” he growled in your ear. “You don’t want to wake up the whole forest.”

You moaned into his hand and opened your mouth, letting him push two of his fingers inside for you to suck on. He railed into you, his hips moving quickly and erratically as your bodies slapped together. You tried to bounce back on him, adding to the pleasure coursing through you, but it wasn’t long until your arms gave out and you were helpless under him as your orgasm built.

As his hips began to stutter, Sam wrapped his arm around your waist and began to rub your clit. It was all it took for the dam inside you to burst. You buried your face in your arm and cried out as you came, clenching around Sam’s cock. He began to thrust even more erratically as he chased his own release and with a jerk and a low groan he came, releasing inside you.

You let yourself flop completely on the floor, breathing heavily and feeling a little high on endorphins. “You think Steve is out there and heard us?” You asked as Sam lay back down next to you and kissed your shoulder.

“Caught the tail end of the show!” Steve yelled, his voice muffled through the jet walls.

You and Sam both broke down into peels of laughter and you hid your face in Sam’s chest.

“Get a move on, would you?!” Steve yelled. “We have a lot to do today.”

You laughed even harder and Sam held you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, duty calls,” he chuckled.

You let him help you up and the two of you both started cleaning yourselves up the best way you could. You hoped to god that Steve would say it was time for a break soon, but in the meantime, you were glad you were here with Sam.

// NEXT

#sam wilson #carol danvers #sam wilson x reader #carol danvers x reader #falcon #captain marvel #falcon fanfic #captain marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #moving on

90 notes · View notes

ayatosmlktea · 5 years ago

Text

A/N: The things you think of while cutting tomatoes. @bakugoustanaccount this is for you because you deserve some Bakugou fluff. Sorry if it’s kinda shit. Getting back into writing was way harder than I thought. Culinary School Bakugou AU

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: None, fluff

Pairings: Bakugou x reader

Disclaimer: I know nothing about culinary school. So don’t roast me. I tried my best!

Tags: @babybabydoki, @thesecretnerd27

Bakugou was not a man of words, at least not when it came to expressing his feelings. Sure he had no problem giving people a piece of his mind when they pissed him off or when things were not up to his standards. But talking about his actual feelings, like the crush he’d harboured on you for a little over a year? Not a chance in hell were the words coming out of his mouth.

In all honesty, Bakugou wasn’t sure why you stuck around him. He had been such an ass to you the first month of classes, constantly ragging on you for your lack of coordination and time management in the kitchen. In his defense, you were amateur at best and probably shouldn’t have wasted all that money to get into one of the finest culinary schools Japan had to offer.

‘It looked like fun’ was all you had to say. Your reasoning had shook the blond to his core, and he had been certain that you’d drop out within the first week or two if he was being generous. However, much to his surprise you’d been persistent in trying to succeed.

You eventually got fed up with his incessant criticisms and had bit the bullet to ask for his help. Bakugou wasn’t sure what to say, the image of you clearly distressed and face slick with sweat, chef’s coat covered in stains tugged on heartstrings he didn’t know existed. Begrudgingly he agreed, after all it was a boost to his ego.

He held it over your head ever since, constantly bringing up the cause for your sudden improvement due to his culinary genius. The two of you somehow grew closer after that, more often than not you found yourself over at his apartment until almost four in the morning coming up with new recipes, trying out different flavour combinations and inevitably eating way too much.

“I think this is the best one so far” you manage to get out in between bites of cake.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dumbass.” He grumbles, flicking your forehead roughly. Sticking your cake clad tongue at you burst into a fit of laughter as Bakugou cringes.

“That’s disgusting,” he muttered carrying empty plates to the sink and running hot water over them.

“Seriously Bakugou, I think you’ll get an A plus with that cake.” Scoffing loudly Bakugou is grateful his back is turned so you can’t see the huge blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Shut up and help me clean up, brat”

“Always so eloquent Katsuki” you grin unaware of the way the sound of his name rolling off your tongue sent his heart into cardiac arrest.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You were always clumsy, something that Bakugou knew all too well. The amount of times you’d almost cut yourself trying to catch your knife that was about to slide off the counter was enough to guarantee early heart failure in the explosive blond.

You shared the same workstation as Bakugou and while he was always one to throw himself head first into their assignments for the day; he was finding it harder and harder not to get lost in watching you bite your bottom lip while you read the day’s recipe.

The dark circles under your eyes a testament to how hard you’d been working to catch up with the rest of the class. Bakugou probably wouldn’t directly tell you but your pairing skills had drastically improved since the first month of classes.

Your knife work was becoming more seamless and uniform and the smile you’d flashed him when your instructor had complimented you on it made his stomach clench with butterflies.

“Thanks I guess” you smirked later that evening. It was now routine for the two of you to hangout after class, going back to either of your apartments to try and get ahead for the next lesson. Plus it helped that you always managed to whip up dinners that rivaled any pricey restaurant you’d ever been taken out to.

“You guess? If it wasn’t for me your ass would be failing” Bakugou retorts hottily, his gaze watching your fingers as they glide a potato across the madalin a little too carelessly for this liking. Your eyes were focused on him, attention not on the extremely sharp blade that was capable of slicing your fingers in half.

“Watch your fingers dumba-” before he can even finish his sentence you yelp in pain pulling your hand back dropping the potato and cradling your fingers against your chest.

“Fuckfuckfuck” you hiss repeatedly squeezing your fingers together to try and stop the blood from seeping out.

“I fucking told you to be careful!” Bakugou growls grabbing a paper towel and running it under water before wrapping it around your fingers.

“I was being careful!” You shot back through gritted teeth. It was obviously a lie, but you were in pain and your pride was hurt at being called out on your bullshit.

“Tch you’re bleeding all over my floor dumbass, this is careful to you?” Your recklessness annoyed him, and the fact that you weren’t taking it seriously made him even more angry.

“Okay whatever! I’m an idiot, glad we worked that out” you snapped back, the painful throbbing of your fingers was making it hard to match Bakugou’s sarcastic energy like you usually did.

You didn’t want to look at your fingers as he unwrapped the soaked towel from around them, the sight of all that blood was making you light headed and before you knew it you were hyperventilating.

“Oi, stop freaking out! It doesn’t look that bad! I don’t think you need stitches.” He shouts and while it would have made anyone else freak out more it helped you calm down. If Bakugou was calm, something was definitely wrong.

“Hold this tightly” he grumbled before disappearing into the bathroom.

Against your better judgement you looked at the gash across your pinky and ring finger. They were fairly large cuts but at least you couldn’t see your bone...right?

“Didn’t I tell you to hold it?” Bakugou’s voice makes your shoulders jump, a guilty smile on your face as you press the wet towel over your fingers. It made you squeamish but you knew that bleeding out was far less appealing than a few minutes of pain.

“Since when did you get a first aid kit?”

“Since I became friends with your clumsy ass” he muttered under his breath.

“Did you just call us friends? Wow, I truly have peaked. Thank you God”

“Shut up or I’ll kick you out”

“You wouldn’t dare” you were right, he wouldn’t have. But you didn’t need to know that.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Throughout the next year your friendship with the blond only grew. You had met his close group of friends who he would never call his family, but you had learned to read between the lines with Bakugou. Mina often commented on you being the only other girl he’d managed to get close to in his life, and while you blew her off every single time it made your stomach flutter with butterflies at the possibility of something more.

Bakugou paid attention to a lot of things, even if it didn’t seem like it. Small pieces of yourself that you revealed in passing casual conversations stuck to his brain like glue.

The longer you stuck around him, the harder it was becoming to push down the growing feelings he had for you. There were only so many times he could watch you bite your lip without imagining tugging it between his own teeth. It was the last class before you would have two weeks of in between semesters. Two weeks where Bakugou wouldn’t see you on a daily basis, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted to keep practicing together although he hoped you’d ask him to rather than having to bring it up himself.

“My fingers are about to cramp in this position forever” you huff, adjusting the grip around your knife before continuing to peel potatoes. A stray piece of your hair had fallen from your bun and without thinking Bakugou reached out and tucked it behind your ear.

You stopped mid-sentence as the tips of your ears turned bright red. When his brain finally caught up to his actions Bakugou didn’t speak to you for the rest of the class, the pounding in his chest was almost painful. He had left before you had finished cleaning up your station.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

He ignored your texts and calls, he needed to sort out his feelings. He hadn’t expected to let you this close to him, to worm your way into his heart and become a part of his routine. He didn’t want to fall in love with you, but everything about you that he had found annoying quickly turned into everything he loved about you.

The crinkle of your nose when you didn't understand something, the way you wandered over to his station to steal extra pastries off of him. Your compliments always made his heart skip a beat, it shouldn’t have been so important to him but Bakugou found himself craving your praise more than your instructor.

Slamming the door closed a little harder than was necessary he dumped his bag on the floor and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He needed to get your smell off of him, his fingers still tingled with electricity if he thought back to the feeling of skin under his touch.

Bakugou couldn’t deny that he had more fun with you than when he was working alone. Even if you did get distracted every five seconds. It was stupid, you occupied every waking thought he had. He couldn’t even cook without turning to you to get your opinion on a recipe before realizing you weren’t there.

The empty pit that dropped in his stomach every time he thought about messaging you only grew as the days dragged on. You hadn’t messaged him since last week and it was a little pathetic to admit that every notification ping had his heart racing, hoping that it was you.

But why would you do that when it was him who had started this war. Bakugou’s pride was going to be the death of him, he would have rather died than admit that he was in love with you. His stubbornness wouldn’t allow himself to admit that he needed you more than he had wanted to believe. So what if time passed slower without you, he’d find things to fill the void. So what if he missed the sound of your laugh, it didn’t matter. He had other friends.

Nothing tasted good anymore, there was always something missing in everything he cooked. He couldn’t be bothered to try anymore, most of his nights ended with the kitchen in a mess and him cursing loudly in frustration. You were missing. He couldn’t fight it anymore, he needed to apologize. Everything felt incomplete without you. Classes were starting in a few days and he knew he needed to fix things before then.

Come over for dinner. At 8. If you’re late I’m not letting you in.

Wow, not even a hello.

It’s free food, dumbass.

Fine.

Bakugou’s hands trembled slightly as he put his phone down, it was far from perfect but it was a start. Throwing on his jacket he felt a surge of excitement and passion that he hadn’t felt for nearly two weeks.

He would make it up to you.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Your stomach growled as you stepped foot into Bakugou’s apartment. You were still mad at him for ignoring you but God if his cooking wasn’t enough to make your resolve crumble.

“7:59, you’re really cutting it close huh?”

“I was debating whether to come or not” you replied smoothly, hanging your jacket on the coat rack. Your answer felt like little needles poking him in the chest, this was going to be much more difficult than he had anticipated.

Bakugou noticed that you looked more put together than one the days he’d invited you to come over and cook before and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with your feelings towards him. Not that he was complaining, the outfit you had chosen hugged your body in all the right places, not to mention your lips were looking extra kissa-snap out of it. If he messed it up now there would be no going back.

It’s not a date. You repeatedly told yourself, and yet you had still put in more effort than you should have. Maybe you had worn your sheer lacy black top on purpose, it was just a confidence boost after all. And most definitely not because you were trying to give him a sneak peek of what was under it.

It had been far too long since you had invaded his personal space and the smell of his cologne had your body buzzing with nervous energy. You had hoped that after the hair incident something would have happened between the two of you. But you hadn’t expected him to ignore you. You shouldn’t have been surprised, it shouldn’t have hurt, but all the nights you had spent at his place had you feeling like maybe there was room for something more.

“Whatcha making?” You asked peering over his shoulder.

“It’s a surprise” he muttered, turning around to push you out of the kitchen.

“Well I can still smell it” you retort, swerving around him to turn on the oven light but before you could reach it Bakugou grabbed your waist and tugged you backwards.

“I said it’s a surprise! Don’t go and ruin it”

“You’re no fun Katsuki” you sigh, trying to act as nonchalant as possible while his palms burn their imprint against your skin.

“Trust me Y/N! Stop making this harder than it needs to be!” There was no winning against Bakugou when he was in a stubborn mood. Pouting you make your way back to the couch because you weren’t allowed to be in the kitchen until it was time to eat.

It felt oddly comfortable being in his apartment, you’d never really been left to entertain yourself before. If you closed your eyes it almost felt like he was your boyfr-nope. You were not going to go down that road. Every rational thought was screaming at you that it was stupid to believe he harboured any feelings for you, especially after what had happened two weeks ago.

“Oi Y/N! If you wanna eat, get your ass up” Bakugou shouted from the kitchen and you snapped out of your daydream. Definitely not your boyfriend…

You were ready to whip out a snarky comment but the words caught in your throat at the sight before you. It was...dare you say romantic. Bakugou’s eyes were watching you intently while you struggled to gather your thoughts. The room was dimly lit with a few candles, your eyes glued to the dish of pasta in front of you.

“Are you just gonna stare or are you actually going to eat?” Bakugou pulls out your chair and the cage that were guarding your butterflies was threatening to break open.

“I’ve never seen anyone make lasagna look so...romantic” You laugh, letting him push your seat in for you.

“It’s your favourite isn’t it?” He asks with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. Your heart is hammering forcefully against your ribcage, in the entire year you’d been friends with Bakugou you’d only mentioned it a handful of times. To be honest you weren’t even sure he had been listening to you, the reasons behind his motives for making your favourite dish had your cheeks heating up.

“I didn’t think you’d remember that” you mumbled.

“I remember a lot of things” For some reason the way he says it has you clinging onto a hope you know you shouldn’t. Bakugou was not in love with you, it was purely coincidence that he’d made your favourite meal.

It didn’t mean anything.

At least that’s what you tried telling yourself, until he brought desert out. Conversation had eventually begun to flow easier than it had in the beginning, probably due to the two glasses of wine that you’d consumed. You weren’t tipsy but you were definitely feeling bolder than before.

“Is that what I think it is?” you gasp as Bakugou sets down a pie tin. The surge of pride he feels at your wide eyed stare was comparable to nothing else. You can feel your mouth watering as he cuts you a piece of cheesecake.

“Ohmygod Katsuki this is so good!” you moan as you take a bite of cheesecake. It’s salted caramel, your favourite. Something weird was happening, something you might not have had the balls to pursue under normal circumstances. Liquid courage igniting your veins, you force yourself to make eye contact with crimson orbs and ask the question you weren’t sure you wanted an answer to.

“Why did you ignore me?” You can almost see the wheels turning in his head, and for a second you wish you could melt into the floor and disappear. The silence was suffocating and you seriously considered just grabbing your coat and dashing out of his apartment.

“It’s okay if you do-”

“I have feelings for you”

His words shock you and for a moment you can’t tell if what you had heard was a figment of your imagination.

“What?” every nerve in your body is on edge, fight or flight system ready to bolt the hell out of his apartment if things go wrong.

“I have feelings for you, dumbass! For a whole year, and I didn’t want to deal with it because I’m scared to fuck it up! I’m not good with words, the only way I can express myself is through cooking.” It takes a moment for it to click in your mind but his amused scoff and eye roll when your eyes light up with recognition are almost endearing.

“Wait, so you did all this...to confess?”

“Isn’t that just what I said?”

“So, what if I said I liked you too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your throat suddenly felt way too dry.

“Then I’d kiss you” Your stomach was doing somersaults and you were sure that under normal circumstances the nerves alone would have made you puke.

“I like you too Katsuki” the look Bakugou gives you is almost feral and before you can react he’s already moved to cup your face in his hands. The second his lips touch yours, the cage inside your stomach breaks open and butterflies are spreading throughout your body. Your hands tangle themselves in soft blond locks, angling your face to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you respond without hesitation. You can taste salted caramel on his tongue and it has your head spinning. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was such a good kisser. Maybe he was boyfriend material after all.

780 notes · View notes

legoshi-plz · 5 years ago

Text

Carnal (Gouhin x Reader)

Gouhin x Reader (can be Carnivore, Herbivore, or Omnivore, I left it ambiguous)

Summary: Gouhin and reader lay in bed. He has a taste for her. He always has a taste for her.

Warning: NSFW (+18)

///////////////////////

The sun shown bright through the window of your lover’s bedroom. It was cold out, a crisp autumn day but the sun helped keep the chill at bay. You snuggled up next to the sleeping Panda beside you, grateful for his warmth.

You weren’t sure how this relationship began but it worked, despite your differences. He was rough around the edges, took himself way too seriously and even thought himself unlovable. Turns out loving him was the easiest thing you’d ever done.

It took a lot of work in the beginning. You were sensitive in all aspects and always kept an open heart. That tended to get your feelings hurt more often than not. But he never stopped trying, never stopped working for your love. He knew he didn’t always express his love in the most conventional way, knew that he was too harsh at times. But it all stemmed from a deep love and compassion for all walks of life, his line of work a testament to that.

So you stayed, happily pouring in as much love and care as you could into your stoic mate. And as for Gouhin..... he usually had his own way of showing his affections.

“Little early for you, isn’t it,” Gouhin growled unexpectedly, his voice riddled with sleep. You felt him shift as he reached over to the nightstand to grab his pack of cigarettes.

“Little early for a smoke, isn’t it?” You detached yourself from him, turning away so the smoke wouldn’t bother your sensitive nose.

“Life’s too short to deny yourself the simple pleasures, sweetheart,” he chuckled, lighting his cigarette. He took a long drag followed by another and soon the entire room was filled with the smell.

You made a show of faux gagging to display you disgust. You sat up, about to move off the bed when a warm, hairy arm wrapped around your waist pulling you back down.

“Don’t be dramatic, I’m putting it out,” he grumbled, snuffing our the remainder of the cigarette.

“By all means continue, I’ll get out of your fur. Let you enjoy your ‘simple pleasures,’” you huffed with a small pout. Gouhins large frame rumbled with laughter as he began to slide down to the lower side of the bed.

“I think there’s a different pleasure I’d rather have instead,” he chuckled, settling between your legs and throwing them over his massive shoulders.

“What do you think you’re doing down th-” his long tongue took a generous lap at your ‘lips’ as he pulled your panties to the side.

“Why did you put these back on?” He growled, rapidly tugging the thin garment off.

“How was I supposed to know you’d wake up.... hungry,” you sighed, running your fingers in his soft fur.

“I’m always hungry for you, baby, always,” he dove back in, his tongue strokes languid and frustrating. He’d bring you right to the edge then revert back to teasing you. You tried to squirm in his hold but he had a death grip on your thighs.

“Stop being impatient princess, it’s about the journey not the destination,” he teased and you could tell he was amused by your desperate state.

“Gouhin I swear if you don’t fucking speed this up I’ll- AH!” You yelped as he bit the inside of your thigh before soothing the mark with his soft kisses.

“Now is that anyway to talk to Daddy?” He cooed, as he continued to nibble at the sensitive area.

“You’ve had your fun, now you’re just being cruel,” you whined, close to tears as your release continued to allude you.

“Fine, how about I let you sit on Daddy’s cock to make up for it?” He said already lifting you up so that you could take your place on his lap. Gouhin was a typical Alpha male and rarely liked to relinquish his control during sex but when he did allow you to top him it was nothing short of mindblowing for you.

“I see that knocked the attitude right out of you, huh Princess?” He laughed at your sudden change in demeanor. You hummed happily as you slid him inside your slick entrance, taking a moment to pause so that you could adjust to his obscene girth.

“Fuck it’s tight. Did you need me to stretch you out some more?” He growled, struggling to stay completely still.

“No I’m fine, just give me a sec,” you forced yourself to relax around him before you gave a few experimental swivels of your hips.

“Shit, Princess,” Gouhin whimpered, throwing his head back against the headboard. His claws found their home at your hips but he kept with his restraint and didn’t push you any further.

You began rhythmically bouncing on his lap, latching onto his shoulder for support. Your walls clung to him desperately, you could feel every inch. Your lower abdomen began to visibly bulge as you took his length, a sight that at first freaked you out but now served to turn you on instantly.

You continued riding him, your movements becoming more and more sloppy as you were overcome with pleasure. Gouhin took this as a sign to step in, his large hands gripping your waist and physically bouncing you on his lap himself. You were completely at his mercy as he used you like his own personal fucktoy, your eyes misting over as you loomed near the edge of coming undone.

“C’mon Princess, don’t hold out on me now. Daddy’s almost there,” he growled, his claws digging into your sides painfully. Gouhin’s release hit him hard and he bit your shoulder suddenly, pushing you over the edge into your own orgasm.

You were both panting, trying to calm down when he released you from his jaws, the imprint where his teeth were lodged in your shoulder began to vibrate in a dull pain. His fingers began to stroke your waist gently in an attempt to soothe the area his claws had just previously abused.

Such affection from him was not natural, a learned behavior he’d picked up after meeting you. Sex usually was a rough affair and he had trouble controlling himself with you, everything about you made him lose all rational thought, all restraint. He was an expert in curbing the instincts of carnivores yet he couldn’t contain his own carnal desires when faced with you. You were his weakness that brought out his rawest animalistic traits. You were his personal reminder that despite a lifetime of molding into a society that was never meant for him, he was nothing more than an animal at heart.

But he was your animal and that thought alone was enough for him to make peace with his fate.

#gouhin #beastars #gouhin x reader #beastars gouhin #beastars gouhin x reader

721 notes · View notes

bubblyani · 4 years ago

Text

Bail Out : 08

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 08: Dinner Date

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 11k +

Rating: Mature (18+)

Warnings: Swearing and Sexual Content

Author’s Note: This took a while, but when you read it, you will definitely understand why. Plus, I wasn’t feeling well for a few days so needed some well deserved rest. But yay! New Chapter is here! Enjoy y’all!

CHAPTER LIST

Shades of blue dissolved in to gray, providing the entire apartment with a brand new filter at dawn. And it barely was noticeable to you. It would be when being in the comfort of his arms seemed far more important.

Breaths in perfect syncopation, both of you found one selves recovering slowly. Heartbeats may return to the normal pace, but the pleasure received was successfully engraved in every cell of your being. The intense pleasure experienced a few seconds prior. As the foreheads remained pressed together, a thin layer of delicious sweat lubricated each other’s skin. Whose ended where? It did not matter.

Slowly bending down forward, Bruce certainly was surprising as his head rested on your right shoulder, brushing his lips over your neck, placing tender kisses on the spots deemed most sensitive. Gentle gasps were inevitable for you to release, followed by soft moans as his lips did not fail to have an intense effect on you. With your hands grazing over his shoulder blades through his suit, you wondered if his eyes had caught the sight of the faded strangle marks. Perhaps not, with the morning lights yet at its infancy. Yet, it appeared he did, for his lips comforted them, and soothed them like a healing balm.

Never did you imagine your first time with Bruce Wayne to be this unexpected and messy. For making love to a man such as he would purely entail luxury. Undressing each other from the finest attire, diving into the snow white sheets of exorbitant price, overlooking the glittering Gotham skyline. But here you were, legs locked around his frame, perched on the dinner table in the early morning at your humble abode. It truly was life. However, the reality did not obstruct the wonderment and pleasure that was received regardless. In fact, it was equally meaningful. Sheer desperation transformed into extreme desire, and pent up for longer than it should. And this morning was certainly a testament to that. Something so uncontrollable.

Grabbing the panties that hung from your left foot, you quickly slid off the table when Bruce moved away. You suddenly felt shyness returning to you as you pulled the panties back up. Looking up, you felt the atmosphere had changed when you noticed he was far from being pleased whilst buckling up his pants. It worried you. Paranoia suddenly pushed the shyness away.

“Hey…”

You whispered, placing your hand on his shoulder, “ Do you regret it?”

“No!” His reply was instant, “It’s just…” he paused, looking down “I should have-I could have-”

Looking right where he looked, you came to the realization of his words. With the lovemaking being intense and passionate, it was no surprise how his gracious release of passion ended up inside of you without prior warning. The fact that made him worry touched you so.

“Bruce…” you chuckled, rubbing his forearms with comfort, “I’m on the pill…don't worry…” you assured, smiling, “I’m a big girl, Bruce. I know how it goes”

That assurance did not seem convincing enough for him. With his eyes still glued to the ground, his aura exuded remorse. As if he had caused you betrayal. You could not be more touched, for this man was pure at the unexpected of situations.

“Come on…” you said, lightly punching him on his strong forearm, “You’re Bruce Wayne…” you added encouragingly, as he looked at you, “Billionaire Playboy…” gusto brimmed in your soft voice as you patted him on the chest, “Just…think of this as one of those adventurous one night stands-”

Except his hand held on to your hand, keeping it over his chest. His eyes, they shone of pure longing, looking beautiful even under the gray light as they looked at you:

“It’s not the same” He breathed low.

Your rib cage suddenly was short of space when you felt your heart expand twice its size. Pulling you to him, Bruce wrapped his strong arms around you, making it quite convenient for you to gaze into those orbs. Truthfully, you need not much convincing. His eyes truly had become the most entrancing sight to indulge besides the morning sky in the blue hour. His gaze on you brought forth comfort, similar to a small fireplace on a winter’s day. Your eyelids grew heavy with intoxication, smiling as a result when he blessed you with kisses on your quivering lips. They were tender kisses of love and assurance, all before sealing it with a tight embrace. With a deep exhale, you felt it. You felt the expanded heart of yours, prepared by all means necessary, to store and treasure that overwhelming emotion you possessed for him.

