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doctorstethoscope · 3 years ago

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The Right Chapter 3 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hey gang, I wanted to give y’all another update this week because I know there wasn’t a lot of hotch in the last chapter. This is a long one!

Read previous chapters here!

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: canon-typical harassment and violence, swearing

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee

It’s closer to the afternoon than the morning when you finally get out of bed the next day. Aaron had set you up in his guest room before going to bed himself, and had dutifully woken you up every two hours. You emerged into the kitchen to see him sitting at the table with his laptop open, surely working even though he was technically out on sick leave.

“Good morning” he says when he sees you appear in the doorway. “The coffee’s still hot, if you want some. I don’t have any RedBull, though.”

You rolled your eyes as you crossed the kitchen to make yourself a cup. “Is it still morning? It feels like I must have slept through the whole day.”

“Well, you needed it. Long night.” He tells you, and you let out a little hum in response. “Hey, uh. Your cell phone is on the counter. It was making a lot of noise and I didn’t want it to wake you.” he admits sheepishly. “I didn’t read anything, but Josh’s name popped up a lot.”

You pouted a little. “I guess I did kind of just disappear. I probably owe him an explanation,” you said, crossing the kitchen and picking your phone up.

“You don’t owe him a god damned thing.” Hotch said a little harshly, but you knew his tone wasn’t aimed towards you.

You powered your phone on-- Hotch must have turned it on after he took it. 13 missed calls and 27 texts, sheesh. Not all of them are from Josh, thankfully. You shoot a quick text back to JJ, Garcia and Emily, who had all individually checked in when you didn’t show up at the office. With a little more trepidation, you opened up your thread with Josh.

“Where are you?”

“You never came to bed last night.”

“Off fucking the boss man?”

“Did I catch you before you got down to anything good?”

“Fucking slut.”

“Couldn’t even finish cleaning the carpet before you left.”

“Fucking answer me.”

“Did I bash your skull so hard that you forgot to pack my lunch before you left?”

“This is ridiculous.’

“So you’re just running away?”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“You are so in for it when you get home.”

“I should have killed you.”

There’s more, but you’re not sure you can stomach it. You drop your phone to the counter, swallowing back a bit of bile that has risen up from your stomach. Aaron is at your side in an instant.

“Can I look?” He asked quietly. He’s looking you right in the eye but you feel like you can’t see him at all, like he’s not really there. You must have nodded your head, because he picked up your phone and started scrolling, but you have no way of knowing how you even told your body to do that. After a moment, he sets your phone face down on the counter, and turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on each of your upper arms. “We are going to figure it out, okay? You’re not in this alone, and I’m not going to let you get hurt again. You did the right thing. You got out. And now you have help.”

He’s staring into your eyes as he promises to keep you safe, and the dam breaks. All of the emotions that you’ve bottled up for the last ten hours are flooding through you, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably before you have even recognized how upset you really are. Aaron gathers you up in his arms in an instant, and you wrap your arms around him, crying into his old sweatshirt.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out,” he whispers in a mantra, rubbing your back.

You realize in this moment that Aaron is truly your best friend-- you’d always known that you were closer to him than anyone else in the office, and the same was true for him, with the possible exception of Dave. What you hadn’t realized, is that somewhere along the way, your college friendships, your academy friendships, your girlfriends, had all faded into the background, and Aaron became the person you wanted to tell good news to, the person you drew comfort from, and the person you called when you realized you couldn’t get the blood out of the carpet. The realization surprises you, enough to let you get a few deep breaths in and calm yourself down, untucking from Aaron’s shoulder and dabbing at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

“Thank you,” you say through your choked voice, even though it could never be enough.

“How’s your head?” He asked, looking over the top of your head to the clock on the stove to see if it was time for you to have more pain meds.

“Ah, well, I don’t think the crying really helped.” You shrugged, attempting to bring some levity back to the situation as you picked your phone back up.

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, eyeing you and the phone.

“I’m calling Josh back.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okay, now I’m sure you hit your head,” he said, swiping the phone out of your hand before you could place a call.

“Hotch--”

“Can you at least tell me why you want to do this?” He said, and you can see the concern etched into his face.

“I’ve got to go back at some point. I’m sure it’ll be easier for him to cool off if I’m not completely ignoring him in the meantime.”

“Go back? What are you talking about?” Aaron asked

“I live there, Hotchner. I can’t avoid him forever. Even if I move--”

“You’ll stay here. For as long as necessary. It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Do I get a say in this at all