So it seemed he certainly did not regret it. And you were more than relieved.

“You want some coffee?” You inquired in a muffled tone to his chest, the moment his grip loosened. Smiling at him, you headed to the kitchen pantry, “We all need a little wake-me-up before work”

“I thought I already got you one” Bruce replied teasingly. His playful expression suggested what you could guess. It was quite evident given his low, sensual tone. Suppressing a smile, you did not know whether to be amused or be aroused all over again. But eventually, you succumbed to quiet laughter. Seeing his reciprocative smile lit your spirits, the manner in which his teeth was displayed, the manner in which his cheekbones were highlighted. It was a sight so fulfilling.

Following a sudden vibrating noise, Bruce took his phone out. “Do you mind if-?” He inquired politely, motioning towards the television. You nodded. Whilst you occupied yourself fixing up your morning caffeine, Bruce stood watching the morning news. When Ted Hawthorne appeared in the screen with a swarm of reporters, you were compelled to watch as well. Especially when the title of the news segment read:

Wayne vs. Henderson Intellectual Property Breach: Wayne proved innocent

Taking a sip of the newly made hot coffee, you watched as your colleague began to address the crowd:

“In order prove our innocence, Mr. Wayne was more than prepared to go the farthest distance possible. And safe to say, he succeeded. For we at Wayne Enterprises had nothing to hide”

“Wait a minute” you breathed, walking over to Bruce, “…if this was filmed this morning, that means…were the press following you?” You inquired worriedly, pointing at the screen. Bruce shook his head.

“I went out through a different exit” “But your car…” you said, eyes widening before peeping through the window, “they can trace you back here…can’t they?” Turning back to him, you were surprised to see him so unaffected. He smiled: “I borrowed Ted’s car” “But how will he-” “He borrowed mine in return…” finishing the sentence, he managed to reassure you. As if he knew what was coming. Sighing heavily with relief, you smiled.

“The Lamborghini? Lucky Ted…” you chuckled, taking another sip as you watched your colleague confidently answer more questions. However, you almost spat on your drink the moment Erik Henderson appeared. Standing in front of his grand mansion, he was as ill tempered as he normally was, possibly growing more enraged as the journalists threw questions his way. With his own shame swallowing him whole, he allowed his own lawyer to handle the press as he stormed into his home, with the title reading:

Henderson left with no comments after much strong accusations

Turning off the TV, Bruce caught your attention as he stared at you for a few seconds. Feeling his eyes wash over you, it was evident he was in deep thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You inquired, to which he smiled softy. With hands dug into the trouser pockets, Bruce Wayne was certainly appetizing, intensified especially with his loosened tie and messy hair.

“Why don’t we go out?”

He inquired, walking towards you, “Have dinner with me”

It was no request, it was a plea, brimming with affection. You chuckled. “But we did already…once ” you said, heading towards the the counter, “Remember the Company Dinner?”

This time, it was Bruce who chuckled. “No…” he stressed softly, “I mean…just the two of us” indicating his eagerness. As much as you found it quite adorable, reality struck you like lightning. Putting the coffee mug on the counter, you sighed.

“No…Won’t be right” you said, as you stared at the overhead cupboard. You could feel Bruce looking at you with disbelief. “Why are you-” “I don’t want people to think… that you’re dating the current Acting Head of HR.” You stated, turning to him with seriousness. Yes, you were blunt and very truthful. But it was the right thing to do. With confidence, he took one step towards you.

“Who cares?” He inquired. And truthfully, he meant every word, you could tell.

“I care…” you answered steadily. Were you being selfish? You were certain you were not, “Why?…Because it’s going to change people’s minds about you” taking a deep breath, you continued, “No matter how you may have acted before, being the typical rich playboy, people here in your company…” you smiled, “…they actually like you very much” you added, “Most of them say you even remind them of your father, who I wish I knew”

“He would have loved to meet you…” Bruce said softly, “…my mother too”

You were quite convinced how one really does not need rich words to stir the heart, for his words did. The very thought of a world where he lived happy, with his parents alive and well, was definitely something you would have loved for him. If you could have given it to him , you would have. Even if it meant a future where the two of you will never be together. Stifling the need to cry your heart out, you smiled.

“So what I’m saying is…” you paused, “…you shouldn’t break anyone’s trust right now…” you said, “You’re too good for that” you said, patting his shoulder with a smile, “besides… its gonna take a while for the company to recover from the heat I caused”, to which he suddenly started to chuckle.

“What ?” You asked playfully. Stopping his chuckle, he tilted his head: “You’re too good, you know.” He said affectionately, pulling you into his arms once again, “And to think you had the audacity to punch Henderson” You gasped. “How dare y-” Chuckles erupted out of you when Bruce Wayne attacked you with a passionate kiss. Amazing how his taste overpowered the coffee in your tongue. And in truth, you did not mind at all. In fact, his kiss energized you more than realized. Pulling away slowly, you cupped his face.

“I want whats best for us, Bruce…” you breathed, gazing into his eyes, “For the moment….this needs to be a low-key matter…” you insisted. Smiling sadly, you sighed, “I’m sorry being with me is so difficul-”

“It’s not…”

He answered faster than expected. It was not a simple matter. You knew. You just cared for him. And you cared for yourself as well. However, to have a man of power to show such genuine enthusiasm, you could not help but be moved. He certainly deserved something in return.

“I’ll have dinner with you” You said, to which his eyes lit up softly.

“You will?” He inquired. You nodded, your hands still caressing his face.

“Yes…” you agreed, “but… under one condition…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“COOKING FOR HIM?? SERIOUSLY?”

Allison Hughs could not be more surprised, nor more disappointed in you that. You did not answer, but merely resumed stirring the frying pan with focus.

“You’re now dating the most eligible bachelor in Gotham…” Your roommate began, “ and your idea of a date is a home cooked dinner?”

“In the Wayne Penthouse, mind you” you said, pointing at her with the big wooden spoon, before you turned off the stove.

Soon after Bruce left, Allison arrived home from a party. Thus, the sight of her roommate frantically wiping the side of the table with disinfectant, certainly left her with many questions. To your surprise, Allison could not help but squeal with excitement upon what she heard. And of course the laughter followed with her amusement over your cleanliness concern.

“Okay let’s say you DO cook for him…” Allison said, as you served some fresh scrambled eggs onto her plate, “But…” she paused, putting a piece of egg into her mouth, “…you’re gonna end up all sweaty and unpleasant”

“Gee! Thanks, Ali ,..” you chuckled in an ironical tone, “Nah!!…” you shook your head, “You see…I got it all figured out” you declared with confidence, sitting down with the rest of the eggs, “I’ll be cooking in my sweats…but will have dinner in something less homeless…Argh!” groaning all the sudden, you covered your face, “What IS considered appropriate lingerie for a date with a billionaire?” you inquired, looking up as you pondered.

“That shouldn’t matter when you had sex with him already”

Allison chimed in with a naughty smile. Covering your face once more, You were forced to listen to your roommate’s evil cackle, even forced to groan with frustration when she proceeded to imitate cheap pornographic music in the background.

“Oh man…I did..” you giggled eventually, “and my pj’s too...so embarrassing. I felt like a freakin teenager” you added, shaking your head.

“But wasn’t it….good?”

Allison’s sudden innocent query made you look at her. For finally, it forced you to realize what exactly was important to you. You chuckled.

“It was….great” you breathed dreamily, the passionate encounter involuntarily flashing through your head. You could recall the passion, the devotion and the pleasure. Sighing heavily, you smiled like an idiot, “ I honestly can…” chuckling, you continued, “I honestly can get myself off just thinking about it” you whispered it with guilt. But it was a vital guilt.

“AAAAAAND she’s BAAAACK!!!”

With a thundering clap, Allison cried out in a celebratory tone, “ Oh man! I missed that dirty mouth of yours” she said, bringing out loud laughter from you as you served yourself the scrambled eggs, “I couldn’t believe you actually said…” pausing she began to imitate you: “Ali could you stop saying the S-word?” Causing you to laugh even louder.

“I can’t believe…” you groaned, looking down as you began to eat.

The scrambled eggs appeared brighter in yellow, and its texture, it seemed fluffier. More importantly, it was incredibly delicious today. And you knew why. You were teased to the point of blushing, yet you weren’t seemed to be as affected as you expected. And you indeed knew why. You were in love. And you never had been happier. Never had you felt this liberated in ages. Truthfully not all dilemmas were solved, and you had not relinquished your moral principles. However at least one was solved, and thus, a comforting thought lingered in you. The thought that somewhere in Gotham, there finally was someone willing to go so far to care for you, and to even patiently wait for you. Amidst all the storms that may pass by. Eventually, all must be solved. Until then, you decided to indulge.

Indulge the fact you could still love.

And it showed. In everything that you did. Every type of love song seemed to play wherever you set foot inside.Your smile grew wider, your cheer behavior amplified, your enthusiasm for life clearly visible. A newly bloomed version of you managed to parade around the HR Department, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Don’t know whats going on, Boss, but loving it!”

Greg said, showing his classic two thumbs up as he dropped by your office once. Smiling, you were filled with immense gratitude for colleagues like him and Paula providing you the support so clearly needed during Lillians absence. Turning towards the desk calendar, you heart skipped a beat in sheer willingness when you happened to glance upon handwritten remark over the following day in red:

Date Night!!!

Biting your lip, you knew you would wake up tomorrow with the largest bunch of butterflies. For just as any other woman, you were excited to go on that wonderful date.

However, before that, you had equally important business to attend to. Somewhere over at Gotham PD.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Given the unexpected, yet friendly smiles of most Police Officers in the buzzing precinct, it was unclear whether to feel a sense of relief or utter confusion as John Blake ushered you to his desk. “Hope you didn’t mind me coming at lunch time...” You said, voice laced with concern whilst sitting down, “I just couldn’t find the time...” “Nah! I get it...” Blake replied, with a subtle smile, “I can’t imagine a woman like you breaking the law...except for that one time, of course” he chuckled. “Guilty...” you joked with a full smile. “OH MY GOD!” You jumped in your seat upon hearing a loud excited voice across the hall. That voice belonged to a police officer with a sturdy build, who came walking over to Blake’s table. His name tag titled “Ramirez”. And his face could certainly be titled “Excited” “It’s the Bruiser” He said, loud enough for the unaware to finally notice. “Dave, come on…” Blake muttered shyly, looking at his colleague with a serious look. “Oh! Sorry sorry…” whispering guiltily, Dave Ramirez looked back at you, forgetting his apology as he kept staring at you with wide eyes. Only then you finally realized he was far from mocking you. “Big fan! Ma’am” he said softly, with a fanboy demeanor “…that Henderson really had it coming to him” he said, while Blake covered his face with embarrassment, “I mean did you see that bullshittery he pulled at Gotham General? What Donation? He just gave a speech…that’s all! ” he said angrily, shaking his head, “A real asshole...” “Well I-” “Hey! Do you know the Batman?” Excitement growing in tenfolds, Dave’s eyes shone brightly with his query. “Dave! Chill man...” Blake said, pushing him away playfully, “…and is bullshittery even a word?” Chuckling softly, Blake looked down as Ramirez waved at you from the other side. “Is he by chance an admin in ‘Where’s the Bat. com?’” Through gritted teeth, you inquired, subtly waving back at Dave. Amazed, Blake scoffed. “Actually, he IS the unofficial contact from Gotham PD…” he said, “How the hell did you figure that out?” “Heh! Just a lucky guess…” you said, smiling “He has the quality…”

And before long, John Blake proceeded to do the needful. For in order to build a proper case against a man such as Erik Henderson, well stacked proof was essential from a reliable witness. And that was where you came in. You were cooperative with your answers, for you had no other reason not to be. Ever since the first mugging to the shoot out, you made sure to leave no details spared. Your pacing was appropriate, as Blake listened with focus, and all seemed to be going well. However, what fascinated you the most while describing the attacks, was one particular police officer standing nearby.

She was the redhead, who seemingly was quite close with Blake. And given her reaction to him, you certainly had no doubt confirming her affection for him. It was evident in the way she looked at him. A look, with a mix of admiration and affection, filtered down to appropriately fit the workplace environment. She was good at her job, as you noticed. She quick on her feet, casually passing by, dropping in more important files in Blake’s desk before he could even ask. And by the way he looked back at her with a subtle nod and a smile, you sensed a green flag to a possible future between the two. As much as their interaction was beautiful to witness, You could not help but be reminded of Bruce, and the affection you had for him yourself. A part of you longed for the liberation these people were fortunate enough to indulge in. The liberation to step out with your loved one with no consequence. However, that inconvenience was small price to pay. For Bruce Wayne was too precious for you to let go.

“Looks like we got everything we need…” closing the file, Blake appeared quite satisfied. “Oh good…” you breathed in relief. Sensing his confidence brought you hope. Perhaps this might lead to a legal resolution. Langdon, the redhead smiled secretly upon hearing the conversation, between her diligent file reading, and you managed to notice. Should you play cupid today? End their silent misery and gift them a happy ending?

“Uhh….” You began, “You know-” The merciless ring of your phone cut you off. “Greg!” you answered the call in a cheerful tone, “Everything okay?”

“Boss, it’s Clara!”

This was nothing new. However, you were confused. “Clara what?” You said, standing up, “What did she do this time, Greg?” you chuckled in disbelief by the thought of the consultant causing trouble once again.

“No, you don’t understand, Boss…” Greg said, sounding surprisingly downcast, “She’s leaving Wayne Enterprises…today”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were certain you would almost stumble entering the Wayne Tower. But thankfully you did not, as you ran through the lobby all the way to the elevator area.

“Come on , Come on!”

Impatiently muttering, your foot tapped impatiently when you realized not one elevator seemed available at that very moment. You sighed. The mere image of missing the opportunity to part with her seemed regretful. Especially when she had decided to leave unannounced.

You rushed back as soon as you received word. Yet, were you too late?

A sudden ding! forced you to look over to the other elevator. It opened, with Clara Bennett exiting it as a result. She certainly was surprised the moment she caught you there, panting like a fool.

“Where did YOU come running from?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I understand if you’re busy with other assignments…” You began, “….but why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?”

You could not help but inquiry that, escorting Clara out of the building with reluctance, “We could have had a party for you…” you said, “Don’t wanna brag but…We at HR throw some nice parties…” you smiled with confidence. Clara laughed, finally smiling wide enough to display her beautiful big teeth.

“Well, as much as I love parties…”she replied, slinging her handbag on to shoulder, “I just…felt like it was time” she added with a shrug. The moment those words exited her lips, you sensed sadness in them. Looking up at the towering building you called home, you sighed deeply: “You were a hurdle, Clara…”

You said, folding your arms soon after, “On the very first day I met you, I wanted nothing more than for this day to come” you added, “But…” you paused, “Not anymore…” shaking your head, you smiled warmly, “ And like adults, I was glad to see us resolving our differences, coming to equal ground. And I like to think we got to somewhere close enough to be called friends…” you chuckled, with that addition, “…And with you on our side, you helped out more than I expected…So…Thank you Clara”

Taking your extended hand, Clara shook it with a firm grip, whilst looking at you straight in the eye.

“It’s been an honor…knowing you …” she said, voice laced with a somber tone, “Remember that…”

Genuinely surprised by her attitude, you could not help but laugh nervously, “Clara…” you began, “…just because you’re not coming back here, doesn’t mean we can’t meet up , right?” You felt a slight desperation in your voice.

Letting go of your hand, she smiled sadly.

“You never know…Life is short…” she said, “So enjoy… every moment of it” she could not help but stress out each word. Surprised, you dropped your arms to your sides as she continued to speak, “You never know when someone’s gonna suddenly snatch it from you” she added, pressing her lips together “…and you definitely never know when you will take… your last breath…” she said, “So…carpe diem!”

Leaving you utterly speechless, Clara Bennett flashed you a final smile, nodding with respect as she quickly began to walk away. Being the confident woman she always was, it was certainly unexpected to have her speak of all things profound and sensitive even on her last day. And as much as you preferred professionalism, you felt pain invading your heart. You detested farewells. And this seemed like one.

If it were any other day, you would have wallowed on this loss. This loss of a possible, potential friend. But thankfully you were relieved. For tonight, you would find strong comfort to heal you.

And his name was Bruce.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Date Night)

The moment the elevator doors opened to the Penthouse, a scent greeted Bruce Wayne. A scent deemed quite unfamiliar to him, lingered in his nostrils.

Following Henderson’s false accusations, there was quite the damage control that was required , alongside convincing the board and the shareholders not to make a dramatic scene. With the aid of his trusted CEO, Wayne managed to calm the wolves. And when he returned to his abode that evening, he finally empathized the mental exhaustion of the common working man in Gotham at some level.

Thus, this unfamiliar scent surprisingly sent waves of energy through him, bringing life to his body in a manner that was indescribable. It was rich, savory yet simple, and definitely came from the kitchen. Turning towards that direction, he stopped the moment familiar voices reached his ears:

“No, Alfred! You see, the secret is to make them super thin” “Or else it gets too heavy, I assume?” “Exactly. Right to the point”

His heart certainly felt as ease the moment his eyes fell on her. Standing along with Alfred Pennyworth by the kitchen counter, an engaging conversation danced across their lips about the several plates of food before them.

A simple sight it may have been, true. But the sight brought forth a strange feeling to Bruce. A feeling so unfamiliar, yet warm. It was undeniable. The sense of security, the sense of belonging he never experienced, it finally revealed itself to him. This feeling, could this be a taste of Domestic Bliss? He could not help but smile by the mere thought of it. He could not help but be hopeful by it.

Sensing new company, the woman looked over her shoulder, forcing the family butler to do the same, as they finally caught the sight of Bruce. Their warm smiles immediately appeared, giving much color to their faces.

“Ah! Master Wayne!” Alfred called out, “You’re home”

Bruce smiled, for indeed he was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Can’t believe you’re finally taking the night off, Alfred”

Smiling to yourself, Bruce’s words filled your ears as you picked up one of the deep porcelain plates from the white marble counter.

“Well,..” Alfred began, “..finally I’m inclined to...” he said, flashing his full smile.

Heading towards the oven, you suddenly grew surprised by it. When you arrived at the Penthouse this evening, Bruce was not around. But it was truly a blessing in disguise as you wanted to surprise him with a lovely meal. And with Alfred as company, you simply had a blast. The more you conversed with British butler, the more you began to realize how he was already promoted to be one of the most favorite people to converse with. But during all this time, this certainly was a piece of information you did not hear before.

“What do you mean?” you inquired the two men, “He rarely takes any?” You added, whilst opening the oven door. Bruce smirked.

“You ask him” he motioned towards Alfred, who nodded instantly. Putting the plate inside, you were nothing but amused.

“Wooooooow! That’s huge” you said, moving over to grab two more plates, “Then I hope you enjoy tonight, Alfred. I’ll save your share” you winked playfully.

“Oh, I’m counting on you to, Miss” Alfred stated, as he pointed at the plates, “For that looks appetizing”

“Batman and Alfred...” You said, putting the plates inside the oven, “…taking the night off...Heheheh-oh! Speaking of...” you began, snapping your fingers after closing the oven door shut, “I was always curious…” you continued, “…why bats?”

The moment you posed this question, the men suddenly grew quiet. As if it was the most unexpected of inquiries. For a moment you wondered if you had stepped out of line. But truthfully you were surprised you did not ask about this before.

“Well-” Bruce began.

“Oh! Bats frighten him...” Cutting him off, Alfred added with such nonchalance, “So he reckoned it was time his enemies shared his dread as well”

This time, it was you and Bruce who took the opportunity to display surprise. With a simple shrug, Alfred still seemed unaffected.

“That’s what he told me, Miss” he added, his thick British accent giving the facts a firm support. Tilting your head, you nodded in acknowledgment. It probably would seem a tad bit outrageous explaining all this to someone else. You could empathize.

“Well…” you began, with your hands on your hips, “I’m petrified of roaches so...” you added with a chuckle, “I guess Batman is a better name than Roach man so…I’ll give props”

You said, watching the two grown men chuckling at your rather weak joke. Regardless of the quality of your humor, it was quite the sight to witness these men in their most relaxed and happy state. It fact, you were in realization of the privilege you possessed. Bruce began to stretch, running his hand through his hair in his three piece suit:

“Let me go change into something more comfortable”

“Oooooh!” You teased, “….like in the movies…”. Acknowledging it with a happy nod, he walked over to his bedroom. As you watched him walk away, you felt Alfred’s gaze at you.

“I admit, it is quite lovely to hear a sound of woman in this place” He beamed, grabbing his jacket, signaling his leave. You chuckled in complete disbelief.

“That’s really sweet, but I know that’s not true” you said, walking with him towards the elevator. Being the man he was, you could imagine all kinds of women making themselves at home in this place.

“On the contrary...” Alfred began, as the elevator door opened with a ding!, “Master Wayne doesn’t exactly socialize” he explained whilst entering the elevator. You could not help but admire his smart stance as he stood straight, “One might call this…” he said, pointing at you, “…. a rarity”

Touched, you smiled involuntarily. The fact Alfred Pennyworth even made the effort to convince you so, truly made your night.

“Thank you, Alfred…” You said softly, waving at him as the elevator doors closed shut.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(A few minutes later…)

Even placing items as simple as table mats on the elongated dinner table seemed to give a touch of home to the penthouse. Truthfully, you could not get over how humongous the apartment was. Tonight being the time you remained there the longest, you certainly indulged the time and took in the surroundings. As you admired, you could not help but drift off into a dream, fantasizing of a wonderful place of your own, living your best life possible. Moving towards the corner of the table, you began to place the stylish mats on the opposite sides before adding the fancy cutlery on one. “May I-?” Bruce’s soft voice crept in from behind you like a cool breeze. It soothed you. “Sure...thanks” You smiled, handing him the rest of the cutlery. Bruce smelled of bath gel and fresh laundry, donning a black t-shirt and shorts. He was at homely as he could be whilst moving to the other side to place the cutlery. Except he froze, standing there with a confused expression for a split second. Before you could even question, he suddenly smiled to your relief, surprising you as he took the table mat, moving it to the head of the table. Just so the two of you could sit close to one another, without even sparing any form of distance. You were soothed once more, except this time with warmth around your heart. “I know…” you suddenly began, “I’m not like other women-” “You're not..” He said, looking up at you with a smile. Suppressing your own smile, you pressed your lips tightly. He certainly always knew what to say. “This is NOT my date look, by the way...” You said defensively, pointing at yourself. Dressed for comfort, your gray sweatpants proudly showed off themselves with a plain white T-shirt, with your hair safely tied in a high bun. When it came to looking homely, you gave Bruce quite the competition, “I DO have something nicer...” You stressed, as you slowly took shy steps away from the table, in a particular rhythm, as if you partook in a dance routine, “…Hopefully you'll like it. You know us women, we won’t mind being complimented every once in a while. So…I hope you will…” you said, hands tightly tied behind your back with a mischievous smile. “Well...” Bruce said, looking at you up and down as he joined the mischievousness, “I was actually gonna say, that outfit looks-” “Don’t…I was just-” you chuckled, raising your hand with an embarrassing smile , “…you don’t have to-”

“...beautiful on you...”

Biting your lower lip, you smiled shyly as your eyes averted down. Though the penthouse was generously spacious, it was unbelievable how the air had suddenly left your respiratory system. It certainly was the first time he ever complimented you that way. Walking over to you, Bruce’s hand took yours, sending quick shivers down your spine. No matter often he had held you, it certainly was difficult to get accustomed to it. He was a dream to you.

“So...” he asked softly, “What are we having tonight?” Shyness took an impromptu break, leaving you with enough enthusiasm to be your cheery self once again. “Well you’re in for a treat...” you said brightly. Tugging him by the hand, you led him to the kitchen area, “ Fun fact, my mom used to make this…” you said, as the both of you stood before the oven, “…its her own special recipe...” “Really? How do you make it?” “Oh...” you chuckled nervously, for that was unexpected,“…you wouldn’t find it interesting...” But his look said otherwise. It was difficult to comprehend how curious he was about it. “Well ...” you held your hands together, “It’s basically a flavorful meat filling, stir fried with onions, carrots and spices…” you said, squinting your eyes with pleasure, “…then it’s wrapped inside a thin savory crepe, baked with a delicious cheese sauce poured over it...” Your face and hands were on a world of their own, relishing the sheer image of the cooking process, yet you managed to notice the fascination in Bruce’s eyes as he watched you with his hand on the counter.

“It’s a simple dish, yes”you admitted with a nod, “but it’s really, really good…it’s….” You paused, as if to find the perfect words, finally looking up with a smile “...something very special to me. So I figured...” you shrugged, “…why not share it with you?”

“The way Alfred wanted his share, clearly says something” Bruce chuckled, turning to grab the wine bottle that stood on the counter. “Speaking of which....” you began, opening an overhead cupboard to grab two wine glasses, “I’m really glad he took a break tonight” “All thanks to you…” “Well, Hope he is having a blast…” You said, watching him insert the corkscrew into the bottle cork. “He is…” He said with a smile, twisting the screw in. You raised your eyebrows. “How do you know?” You inquired, trying your hardest to not be distracted by his toned arms as he pulled the cork up finally. “Cause he’s having drinks with Lucius..” “Mr.Fox?” Your eyes widened, “ Huh! Never knew they were friends” You said, involuntarily nodding with acknowledgement as you placed the glasses in front of him. Pouring the red wine into the glasses, he nodded: “They like you….” He said, “Alfred and Fox. They never fail to mention it to me…” he added with a soft chuckle. Happiness and relief overflowed within you, it was simply unbelievable. “Awww! I’m sorry you had to hear that…” You said, adding a mischievous grin. “No…it’s reassuring” Bruce’s response had you surprised, “I’m glad they do…” he looked over to you, “…it means I made the right choice” Busy trying to pick up your heart that suddenly had fallen on to the ground, you did not even hear the Oven Timer ring. Never did you realize how romantic he could be, with the simplest of words. Waking from the spell he had casted, you looked at the oven with wide eyes: “Oh! It’s ready…” Scurrying towards the oven, pride was written all over your face by the sight before you. The spicy meat filled delights were indeed ready. The cheesy sauce bubbled on each plate, giving it such an appetizing appearance. “Wow…” You heard Bruce breath, which seemed to be a very good sign indeed. Looking over at him, you smiled widely: “Bon Appétit! Monsieur Wayne…”

With the hot deep plates safely kept on heat mats, you and Bruce dug in with your forks, feasting on the simple yet delicious dinner, while quenching the thirst with red wine. The spicy meat filling provided much contrast from the rich cheesy sauce and the soft crepe. The taste will always be unforgettable, as you still could not get over it after all these years. It was your comfort food. You hoped Bruce would feel the same. And to your relief, it was safe to say he relished it as much as you did.

Silence did not take part tonight, for conversation was simply energetic. Curiosity of each other’s lives led to a chat about one’s life at university, which ranged from your gap year traveling abroad learning foreign languages, to the time Bruce embarked on a seven year journey traveling the world, all in order to train, combat his fears until he finally returned to Gotham with a purpose of his own. Immersed in his words, you were delighted to watch him speak with gusto. Nodding enthusiastically, you listened with the most focus. The more you learnt about the man, the more you were compelled to respect and empathize him. All the sudden, you realized a matter of much importance.

“…I couldn’t do it as Bruce Wayne…” he continued, “Gotham needed a symbol... something elemental…”

Nodding in acknowledgment, you slowly got up unannounced, which surprised him. “What is it?” He inquired as you exited the table. But, you returned back to the table, only to place another steaming plate of spicy meat crepe with the delicious cheese sauce before him. “You were licking the plate clean” you said, with your hands on your hips. Just then, Bruce looked at his hands, as he noticed how he had kept the fork aside, licking whatever remained in his empty plate with his fingers. “But …” he fumbled, “…isn’t this Alfred’s share?” He said, pointing at the new plate. “I made four…” you said, turning towards the fridge, “ ..his one is inside” looking back at Bruce, you smiled, “Figured Gotham’s Dark Knight…would have an appetite” Looking down at his new plate, Bruce looked back at you with a smile: “This is really good” he said, as he quickly proceeded to eat the rest. Your heart did not fail to clench with emotion. The fact someone as rich and powerful as he showed this much enthusiasm towards your humble dinner, it certainly made you adore him even more.

After more feasting and talking, came in the not-so-interesting part: cleaning the dishes.Truthfully, you never detested the activity. However, having a dishwasher certainly would help you focus more on the date instead. Bruce was helpful, as you both did the needful cleaning before inserting the plates and dishes into the machine. Done in complete silence, yet it was a comfortable one. It was therapeutic. “Everything you just said...” you began, as you put the last plate in, “about your past…I…” you paused with a smile,“I really appreciate it. Truly” You said, closing the dishwasher. With his hands in his shorts pockets, Bruce nodded in acknowledgment: “Well...I wanted to tell you…” he said, a gentle smile lingering in his lips. Turning back, you wore a secret smile. You heard Bruce chuckle. “I assume you’re gonna say something” He said, inviting you to smile broader. The mannerisms he had identified in you so quickly, it pleased you. It was impressive. The fact he actually pays attention to them, you could not help but increase your affection for him even more. Lazily leaning against the counter, you tilted your head: “You’re so different out there with everyone” you said. “You’ll have to be more specific” “I mean…” putting your hands up in defense, “…no offense, but…” you paused, as if to think, “...whenever I would see you in the news or out in public...” fumbling, you began to laugh, “…you’re that rich jerk…You know? Arrogant and carefree…” you added, mid laughter, upon seeing his wide eyed astonishment, “…its true…but whenever we’re alone…” with your tone changing to soft, “…you’re so different.”. With much needed pause, you looked at him with a serious expression, “...Why?” Bruce smirked, “I think you know why…” “What?” “Go ahead, I wanna hear what you think” Bruce said, sounding quite fascinated once more. This liberation of expression, it was new for you. Looking down, you allowed your trail of thoughts to take center stage, until you finally gathered your thoughts to look up with a confident gaze: “Maybe…” you began, “… you’re doing it on purpose…” you said, as he took two steps closer to you, “…Maybe you’re being the person people would least expect to even be considered as Batman” you smiled, “It’s like you’re… putting on a show, showing pretense…” You had a gut feeling your answer was somewhere close to accurate, given the impressed look in his face. Bruce nodded: “It makes it seem less suspicious, yes” he agreed. Suddenly you felt the urge to be bold: “What about me? Are you pretending with me?” you inquired, slightly afraid to know the answer. But to your surprise, he took another step closer to you, merely a few centimeters between, causing your heart to beat fiercely once again. Warmth tapped you on the shoulder the moment he cupped your face to look straight at you. “I never did” he breathed. Your eyebrows were raised. “Not even on the first day?-” “Especially not on the first day” “Good” You heard yourself say. You were relieved. However, your poor heart began to engage in intense skipping rounds of ecstasy, when his thumb lightly brushed over your lips with affection. And you, being the hopeless romantic, did not hesitate to let your lips kiss it gently, the moment it made contact. All the while your eyes never left his. Suddenly, Bruce was not patient anymore, surprising you fully as he swooped in to kiss you on the lips. A kiss that you embraced with all your heart. A kiss that was far from gentle. A kiss that set you on fire.

Roughly pressed against the dishwasher counter, your hands were greedy, grabbing him by his head, only to run your fingers through his hair. You always loved his hair. Your fingers shared your greed, as it proceeded to massage his scalp lightly in an involuntary fashion. All the while his lips expressed his affection to yours. You heard the pleasure you inflicted on him in your mouth, all by the forms of hums. Chuckling into the kiss, you quickly began to desperately moan the moment his tongue teased your lips, begging to enter safely. You were generous enough, welcoming him with enthusiasm, feeling it dash to find your own.

His intoxicating tongue, claimed ownership of yours, which you did not mind. Your own tongue held onto his with much force, the moment his large hands grabbed you by the buttocks, squeezing them tight enough to confirm his suspicions of if you even real. This pleasure was simply endless, causing much temptation as you felt his hand crawl underneath your shirt from the back. His bare fingers making initial contact with your bare flesh, was akin to touching fire, you were burning up. However, the moment that greedy hand traveled up, you had a clear idea of where this passionate encounter might head towards. And it wasn’t the best choice. Not like this.

“Bruce” You muttered, breathlessly into his lips. “Yeah?” His response came in the form of a desperate, sensual whisper. With your forehead pressed against his, you breathed in:

“Give me a few minutes!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Steam filled the entire guest bathroom as you carefully exited the shower. For some reason you could not keep your eyes off your own reflection while you did. Grabbing a large towel, you were on a strict inspection of your own wet, glistening nude frame. You dried, moisturized and scented it as usual. You even proceeded to dress yourself. All the while, certain questions lingered in your mind: Would he like what he sees? Would you disappoint him? Would he accept it all?

A sudden rush flowed through to you, providing you with the horrifying reminder of your insecurities. You sighed.

“It’s just sex....just calm down” you muttered to yourself as you brushed your hair till it was smooth. Yes, it was just that. So why were you this nervous?

It certainly was not your first time, even with Bruce Wayne himself. In fact, the first ever time with him happened in the most unexpected and stress-free manner possible. Not to mention the pleasure. Frustrated, You closed your eyes. For the feeling of him inside you was still fresh in your memory, and in your own body. However, that fateful morning, desperation fueled the fire of your lovemaking. Thus, nothing else mattered.

Except tonight, no form of desperation came into play. Tonight you were blessed with the time and freedom for lovers to indulge and make love as nature rightfully intended them to. But that certainly meant taking one’s time, displaying vulnerability in every way possible, which included the physical. But you were simply nervous, and a part of you wished if lovemaking was every possible without the physical aspect. Looking at your own reflection, you traced your arms, your chest, your stomach with another sigh. You were no beauty queen, no model nor actress. Being a man with infinite pleasures in the palm of his hand, would he find you adequate? Would those pupils of his dilate and would that heart of his react to you upon witnessing at your most exposed? Your nervousness intensified to the point heat formed around your cheeks, while a knot formed in your stomach. This was simply too much, if only you could run away. But you could not. More importantly, you chose not to. You cared for him too much, you longed for him too much.

Sudden buzz from the phone woke you from your internal debate, forcing you to gaze upon the text that was received:

Hey! You at home?

It was Clara. Seeing it brought a smile, it relaxed you. Another text appeared:

You know what? I feel really bummed about suddenly leaving today. We couldn’t even hang out properly. So I was wondering if you wanna meet up for coffee?

“Oh Clara...” You muttered, clicking your tongue. Shaking your head, you formed a reply:

Hey! As much as I would love that, I can’t tonight. I’m sorta on a date. I’m really sorry :(

It was true, you really were sorry timing sucked this much. A state of unease came over you until you received her response, which was soon:

Oh wow! That’s great. Don’t apologize. Remember what I said. Life is short. So, enjoy your date!

Thanks.

The moment you replied, a certain weight was lifted off your shoulders. As if Clara’s texts were the required force you needed to push away the boulder of insecurity from your view. And everything seemed clearer in an instant. Yes, you were on a date. Thank goodness you were, after ages. And with a wonderful man as well. Would it be so wrong to live for the moment? Would it so wrong to throw that insecurity away, all because you wanted to love him the way you could? Pinching your cheeks hard, you managed to turn your cheeks red, before looking back at your reflection:

“Okay...” you said, taking a deep breath, “let’s do this”

Making your way to his bedroom never felt this nerve wracking. You took a deep breath:

“Sorry I kept you long-”

You quickly paused, covering your mouth as you halted on your tracks. All when you finally saw Bruce. For he was there, but he definitely was not awake.

“Oh Bruce…” you muttered, soft as the way your heart broke by the sight of him. Slowly walking towards the bed, you managed to get a clear view. With the two wine glasses filled with red wine kept on the bedside cupboard, it was evident how he had waited for you. Yet it seemed that exhaustion had won, causing him to fall sleep across the bed as a result.

Truthfully you were not upset. During the past two days, you were aware of his hectic schedule. And that certainly meant being hectic as the silent protector of Gotham city. Catching who and what? You were well informed all thanks to wheresdabat.com. It was no bed of roses, being the Batman. You were an adult, so you understood. Life happens, shit happens as well. Thus, the fact the man you cared for with all your heart was safe and sound, and fast asleep seemed more relieving and important than any other concern. In fact, you could relate to his exhaustion. For he was human, no different from the rest of all humanity.

“Bruce...Hey” Crawling into bed, you whispered to his angelic figure softly, “…let’s get some sleep” you said, running your fingers softly through his head,“ Bruce-oh!”

You were quickly interjected as Bruce sleepily grabbed you by the waist, only to lay his head on your lap instead of grabbing a pillow. As inconvenient as it initially was, considering the fact you were still seated on bed, you still found it incredibly adorable. For you rather spend the entire night smoothing his hair and gazing into his peaceful sleeping face with all the love in the world combined.

There may not be any love making tonight, but that did not mean you could not make passionate love to him with your heart, that seemed to grow even larger.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You opened your eyes only upon the persuasion of the warm sunlight that had landed on your face. It surprised you, especially the fact you did not wake up to the blue hour this morning. Perhaps exhaustion caught up with you as well, forcing you to sleep through it. Fluttering your eyes fully open, you were greeted to the sight of the high glass windows that filtered the morning sunlight into the penthouse, providing the room with much clarity. Stretching out, you realized your lower body felt heavy, only to find Bruce still there, his head still resting on your lap as he slept soundly. Staring back at the roof, you smiled to yourself. You had the pleasure of indulging in this man’s features throughout the entire night, you could conjure up his face with your own imagination alone. You studied every line, every shape, they were all imprinted on your head. Slowly sitting up, you looked over to reunite with his visage, however your subtle movements convinced him to stir awake.

“ Morning” he mumbled, looking right at you with squinted eyes, to which you chuckled. His sleepy voice was heaven to your ears. “Good Morning…” you whispered as he slowly sat up. The mere image of this man in such a state was not a sight you expected to see. And given his expression, he certainly did not expect to behave this way either.

“I’m sorry…” he muttered deeply, “I fell asleep…”whilst rubbing his eyes groggily. But you shook your head slowly, managing to rid the sleep out of him the moment you caressed his face. Your eyes whispered to him how he need not apologize. Your smile reminded him how you empathized him. Your touch convinced that all was well. To which he smiled back with relief.

“Right…” you said, before moving towards the end of the bed, “…who wants coffee-” Except you could not get off the bed. Not when you felt Bruce pull you back to him, interjecting you with a long kiss. Surrendering to his lips, you were fully convinced how you were simply enslaved to his kiss, involuntarily wrapping your arms around his neck to intensify it. Finally pulling away, you felt his lips morph into a smile: “Looks like mornings our time, huh?” He breathed, forehead brushing against yours affectionately. Chuckling, you certainly could not forget the previous morning encounter. Perhaps the mornings were kinder to the both of you when it came to physical intimacy. “Oh…definitely…” you purred. However, you were sobered up the moment Bruce looked you up and down with wide eyes. As if the desirous spell had worn off. “You changed?” Looking down, you broke into laughter, “Oh yeah! I did…you didn’t see it last night” you said, quickly getting out of bed, fixing your loose hair before you displayed yourself to him. The morning sunlight managed to illuminate the green floral high waisted flowy long skirt, along with the white knot crop top you had matched it with, “…wore this especially for you” Placing your hands on your hips, you posed like a model, “…you like it?”

“I do…” sitting on the edge of the bed, Bruce was more than pleased. His tone suggested further than admiration. He simply seemed engrossed by the sight of you. And it sent shivers down your spine.

“Gosh....” You cried out in muffled tone, covering your face shyly whilst Bruce laughed.

“No really, You do look beautiful...” He said affectionately, extending his hand, beckoning you to come close to him. Walking up to him, you were quite shy: “I admit...It does feel nice when you say it…Oh!”

You quietened, it occurred so quickly the moment you felt his hands on your waist. Looking up at you, he managed to undress you completely with his eyes whilst his hands managed to undo your skirt from behind. He was not jesting anymore. And his eyes were sole proof. With your mouth parted slowly, no sounds exited you even when the skirt finally reached the floor, leaving your legs exposed to the open air. Before the chill attacked your skin, your heart began an impromptu workout as his hands grazed up your thighs, warming them and turning your legs into jelly, resulting you to straddle the man unannounced.

That insecurity of yours that haunted you last night, did not seem like much of an issue anymore. Not when you were brimming with the need to have him all to yourself. More importantly, the greed.

Panting slowly, you did not hesitate to permit your nimble fingers to grab on to his crew neckline, desperately pulling it up in order for him to completely discard it from his frame, revealing to you a side of him you had never laid eyes on.

Bruce Wayne was athletic, he was toned, well sculpted and simply breathtaking. You were awestruck without a doubt, but well aware to urge your fingers to run across his bare torso with such fascination and lust. Little did you know Bruce had plans, especially when he brushed your hair to the left side, leaving the right side of your neck all by its lonesome, but soon to be fortunate when he placed his hungry lips on it, kissing it with such tenderness you felt each one to the core. With eyes closed and immersed in pleasure, you were convinced how desperation definitely had taken a step back this time, leaving the lovers to indulge on each other leisurely. Holding you finally by the neck, you sensed the desire had quadrupled in his gaze, leaving you to gasp as he flipped you onto the bed in a flash.

Until you both heard sounds of glass clinking.

“What the-” Bruce’s impatience of getting you to bed, affected the two wine glasses that were kept on the bedside cupboard. For he accidentally hit them during, forcing the red wine to spill all over both of you. The glasses were safe, but your clothes were not. And that certainly was embarrassing enough to cause huge laughter between the two.

“Shit!” Bruce chuckled shyly, “Forgot that was there” Looking down at your heavily red stained knot crop top, you giggled to your own surprise. “Well Mr.Wayne…” you began teasingly, “ I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling very sticky right now..” “You and me both, Ma’am…” “What? Oh my-” Squeals erupted excitedly when you felt Bruce scoop you up and carry you to the shower with haste. Laughing alongside him, you held on to him with joy. Life may be laying down several obstructions for you lovers to love, yet you were more than grateful to spend the blessed time together. You smiled as the shower head sprayed warm water onto you whilst you began to undo the knot of your crop top.

“Ahhh this is so nice…” you yelled loud enough for your voice to travel across the shower, “I love your temperature settings, Bruce-Ah!”

Clutching your chest, you gasped the moment you found him standing right behind you. Which was more surprising, considering the fact he stood there, in the complete nude. It was breathtaking on another level, for sure.

In all your imaginary attempts, witnessing Bruce Wayne in this state was a challenge. Filled with such a sight, your eyes simply did not know where to begin and where to end. For you stood before a deity.

“You’re not gonna wait your turn to shower?” You inquired, looking into his eyes as you did.

“Why should I? When we could do it together?”

That whispery query, it fueled you with a sense of arousal you had never experienced. It energized you, pushing aside any form of demureness as your eyes boldly began to scan his frame from top to bottom. But not without undressing yourself.

The sound of the running water filled the background whilst your crop top left your shoulders, leaving your wet, lace bra glued to your chest, which you successfully unhooked and peeled off to reveal your most vulnerable before your deity. Breathing was in slow syncopation, harmonizing with one another as you pressed your lips together with immense frustration. It seemed the wine spillage was no disruption at all.

“We’re not gonna shower, are we?” You inquired softly, taking a deep breath as you boldly felt his manhood. Your eyes glued to his own, your hand did not fail to display your affection by the careful strokes and gentle grips. Listening to his soft shivers upon your touch aroused you even more.

“Not really” he whispered, slowly shaking his head. And that really was all he could say. All before he blessed you with kisses. With you pushed against the wall, the hot water steadily flowed through you as you indulged in his blessings. Though he truthfully attacked you with kisses, you were not hesitant to call them blessings instead, as you welcomed them with the similar need of welcoming oxygen into your lungs. His kisses were that vital. They gave you life. Amazing how Bruce Wayne grew more and more important to you with every minute.

Desperation surprisingly kicked in Bruce when you felt his long fingers hook on to your wet panties, quickly pulling them down frantically until you managed to kick them off of you. It certainly was an entirely different experience when you sensed his generous hands roam over your naked, wet body, all the while his lips were busy tasting yours. And in the most unexpected manner, you felt light as a feather when Bruce picked you up with haste, wrapping your legs around his waist before his awakened shaft finally entered your throbbing opening upon your loud cries. Unexpected indeed.

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you literally held on to dear life as he thrusted into you with passion. However, before you found yourself lost in pure pleasure, you were suddenly occupied with concern. For this was not how you longed for this to end.

“Bruce-Bruce…” you breathed, “…the bed-Take me to bed” Desperate cries, they reached his ears in a flash, his obedience following suit as the running water suddenly stopped before he carried you out of the cubicle in trance. “Wait Wait Wait!” Stopping suddenly upon your pleas, Bruce woke up from his intoxicated state, only to laugh out loud when he saw you grab a large towel before he exited the bathroom itself.

“What?” You inquired, looking at him with confusion when you proceeded to dry his hair while he walked. Laughter dying down to a chuckle, Bruce’s eyes were filled with warmth as he watched you:

“You’re definitely not like other women”

Smiling back, you pressed your forehead against his with affection: “You’re right” you breathed, “I’m not…and I won’t be” you added, tone with filled sincerity as you kissed him passionately. With his manhood still lingering inside of you, heaven was your current residence, moving to a better neighborhood when you finally landed back in his bed, pulling away from his lips, only to Bruce him hovering over you. This view, this position, it was all that you ever dreamed of.

“Love me…please”

That was all you needed to utter, before he resumed to move inside of you. His lips, they broke from the confines of your lips, making their escape throughout your frame, savoring every inch of your being, whilst his steady rhythm increased.

Today, grateful you were for the morning sun, shining gracefully on the penthouse and on your lover, just so you could remember this moment with clarity. Today, grateful you were for the generous time, and the gift of privacy for the two of you to finally indulge on each other with liberty, filling the atmosphere with nothing but the hushed cries of your names, until much satisfied release was finally met to the highest degree.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Meanwhile…)

The beautiful marble floors indulged the attention as a woman in her early fifties walked down the hallway over them. Elegantly beautiful in her pantsuit, she finally stood by the door of the master bedroom. The room was furnished with the most expensive, and exuded wealth and power, which was highly emphasized by the beautiful stream of sunlight that fell on it through the curtains. The woman stood patiently, staring at the older man who lazily pulled himself up from bed: Erik Henderson.

“Darling…” she began affectionately, “You’re awake…” her jeweled fingers grazing the door handle.

Henderson’s head turned, his messy hair resembling a crows nest as he glanced upon his wife. Only to roll his eyes with the least enthusiasm.

“Eh…” he muttered hoarsely with disgust, “Thought you’d be gone for your yoga by now” he said, turning away in an instant. Swallowing her sadness, the woman’s well practiced patience and grace continued to save her.

“It got canceled” she said, maintaining her affection. She did not seem surprised. Erik may be blessed with wealth, but the man unfortunately was never blessed with the sense of appreciation for life. Be it his comfort, his success, and even the wonderful woman who was his wife. Though her husband had fallen out of love, she never gave up. Even years later. Gripping on to one of her fingers, she took a deep breath, “Erik…” she began, but her husband did not respond, as he quietly moved forward towards the glass trolley filled with bottles of alcohol.

“Erik?”

“WHAT?” He snarled annoyingly, looking at her. Flinching by his response, her breath shook nervously.

“Did you think about what I said?” She asked, watching him turn back to the trolley, "About the Donation?” Her eyes glinted with hope whilst she mentioned it.

“Oh that…” Henderson began monotonously, as he poured himself a drink, “…you know what?” He said, turning to face her with a glass of whiskey in hand, “Why don’t you ask me later…Maybe when I’m feeling a bit more…charitable? Hmmm?”

He was mocking her, it was quite evident. And he relished every moment of it. Scoffing in disbelief, the woman shook her head disappointingly, leaving him to himself as it was the only option.

Taking a gulp from his whiskey, Erik Henderson savored the taste in silence. The taste which consisted of his power, his dominance over every thing he laid eyes on.

“She seems nice…”

“Crap!”

Jumping with surprise, Henderson cried out, turning to his right upon hearing a familiar voice. It was Alpha.

Sitting comfortable on one of Henderson’s armchairs, the attire remained similar with it’s full black gear and donning the skull shaped mask. In short, it was menacing, even more so out in the daylight.

“Apologies…if you didn’t notice me come in…” it said in it’s electronic tone, “I thought you knew…” pausing, it coughed out loud, “… ignoring your wife and all”

Fuming, Henderson was not amused, especially with his veins popping out.

“I don’t think I deserve that kind of tone…when I’m constantly disappointed by your failure” he spat, moving violently about, causing the whiskey drink to fly over all corners. Alpha slowly rose up from the chair:

“If it’s any consolation, it was a close call, Mr. Henderson.” It said, “That night we almost had it. But those blunders aren’t for nothing” taking a few steps, its voice got lower, “We now have an advantage. And I am happy to say the next attempt will definitely be the last”

Erik scoffed, “I’ll only believe it when you bring me her carcass”

“But…” stopping, Alpha folded its arms, “I’m not a charity case you can just ignore, Sir” it said in a serious tone, “..you’ve fallen short on the last few payment installments”

With wide eyes, Henderson began to guffaw. He laughed so hard, it was he stared at a chimpanzee doing tricks. Putting down his glass, he pointed at Alpha whilst the laughter continues to take control, “In-Installments?” He repeated, clapping his hands, “Ohoho! You people are really something, eh? I mean, what’s really the fuss, huh? Worrying about payments over one lousy bitch?-ARGH!”

Fearful screams suddenly exited Henderson’s mouth, interjecting with the sound of strangulation as Alpha grabbed him by the neck, lifting him by the neck itself effortlessly whilst the old man dangled. Suddenly he was not so cocky now.

“You may be too rich to notice but…” Alpha began menacingly, “… we don’t do this just for kicks, Mr. Henderson” it said, its grip tightening in the midst of Henderson’s gasps, “Its a job…like anyone else’s. Its not like we’re these monsters…” it shrugged, “we also have food to buy, taxes to pay…”

Chuckling to oneself, Alpha felt adventurous with its humor. Almost about to blackout, Henderson frantically tapped Alpha on the hand. With a quick release, Alpha watched the pitiful man land on the ground with a groan.

“This time I can guarantee results…from my side…” it declared, as it slowly backed up towards a window, “…expecting the same from yours…”

Still gasping for air, Henderson recoiled with fear the moment a huge puff of smoke appeared with a bang, only to later find Alpha had disappeared.

Suddenly, his wife did not seem to be bad company.

——————————————————

Chapter 9 HERE!

Tagged: @tealaquinn @ladyerina @kittenlittle24 @wholesumm @everyday-imfangirling @lucy-roo @works-of-fanfiction @bale-is-a-babe @badsext @maddistyles17 @truly-insatiable @gooseyhouse @artsymaddie @quarterback-5 @mamooska8 @strangerliaa @jensen-impala @lilyofthesword @woodencupcake @fonduebitches @soullesstaco @spicybellinger @marvel-lously @glitterypinkkitty @danceyreagan

Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)

#christian bale #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x oc #bale! bruce wayne #bale! bruce wayne x reader #batman #batfam #dc universe #dc comics #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight rises #nolans batman #bail out

212 notes · View notes

calypsoff2 · 3 years ago

Text

Ten.

I wouldn’t think I would be awake so early, we arrived in pure luxury, and I just felt like I started a new life with Chris, as soon as I got off the jet I felt stress free instantly, I am ready to just be us for a few days. Celebrate us lasting actually, but I mean that in the best way possible. I always felt like people didn’t like it, I mean the greater people in my life. My management hated I married so early on; I got a baby so early too. There was so much potential being single, no baggage. Then on top of that I kept getting pregnant, so I had to prove a point, I had to push myself and my kids got neglected but I am getting there, I am getting a balance, but I had to prove that my private life isn’t theirs for the taking, and now look at us, I am so happy. I miss my kids of course but I am just happy to have this break, as soon as Chris and I got into this hotel room that was filled with roses, wine we had sex as soon as we got here and fell asleep, I think the butler just wated to leave, he was gone before we knew it, but I am just so happy. Just to have the double doors open, to feel the breeze from the ocean, just pure peace. Taking in a deep breath and looked up at Chris with the biggest smile on my face, life is great. Chris holding me while we slept, I don’t even remember that Chris put his boxers on actually. Furrowing my eyebrows not remembering that at all, pushing the covers off of him, he is knocked out asleep which makes me laugh, his ass bust a nut and he’s over it.

Sliding a finger under the elastic band of his boxers, lifting the fabric, biting my lip as his member poked out from his boxers, his member resting against his stomach. He's always a morning person, actually he can have it at any time, he has no time, but I sure do like to see a boner. Curling my fingers carefully around the base of his member, I glanced up and find myself greeted with his warm, sleepy eyes as he blinks down at me “I wasn’t conscious, it’s rape babe” he wakes up being dumb, as always “Morning, poppa” I murmur softly, he's always slow to wake in the mornings, eyes hazy and unfocused. He's gentle, sometimes a little clumsy, but always affectionate in a way that makes my heart melt a little. Flashing him a grin, I leaned down, my tongue swiping a lazy path around his swollen head before I let him slide past my lips, my suction gentle as I eases him into a rhythm. A groan rumbles out of his chest, making me shiver slightly. He tastes good, he feels good, he sounds good, Chris always tastes good and there isn’t no lying about that.

He's intoxicating, in more ways than one, and the damp heat between my thighs is testament to that. His fingers tangle into the back of my head as I bob gently over him, dragging my hand over the thick length of him that isn't surrounded by the heat of my mouth. I can feel the tension beneath me as his body wakes up, and I let the fingers of my free hand settle at his hip. His body settles and I hum softly, drawing him deeper into my mouth for a long moment before releasing him with a pop of my lips that has him groaning all over again “man, Robyn" he mumbles, his voice low and sweet and slightly breathless, thumb rubbing behind my ear. Before he can catch his breath, I am on him again, this time picking up a rhythm that's gentle, but dirty enough to have him twitching and writhing beneath me even as I control the strength of his body with the simple press of my fingers at the pressure point on his hip.

The stroke of my hand has him choking out my name, this is between crying and choking out my name. He is completely undone “fuck” I am not stopping either, he is riding this out no matter the point of him pushing my head away. I swallow the evidence of his orgasm with my eyes locked on with his, my name on his lips. To have this much power over Chris is the biggest turn on for me, releasing him from my lips, I lets my fingers continue a gentle, soothing rhythm over his slow softening length as I crawl up his body, laying my cheek against his shoulder and pressing a kiss against his collarbone as I listen to his breathing slow and feels the steady burn of arousal through my body. “Robyn” he said softly, drawing my focus and sounding exactly like a man who just woke up to some world class head from his wife and I am proud of that shit. Laughing softly, I tipped my head up to graze a kiss against his jaw “mute now” I said laughing “a little” he mumbles, resting my head on his chest. Letting his palm smooth up and down my spine “shower” he kissed the top of my head, not until he can tell me that was the best head he got “that head was unbelievable, I am still speechless” I had to laugh because I was waiting on that.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, looking up and Chris pressed a kiss to my lips “mhmm” I said grinning as he sat across me “just orange juice brother” Chris said as he sat down across from me, looking away seeing the ocean view. I swear I am in my zone; this is the life I love. I think I would be happier living in Barbados, I think it’s the best thing if we could, but we have no choice but to stay in Cali for work “you look so happy, thank you” looking back at Chris, the butler walked off “I am, don’t you think this is the life? The sun, the people, like there is no drama Chris. I love it, and the breakfast” Chris already started to eat “and the sex” of course he would add that to the list “true and the sex, I am glad I chose to do this. We needed this gateway, it’s nice to just be us. Are you happy now? Like glad we are here?” Chris nodded his head “I am here for the sex” if he says that one more time “is that all I am to you?” Chris paused before he ate his toast “I am joking, don’t get offended. I am happy to be here with you, just to not have the kids interrupt us. I feel like we have to cater to them, now we can do it for us” he winked at me, taking in a deep breath “so, what you think to Mel having a baby by that dickhead?” I asked “she is stupid, not shocked though. He would knock her up for money, I mean she pay him” I sniggered “she doesn’t have money like that, but she will sure put a roof over his head, that makes her step mother too. She is so fucking stupid; I am so angry with her. I don’t understand why you would do that, like he is going to be connected to us. I don’t want it” Chris shook his head “he won’t be, trust me. I won’t forgive him for doing that to me, he has no job, no home, no money or anything. Fuck him, this trip ain’t about him or even Mel, she is a bird” poking my lips out at him.

Clearing my throat, I know he said he doesn’t want to speak on Mel, but he did mention about Mel having sex constantly “go on” Chris said claspin his hands together smirking, he knows I want to ask “what you think about the whole thing? I am actually angry at you too, you knew! Why didn’t you tell me about them idiots!” I spat “minding my business, yes I knew Robyn, but they wanted to keep this low. I feel like personally Mel was ashamed, she didn’t want you to know at all, she was big on that” Mel really pissed me off, well she has practically lied to me “but what has TJ been saying about Mel, you called my friend a bird?” I want to know now “things” he shrugged “first you don’t tell me about them being together and now you are holding back on me?” he is being so annoying right now “look at you wanting to know, TJ just said things like he does like Mel and that she had sex with him on the first day, she was up for it and they had sex in all holes as he stated, she was easy in a way. Mel just put out and that she isn’t like you, he did mention that. He was worried she wouldn’t want Camron at that time, he spoke on also Mel is good at sex, come to think of it he spoke on their sex life a lot” putting my hand up “stop, he’s just making my friend easy, like she is a whore that is sick of him to say that to you and also you repeating it, please don’t say that to Mel again, it’s disrespectful because she don’t know what was being said” Chris nodded his head but I don’t know if he will actually listens to me because it’s Chris “so what was said about it, well this boy talk seems mediocre to be fair” Chris put his head down, I would like to know but if he doesn’t want to say then he doesn’t, Chris looked up at me “shall we get over with it now?” blowing out air “I suppose” I mumbled, I mean what are we waiting for.

“I just want you to know that this was all boy talk, but I feel like because I have fallen out with TJ that I need to tell you, I just don’t trust him. He may twist my words; I mean he pretty much used my words against me with what he was saying ok? I mean ok you’re allowed to be angry but please don’t’ argue with me because I am human, I need to rant do I not” nodding my head, I can imagine it being stupid talk now “I won’t, just tell me” then we can move on with the trip “so basically the whole thing with Mel, like why TJ spoke on that was because I spoke on us having sex, that we have good sex. We did anal and that shit was good, but he started saying about Mel and just my hate for your lingerie, I dislike that you show your body off. I ranted about it, I had to let it out. So he was listening to me say that, just seeing you looking so sexy it just annoyed me because I can imagine other men jerking off to it, so that is what I spoke on because I was mad, and we touched on that you speak to me like a child, but I think I was just being sensitive at that moment. Then we put a bet down that you will leave again, so that is why he bought it up. TJ agreed with what I said about you always leaving and being away from the kids. We spoke on cheating” my face dropped, Chris is watching my reaction “he asked if that is something I would, because I was pretty fed up because when we had sex that night you just laid there, and you were so depressive so he asked and I said no, there is one thing I will never do because you are a good wife, I knew it was a bad patch, so we spoke on that. TJ when thinking back he fed off my negativity. When I spoke on something that annoyed me he fed off it but it is what it is, I guess I got to keep my mouth shut” shaking my head “sorry if like I have angered you” he apologised “don’t be sorry Chris, I have spoken to Mel about you too. I have said things like he lasted a minute even then when you speak that you want me to eat your ass, it happens but I also get why you told me. Is there anything else? I don’t want to hear it again?” Chris shook his head, I am not even angry at what he said at all, it’s talk “speak to me, even if it’s about me” Chris laughed “sure” he mumbled, I know he won’t but still.

#Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Chrianna #Chrianna Fanfic #Chrianna Fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

mxndoscyarika · 4 years ago

Text

Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 4

Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.

Warnings: snow/icy roads, food/drink, smut/masturbation (after last line break), two (2) swear words

Ao3

Honeydew masterlist

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Author’s Note: I did it! I managed to write while also getting flooded with homework! I’m not completely sure when I’ll be able to get the next chapter out, but I’m super excited for you all to see what happens this chapter. Enjoy!

The lights flickered in the office, making Erin pause her work. Looking out the window, she was met with snow falling from the sky, flakes small enough that even the building next door wasn’t much more than a faint silhouette. It wasn’t anything atypical for that time of year, but she was not looking forward to driving through the snow. There was always someone who started sliding or ended up blocking a road.

She picked up her phone tiredly when it started ringing, not even looking at the contact. “This is Agent He.”

A warm voice came through the speaker. “Hi, honey.”

Hearing Marcus’s voice, even through a phone, was enough to get her to sit a little taller. “Hi, Marcus. What do you need?”

He let out a soft sigh. “Sorry, I know you’re probably busy, but Missy gets out of school soon and I was wondering if you could give her a drive home?” There was the sound of a crash nearby, followed by the scuffing of shoes against pavement. “I’m a bit busy right now and the school just called to say they’re closing early.”

Erin glanced through her schedule for the rest of the day. No meetings, just paperwork and some emails. Closing it with a click, she answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I can go pick her up. I’m just about done for the day and was thinking of heading out anyways.”

Marcus let out a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Erin. I’ll text you the address and let Missy know you’re coming.”

“No problem,” she replied, tucking her phone between her shoulder and ear so she could pack up. “Stay safe out there, Marcus.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course, honeydew. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

The call ended before she could respond. Shrugging to herself, she tucked her phone away and kept packing.

Due to the slower workday, people had time to kill. Erin tried to ignore the stares of her coworkers as she strode out of the office with her bag and a stack of folders. Some stopped her along the way to ask questions, and she sighed as their single question turned into what constituted a half-hour meeting that they could have scheduled. As much as she hated to seem dismissive, she had to cut them off and ask them to send an email with their concerns.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, she answered, “Had something important come up, I’m heading out for the day.”

---

“Are you my dad’s special friend?”

Erin’s eyes widened. Words were lost on her as she tried to formulate an answer. They were certainly friends, and more than friends, but how far beyond that? “W-what do you mean by ‘special’, Missy?”

The young girl shrugged, playing with the zipper of her jacket. “Dad talks about you a lot. Well, he talks to you a lot. He told me that you’re the one he calls at night.”

She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned pale. He talked about her with Missy? “Oh. Yeah, that’s me, then.” Turning on the blinker to make a left, she said, “Your dad told me he’ll finish work as soon as he can, so we’ll head to my place, ok?”

In just a few minutes, she pulled into the garage of her apartment, trailing in slush and clumps of snow. Her tires had left compacted snow on the driveway, which meant the snow was planning to stick around for a while. Hopefully someone would add salt by the morning. Having a four-wheel-drive was great, but she couldn’t alter physics.

“Get warmed up by the fireplace and I’ll text your dad, ok?” She said, unlocking the apartment door and holding it open for Missy to enter. The little girl bounded in, taking off her shoes by the door so she wouldn’t leave tracks on the floor. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Do you have hot cocoa?” Missy asked, setting down her backpack by the dining table. She looked up at Erin curiously, her brown eyes sparkling.

Erin placed her folders on the table and nodded. “Yes I do, sweetie. Do you want to help? I have marshmallows somewhere….”

“Yes!!!” Missy cheered. She followed Erin to the spacious kitchen, her eyes growing wide when she saw the array of pots by the sink. “Are these all real plants?”

The greenery was one of Erin’s favorite parts about the apartment; a higher position at the FBI meant a bigger paycheck, and a bigger paycheck and relocation meant a bigger apartment. It still wasn’t large enough for a party of more than two or three people, but it did have more counter space and windows. Adorned with plants ranging from orchids to airplants to fiddle-leaf fig bushes, her living space was slowly turning into a nursery. Some would’ve said she had too many plants, but she wanted her home to be just a little more than plain walls and pretty lights.

“They are,” she answered, smiling. “I need to water them today, so I left them out on the counter this morning. Do you and your dad have plants at home?” Missy shook her head, marveling at the circular leaves of the pilea plant. Touching a leaf gently, she answered, “Dad always forgets to water them, so we only have fake ones.”

A chuckle left Erin’s lips as she placed the mug of milk into the microwave. “Remind me to never buy him plants as a present, then.”

When the milk was steaming, she took the mug out of the microwave and added a large scoop of powdery mixture. The liquid quickly turned to a silky dark brown, which was quickly topped off with a handful of marshmallows per Missy’s request.

While Missy started on her homework–who gave out homework on a snow day?–Erin took out a few ingredients to make cookies. Thankfully, she still had some flour and dark chocolate in the cabinet. If there was anything that could’ve warmed up the chilly apartment, it was the heat of the oven and the scent of freshly baked cookies.

Surprisingly, Missy was pretty well-behaved. In her experience, children around Missy’s age tended to be riddled with questions, almost overly excited. But Missy, on the other hand, seemed to fare well on her own. Perhaps it was a testament to her upbringing, or maybe she was just independent like her father. Either way, Erin appreciated the politeness and relaxation.

Once the cookies were baked, Erin took a seat across from Missy and started sorting through the reports. Some had urgent deadlines, but others could wait. And then there was the rat’s nest that was her inbox.

It was at that point when Missy finished her homework and started growing bored. She couldn’t blame her; her apartment could be cozy, but it definitely wasn’t arranged for a child.

“Do you want to do something together?” Erin asked, smiling a little. Setting down the file she was reading she mused, “If you want, we could find a movie. Or not, whatever you want. Just tell me.”

Missy’s request wasn’t surprising–she wanted to watch TV. So that’s what they did. They snuggled up on the sofa with a blanket tossed over their legs. Erin handed her the remote so she could pick a show or movie.

Before long, the warmth of the fireplace along with the soft haze of noise from the TV had lulled Missy to sleep, the head of brown waves resting against her arm. At first, Erin tensed. But once she realized it was just Missy, she forced herself to relax.

Smiling softly, she turned down the volume of the TV and slid her arm out from underneath her, catching Missy when she started falling over. She wondered if that was what parenting was; if it was just a series of questions and answers until the little one fell asleep.

But as she tried to get up, she found Missy’s hands scrunched in her shirt, keeping her in place. Not even a tug on her shirt could detach her.

Sighing, she sat back down and looked down at the little girl. The half-sitting position couldn’t be good for her back, and so far she hadn’t had any success in getting free. So, she did what anyone would do. Well, what she thought Marcus would do.

She leaned over and lifted Missy with ease, holding her close so they could both lie down.

Missy quickly settled herself into a more comfortable position, her cheek resting against Erin’s shoulder. The hands that once clung to her shirt came up to wrap around her neck, keeping her secured to Erin.

The FBI agent tried to ignore the warmth in her chest as Missy’s fingers wrapped around the collar of her shirt. Until then, she hadn’t realized how...small she was. How precious and warm and completely adorable. Sure, there was the cuteness that came with youth, but for a moment she let herself bask in the embrace of Missy Moreno.

As her eyelids grew heavy, Erin pulled the blanket up and let herself drift off.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Marcus knocked on her door. The sharp rapping on wood brought her out of her slumber. When she glanced at her watch, it was late into the evening.

Rather than making him wait an extra minute so she could wake Missy up, Erin stood from the couch and answered the door with the little girl on her hip.

Marcus looked tired, his beard a bit longer than usual and his hair mussed. But nevertheless, those beautiful brown eyes of his lit up at the sight of Erin and his daughter. Speaking softly, he said, “It looks like you two got along, huh?”

“I guess we did,” she replied, smiling. She stepped aside. “Why don’t you come in? Stay for dinner, Marcus.”

“I really shouldn’t,” he said bashfully, laughing softly. Seeing her with his kid all cuddled up sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. And it terrified him.

He always wanted kids; it was no secret. And along with kids, he dreamt of getting married, and coming home to a family. The world let him have that for fewer than five years. It had been a long time since he’d come home to see Missy so content and at peace with life.

“You had a long day, sweetie,” she insisted, reaching for his wrist and pulling him in. “Just let me set her down and I can get started.”

Before he could offer to take Missy, she was already laying the girl back onto the couch. As he watched her, he remembered the way his wife used to cradle their baby, tucking her into blankets and placing little kisses on her forehead.

His heartstrings tugged painfully as Erin covered Missy with the blanket and smoothed down the hairs on the crown of her head fondly. Although he didn’t regret a moment of his previous marriage, part of him still wished he’d taken the plunge instead of redirecting his feelings towards Lisbon. Maybe if he did, they’d be in a completely different place in life.

Erin came up to him, tying back her hair. “I can make us some fried rice, how does that sound?”

“Perfect,” he replied, smiling. “Can I help you prep anything, honey?” There it was again. Fighting the rush of heat at the nickname, she walked with him to the kitchen and said, “Yes, I’d love some help.”

She and Marcus fell into a rhythm, music playing softly from the bluetooth speaker on her counter. While the rice cooker was puffing out steam (she didn’t have enough leftover rice), they both worked on preparing the other ingredients: spam, onions, egg, and garlic. Some things never changed.

“You’re very lucky,” she commented, leaning forward on the counter to watch him dice the onion. His movements were smooth and confident, fingers curled just slightly. “Missy’s a great kid.”

“She didn’t give you any trouble?” he asked, brows shooting up. When she shook her head, he chuckled softly. “You must have magic powers, then. She can be a little shit if she wants to be.”

Erin scoffed. “She’s the most well-behaved child I’ve ever met. You did a good job with her, Marcus.”

“I did my best,” he responded, cheeks warm. “I don’t think I could’ve survived without my mom helping out, though.” She smirked. “Well isn’t that what grandparents are for? Babysitting so that the parents can have some fun?”

The corner of his lip curved up. He finished cutting the onions and washed his hands. Stepping closer, he asked lowly, “What kind of fun do you think they have?”

Chills ran down her spine as he touched her arm, his hands large and warm. Her eyes flickered down to his lips. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

“Do you want me to show you, honey?”

Mere centimeters separated them when a high pitched voice exclaimed from the sofa, “Daddy!”

Erin pulled away quickly, her cheeks turning pink as Missy ran over to give Marcus a hug. They were almost caught. She was almost caught kissing Missy’s dad. That would’ve been an interesting situation to explain.

But if the nerves were real, why was her heart beating with excitement? Not to mention, why did she feel so warm when he touched her? They weren’t together. No, they were friends. More than friends, but friends.

Dinner was cooked and demolished in no time, the Morenos praising her for something as simple as rice with canned meat.

“This is really good, honey,” he moaned, spooning more into his bowl. Licking his lips, he asked, “Could you teach me how to make this sometime?”

She tried not to focus on the way his lips shined from the oil and his tongue. “I could, but why do that when you and Missy could come visit more often?”

“I can’t ask that of you, honey-” “You’re not asking, I’m offering,” Erin interrupted, smiling triumphantly at Missy’s agreement. “Besides, Missy likes the plants. She says they’re nice.” “Like abuelita’s house!” Marcus chuckled. “Like abuelita’s house.” Meeting Erin’s eyes, he said, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

---

“Dad, Erin’s really cool.”

He smiled fondly, pulling out of the visitor’s parking spot. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

A pause. Then, “Are you going to ask her out?”

Normally, he would be more caught off guard. But after a long day of work and an amazing dinner with his girls, he couldn’t have been happier. “I already did, kiddo.”

Another pause. He knew Missy was going to grow up to be a smart girl; he just knew it. And with Erin in the picture, he had even less reason to doubt it. “Do you like-like her? My friends say that their parents go on dates sometimes.”

Marcus smiled to himself. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Being in the kitchen with her again felt like coming home. To her, it might’ve felt like a stranger seeing her for the first time, but everything fell together perfectly.

“Well, I think she like-likes you, too.”

---

Erin sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in a fluffy towel after her shower. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Marcus’s voice had dropped when he asked her that question, and the way his touch felt electric against her even through the clothes.

The heat in her belly grew more unbearable the more she thought of him. Seeing him in the kitchen, waltzing around her as if it was second nature, only made her want him more. His fingers were beautiful and thick, gentle yet confident. His smile was sweet yet knowing. He was everything she ever wanted, but different from what she used to dream about.

She lifted her gaze to the full mirror leaning against the wall.

The towel dropped to the carpet once she stood in front of it, leaving her bare to the warm air of her apartment. She bit her lip as her fingers rubbed along the silver shaft of the toy in her hand. It was a new one that came in the mail just a couple weeks ago.

Clicking the button at the base of the vibrator made it come to life, buzzing in her hand.

The first touch against her swollen clit made her gasp and retract her hand. It was stronger than the others she used, more pulsing than constant.

Her fingertips slid between her legs easily as she prepared herself for the toy, her arousal shining on her skin. She closed her eyes and imagined they were Marcus’s fingers, but let out a frustrated sigh. Her fingers were too small, to fill her in the way that she knew Marcus could.

Sitting down on the floor, she rubbed the toy along her folds, whimpering as she clenched around nothing.

A moan escaped her lips as she pushed the vibrator into herself, letting it fill her as much as possible. She immediately clamped down on it, sucking it deeper in until it sat snugly against her walls.

Leaning back on an arm, she used her free hand to tug at a hardened nipple, sending electricity down to her glistening pearl. When she let go, the soft flesh bounced, skin still glowing from her shower. If only it were Marcus’s hands touching her, caressing her skin.

Her orgasm struck her faster than expected, making her arch her back and let out a faint cry. As ecstasy coursed through her veins, her legs started shaking and her cunt began dripping around the toy, as if it were folding back a flood.

Each clench of her walls only brought her more pleasure, the vibrations becoming too much for her to take.

She reached down and pulled out the toy, gasping as a stream of liquid squirted onto the mirror. Her chest heaved as she watched her pussy gape and clench through droplets of her release.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, lying back on the floor. The taste of her cum coated her tongue as she licked the toy clean. “Fuck.”

< previous chapter | next chapter >

TAGLISTS: (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

PERMANENT:

@cinewhore @randomness501 @theghostwiththemost-babe @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @miraclemoreno @halfwaythereroyal @fioccodineveautunnale @talesfromtheguild @tortles @ladamari68 @theokatcov @snivellusim @starryluce @inked-poet @browneyes-djarin @shedobewritingalittle @chews-erotically @thefandomimagines @emesispo @bitchin-beskar @phoenixhalliwell @nerdypinupcrystal @dishonouringmycow

HONEYDEW:

@leemorrigan @houseofthirst @meshlamando @engineeredfiction @inkyzinky @thedazeinmylife @theoutsidelandhere @parkjammys

#marcus pike #marcus moreno #Marcus Pike x OC #marcus pike x reader #Marcus Moreno x OC #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes #the mentalist x we can be heroes #crossover #my writing #honeydew

49 notes · View notes

ozzdog12 · 4 years ago

Text

2020 Top 7 (and 1)

2020 am I right? We saw an insane amount of games come out and 2 brand new consoles. What a wild and weird year for gaming, and life in general. In case you are relatively new here, and to be honest that would be completely fair considering I don't post very often on Tumblr anymore, every year going on the last 4 years (on here) I have done a Top 7 (& 1) for my favorite videogames of the year. Check out 2019, 2018, & 2017. What’s wild, as I look back on my list of games that I’ve completed and played, only maybe 10 came out this year. 2020 was a huge backlog year.

Lets get on with the ‘And 1!”

Favorite Game that Didn’t Come out in 2020: Control (PS4)

Control may very well have been my 2019 Game of the Year, had I played it in 2019. I LOVED Control. I wanted to play it in 2019, but initial reports that it was a little rough on base consoles put me off until it was fixed. And Holy smokes what an insanely fun and trippy game once I finally started it. I knew within the first 20 minutes this was going to be the shit when I went down a hall, walked into a room and talked to the “janitor” left out a door behind him and the entire building had shifted. I’ve always liked Remedy games, but from a distance. Max Payne 1&2 and Alan Wake all oozed with weirdness and intrigue, but never enough for me to finish them. I missed out on Quantum Break. The story is Control is just the right amount of mind f*!$ for me and builds a universe I didn’t know I needed. It take some time to piece everything together, then everything just clicks. The game does have a weird difficulty spike when fighting bosses and the checkpoints were too far apart at times, but those were later patched. I spent an insane amount of time within the Federal Bureau of Control building and even more time after that with the Foundation and AWE DLC and it STILL wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Outside of Prey, I can’t think of another game that stuck in my brain more after I’d finished it. Control is absolutely a MUST PLAY title. In a world where everything sort’ve feels similar, Control stands out of the crowd.

Number 7: Astro’s Playroom (PS5)

I never thought in my wildest dreams that a game I had almost zero interest in playing would end up on my list of favorite games this year. Astro’s Playroom is being labeled as a ‘Tech demo’ but that feels like an insult to what it is. It’s a full fledged game and its free! I’ve paid more for less. A charming little platformer that lives and breathes the history of the Playstation. So many cool Easter eggs and references. It certainly centers its gameplay around the DualSense controller and everything it can do, but at its core, its a completely approachable and forgiving 3D platformer. I played it just to see what it was about, next thing i knew I had completed all the levels and wanted to further explore all the nooks and crannies within the game. I wanted to see everything the game had to offer and I had an absolute blast doing so. Makes me kinda wish I’d played the previous game on PSVR (I’d have to have a PSVR too)

Number 6: Spider-Man: Miles Morales (PS5)

Another quality title, albeit a spin-off, from Insomniac to add to their Spider Man universe. Gameplay felt obviously like Spider-Man, but Miles has unique abilities that made the game feel different enough, especially the cloak and stealth. I enjoyed the fact that it was short and concise. The issue with most ‘open-world’ games is that they are entirely too bloated with unnecessary filler content (I’ll get to that in a later game), something I felt the first game suffered from, but I also understand why they are there. However I could’ve use one or two more story missions to help flesh out some characters, but it wasn’t required and didn’t change my opinion one way or the other. My one BIG gripe was with Miles himself. He is an extremely smart young kid, but so incredibly naïve. Peter Parker tells him the one thing he SHOULD NOT do is tell people he is Spider-Man. I get it, that’s part of his growth, but Miles thinks he can just solve his problems by revealing his identity and it almost certainly never works out.

Number 5: The Last of Us: Part 2 (PS4)

The Last of Us Part 2 may be the most polarizing game in the history of the medium, but for the absolute wrong reasons. I’m in the minority that I very much enjoyed my experience with TLOU2, quite a bit actually. Its better in every single way over its predecessor, except the overall story. There are plenty of fair criticisms to be had about the story and various things within the game itself, but I thought the gameplay was so tight and crunchy. There were genuine moments of suspense and terror that I felt that no other game has ever given me. The entire hospital section (2nd time) was so susensful, I had to put my controller down to gther myself. Some of my favorite moments in the series I experienced with a character I wasn’t overly fond of. How many games can do that? The Last of Us Part 2 was meant to invoke emotion, not necessarily joy. I think that's what people lost along the way. Say what you will about the direction Naughty Dog has taken over the years, but you would be hard pressed to find a studio that makes games graphically better than they do. Yes, I know about their crunch culture, but this is not a place for that. I will say, the game was a tad bit too long, which is not something it typically say for a single player, narrative driven game. The pacing and the way the story was told wasn’t my favorite, but I respect what it was trying to do, even if it failed in some aspect of that, I finished the game within the week it was released. Something I RARELY ever do. I’m a father and I related with Joel a lot in TLOU, but I also recognized how wrong he was. There is a lesson to be learned. Your actions always have consequences and while he was doing what he thought was the right thing, it wasn’t his choice to make, and in doing so set up a series of events that were entirely avoidable, but again, that’s the point isn’t it?

Number 4: Grindstone (Switch)

I’m counting this as a 2020 game since it just came to the Switch this year ( less than a month ago) but its not the first time I’ve played it. Grindstone was the only reason I kept my Apple Arcade subscription and when I let it lapse, there was a void I just couldn’t fill. I bought Puzzle Quest on Switch but it just wasn't the same. Its THE perfect game for bite sized play, even though in its addictive nature, you’ll clear a few levels and an hour has passed before you know it. It has the perfect amount of depth that most ‘match’ games don't. You have different weapons, items, and outfits w/perks to use and experiment with to keep it fresh. I went months without playing my Switch and when this was announced in August, I couldn’t wait! Sadly, I had to wait 3 months, but since then I have spent so much time on the Switch. It gave me a reason to play it again. The art style and humour is great. The variety of enemies and challenge is just right. I can’t recommend it enough. Seriously, check this game out!

Number 3: Doom Eternal (Xbox One)

I will be the first to tell you, I did not like Doom (2016). I found it extremely boring and trite. I understood what Doom(2016) was doing and it succeeded, maybe too much. Nostalgia is a helluva thing. So in saying that, I was mildly interested in Doom Eternal. Doom Eternal is nothing like 2016 outside of it being a Doom game that connects to the rest of them (& also being a sequel to 2016). The mechanics are drastically different with more platforming (for better or worse). Eternal is challenging, at times very hard, especially early on. Eternal has no respect for its players, in a weirdly good way. It laughs at how you’ve played FPS before this one and WILL MAKE you play it its way, not your way. Yes, you point and shoot, but ammo is scare and you MUST use everything in your arsenal. No more using just 2 guns for the whole game. The enemies are relentless. Sometimes you have to pause and take a breath after a battle because you go a 100 mph for the whole fight. You have to continuously move or you die. There is an enticing rhythm to it. I categorize Eternal as ‘Blood Ballet’. Its a game where when your feeling it, much like a rhythm game, you get in the zone and there is no stopping demons from getting slayed. Surprisingly, unlike most games in the genre, it seemed to get easier (sans one extremely frustrating platforming section late in the game) the longer you played it. Was that a testament that I ‘learned’ the Eternal way or it truly did get easier? I don’t know, but the final Boss(es) were....easy.. I had more problems and deaths within the first 4 hours than I did the final 8-9 hours. The multiplayer was also surprisingly fun. The older I get, the less interested I am in multiplayer, but I found myself coming back for more for a good month or so.

Number 2: Gears Tactics (Xbox One)

As 2020 comes to a close, I came to a stunning realization. I might be a bigger Gears of War fan than I had previously thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gears, but I seem to love Gears more than I thought. I'm way more invested into the lore than I recall. Anyways, Gears Tactics is everything XCOM 2 SHOULD’VE been. Not only does Gears Tactics utilize the Overwatch action, its makes it EXTREMELY important. The story revolves around the father of Kait Diaz, Gabe and a ragtag group of mostly random soldiers to take down Ukkon. Anyone who is remotely interested in the Gears universe will love the story and references. The gameplay is just so damn satisfying. The bosses are very challenging and different. I actually had to change my strategy to finish the final boss. I experimented with a totally different style of class and was rewarded for it. The post game stuff is also aplenty. This game scratched a VERY specific itch for me and I’m itchy to jump back in. I’m glad this came to Xbox One because I’m current computer could not run it.

Number 1: Ghost of Tsushima (PS4)

I have a very odd relationship with massive open world games. I love them, but I get very burnt out on them. They all have a relatively same-y formula and are often populated with bloat. GoT does have some of that but to its advantage, its not very populated, in a good way. One of the things that I really appreciated about GoT and its side quest is most of them felt meaningful. The thing that really stood out to me about GoT is the absolutely satisfying combat. It just feels SO GOOD. It requires timing and patience. There are different fighting styles for different enemies and even the armor you wear is more than just cosmetic. The combat is so fun and satisfying that I was immediately excited when they announced Legends, a multiplayer add on, for free. Its so much fun and is a blast to play with a group of friends. I’m sporadically still playing the Legends mode. I initially wanted to play the game in ‘Kurosawa’ mode but I am glad I didn’t because the game, even on the PS4 is stunning, and on the upgrade on PS5 is jaw-droppingly smooth. I did play the entire game in Japanese with English subtitles. I still don't know what Jin’s English voice sounds like. GoT does a good job a drip feeding you new abilities and things to keep things fresh. I love stealth and once I unlocked it, I spent the majority of every battle taking out as many enemies as I could while in stealth mode. Ghost of Tsushima does a lot of things very well, that the few things it doesn’t can be easily overlooked.

#videogames #control #grindstone #tlou #doom eternal #gears tactics #ghost of tsushima #ps4 #ps5 #xbox one #switch #nintendo switch #playstation4 #GOTY #spiderman #astro playroom

51 notes · View notes

shinjaeha · 4 years ago

Text

itsay ep 3 (thoughts + spoilers)

itsay ep 3 fucking obliterated me so here i am with some more thoughts on this episode (drama) in general. this is just me being an incoherent mess bc my mind is basically just one long !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! after having watched this (once raw and again subbed). this isn’t an analysis, it’s literally me just gushing over the ep as i watch it bc boy oh BOY.

WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT EVERYTHING HITTING DIFFERENT AFTER THE BOAT SCENE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if i thought the tension in the boat knocked the breath out of me, this whole ep was that x10000.

they really started us off with a bang having continued straight off from last ep with teh smelling oh-aew’s hair, huh?? teh rubbing his face with the coconut paralleled with oh-aew smelling his coconut scented shampoo?? excuse me as i cry into my hands.

teh wasn’t willing to wake up early for tarn when she wanted to draw early in the morning, but when he sees that oh-aew wants to wake up early to study, HE’S the one that makes sure that oh-aew wakes up (and he stays up to keep oh-aew company, even if it’s just over the phone). then again when they’re at the resort...love that tarn realises that too. boy ain’t subtle. also, how is it even possible that they can have that much tension just speaking over the phone?? they’re not even in the same room and the tension between the two of them is so thick i can barely breathe.

the “let me know when you’re home”!!!!!!!!!!!!! BOYFRIEND BEHAVIOUR. as soon as oh-aew asked teh why he always asked tarn that, i KNEW they were gonna put that in there for him and oh-aew and i’m glad i wasn’t disappointed :))) the look on oh-aew’s face when he saw the text!!!!!!!!!!! the way he stopped in his tracks!!!!!!!!!

i already had a feeling that oh-aew was going to be the first one to properly realise and accept his feelings for teh based on the teasers (makes sense since he already knows he likes boys...he’s more sure of his sexuality, which would of course make it easier for him to accept based on that). seeing the way he used the ‘if you get close to him and he doesn’t move away it means he likes you’ theory that teh initially told him to try on bas with teh too was really cute. and the jealousy over tarn. i LOVED that we got to see a more petty side to him when he announced he was going to room with bas partly bc of how lowkey jealous/mad he was about teh and tarn talking over the phone. it left teh so unsettled and confused (the piano music was PERFECT in that scene), and is 510% something teh would have done too (based on the previous two eps). they really are a perfect match huh. but poor bas being caught in the middle of the two of them ;;;

i liked that a lot of this ep was from oh-aew’s perspective. i feel like we got mostly teh’s pov in the first two eps, so it was really nice to see things from oh-aew’s pov too. gave us all more insight into his personality and he’s honestly SO MUCH more flirty than i thought he was going to be omg. the potato chip scene where he just crawled over to teh and ate that potato chip all the while staring straight at teh, then lying on his lap?????????? teh was (understandably) flustered after that AND SO WAS I. i was not expecting that whatsoever. i was also really impressed with how honest oh-aew was about his feelings. i love that he’s stayed true to their previous heart to heart in the boat scene last ep where he basically told teh that he wanted transparency between the two of them. he’s sticking to that, and i admire him so much for being able to be that vulnerable and true to himself. i thought there might have been more confusion with bas, but it looks like as soon as he realised his feelings might have faded/that he was feeling things for teh now, he just went with it. i know in my last text post i said that oh-aew is usually the more cautious/pragmatic of the two, but i feel like when it comes to his feelings, he seems to be really in tune with who and what he wants (more so than teh). this of course makes sense bc he’s likely had more time to come to terms with his sexuality...which is what teh’s figuring out for himself now. on top of that, oh-aew’s feelings for teh are a lot stronger than the ones he has for bas. and since he’s also more certain that teh likes him back, he’s so much bolder in how he approaches teh. and teh, to his credit, returns that honesty too when oh-aew basically pushes him into acknowledging that there’s ~something between them (hammock scene). i was kind of expecting him to push away from that/deny it, but he didn’t. he’s obviously just a lot more confused with his feelings and still needs some time to understand them and process them fully. on a related note, hammock scene was so loaded and SO well acted by the both of them. the fact that they can move from playful in one scene too achingly intense in another always throws me for a loop.

another thing i really love about the two of them is how they push one another to be better. it’s that rivalry that makes their bond even stronger, but it’s also something that worries me for future eps ngl...

but i honestly feel SO BAD for bas...clearly, he likes oh-aew, and although oh-aew was initially confused with the two of them, he’s definitely more convinced when it comes to his feelings for teh. but when bas essentially asked oh-aew out, and oh-aew said let’s invite the rest of they guys?? he looked so sad and my heart kind of broke a little. it’s like watching the poor second lead in a kdrama. and tarn too :( i really hope that when teh accepts his feelings for oh-aew, he doesn’t keep her hanging on the way that most BLs tend to do. she deserves so much better than that. my heart really hurts for the both of them, but at the same time teh and oh-aew are just magnets being pulled together at this point. they can’t stay away from each other.

the scene where teh rubs the smell of oh-aew’s coconut scented pen (from what he’s written) all over his face bc he’s at his limit and can’t stand all those pent up feelings anymore, only to race out to their special meeting place on the beach????? the moment he sees that oh-aew’s there too and he chases after him entranced (and the smile on oh-aew’s face)????? the way the instrumental ost just swells the moment they see each other????? the way they tease and dance around another yet again????? PURE ART. A CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE. THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DRAMA I HAVE EVER SEEN. this whole sequence has to be my fave scene in this ep. god, that part where the camera closes in on them and they’re face to face before oh-aew steps away again had my heart trying to flutter its way out of my CHEST. THEY HAVEN’T EVEN KISSED IN THE SERIES YET AND THEY CAN REDUCE ME TO THIS. honestly, their power is something else. the fact that they can stir so many emotions in all of us just by the way they glance at one another, by the way they dart around one another barely touching...there are dramas/movies with multiple kiss/love scenes that can’t even create that tension and longing. it’s the kind of chemistry that burns you inside out. it’s so palpable.

the thigh massage scene had me CAPTIVATED (like all their scenes tbh) and then teh’s mum came to wake me (and the both of them) up haha. but for real, there’s just something so tentative about what’s happening. these feelings are new to them, and they’re easing their way into it. always toeing the line, but not overstepping it yet. it’s primal. they keep letting those feelings build up more and more and more. and you can always feel the way it’s leading to something else. and of course it leads into the next scene where teh’s tutoring oh-aew again but the atmosphere is so incredibly heavy, so tight, that they can’t contain it anymore (i mean, the fact that they contained it for so long when they’re teenage boys with feelings for one another is already astounding enough to me). teh tries so hard, but then the back scratch happens and...THIS ICONIC SCENE...i thought they were going to kiss then (before oh-aew turned around), but then we got something else entirely and the intimacy of it all. just wow. literally not a single kiss and it was one of the most sensual scenes i have ever seen in a BL. it’s just the way they get so caught up in one another. THE YEARNING OF IT ALL. this whole ep was just pure anticipation, and i have never ever wanted two characters to kiss more than i do these two. it’s the build up that gets me (idk if this can be considered slow build since there’s only been like three eps but it sure as hell feels like it!!!!!!!!!). then teh pulls away and it’s like a smack in the gut...but at the same time, i get it. he’s not ready yet. there’s so much for him to take in and he’s not there yet (not the way oh-aew is), and just like oh-aew, it keeps us all hanging on, so close but not quite there yet.

so much of this felt like this cat and mouse game between the both of them where one of them would advance, then retract...it makes the tension between the two of them even MORE overwhelming bc you keep anticipating something, and you get fleeting moments of it, but then it’s over by the time you blink. they keep toying with one another, but not crossing the line YET bc they know that that’ll change everything the moment they do. it’s such a testament to the writing AND the acting bc it’s the chemistry that bkpp have with one another that creates all of that push and pull dynamic, that yearning and desire. having to wait a whole week again is just devastating...i think next ep seems like it might be the climax?? i’m pretty sure it’ll be the ep where teh accepts his feelings (or at least won’t be able to hold himself back physically anymore), where all the build up finally properly erupts, but at the same time, i just know that the angst is going to start piling up and idk how to feel other than terrified bc i’m way too invested now tbh.

anyway, this drama is absolutely magnificent, and all i want to do is rave about how damn good it is. so high quality. it feels so fresh, like they’re reinvented the tried and true coming of age tale in a way, and we’re all just along for the ride. it transcends the typical thai BL story (and i now understand why they were hesitant to label this as BL when it really feels like it encompasses so much more than the usual BL tropes and story). one of my fave dramas of the year by far (BL or otherwise). it’s just a class apart from any drama i’ve watched before and ticks every single box for me. stunning in every way. down to every detail and every feeling and emotion. it’s so raw and real and i can’t praise what nadao and the team have done with this enough (and we still have 2 more eps to go!!). there’s just so much meaning in every little thing, and in all those little things you can see the time and care it’s taken them to make this.

#wait have i talked about the ost and how they use music and silence in this bc it's brilliant!! perfection!!#i told sunset about you #itsay #bkpp #text #oh and not to mention the chinese lyrics being translated to thai STUNNING #nothing else can compare to how this series makes me feel i could write essays upon essays of my thoughts and it wouldn't be enough #it's the headiness of the two of them that has taken my apart in every way #this has felt like the longest week ever and this next week is going to feel even LONGER until the day i get a new ep once again #i think i prob have more things i want to say but i can't think of anything else off the top of my head i just needed to rant somewhere #normally i would just leave my thoughts and feelings in the tags but this is just too much the way the both of them overwhelm us all #you KNOW i'm gonna rewatch this again bc i can't help myself i really can't #i have a couple feelings on how the end could go and it absolutely worries everything inside of me bc there's A LOT of foreshadowing #going around and it's just got me feeling :///#climax next week (i'm pretty sure it'll be next week) is gonna feel like a volcanic explosion after all this waiting #i can't wait till we get the other teaser and i know what's happening in the next ep preview one too #we're getting the infamous neck kiss in ep 4 and it's gonna scrape out my insides just you fucking watch #i will sob until there is nothing left of me #didn't billkin describe the neck kiss as just the sauce???????? fuck i'm not ready I'M NOT READY #the way this is the only thing i want to talk about for days months years decades #the feel of it def reminds me of cmbyn and yeah i totally see it #it's the authenticity of it somehow

64 notes · View notes

melofanish · 4 years ago

Text

Through Rivers of Family Blood

Have Me, Have You, Have Us

Summary: Carlos slings his bag over his shoulder, sighing as he barely resists slamming the car door and jogging up the short stairs to the gym. It's his day off, and even though he's meeting with TK later on and that should have him in a good mood, he’s on edge, tethering the line to downright pain and anger, so he figured he could relearn whatever skills he might have forgotten over the past few years while punching his frustrations out rather than stew in his resentment.

Carlos can’t stop the booming laugh he lets out as he stands up, as Marjan drags him to his own car. She will never replace Dora - no one will ever be able to - but Carlos is starting to think that maybe he’s earned himself a younger sister, even though Marjan claims otherwise.

-Chapter Two of Have Me, Have You, Have Us.

Tags: Carlos Reyes, TK Strand, Paul Strickland, Marjan Marwani, Mateo Chavez, Judd Ryder, Owen Strand, Michelle Blake, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Developing Friendship.

Warnings: Light emotional angst.

Beta: The owner of my soul @lire-casander. There’s literally no words to explain how much help this woman has been. She’s sat through me screaming cause of lack of inspiration, she’s been a sounding board as I threw messes of ideas at her, and then somehow made sense of all of them. This would not have been done without her, and I’m forever grateful.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3.

---

Chapter 2: Marjan: Through Rivers of Family Blood.

Carlos slings his bag over his shoulder, sighing as he barely resists slamming the car door and jogging up the short stairs to the gym. It's his day off, and even though he's meeting with TK later on and that should have him in a good mood, he’s on edge, tethering the line to downright pain and anger, so he figured he could relearn whatever skills he might have forgotten over the past few years while punching his frustrations out rather than stew in his resentment.

His sister hasn’t been approved for time off. And neither has he. Which means they’re going to enter their third year of not meeting face-to-face. And he’s much more discouraged by it than he thought he could ever be. It hurts even more that they were going to go on a weekend vacation together - Dora was finally meeting TK in person - and the image of waking up to the two most important people talking and laughing together takes a step back, resigning to be unfulfilled in a yet again unknown timeline.

So he marches in and stands in line to the counter, getting the formalities over as fast as possible. He was hoping he could catch a quick run on a treadmill before the kickboxing class that he’s here for, but he’s barely fifteen minutes early, and he knows that’s not enough time - it still doesn’t stop him from longing for the burn that would spread across his thighs as he pushes himself harder than he should.

As he hands his membership card and is given the sign-in paper, somehow, even through the blurriness that's clogging up his mind right now, he notices 'Marjan Marwani' two rows over his own name.

A slight frown takes over his features before it clears up quickly. He remembers Marjan and Paul mentioning that they workout together. He just didn't think that he'd meet someone he knows his first day in a new gym.

He just about hands the paper board back when he feels a pat over his arm. He turns around to none other than a smirking Marjan.

"Here to show off your muscles to TK?"

Like a magic spell, Carlos laughs - for the first time today - Marjan bringing a quick lightness to his world. He shakes his head and follows Marjan when she motions towards the locker area with a flick of her head.

"Hello to you too, I'm very well, thank you very much for asking," he says, which Marjan rolls her eyes at, but he pays her no mind, and keeps going, "How's yourself I wonder? I hope all is well?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Polite Texan Gentleman."

It's Carlos' turn to groan now. The crew saw him open the car door for TK once, and, apparently, the nickname has become a thing.

"Just wanted to kill a little time since I have nothing else to do,” he chooses to ignore her and explain instead, continuing when she raises an eyebrow at him. “Captain Strand has a hospital appointment today, so TK's over there with him," he elaborates.

Marjan lets out a sympathetic hum, frowning as she undoubtedly racks her mind for any mention of this session. He knows she won't find it. He confirms that no one knows about it when she asks.

"Damned Strands and their need to internalise everything," she huffs. And Carlos can't help but snort in agreement, even if he thinks he’s somewhat a hypocrite at this specific moment.

"I'd much rather punch the frustration out," she continues, and that is something Carlos finds himself agreeing with yet again.

"Which class are you taking?"

"Kickboxing," Marjan says, pulling up her arms in a classic defensive stance. “Started when I still was in Miami, and moved to this location since I moved here.”

"Oh, it’s my first class today!" he exclaims as he raises a fist to bump it to hers.

He hasn’t kickboxed in years, and he’s never been to this specific gym. He’s always been highly sceptical of it as a whole; it’s a famous chain with branches all over the country, and this specific branch is giant. Carlos would pass by it and wonder why it’s so large, why it takes up so much space. Knowing that Marjan has been a regular attendant brings a sense of relief. The fact that the recommendation came from his sister - she goes to the same gym in New Jersey - meant that he’d at least give it a try before deciding anything against it.

They fall into an easy silence as they walk to the locker areas, branching off to different sides when Marjan enters the Female-Only section of the lockers with a promise to meet him outside once she’s changed.

He hurries to the lockers, following the numbers until he gets to his assigned compartment for the day. He had caught a shower at home right before he left, so all he has to do now is change from his casual sweatpants and t-shirt into his workout gear. Which means that he barely needs five minutes before he’s leaving the locker room to find a seat in the lounge area.

Except that he must have miscalculated the time, because the moment he sets foot into the lounge area, the speakers come to life, announcing the end of the current classes and asking all attendants of the next class to make their way towards their designated halls.

So Carlos turns himself right back around, looking around the open hall for a moment trying to find the room that he’s supposed to go to before he finds the needed label and arrow, and follows them down a long hall.

He ends in a large hall, the entire front wall lined by mirrors, and what looks like an audio station shelf in one corner, a couple of headsets hanging from the corner. There are long benches that surround both sides and tables at the very end of said benches, water bottles and towels laid down across the top. The entire floor is lined with foam flooring, tape lines stretched across, marking squares where everyone has gone to stand. There are multiple sizes of punching bags both sitting on the floor and hanging from the ceiling.

Carlos can’t help the shocked expression he knows he must be making. He didn’t expect the gym to be as well furnished as it is. Especially not with the number of classes that they offer. And yet, as he stands in what is the best kickboxing hall he has ever set foot in, he can’t help but think that he might have found his new favourite gym.

He makes his way to an empty square, placing his water bottle on the ground at the edge of his border before standing in the middle. He starts cracking his joints, turning his neck both ways and folding his fingers in to get into the mindset for what he’s about to do.

Carlos would never call himself out of shape, but he is aware that he has lost much of his kickboxing abilities throughout the years. It started as a way to destress when he was a teenager, a safe and useful mechanism that helped him relieve his frustrations while keeping him healthy. As he grew older, it stopped being a coping mechanism and swung to being a sport. Unfortunately, once he graduated from the Academy and was a full-fledged officer at APD, free days came by less and less, forcing him to eventually give up the sport altogether.

So, when Dora informed him of this new program that had multiple classes throughout the week and the ability for its attendees to catch any of the week’s scheduled classes as long as they book a minimum of twenty-four-hours earlier, he knew it was a chance he couldn’t miss up.

Still, a breath of relief filled his chest at the sight of Marjan coming to stand next to him. He throws a grateful smile her way, and she responds with a low chuckle and a shake of her head. He's about to retaliate in a way, maybe take a page out of TK's book and stick his tongue out at her, when the coaches at the front of the room call the class to attention.

With a final shared grin, they both look ahead, listening as they explain the goal of the class and the plan of the day and the upcoming six weeks.

Marjan was not supposed to kick his ass the way she did.

It's not that he doesn't think she's fit or strong; she's a firefighter - and an adrenaline junkie - so he knows she's on top of her physical health.

It's just that Carlos thought that he was on top of his own physical health. And it turned out that he was wrong. So very wrong.

He noticed that while Marjan was walking with a spring in her step, arms swinging wide around her, he was limping out, holding his shoulder close to his torso after a particularly rough tackle that he didn't defend well enough.

Even now, after he's gotten a quick shower and is getting dressed in the locker room, he's starting to see bruises flourish and darken his skin, each one a testament to something he didn't do right.

Some part of him blames it on his distraction. He wasn’t exactly focused on following the tiniest of details, and maybe he wanted to get bruised and beat up a little. He hasn’t used working out as a way to disguise his emotional distress in quite a few years. And yet, as he pokes one particularly visible bruise, the blood starting to pool in distinct dark discolouration spreading across the lower edge of his ribs, he can’t help but think that his distraction wasn’t at fault here, and he’s just fallen back into older less-than-ideal coping mechanisms.

With a groan, he finishes dressing up, grabs his bag and makes his way towards the front desk.

Once he has given the locker keys back and received his membership card in return, he's out of the door. He finds himself stopping right in the middle of the parking lot, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. It doesn't fill him up like a breath of fresh air should - not that a parking lot has fresh air to begin with. But while he was expecting some relief, he finds that gets none. His shoulders are still tense, his mood still sour.

Letting out a small sigh and making a quick split second decision, he starts moving to the juice bar at the corner of the street, determined to grab a juice to go and wallow in his misery at home.

It’s a small shack right around the edge of the street that has made a magnificent business out of selling a variety of coffees, juices and post-workout drinks. The place is so tiny, it barely houses any sitting arrangement indoors, which works wonderfully when most of their regulars take their drinks to go anyway. Those who do want to sit for a moment though will find a rather large spread of benches on the terrace. It’s one of Carlos’ favourite places. The fact that it's locally owned makes it all the better.

It's on the terrace that he notices - while waiting for his drink to be prepared - a turban in the very far end of the outdoor sitting area. Immediately, he realises that he knows that turban. He knows the style and colour. Simply because he was just with Marjan. And now she's here, sitting alone, on a bench, staring at the small expanse of greenery and the parking lot ahead of her. His trance is broken when his name is called. Picking up the drink, he looks over and starts to make his way towards his car, only to stop a few steps later.

A frown starts to deepen on his forehead the more he stares at her. All the times he's met her, Marjan has always been a bright entity. Always smiling, eyes glittering with happiness and mischief. And yet as he looks at her now he finds that she seems… dull.

The worry has him abandoning his initial plan and moving towards her instead. He might be in a sad mood, but he'll be damned if that stops him from acting on his concern.

"Got space for one more person?" he asks once he's next to her. His suspicions that her mind is occupied elsewhere are confirmed when she looks up at him with wide, startled eyes. A few moments later - once she realises who is talking to her - she graces him with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and a nod of her head.

Still, he takes the permission and plants himself next to her, drink in his hand.

The initial silence is comfortable, aided by the cooling effect that the juice had on his throat and the light breeze on his bruised body. And yet, it's heavy. Marjan is one of the firefighters he hasn't gotten many one-on-one interactions with. She’s a major part of their hangouts, and while they are friendly with one another, he hasn’t had the chance to know her better.

He's standing on uneven and unknown grounds with her. He wants to talk to her, ask if he can help. He just doesn't know how to. But the longer he takes to come up with something, the more awkward the air around them becomes, and the harder it is to speak.

So they sit in silence instead, while Carlos still tries to think of something. How it’s possible that there isn’t a single topic popping in his mind comes as a shock to him.

The silence seems to be choking Marjan as well, because she groans and drops her head into her hands. Carlos looks at her for a moment, before he slides a foot or so across the bench, inching closer to the seemingly troubled woman next to him.

"You okay?" he whispers, hands playing with the straw of his drink. Marjan sighs, so he turns his head to look at her.

She doesn’t look at him. Her head is angled upwards, eyes closed as the wind gently blows on their faces.

"You know, usually I’d talk to Paul, Mateo, or TK,” she whispers so low that Carlos has to lean towards her a little, “hell, maybe even Judd. But they’re just, they mean well. But they also feel the need to give advice and help out. And sometimes, I just want to rant about stuff and listen to them rant. And at the end of the talk, I want to not have a solution for anything."

Carlos hums, pondering over her words for a moment. He knows that the 126 have gotten close - they've been through the wringer one too many times not to be. He's also been in the position where he was the one being given advice. Even when it wasn't solicited.

He knows it's out of good intentions, they want to help, and advice is a way to do that. But so is just listening.

"Well," Carlos starts, placing his drink down on the bench next to him, "I'm here to silently listen if you want."

Marjan flats him with a raised eyebrow, the questioning challenge clear in her eyes. When Carlos doesn't budge, she looks away with a sigh.

"It's a two-way street, man. If I rant, you'll have to rant about whatever put that frown on your face too," she says as she leans back on the bench, stretching her legs ahead of her.

Carlos shoots her a shocked look, not aware that his own bitter feelings had been so clear to an outsider. Marjan seems to read his shock too though, "I could see you brooding from a whole mile away, Carlos," she explains with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, let's mend one sad soul at a time," he shrugs at her, waving her worries with a flick of his hands.

Marjan glares at him for a moment. But he’s been around her enough to know that this isn’t one of her judgemental or annoyed glares, this is more of a playful and teasing glare. He replies to it with a wide grin, and she reciprocates with a shake of her head and a soft smile.

“I miss my family,” she says after a sigh, all pretences of strength draining out of her. “I just, every time I think things are good and I start to savour life, something happens with them while I’m here and I start to think I let you down, mama and baba, and I just, I miss them.”

Carlos nods his head in understanding, the feeling somewhat familiar to him. But he doesn't speak, he lets Marjan rant, the way she seems to truly need.

“Like, my parents did raise us to go all out and be independent and live our lives for us,” she says as she gestures ahead of her. “But I guess I also just always thought I’d have them with me while I live life. And now I’m here and I’m on the move, and they’re not, they’re sitting at home catching up on their rest and their health.”

Carlos stays in his place, listening intently to each phrase Marjan is saying. Her words all run across scars he's had to deal with in the past, and they make him yearn for a time when he had his entire family under one roof.

“Did you know that my dad has been diabetic, on insulin, for a year and I had no idea?!” she exclaims, waving her hands around her head. “None at all! I don’t even think he was ever planning to tell me. I just happened to Facetime my mom one day just as he was giving himself an injection in the background.”

She pauses for a moment, dropping her head to rest her chin onto her chest, and Carlos thinks she might have gotten everything off her chest. But he’s proven wrong moments later when she lifts her head.

"And it's not just my parents. My younger sister, Yara, the fifteen-year-old one, she has grown so much during the past year I've been here. And I've missed a lot of what makes her who she is. And now, when I talk to her, there's nothing to talk about. I don't know what she likes and doesn't like, what shows she watches and what foods she enjoys and what career she wants to pursue." She stops for a moment to catch her breath, before she keeps going at it with the same passion as before.

“And my eighteen-year-old brother, Karim? We used to do everything together, he was my best friend when I was younger, and now? We could go for literal weeks without speaking. And I just,” she pauses to sigh, “I just miss the simpler times, you know? Waking up to have breakfast together, going to school, coming back to have lunch together, doing my homework quick and early to watch some dumb show with my entire family while we have dinner together, I just miss them all.”

She stops for a moment, her hands coming to rest in her lap as she whispers, “Is it supposed to look like this?”

This time feels like this is an actual question, rather than a rant, so Carlos turns to Marjan, raising an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Adulthood,” she groans, throwing her hands in the sky. “This whole I’m an adult and I need to leave my family and I must transcend the world on my own. I want to live and go through the world and still go back home to them, you know?”

Marjan stops talking for a moment, eyes on Carlos before she frowns and trails her eyes away. Carlos keeps his own gaze on her, waiting as she comes to a conclusion to whatever question is obviously racking her mind.

"Do you?" She asks then.

Carlos has to blink a few times, certain that he missed something.

"Do I what?"

"Do you know what it's like to leave your family? I just realised I have no idea if you have siblings or where your parents are or anything."

"I… Well… I’m the younger one, so my sister left for college first, and she still works far away, so, I guess?" he questions, unsure if his answer is what she was looking for and trying to conceal his pain with confusion.

It seems to work because a wide smile breaks over Marjan's face as she turns to face Carlos completely, bending one leg under her.

"You have a sister?! I never knew!" she exclaims as she does a full one-eighty, going from hurt and frowning to eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, one sister."

Marjan stares at him with wide eyes for a few moments. "And? Tell me about her!" she demands when he doesn't say anything else, making a “go on” gesture with her hand.

An easy smile takes over Carlos' face, even as he breaks eye contact to shake his head in amusement.

"Well, her name is Dora, she's four years older. And she's kinda my favourite person in the world, but don't tell her I said that," he threatens with a pointed finger.

It brings a chuckle out of Marjan, but she still mimics a zipper closing over her lips.

"Dora and Carlos Reyes, huh?"

"Well, kinda. Her full name is Isadora," he explains, continuing when she both frowns in confusion and nods in encouragement. “I saw her wearing a pink shirt one day, and she had a bowl cut like most kids of the early nineties, and my two-year-old self decided that she looked like Dora the Explorer,” he smiles as understanding starts to take over Marjan’s features.

“Isadora in a pink shirt and a bowl cut, it’s only a natural progression that you get to Dora.”

“Exactly!”

Marjan sits back on the bench, a laugh filling the space between them. She pulls to a side and grabs her drink, Carlos copying her when she brings the straw to her mouth. Silence follows as they gulp down their now warm drinks in quick sips, trying to catch up to the last thread of coldness.

This entire situation reminds him of his own self some ten years ago, when Dora first-ever left for college. He remembers how heartbroken he was, how he felt abandoned. He knew she was leaving for her future, and that he would undoubtedly do the same. But his fourteen-year-old self was still extremely offended and hurt, no matter how illogical it was.

“Do you miss her?” Marjan asks just as he realises that she finished her drink first, and has put down the empty cup beside her. “I mean, if she’s four years older, then she graduated at least eight, nine years ago, and she isn’t here, is she?” She asks, continuing when Carlos answers with a shake of his head. “Did it ever feel like she abandoned you?”

Carlos hums for a moment, trying to figure out how he’s supposed to control his emotions when Marjan puts it like that. It doesn’t help that he can’t really tell who she is asking about. But he wants to answer her in a way that’s both honest and gentle.

“Are you asking me about me, or asking me for your siblings?” he asks, figuring he doesn't need to assume when he can get the answer almost instantaneously.

Marjan snorts, shaking her head as she takes a deep breath and lets it out in a slow sigh.

“You’re too smart for your own self, Reyes,” she grumbles before she concedes, “I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

“Well, I can only speak for myself when I say that I did feel abandoned. I was so sad and angry at her that I didn’t really talk to her properly for the first few months, even though she kept trying and calling and adding me on social media," he starts to explain, taking a moment to think of the best phrasing. "Home was her, my dad and I, and when she left, she somehow ruined our home."

He shrugs as he stops, the memories of how hurt he was coming back to him, mixing with how hurt he feels right now.

“But after a while, she just kinda messaged me less, and we weren’t that close-knit unit we were anymore.” He feels the earlier bubble of anger return, but this time at his past self, at how he was so angry that he did things that are just so stupid.

“Yeah, that sounds very familiar right now,” Marjan sighs. "Are you guys in contact now? Or has it been that way ever since?"

"No!" he almost screams in his haste to correct Marjan, the sole idea of being on non-speaking terms with his sister leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "No, no, God,no, we're good now, we're best friends, we're proper close," he assures her, crossing his index and middle finger together.

"So how did you go from not talking for months to being best friends?"

"This is tethering on advice-giving, Marjan," he teases, raising an eyebrow at her and chuckling when she rolls her eyes at him. He can’t help but chuckle at how he seems to be getting the full blast of the Marwani Eye Rolls today.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done ranting, I'm now asking for advice. I heard you gave Paul amazing words that started his journey with the mystery bar lady, so share that wisdom, Reyes," she huffs in feigned annoyance, much to Carlos' amusement. He knows that Paul has been making progress with Bar-Lady, but he's been keeping it under wraps lest it gets jinxed and falls apart, and Carlos has been respecting his wishes, refusing to say anything about their conversation or the events leading up to Paul approaching her.

Carlos reaches a hand to Marjan, grabbing her cup and getting up to throw the trash into the bin. Even though it's covered as environmental care, it's a way for him to catch his breath and organise his thoughts. And from the soft look Marjan gives him when he turns around, she knows that as well.

Still, she doesn't say a word even when he sits back down, giving him his space as he stretches his legs and finds a comfortable position on the bench. After a couple of minutes of silence, he finally turns to face Marjan.

"So, when my sister left, I was really hurt. Dora and my dad are all I've had, they were my entire world. In my head, she left our family and somehow that meant that it was broken," he begins, recalling how his joy over her getting into her dream college was quickly shattered when he realised how far away she'd be. "And at fourteen, I didn't know how to express that pain, so I just stopped talking to her."

"Now that I'm older, I think that I did that to hurt her back." He remembers when he came to that conclusion many years after the event was done and gone. "I knew how much our relationship meant to her, and I think I wanted her to know how it feels to be left, the same way she left me."

He sneaks a glance at Marjan, finding a guilty frown on her face. He wishes there was an easier way to say what he has to say, but it's one of those things that can't be sugar-coated.

"To be fair to her, she did keep trying. She was always calling and messaging me, asking about school and sports and TV shows. And I was sad and snappy, giving her short replies or single word answers. Sometimes I'd leave her on read just out of spite."

The memories are somewhat fuzzy in his mind, those months something he'd rather forget. But he still remembers how he'd race into his room after school, turn on his computer, open Facebook, read the message, only to exit the website again.

He'd give young Carlos a good slap up the back of the head if he could.

"It wasn't until one day, a couple of weeks before her first spring break, I got home earlier than usual. And I walked into my dad in the kitchen, talking to Dora on speaker. The first thing I had registered was how hurt she sounded," he recalls the absolute agony in her voice, the defeat, the resignation. "I was about to run in, ask what was wrong, when I heard her say I just don't know what to do, Papa, he won't talk to me, and I miss him so much."

He stops for a moment, he needs to, his voice just on the verge of cracking on that last word. It's a stark reminder of the rush of emotions he felt all those years ago, when he first overheard that conversation.

"I think I needed to hear that, though. To hear that she missed me too and to realise how hurt she was by leaving. I pretended I didn't hear anything, and just snuck up to my room. Except that now, I knew exactly how she felt. I knew that she was hurt too, but it didn't feel good. I didn't feel satisfied because she missed me. I just felt like I had lost her."

"A few days later, I went downstairs to my dad, and asked him if Dora would ever forgive me." The mention of his dad forces a smile out of him, and how he was so distressed that he just had to seek his dad's wisdom. "I think he tried to play it subtle at first, asking what I meant. But when he realised how affected I truly was, he quickly laid the truth down for me."

He can tell that Marjan is hanging onto every word he says.

"He told me that Dora laughed every time I hit a milestone and cried every time I got hurt. She wasn't going to hate me just because I didn’t talk to her for a few months. But that didn't mean that I was off the hook. The ball was in the middle of the court, and I had the chance to take the first step to make things right," he shrugs, his dad's words running through his mind again.

His dad was gentle, the way he always had been, but he didn't lie to Carlos either. He made sure that Carlos knew that he was responsible for the hurt both he and Dora were going through. And no matter how he felt at the very beginning, the end result was still pain for both of them.

"So I did. The next time she texted, I replied. And then I called her, and she picked up. And, you know, it took time, but we got there. And now, we're best friends again. We're so close right now that the fact that she hasn't gotten approved for time off has put us both in the worst of bad moods."

Marjan sighs as he comes to a stop, turning around to fiddle with her rings. He thinks that part of it is giving him privacy to get his emotions under control - they both act in the same way in that they aren't overly emotional in front of just anyone, and he doesn't think they're at that level of vulnerability quite yet.

"So," Marjan says after a long moment of silence, "I just need to keep going at it? Keep trying until they see what’s been happening, then we’ll be best friends again, Yara, Karim and I, huh?"

”I mean, I don't know for sure. But yeah, I think so."

"You know," Marjan quips with a frown on her face and what he thinks is the beginning of hope in her eyes, "I think I heard Yara mention Marvel and Iron Man once, and Karim is super into video games these days. I'm no expert in either, but…"

"But interest is the first step. I don't think Dora understood a single word of all the Pokémon talk that I used to tell her, but it got us talking!"

Marjan hums, looking out ahead of her into the parking lot. There isn't something in particular that's worthy of attention, but Carlos finds himself staring at a random tree next to the juice bar.

There's a weirdly placed nest high up on one of the branches, a bird of some kind making trips back and forth between the nest and the street underneath. He's starting to wonder if birds feel sorrow when one of them leaves, when Marjan breaks his non-conventional train of thought.

"Well, that's my family drama," she sighs, turning towards him again, slinging her arm on the backrest and rests her head on top of her hand. "What are we going to do about your sister?"

"I don't know. Suffer in sadness, I guess," Carlos huffs. "There's nothing to be done. Neither one of us is getting approved for time off anytime soon."

The sad smile that Marjan gives him is exactly why he didn't want to meet anyone right after he got the news. The sympathy would only make him feel worse. Though, now that he got the frustration beat out of him, it covers him like a comforting blanket.

"Well, I know no one can replace your sister," Marjan says with a shrug and a suspiciously teasing smile, "but I can be your big sister until you meet her again."

The rapid blinking that Carlos' eyes do on their own accord is probably enough of a reaction, because Marjan stares at him for a few moments and then breaks into laughter, the happiness he's come to associate with the woman finally making itself visible.

"You're, you're younger than me!" he exclaims.

“That just doesn’t sound right, does it now?” Marjan quips, a smirk spreading on her face.

"It's literally a fact!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says as she gets up off the bench, hooking an arm around his once Carlos is standing up. "Drive me home, baby brother."

#911 lone star #carlos reyes #marjan marwani #isadora reyes #911 lone star fic #mentioned tk strand #mentioned paul strickland #mentioned owen strand

19 notes · View notes

rainy-day-gracie · 5 years ago

Text

Old Friends 5

Chapter 5!! Sorry I was busy today and didn’t get a chance to post it

Spencer Reid x Reader

Spencer helps Reader deal with nightmares.

Chapter 5:

Coffee was an everyday thing for me. But recently it has become a necessity.

The nightmares started after the case in my hometown, and I’ve barely slept since. Not for lack of trying.

I had my second cup of coffee before noon, and Morgan gave me a face. “Did the pretty girl get laid last night?”

I laughed bitterly. “Far from it I’m afraid.”

“Are you sure? Those bags under your eyes tell a different story.” Morgan continued to pester me all until I sat at my desk. He just chuckled and walked away.

JJ came by to drop a stack of files on my desk, and she gave me a look too. “Did you get laid last night?”

I dropped the pen I was holding. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Did you?” JJ persisted.

“Sorry to disappoint you JJ, but no I didn’t.” I faked a sad face. “Just a late night, that’s all.” Or a couple weeks worth of late nights.

In the desk next to me, Spencer gave me a look but didn’t say anything.

Hotch suddenly ran out of his office and knocked on Rossi’s door. They spoke a few words, and turned to look at us. “Everyone, grab your go bag. We’ll brief on the jet. Wheels up in 10.”

---

“Holden Baxley, a friend of mine from the Boston field office called me an hour ago. He couldn’t go into details, but long story short, a suicide bomber that hasn’t been identified walked into Boston PD with a bomb strapped to his chest.”

“Oh god,” JJ breathed. “What happened then?”

Hotch closed his eyes. “The bomb went off, and half of the Boston police department blew out with it.”

The jet was silent.

“How many casualties?” Morgan asked.

“17 and counting, 23 wounded.”

“Do they think it’s a one time explosion?” I could only imagine the kind of panic this would have in the city.

“No, because a note was left at the press two minutes before the bomber even walked into the station. The note read ‘God’s wrath will be unleashed on all who disrespect the word of the Lord.’”

“Old Testament much?” Rossi looked around the jet. “The fact that the news station is across town from Boston PD makes me think there’s more than one or two unsubs.”

“Guys,” I started. “What if it’s a cult turned terrorist cell?”

“That is possible, especially if the leader is a psychopath that suffered a loss and blames Boston PD.” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. “The leader could’ve involved others that feel the same and want revenge against law enforcement. By taking on the persona of the wrath of God, they likely aren’t going to stop until they wreak ultimate havoc on the city in the name of religion.”

“We have to find them before they strike again. YLN, Reid, go to the explosion site. Prentiss, Morgan, set up in the Boston Field Office. JJ, Rossi and I will interview families of the victims and witnesses of the explosion. Try and work quickly. Something tells me we don’t have a lot of time.” Hotch didn’t miss a beat. “The wrath of God is about to be unleashed upon Boston.”

---

The entire right side of Boston PD was blown out into the street beside it. Crowds of citizens and TV news channels flooded the streets, barely being kept back by the lines of yellow tape.

“Spencer, how are we going to respond to the press?” I asked as we pulled up in the SUV.

“No comment, for now.”

As soon as we stepped out of the SUV, reporters and citizens alike screamed and shouted questions.

“Is this the work of terrorists?” “How do we know if we’re safe?” “What do you have to say to the victim’s families?”

“No comment.” Spencer and I held up our badges and ducked under the yellow tape.

“The psycho that blew the place up was blown to smithereens as well. We didn’t find any kind of ID on him.” A Boston FBI agent approached us. “Larry Dillman, Boston FBI.” He offered his hand to Spencer and I took it before it got too awkward when Spencer didn’t shake it.

“I’m SSA Dr. YFN YLN and this is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Where was the approximate location of the original blast?”

Dillman walked us through what was left of the front door. “About right there, when he walked into the main hall. It was noon, so there were more people busying about. That’s partly why the body count is so high.”

“Do you know if he said anything when he walked in?” Spencer asked.

“Witnesses have said he just yelled ‘Matthew 10:34’ and boom.”

“‘Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.’” Spencer recited.

“He is literally using the Bible as his scapegoat to commit terrorism.” I looked up at Spencer. “We need to get to the station.”

---

After checking out the explosion we hurried back to the station. “Hotch!” I called out. “He’s using God as a scapegoat to terrorize Boston. The massive rage confirms that they aren’t going to stop.”

“Excuse me, Agents,” a woman stood up from her desk. “There’s someone on line 1 wanting to talk to an agent from the BAU.”

Hotch pulled Rossi up to the phone and gestured to Morgan. “Call Garcia to track the call.”

Rossi slowly picked up the phone. “Hello, this is SSA David Rossi with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?”

“Is it too pretentious to say your worst nightmare?” The voice said. Obviously using a voice modulator, classic paranoid narcissist by building himself up to be some almighty being.

“Are you responsible for the attack on Boston PD?” Rossi asked. “Michael Devons incited massive panic with a small IED.”

“Boston PD? You mean that building full of liars, cheaters, and sinners?”

“God speaks of forgiveness, but you seem to carry a lot of hatred.” Rossi looked over all of us. “Are your friends listening to this phone call as well?”

The caller was silent for a while. “You may think we see this as a game, but we don’t. God plays no games with the people he creates.” The line goes dead and I release a breath I’ve been holding since he called.

“Garcia couldn’t track it, probably using a disposable cell phone,” Morgan pointed to the crime scene photos. “These guys are smart, using voice modulators, ensuring their members die for the cause, so why would they call us for no apparent reason?”

“A game...” I mumbled. “You make think we see this as a game...”

“What is it, YLN?” Prentiss asked me.

I gasped. “What if they’re testing us? That’s why they called, to see if we could figure out their next target... Fenway Park. Are there any baseball games today?”

“Slow down, brainy lady,” Morgan said slowly. “What are you thinking?”

“He said, ‘You may think we see this as a game, but we don’t.’ What if he wasn’t talking about the bombings but the baseball games? That’s all about choosing sides and that’s something God forbids. They would see every person in that stadium as a sinner.” I looked Hotch in the eyes. “The next target is Fenway Park, it has to be.”

Hotch pointed to the head of the field office. “Are there any baseball games at Fenway Park today?”

“Yeah, Sox versus Yankees.”

“We gotta get over there,” Hotch said and we all ran out the doors. “Swat will meet us there.”

---

“We can’t evacuate the stadium, that would set the bomber off early if they see people leaving,” Hotch explained as we got on our tactical gear. “Search the stadium, most likely they’re under the stands.”

“What do we do if we find the bomber?” JJ asked.

“Try to talk them down, if you can’t... shoot straight. Let’s go.”

The nearly empty corridors of Fenway Park were eerie as I walked by myself. Every now and then I would hear noise from the fans, and the smell of cheap nachos filled the air.

As I approached concessions, I looked at all the people in line. A young couple giggling at each other, a man probably in his 70s, a pregnant woman pushing a stroller.

And an isolated young man with a giant overcoat. As soon as he caught sight of me, the guy bolted.

“FBI! Out of the way!” I yelled. “Stop right there and put your hands up!”

To my surprise, he actually stopped.

“Put your hands on your head and turn around slowly. Everyone else, clear out of here.”

The man turned around, a smug smile on his face. “Romans 1:18!”

He started to unbuckle his overcoat.

He didn’t get the chance when I shot him between the eyes.

I took a shaky breath and called into my comm. “Suspect is down. Get bomb squad in here to take care of the explosive. Fifty feet away from concessions.”

The smile was still frozen on his face, even though half of his head was blown out.

---

I was quiet on the jet ride back. He wasn’t my first kill, but my first one with the BAU, and that was sure to ensue even more sleepless nights.

Spencer sat across from me. “You were even more impressive than usual with this case. Somehow you always raise the bar.”

“No kidding,” Rossi said in passing.

“So are you going to tell me about this nightmare you’re having or...” Spencer gave me a look. “You know talking about it will help.”

“Spencer-“

“Talk to me.” I could see in his eyes he wasn’t going to give up.

“Well, it starts out with me sitting with a teenage girl. She’s a patient, and she was talking about how her teacher was... messing with her. Slowly she disappears, and the room transforms into... my mom’s bedroom. She’s standing there, yelling at me. Except the louder she yells, the more blood comes out of her mouth.” I shake my head. “I try and help her, but no sound would come out. She wraps her hand around my throat, screaming at me and spitting blood in my face. I wake up before she brings her fist down on my jaw.

Spencer was quiet for a while. “...Could it be the apartment making the nightmares worse? Sometimes a change of scenery helps distract the subconscious from the nightmares.” Spencer twirled a pen through his fingers, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Maybe, whenever I’m lying awake in my bed I’m looking around my bedroom instead of relaxing.”

Spencer thought about something. “Well... you could stay the night at my place if you want. I could sleep on the couch and you can take the bed.” I could see his nervousness in his darting eyes and twitchy hands.

I smile. “Spencer, that’s really nice but you don’t have to-“

“No, no. I want to help.” And I could tell he was serious.

“Okay sure, but on one condition- I take the couch and you sleep in your own bed.”

Spencer huffed a laugh. “Fine.”

---

The plane landed at 10:12 at night. Not super late, but after this case, everyone wanted to go to bed.

Hotch had made an announcement on the jet that we could take a half day tomorrow and come in at noon.

“Can’t wait to sleep in until 11:45,” Morgan joked on the elevator.

Since Spencer takes the train to work everyday, he hopped in my passengers seat and immediately made a face.

“What is it?” I asked, confused.

“Your car is disgusting,” Spencer said. “I’ve seen shantytowns cleaner than this.”

“Oh, shut up Mr. Cleanliness. A couple food wrappers does not make me a slob,” I lightly punched him in the shoulder as I pulled out of the parking garage.

“It’s more than a couple,” Spencer muttered.

“I’ve starting to regret agreeing to a sleepover, pretty boy.”

---

Sitting on Spencer’s couch eating popcorn and watching Doctor Who felt so much like college that I completely forgot about the fact that I could’ve been blown up today.

We were still watching Doctor Who on the couch when my eyes fell heavy. Slowly, my head rested on Spencer’s shoulder and started to doze off.

I was barely awake when I felt Spencer press a light kiss on my forehead.

His lips felt the same as they did in college.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff

217 notes · View notes

feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years ago

Text

chapter nine: pleasures of the flesh

Sam boarded that plane with Chuck, Tiffany, Alex, Eric, Greg, and Louie at about ten minutes to the hour.

On one hand, it almost felt wrong to do that when she should be on the plane back to Los Angeles. Bill awaited her and she knew that she would have to face the music with him at some point anyway. She figured that the sooner she would have to see him, the better, and as far as she knew, he had ruined his own house.

But then again, as far as she knew, he had ruined his own house. She would have to return home to nothing.

She settled back in the seat next to Louie, and right next to the window as well.

Given it was so early in the morning, she peered out the window at the stretch of mainland United States under the veil of darkness. Clouds dotted the lower part of the sky beneath them: the soft orange and pink shades that kissed the tops made her think of watercolor. Despite it being so early in the morning, she was still wide awake from that latte that Eric had bought for her. A three hour flight back to San Francisco and there was no way in which she could fall back asleep.

Louie stayed wide awake as well, and she realized that was the first time in literal months that she and him had been alone together as well. He turned his head and showed her a wistful little smile.

“Almost home,” he said in a broken voice.

“Almost home,” she echoed him; if nothing, she could make her way down the Central Valley into Los Angeles and then Lake Elsinore, but that was for another day when it deemed necessary. Louie sighed through his nose and turned his head back to where he stared straight ahead at the seats in front of them: Greg and Alex were right behind them and had long fallen asleep once again, while Chuck, Eric, and Tiffany were right across the aisle, all asleep as well.

“My dad's gonna be here eventually,” she told him.

“It'd be nice to see him, wouldn't it?” Louie replied with a twinkle in his eye.

If only there was a way. If only there was a way she could convince him that he and Zelda belonged together, but if only there was a way she could tell him that he had a family in the background somewhere there.

“Absolutely. Especially after moving out here, too.” She fell silent for a moment. “Have you talked to Zelda lately?”

“I haven't, no,” he confessed. “I mean, we did see her and the girls back in Europe but I didn't really get alone with her and talked to her, though. Probably should, though, don't ya think?”

“Absolutely,” Sam replied and she nestled down in the seat some more.

“You know, Sam, if I'm being perfectly honest with you—I love how concerned you are about these sorts of things.”

“I just try to be a good friend,” she confessed.

“Well—and this is something I've learned from being around Zelda, too—sometimes you have to let people live. Sometimes some things are just better left unsaid.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well—” He turned his head to the row right across from them, and the three of them sound asleep. Neither Greg nor Alex made a peep since they left the airport. “I told you she got it out of me, right?” he asked her in a near whisper.

“How could I forget.”

“I figured that there are times where it's better to keep secrets so no one can use them against you because that's—kind of what happened between me and her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah. She told me that if the secret gets out between us—and that includes you, too—there will be hell to pay. If Testament is going anywhere in the world, and we probably will, just knowing these two fellas right behind us right and Chuck's searing vocals, there are some things that need to stay private.”

“It's none of people's business anyways,” she pointed out.

“Exactly, right! So that said, I hope to god that things will stay under wraps with us—you, me, and her. I trust you, Sam. I trust you and I trust Zelda, too. I trust that these things will stay between us.”

Sam extended her pinky finger for him.

“Excellent,” Louie remarked as he hooked his finger around hers.

“I should ask—where should I stay when we get back to the Bay Area?”

“You can stay with me,” he offered her.

“For real?”

“Yeah, I'm kinda—by myself now.”

“Aw.” She tilted her head at that and he nodded with a solemn look on his face.

“Yeah—but I'll take good care of you, though. When we touch down there, I'll do the first thing I did for Zelda after I started frequenting Rhode Island more and I'll take you out to breakfast. I'll ask Thing One and Thing Two back here if they wanna join us.”

She giggled at that.

“If there's one thing I couldn't do for my old girlfriend but I learned to do, though, it's that. It's treating you girls right.”

“I just think of that sentiment Charlie told me when I was hanging out with Anthrax back home in New York: you guys embrace your female fans.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “We absolutely love our female fans—mainly because there's not a lot of you running around, especially with us and this... I wanna say it's a second wave of thrash coming out of the Bay Area in particular. There's us and Death Angel, and there's a few others—we'll have to introduce you to them once we land.”

“There's Exodus, too,” she pointed out.

“Exodus has been around almost ten years now,” he corrected her. “Formed in the last gasp of the Seventies straight outta high school like us and Death Angel. And of course, Anthrax have some now, mainly with the help of the Cherry Suicides, but they've got some. I've seen a few women at our shows wearing Among the Living shirts and shirts with 'NOT' written on the front in big letters. I dunno if you've seen them throw that word around lately, but they have, though.”

“Like a catch phrase of some sort?”

“Kinda, yeah. I don't know if you seen Scott with that word shaved into his chest hair before but it's kinda funny, actually.”

“I don't remember,” she confessed.

“And it's a select few women, too. Between you, the four of them, and Marla, I haven't really seen any for Testament aside from the odd small bunch over in Europe.”

“Yeah, I probably counted all of five women in the crowd last night,” Sam recalled.

“Exactly!” Louie chuckled.

Sam then reached down between her legs for her purse and she took out her journal, her pencil, and a couple of her pens.

“Ah, you wanna draw for me!” he declared.

“Well, I also wanna show you the thing I made for Greg last night on the night flight,” she told him, and she flicked open to that one page. He gaped at the sight of the black ink on the page before him.

“Wow! What is it?”

“It's Joey and Alex on either side of one of the trees from the Black Forest. They're like praying to the tree together.”

“Oh, yeah, that's Alex and the little bit of gray upon his head—and the one with the curls is Joey.”

“It needs a little more touching up, but that's what I get for drawing so late at night and being partially asleep all the while, too.”

Louie chuckled at that when a low guttural noise cut him off. Sam stopped right in her tracks.

“Was that you or me?” he asked her in a low voice.

One of them in the seat behind groaned in his throat: Sam craned her neck back at the sight of Alex shifting his weight in his seat. Even though he was still asleep, nothing could deny the pained look on his face.

“The young buck,” she told Louie with a nod of her head back behind them.

“Aw—oh, yeah, he's not quite yet a full grown man so he's still suffering from that teenage hunger.”

“You ever get that hunger where it feels like you're about to puke?”

“All the time! You ever get the kind that sneaks up on you? Like you're fine one minute and then all of a sudden, you're like, 'holy hell, I'm hungry.' I used to get it all the time even when I hit twenty years old. I had my daughter then, too.”

“So that's why you were always struggling for money,” Sam noted.

“Nah, I was struggling for money because there was no money to be made yet. Zelda was only making enough to pay our rent and buy groceries and that was it—no idea what they must be making now. There still really isn't at the moment, not with us. Our label isn't giving us squat and touring is only really keeping our lights on. Seriously, Sam, it's only every so often we can splurge on something like going out to eat—and in Alex's case, it's to keep him at his parents' house still. I figured I have enough for a cab ride back to my place and then I can get something to eat after that, but that's about it. Really, that's why we're all on this plane and not a private one like Metallica are.”

“Metallica have their own plane now?” She was stunned by that, and Louie nodded his head and tucked a piece of flat hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Surprised me, too. But as we were leaving Munich for the first night, Alex was talking to Lars over the phone and they had flown to Copenhagen via their private jet.”

Sam brought her gaze down to the floor. To think Metallica were making enough money to have their own flight plan, and Cliff wasn't even there to witness it himself.

“Did he say how they got it?” she asked him.

“Nah, Alex was just like 'how in the world did you manage that one?' and Lars said they were just making enough money from their touring at this point that they were finally able to get it for themselves. Touring in the wake of losing Cliff, too.”

Sam shook her head. There was no way she could hold it against them for making money off of their dead friend because it wasn't their fault. But at the same time, merely addressing that the thing was a thing and going no further than that left her unsettled.

“I think it's interesting that Alex started wearing that skull ring, too,” Louie continued.

“Why's that?”

“'Cause Cliff had one himself. Remember that?”

Sam paused for a moment. Even though she only got to see him a handful of times prior to his death, it was such a vague little detail for her to remember altogether.

“By the way, when's everyone's birthdays again?” she spoke again. “I know Alex's is on the twenty ninth of September, and you're two days after me in January. I remember Chuck and Eric telling me once but it's escaped me.”

“Chuck is right after the summer solstice, June twenty third. Eric is May fourteenth and Greg is April twenty ninth.”

“All of us born later in the month, my goodness!” she declared.

“I know, right? Us Aquarians know how to throw people, you know?”

“We bear the water, after all,” Sam pointed out, “I bear the goat horns, too. I'm on the cusp.”

“I ain't getting in an argument with you,” Louie joked, “the goat horns and the bones, too.”

She giggled at that, and then she remembered the skull ring in question. And she began to wonder Alex's exact intent as the sun's first rays followed them all the way back to California.

They touched down in the Bay Area, right as the first wisps of that thick fog gathered right outside of the coast, and Sam was eager to step outside and feel the fog on her face and the crown of her head. Greg and Alex trudged behind her and Louie all the way to the area outside of the gate.

“Hey, you guys wanna join us for breakfast?” she offered them as she adjusted the straps on her purse and her overnight bag. “Lewis here is gonna take me out in a few minutes.”

“I'm ready for a nap,” Greg told her.

“Yeah, I'm probably just gonna mosey on back home and curl up in my bed,” Alex added as he rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. “Get on home and eat something, too. But I kinda miss my bed.”

“Exodus is playing tomorrow night, though,” Greg pointed out.

“Yeah, that's right!” Louie recalled. “Right across the street from me, too.”

“Oh, well, lucky us,” Sam proclaimed.

“Yeah, c'mon, Sam I am—I'll take ya home with me.”

She followed him out to the parking lot and towards the sidewalk on the far side of the black top. And then she realized that he didn't have a car.

“Are we taking the bus or—?” she asked him, but then her voice trailed off as he raised his arm up for a taxi, and the little green car pulled up to the curb before them.

“You know, the entire time I've lived in New York, I've only seen a few taxi cabs,” she told him as he held the door for her.

“Really? Well, you lived in the Bronx most of the time, though. Most of the cabs I've seen were down in Manhattan or over in Brooklyn. Like more so in the inner city part of it all rather than a straight up neighborhood such as that.”

“Right, and we lived in Hell's Kitchen, too! Down by the water and it was more like that, too. I always either hitched a ride with Charlie and Marla, or I took the subway or the bus with Bel, or I walked places.”

They climbed into the back seat together and Louie told the driver they were headed for Hayward.

“That's a name I haven't heard in ages,” she noted as they got rolling along the streets.

“What, Hayward?”

“Yeah. All the names out here on the West Coast, actually. It's astonishing, really. A few weeks ago, Chuck, Tiffany, Alex, Greg, and I all went to see Death Angel in Alhambra and the four of them were staying in Corona. When Cliff and I were together, and we visited my parents in Reno, it was kind of surreal, almost like a dream of sorts. To see all the street names and all the old neighborhoods again. And it's like visiting an old friend to an extent.”

“When Zelda and I split up, and I moved back here,” Louie explained, “the exact same thing happened to me, too. Like, wow, I can't believe I'm actually telling someone to take the 880 Freeway down to Fremont and San Jose, and the 92 bridge across the Bay over to San Mateo. Like, it wasn't that long ago, I was looking up directions from Narragansett to Boston. We're going to be a block away from the cemetery, too.”

The driver nodded in response: meanwhile, Sam peered out the window at the early morning fog as it collected all around the sky overhead. So much that Cliff hadn't shown her when he was alive, and at that moment, in the back of that cab, she witnessed it for herself. All the little shops that lined the streets and the small slivers of parks throughout the place all the way over to All Soul's Cemetery and the ramshackle apartment complex right across the way.

Louie kept his promise and paid the fare for them.

The two of them stood on the sidewalk together and he groaned.

“What's up?” she asked him.

“The place I wanna take you isn't open yet,” he explained.

“It is still pretty early,” she pointed out.

“True, true.” He led her up the sidewalk to the apartments: after he held the door for her, and she stepped inside, the fatigue of having traveled so much settled over her right then.

“We're just on the ground floor here,” he guided her down the hallway to the fourth room on the right and he unlocked the door for her.

A cozy one bedroom apartment with a small couch tucked in one corner and across from that was a small television upon a milk crate. To the right of her stood a large wooden armoir that looked as though it hadn't been painted with a coat of veneer once in its lifetime. Before her was a short hallway that led back to the bedroom in question as well as a bathroom and a closet: to the left was the small kitchenette with a narrow shabby table that needed a paint job in and of itself.

“Well, at least this place isn't dirty,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, I mean, it's just me here now—it's not like there's much to clean here anyway. You can set your things in my room if you wish.”

“You're gonna make me sleep on the couch, aren't you?” she asked him.

“Nah, you can sleep head to toe with me in my bed,” he offered her. “It's a comfy bed, I promise you that.”

Indeed, Sam showed a little grin and then she made her way into that little bedroom so as to set her things down. In one corner of the room was a small pile of laundry: on top was a black T shirt and inscribed on the front, in swirled sparkled red letters, read “The Cherry Suicides”. Right within the name was a pair of cherries with the stem split apart by a butcher knife: on the handle of the knife was a white bow.

“You have a Cherry Suicides shirt?” she called out to him.

“Oh, yeah!” he called back to her from the front room.

“I didn't know they sold shirts!” she declared. “All the times I saw them, there was like no merch to be seen.”

“Yeah, Zelda gave that to me when we were going out,” he explained as he stood in the doorway behind her. “She actually made that for me because they couldn't get a thing to make merch for themselves—well, they probably can now, but a few years ago, they weren't able to so she made her own. You can have that if you'd like. It doesn't fit me.”

“Aw, thank you. Yet another sleep shirt.” She picked up the shirt from the pile: indeed, she knew it would be a bit of a snug fit for her given she had far more curves than Louie at that point.

“I should ask you,” he began again, “have you shown Alex that drawing?”

“I haven't, no. I haven't shown him any of my art so far.”

“Oh, man, you should. You know those drawings you made for Charlie for this past tour? He was awestruck by them. Whenever Chuck and I asked him about it, he was like, 'dude, that's some of the best art I've ever seen in my life.'”

She gaped at that.

“But he couldn't put two and two together and realize that it was me who made them, though?” she asked him, to which Louie shook his head.

“Seeing as you're back out here on the West Coast, you ought to catch a moment alone with him when you can. Really show him your art, like do a demo for him.”

“He was heart broken when Jean Michel Basquiat passed away recently,” she recalled.

“Oh, I bet he was! He's more of an art nut than Lars and Charlie both. So you ought to do it for him. Anyways, I'm gonna change my clothes and I'll take you over to the place I want to take you for breakfast. You'll love this place, Sam. Best coffee and pancakes in town.”

“We'll be the judge of that,” she told him as she peeled off her shirt right there in front of him, much to his gasping. But she put on that homemade Cherry Suicides shirt for herself: the body hugged her breasts and her belly a little bit but it fit her as if Zelda had crafted it just for her. The neckline hung low upon her chest so it accentuated a bit of skin, and Louie nodded at that.

“My turn!” he said, and he took off his shirt as well. Sam kept her eye on his slender drummer's body as he stepped past her for a plain dark gray sweatshirt himself. He fixed his hair and then he gestured for her to follow him back outside to the restaurant in question.

Cozy and warm and a slice of life away from the deathly feeling right up the block from them, and Sam soon saw that he was right about the coffee and the pancakes: she helped herself to a large fat stack of five of them, each of them light and fluffy and loaded up with butter and a small kiss of fresh blackberries.

“So where are we seeing Exodus at tonight?” she asked him as she mopped up the rest of the blackberry syrup with a final bite of pancakes.

“Right over there—” He pointed out the window to the block on the other side of the cemetery, where she spotted a low but bright lit bar with dark stained glass windows. “Doors open at about five o'clock so we'll be meeting Alex and Greg over there around then. Since we're friends of Exodus, we get in for free. You'll probably have to pay five bucks, though.”

“Sounds good, though,” she assured him, and then she raised her coffee mug for him and they made a toast to one another. “Wait a minute, it's a bar, though,” she pointed out. “What's Alex gonna do there?”

“They sell food until about eleven,” he told her. “So he can go in there.”

“All the food his tummy could ever wish for,” she said as she took another sip of coffee. After breakfast, Sam settled into the apartment for a few hours with her journal and her pencil until Louie put on his Chuck Taylors and then his watch. She figured she had enough to not enough to cover the way into the bar as well as a drink for herself. She ran a brush through her hair and then she followed him back outside to the cool afternoon: most of the fog had burned off at that point, but a few wisps and thick clouds dotted the otherwise rich blue canopy overhead.

“The girls also played there,” he told her.

“Really?”

“When Zelda and I were first going out and I was trying to hide my old life from her, yeah. That was where she treated me to a show and she offered to take me home to Rhode Island with her.”

“So this is like coming full circle here,” she followed along as she put on her sunglasses; even though they weren't going very far up the street, she decided to wear them regardless of anythin g.

“Exactly! Right up the street, too, so it's oh so close to home.”

He led her up the sidewalk and all the way around the circumference of the cemetery, to the furthest point and under a row of tall oak trees. She thought about that night in Brooklyn and the Day of the Dead ceremony. She knew she would have to do it again for Cliff as they crossed the four lane road together: he reached the sidewalk first. A gust of cool oceanic wind sent a shiver down her spine but she figured the pancakes from that morning would keep her warm enough until they reached the bar.

“Hey, there's Eric!” Louie pointed out. Up ahead, wrapped in thin black leather and with his inky black hair down so it freely twirled in the wind, Eric lingered outside of the front door of the bar and shuffled his feet about. As they came closer to him, and Sam realized she had made a mistake by not bringing a coat with her, he flashed them a grin.

“Not in the Big Apple anymore,” he declared to her. “Bitchin' shirt, by the way.”

“Not even close,” she said over the whistle of the winds, “I literally forgot how cold and dry California is, even up here. And thank you! This is courtesy of Zelda herself.”

Eric held the door for them and she stepped into the big spacious room first. Given they were right across the street from a cemetery, small sugar skulls lined the walls around them. Old names from years and decades past there in the San Francisco Bay Area lined the phony bricks that were plastered upon the main wall to the left, all in thick calligraphy and block letters like the names in obituaries. Posted up at one of the tables by the wall was Alex and Greg, the latter of whom waved at her. Meanwhile, Alex adjusted the skull ring on his right hand and leaned back in the chair. He had dyed his hair jet black once more, albeit with a bit of haste, however this time around, it was hard to tell that he even had a gray streak there over his brow to begin with.

“Really, who says you can't be girly and badass at the same time?” Greg asked her as part of his greeting.

“I thought being girly was a part of being badass, dude,” Alex pointed out.

“It's badass to be manly, too,” Sam assured as she took her seat there next to him.

“Right?” He clenched his fist to show her the silver skull on his ring finger.

“I'm gonna check on the guys,” Louie told them.

“I have to pay the cover charge,” she retorted to him.

“Oh, yeah, do that,” Alex advised her.

But lucky for her, she found out that she could have half price for a drink, and thus she treated herself to an Irish coffee. A thick frosted glass of that light brown coffee with a thick foam up top and so early in the evening to boot, and she knew that the party would start. She returned to Alex and Greg, right as the former put his hands around a glass of root beer and the latter sipped on some actual beer.

“Why would you do that?” Alex was asking him once she returned within earshot.

“Why not? I could probably do it with one ball first and then work my way up to two.”

“You do that, it's just throwing a single thing in the air,” he pointed out.

“You're still doing it, though,” said Greg.

“No—?” Alex chuckled at that.

“What're you guys talking about?” she asked them with a bit of laughter herself.

“Juggling,” Alex replied, “apparently, he wants a shot at it. He wants to start I tout with one object, too.”

“That's not juggling, though,” she pointed out.

“See what I mean, dude?” He took a sip of his root beer when Eric returned with a plate with a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“Oh, yeah, you get pizza and I just get root beer,” Alex scoffed at him.

“Courtesy of the guys, little man,” Eric advised him and he gestured to the other side of the room behind him.

“I'll be right back,” Alex told the three of them and he bowed over to the table there by the bathrooms, where Louie was helping himself to a plate full as well. Indeed, Sam brought her attention over there and she spotted the man right in front of Louie. She almost didn't even recognize him from his now shorn hair and the fact his face looked as though it had been boiled in a vat of water.

“Oh, man, Zetro doesn't look good,” Sam remarked.

“I guess they haven't been doing too well,” Eric told her as he covered his mouth with one hand. “This last record they put out—last October, I think? It was a total flop—I thought it was pretty good, though. The guitars sound like chainsaws and Zetro's vocal delivery is just not for the faint of heart. I mean you heard him, when he was with us.”

“Oh, right, right! Real screechy, high vocals.”

“Indicative of thrash! But yeah, everyone hated it upon release, though.”

“Do you think maybe Zelda might have something to do with it?” she asked him.

“No clue, to be honest. Could just be nerves—you know, the sophomore slump thing, but who knows, really. That is a possibility, though, 'cause he was a wreck when she and him split and she made amends with Louie. One can only hope that their next one will be a bonafide masterpiece.”

Within time, Alex and Louie returned with plates, for themselves and for Greg and Sam in that respective fashion.

Within the hour, more and more people filed into the bar and Exodus prepared to take to the stage. Eric and Louie made their way over to the stage to check in on the band themselves, and Greg had gone off to the men's room. Thus, Sam and Alex were left alone yet again, that time with empty plates before them. He lifted his glass of root beer to his lips but he didn't take a drink for himself.

“Samantha, when you turned twenty, how'd you react to it?” he asked her.

“How'd I react to it?”

“Yeah, like—what was going through your mind then?”

“I just kind of—resigned to the fact that I was going to be twenty years old soon, like I wasn't going to be a teenager anymore.”

She dropped her gaze to his fingers as they curled around the base of his glass of root beer. She wondered what was going through his mind right then.

“Why?” she asked him as she leaned her head in closer to him. “Alex? Is there something you want to tell me?” She peered over her shoulder once again. They were alone yet again; she returned to him. “You can tell me. You are my best kept secret—you can tell me if something is troubling you.” He sighed through his nose.

“I'm just—kinda—realizing the fact that I'm not a kid anymore,” he confessed, to which he knitted his eyebrows together. “I haven't really felt like a kid in a long time, either. You know? I feel like I've had to grow up a great deal in the past six years. Hell, the past three years, I feel like I've had to grow up a great deal.”

“Well—you're still Alex, though,” she pointed out in a low voice. “You're just—a little older is all. My mom told me that when I turned eighteen in fact. She said, 'you're still my little girl regardless of how old you are.' So to that, you're still little boy Alex to me. You're still that chubby sixteen year old with the yarmulke, the one whom I first met in New York City.”

He raised his head at that and he raised his eyebrows: the softest she had ever seen him at that point.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I bet your parents feel the same way about you.”

He paused for a second. “They do, actually. In particular my mom. They did a lot for me—they still do, actually. My mom helps me do laundry and sometimes there's just something about coming home and feeling her hug me. Feeling my dad hug me, too. You know?”

“Oh, yeah! That's one thing I miss about living close to my parents is hugs from them, especially my dad.”

He ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass.

“So do you know at all when he's coming out here?” he asked her.

“Who, my dad? I don't, no.” She paused herself. “Why, you wanna meet him?”

“If it's not too much trouble,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I always introduced my friends to my parents growing up. That was actually the first time I really heard the word 'meshuggah' was when I brought one of my friends over to jam guitars with. My dad was like 'my kid's meshuggah!' to their parents. And I mean—you know, it's all of us out here in the Bay Area together now—it just—kinda makes sense that we all get together and hang out together when we're not on the road.”

“Which is quite often,” she followed along.

“Oh, my god, yes! We're supposed to be back in the studio soon, too. And we've got those shows down in Reseda before Christmas.”

“By the way, when's Hanukkah this year?” she asked him without a moment's hesitation.

“Hanukkah? Oh, god, I dunno. I do know Rosh Hashana is coming up here in like two weeks or something like that, but that's where it starts and ends with me, though. I couldn't tell you when Yom Kippur is or even—almost twenty years old and I know for a fact my mom's gonna take me over her knee and I'm gonna get spanked for this—Passover. Besides my family's non traditional Jewish. I don't always wear my yarmulke or my Star of David.”

“Still a Jew boy, though,” she pointed out with a giggle.

“Oh, yeah. This last name is definitely indicative of that. There's not a lot of us running around but it's there, though. I mean, if my dad utilizing a word like 'meshuggah' isn't enough indication, I dunno what to tell ya.”

He shrugged his shoulders and rolled those deep eyes a bit, and she giggled some more at him.

“Do you celebrate Hanukkah at all?” she asked him.

“We did when I was little! Like when I was a toddler and when I first started school, but like I said, my parents are non traditional. So it doesn't bother them in the least if we miss any of the holidays at any given time, and they usually do, too.” He picked up his glass and sipped on the rest of his root beer, and then he turned his attention back to her, that time with a thoughtful look on his face. “We do have a menorah, though,” he said in a low voice.

“A real menorah?”

He nodded.

“Oh, yeah, it's as real as the black dye on my head right now.” She giggled at that. “And I'll tell you what. When Hanukkah starts—whenever it does this year—you ought to come on over. We'll light up the candles for each of the eight nights, and I'll do it for you, too.”

Someone up on stage laughed out laughing right at that moment.

“It's not that funny,” Sam cracked, and Alex cackled at that. Someone else up there addressed Alex by name, and he turned his attention towards them with a twinkle in his eye.

“I dunno, man, why you asking me!” he called out in that big bold voice, and Zetro made his way to the middle of the stage with the microphone in hand. He pointed in their direction and Sam sank down away from the look of mischief on his face.

“I see exactly one Alex Skolnick out there in the audience,” he declared and his speaking voice filled up the entire room, “—twenty years old in a few weeks time—you know, he's only in here 'cause there's food.”

People in the audience chuckled at that. Alex bowed his head and closed his eyes, to which Zetro stuck out his tongue and flashed Sam a wink. She peered over at him and before she could even so much as put her hand on his arm, Zetro spoke again.

“Anyways, come on up here, little man—come on up here and give us a li'l kick in the ass and give the cherry a good poppin'. We could use it right about now to start us out.”

Sam and Alex glanced at one another, and she shrugged her shoulders at him. He rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his root beer, and then he stood to his feet. People applauded him as he took the walkway on the other side of the room. Soon, over the small sea of heads, Sam recognized his head of jet black hair against the overhead lights. One of their stage hands gave him a big white flying V guitar, much like the guitar which Dave gave Joey for auditions.

Her jaw dropped as she watched him take center stage next to Zetro.

Alex absolutely dwarfed the five of them. He didn't even need the gray streak upon his head for Sam to recognize him from clear across the room: he had that handsome oval face and those prominent features. Indeed, there was that indication she had for him: his hair could turn completely gray and she could still recognize him, but she made that sentiment when she locked eyes with him. But as she watched him up there on stage with Exodus, she realized that it was more than that.

The kid literally stood out like a monolith. Long lanky legs wrapped in those fitted black jeans and his slender little body accentuated by that black button up: at some point on the way up there, he had undone the top two buttons and revealed a sliver of his chest to the audience. He ran his fingers through his inky black curls and showed off a bit more of his neck.

She had never seen him like that before, such that it was almost too much for her to bear right then. She wanted another slice of pizza but she wanted to pay more attention to him.

Thus, she climbed off the stool and almost ran right into Greg, who gasped at the sight of her.

“Oh, my—hi,” she muttered to him.

“Hi,” Greg said back to her. One inch of clearance separated them. “Do you know where Alex is?”

“I don't, no—I was—I was just gonna ask you.” Sam peered down at his narrow legs and his belt as it poked out from underneath the hem of his shirt. “Oh, no, wait, he's up there with them.”

“Oh, yeah!” Greg clapped his hands over his head as Alex let his fingers do the talking on the guitar's fret board.

“Oh, my,” she muttered, to which she fanned herself.

“Practice it, man!” Zetro bellow into the microphone.

“Yeah, practice what you preach!” he shouted into the microphone right behind him, and his voice was even bigger for that room in comparison to that of Zetro. All Sam could think about right then was Soundgarden, the Seattle band at the show in Dusseldorf.

Her heart fluttered inside of her chest all the while. The way Alex stood there with that white guitar pressed against his body.

“Watch my purse for me, Greg?” she asked him.

“Sam, I will walk up and down the street with your purse over my shoulder if I have to,” Greg replied, and she bowed away from there, but then she doubled back for her glass.

The fact she was legally married to a man and the fact that she had a boyfriend back home in New York. It was almost too much for her to bear.

Sam shook her head. No amount of Irish coffee could soothe the warm feeling in her face: if anything, it only added to the feeling within her. That fluttery feeling in her chest and the way her hips wanted to sway about with his rhythms.

She sipped on the glass again and then she bolted from the table.

She couldn't even make it to bathroom when Alex himself bumped into her there at the corridor's entrance.

Not again. He hadn't even broken out in a sweat for a second. But his body lingered there before her, all big and tall and with two buttons undone, as if he had done it all for her.

Not again.

“Oh—hi,” she sputtered and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“Hi,” Alex retorted back to her. One inch of clearance separated them, just like with her and Greg. “Uh—I need a drink of water, I'm like dying of thirst right now.”

“And I gotta use the ladies' room—” He tried to bow past her but she went in the same direction as him. She went the other way and he followed her as well.

“Damn it—” he chuckled at that.

“Pardon me,” she told him as she finally bowed past him and into the women's bathroom. She shut the door behind her and she peered into the mirror in front of her. A light touch of pink crossed her face. She shook her head about and let out a long low whistle, even though that did nothing to settle the nervous sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Yet another moment where she hadn't seen Alex without that stoic expression on his face.

She didn't even have to use the bathroom but she needed to be away from the table, away from Greg's prying eyes. She washed her hands and splashed a little cold water on her face before she returned back out to the bar. Greg had gone off, and Alex was back in his spot there at the table. His face was flushed and he pushed his bangs right off of his face so as to keep himself cool.

“Are you okay?” she asked him once she took her seat again.

“Yeah. I just—wasn't expecting to see you over there.”

“I see.”

“What about you? You look like you're about as red as a cherry tomato.”

“It's this Irish coffee,” she told him with a tap of the glass. “I almost wanna Jew it up.”

“Jew it up?” he echoed her. “Why would you wanna Jew it up?”

“What's wrong—with Jewing it up?”

“You Jew it up, you make it kosher and dry. And you don't wanna do that to coffee.”

“Maybe I do,” she teased him. “Make coffee nice and dry.”

Alex shook his head and stuck out his tongue at that, and then he gave her that hearty laugh once again.

“I don't think I'm ready to understand you, Alex Skolnick,” she teased him once again.

“A lot of people don't,” he promised her. “I'm just gonna tell you this right now—really, listen to me, Samantha. A lot of people don't understand me, especially my parents.”

And yet a part of her told her that it was only just the beginning with him.

3 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 4 years ago

Text

Desert & Reward, Chapter 10

[Read on AO3]

There’s someone in his room.

The windows are shut against the night air-- Yori, and by that he means Morel, has ideas about air flow and general health that he can’t wait for Miss to hear-- but a faint whisper skates across the stillness. It’s not his own breath; that’s been trapped in his chest since he flinched awake, fully conscious of the shade lingering in the shadows.

How gauche to kill a groom before his wedding night. Everyone knows corpses are only fashionable when found fresh on their marital bed.

But style is the least of his concerns right now. With a conscious effort, every tense muscle eases, his limbs flopping out like a limp starfish. Miss might complain about his sprawl after spending a cold night curled at the edge of the bed, but it was the perfect posture to imply a solid, dead to the world sort of unconsciousness.

There’s only one way to really sell this perfect deception: a snore. Not a dainty, fake one, oh no, but a wall-rattling, chest-and-throat-involved extravaganza of sound. There, obnoxious and oblivious: the perfect victim.

The sound of rustling cloth is muted beneath his act, but Obi hasn’t lasted this long by being a slouch in the perception department. His hand slithers under the pillow, clasping his fingers around a hilt. He hopes his murderer is enjoying the show; it’ll be the last thing they ever see, after all.

“My lord.”

Obi winces. That’s-- that’s much closer than he would have thought. His grip tightens, back tensing--

“My lord,” his attacker whispers again, beleaguered. “Get up.”

“Yori?” His eyes slit open, the dark room viewed from behind the cage of his lashes, and-- ah, there. Yori, his hair oddly askew, shirt glowing white in the dim. Ah, what did he always say? Assassins and domestics.

Obi rolls over, blinks. His valet is half-dressed. “Did you get in a fight?”

“A--? No, my lord.” He sighs, straightening from his servile crouch. “If my lord would be so kind, I’d feel better if you weren’t poised to attack me with cutlery.”

His grip loosens, blade dropping back to it’s place on the mattress. “It’s not cutlery.”

“Well, it’d certainly be more at home in a kitchen than the bedroom,” his valet huffs, hands wrapping around his hips. Mrs Carre will be so pleased to know he was getting a proper scolding even out of her care. “If you’re plan to keep that habit back home, then I’m going to start asking for hazard pay.”

He makes a sound half laugh, half snort, and entirely derisive. “Ah, come on. It’s not like it’s a new...”

His well of words dries up as Yori stares at him, head cocked and curious, arms crossed like a mother waiting for a weak explanation, and--

He hasn’t at Cacciatore. Purposefully, at first; there’s no better way to root out a traitor than to play into the expectation of a hapless lord. But then...

Well, the bedside drawer is just as good a hiding place as a pillow. One the maids were less likely to find, at least. Lili would take a discovery like that with her usual aplomb-- in his experience, Tanbarun made their ladies particlarly unflappable-- but any of the others...

Well, he could only imagine the sort of dressing down he’d get if one of Mrs Carre’s girls cut themselves changing the linen. He might be lord of the manor, but Obi’s under no illusions about whose house he lives in.

“What time is it?” He squints toward the widows. It’s impossible to tell; night’s faded from black to a thick blue, but his room faces west, not east.

“Early,” Yori replies, shirty. “You need to get up.”

Obi groans, throwing his arm over his eyes. If he closes them now, he might have a chance of slipping back into sleep. “We’re in the city, Yori. We keep city hours.”

“I understand, sir, but however--”

He rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. “Wake me up when breakfast is here.”

Yori heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Although there’s nothing I would like more than being able to ignore my duty and return to bed, my lord, there’s a message for you.”

“It’ll keep.”

“Sir--”

He opens a single, dubious eye. “Is something on fire, Yori?”

“No, but--”

“Then it can wait until morning.”

That should be the end of the conversation; it always was when he tried to pester Master-- Zen into action in the wee hours. But instead Yori shuffles, put-out, at the edge of the bed. “It’s from the gate, my lord.”

Obi’s never been one for pulling rank-- it stuck him as a little uppity to expect sirs and milords when he’d been dragged out of the gutter-- but oh, he’s tempted to now. If even the gate guards think they can rouse him in the middle of the night on a whim, it seems prudent to cultivate at least an inkling of noble bearing. “And?”

“Someone’s waiting for you.”

They take the servant’s corridors; the palace’s halls might be empty this time of night-- or morning-- but these are what Obi knows best. He might have a title now, but back in those days, he’d been an up-jumped gutter rat. Even with his shiny messenger tag, the court rested a little easier if the riffraff didn’t sully their air by breathing it.

It’s an advantage now; with no guards to ask their their business, they’ll make better time. From chambers to Starlight and back again, in bed before he can lose his beauty sleep.

“I hope you are aware, my lord--” if only Yori could teach him how to infuse so much derision into a title, Obi would die a happy, if thoroughly stabbed, man-- “that a man of proper breeding would submit to the whole of their toilette before even thinking of stepping foot out of their--”

“You got this robe on me.” A testament to Yori’s powers of persuasion, considering what an eyesore it is. “Don’t push your luck.”

“A banyan is the least you could do.” The crisp cut of his words channels every last stuffy inch of Mr Morel. “You might as well be walking around in your drawers.”

“Aw, come on.” He grins, letting the robe gape; even the peep of pajama brings a frown to Yori’s face. “You know better than anyone that I don’t wear any.”

His valet could teach a master class on sighs. “For someone so devoted to their line of their trouser, you might wear ones where it matters.”

He clucks his tongue. “And ruin the mystery?”

Something utterly intriguing ripples across Yori’s face, pinching his mouth and furrowing his brow, leaving him more Morel than man. “My lord, the trappings of the court may not suit you, but I beg you to concede to at least some form of propriety.”

He glances back at him, waggling his brows. “And why would I do that?”

“Your wife.”

Ah, now that stops him dead in his tracks. “My...?”

Yori squeezes a steeling breath through his nose. “It may have escaped you, my lord, but you are going to marry in the morning.”

All at once, he’s aware of how much his body aches. Last night-- no, only hours ago-- is...foggy, blurred by the patina of alcohol, but he could never forget the warm weight of Miss on his back, of the sweet way she clung to him as they flew through the air-- nor the sickening crack his bones made on that landing. Miss may be light, but unlike snow banks, balconies are hell on the knees.

Miss, who he was only carrying because she was too drunk to walk. Who was only drunk because she’d been at a hen party. Who was only at a hen party because it was being thrown in her honor. An honor she only had because she was due to get married in the morning. The same wedding he’d be having because they were marrying each other.

He needs a minute. A long one. His death grip on the wainscoting isn’t going to be enough to hold him. “It is morning.”

Yori’s mouth pulls thin; not the way Morel’s can, but close enough. “When it is more morning.”

There’s no blush of dawn linger at the horizon, only the mist of its breath, but oh, that is...more than enough. His Majesty sprung this impossibility on him only days ago, and now--

Well, he’d better enjoy his bachelorhood while he can. In a few short hours, he’ll be Miss’s ball and chain.

“And to a margravine,” Yori continues, sulkily keeping pace. “I know you’re content to hide away in the country for the rest of your life, my lord--” a lie, if Obi ever heard one-- “but your wife’ll want to keep a presence at court.”

He tries to picture it, tries to think of Miss weighed down by a dress so bejeweled it practically has its own economy, wearing a courtly mask for every occasion, talking of nothing but the latest fashion or the most shocking scandal and not hating every minute of it--

But it’s impossible. Tanbarun’s king can slap a title on her, but not even Master could make her enjoy it. She might come when a crown calls, but they’ll be prying her out from between the pages of a book.

Yori’ll learn all that soon enough. Or he would, if Miss came to live at Cacciatore. Which she wouldn’t; no reason to halt all her actual, important work for a fake marriage that’ll be nothing more than ashes in the pan in a handful of years anyway.

But Yori doesn’t know that-- can’t know that, if he wants to keep Miss away from whatever plans Tanbarun has for her. So he lets his mouth tilt, lets a sly smile creep up the curve of his jaw. The first rule of being a good gambler is never telling a man when he puts his money on the wrong bird. “You don’t say?”

“Of course I do.” His valet glances at him, cheeks puffed and brows bent, and tells him with all the undue confidence only an umarried man could, “If you’re to be married, sir, you might learn about the wants of women.”

He doesn’t laugh. When all this is over, His Majesty should put a medal on his chest for it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yori.” Obi blinks, eyes adjusting the the brilliant flare of the lamps. “This isn’t Starlight.”

His valet sighs. “No, my lord. It is not.”

“But you said there was a message for me--?”

“At the gate,” Yori confirms, beleaguered. “Poet’s gate.”

Obi would rather die than admit it but-- he’s starting to regret the banyan. Well, he’s always regretted the banyan, but the pajamas beneath it--

Well, he’s definitely under-dressed. For whatever this is.

Not that it looks like much. A coach idles at the foot of the stair, paneled all in black, but the rest of the courtyard is empty. Well, save for the swarm of footmen buzzing around, combing the carriage for every last hair of the lord that abandoned it. What sort of sadist arrives in the wee hours, Obi can’t say, but he’s glad all their wedding guests are accounted for, otherwise--

The door shuts, and there, staring him dead in the eye, is the horned hind of Forenzo.

“Obi!” Long limbs flail out from the swarm, and in the first blush of dawn, one of the footmen resolves into more inches than sense.

“Suzu?” He tries to tell himself to walk forward, but his legs stall numbly beneath him. The past three days have felt like a dream-- a nightmare, really-- but the sort he can control, the kind he can choose to wake up from.

“What...?” A foxish face looms just over him, grinning lazily. Suzu’s here now, and it’s all suddenly real. “What are you doing here?”

“I came with Lata,” he says, as if that explains anything. “He had an invitation.”

“Right.” Of course he did; not that Obi had ever expected him to use it. “But what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well, we figured if he was coming, we should go too.” One large hand sweeps over the ill-fitting Forenzo livery. “So here I am.”

Obi blinks. “And Lata just...let you?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not.” He shrugs, sending arms everywhere. “He told us it would be a cold day in Yuris before he let a single one of us show up as his plus one.”

That sounds right, at least. “Mmhm.”

“So we played roshambo for it,” Suzu continues, “and I told him I’d be his servant or whatever.”

“And that...worked?” Maybe this was all still a dream. It’s following the same sort of logic, at least.

“Yeah! Actually--” Suzu rubs at his chin, just the way Shidan does, only with far less reason or facial hair-- “he seemed happy not to have to go and interview people for it.”

That made sense, at least.

“You’re Lord Forenzo’s valet?”

Suzu glances up, blinking at where his own stands, just three steps up from where they’re talking. “Yeah, that sounds like what he said.”

Yori, for his part, looks politely horrified. Obi can’t blame him; Suzu doesn’t give off the air of being in charge of himself, let alone another person, especially one expected to participate in a toilette of some kind.

Still, that’s not the part that bothers him, personally. “But why?”

“Well--” Suzu sucks in a breath, hands hooking around his hips like Yuzuri does right before she lays into him-- “my guess would be his complete lack of social skills--”

“No, not that.” He doesn’t exactly need a primer on Lata Forenzo being a misanthrope. “I mean why did you bother going through all that trouble?”

Obi’s come face to face with a fox once, years ago now. He’d been doing the long walk of shame that came from country kills, no trees to help him along and no reason to hurry back to his cramped quarters, when two foxes darted across his path. Or at least one did, scurrying across into the long grass in a rusty streak. The other--

The other sat there, right in front of him, one paw raised. Like he couldn’t be seen if he didn’t move. Or maybe that the scarecrow staring down at him couldn’t attack as long as he kept him in his sight. Obi had to turn his back before the thing dared to dart away, and only once his friend let out an eerie whimper.

But for that moment, amber burned into gold, and the gulf between human and fox seemed so, infinitesimally small--

Well, it’s what he thinks of as Suzu stares at him, those sharp angles of his cheeks limned in the dawn’s light.

“C’mon.” Suzu’s mouth curls into a sure smile, one fist tapping him on the shoulder. “The best man can’t miss the wedding.”

“Ah...” Obi rubs at the back of his head. “About that...”

“Prince Zen is Marquis Conti’s best man,” Yori offers, strangely bitter. “You know, the second prince.”

Obi cranes his neck back with a scowl. “That’s not my name.”

Yori, with not a contrite bone in his body, says, “Apologies, my lord.”

Obi turns back, a much more sincere apology brewing behind his teeth, but Suzu is too busy frowning over his shoulder to appreciate it. “Who is this guy?”

“Ah...” Obi had left Lyrias with a jaunty wave and a promise to be back before the next snow; he’d thought that a royal reward consisted of a fancy title and some cash, a quick trip down to sweat in the capital before coming back to freeze at the castle.

And then, well--

“I am my lord’s personal valet,” Yori informs him, giving Suzu’s slapdash livery a perusal that could only be described as scathing.

“Oh!” Suzu’s mouth parts in a grin that usually means he’s about to get punched. “You have one of these too? Am I going to get one?”

“Ancestors forfend,” Yori mutters at the same time Obi adds, louder, “I think only lords get them.”

Suzu hums. “Well, I suppose I can’t mind being second fiddle to a guy that is, you know, a prince.”

“It’s political,” Obi assures Suzu with a grimace. “Not personal. If I ever get married for re--”

His teeth clack shut. Ah, so many months out in the country have dulled his edge. Or at least loosened his tongue.

“It’s all right, man.” Suzu’s gaze darts pointedly over his shoulder. “I’ll forgive you this time. I still get to come, right?”

Yori steps in. “The tables are already--”

“Yes.” For the first time in what feels like days, Obi actual smiles. “I’ll make sure there’s room for you.”

He deserves at least one real thing on his wedding day, after all.

“Great!” Suzu’s mouth stretches wide. “I’m famished.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #desert and reward #ans #here it is #my holiday gift to all of you!#merry christmas to all who celebrate!#i'd been wanted to get to a CERTAIN PART in this chapter #but it would have made this solidly 6K #and I try to keep these until 5K #so i guess it will happen NEXT TIME #when we actually get to the WEDDING for once #....hopefully

16 notes · View notes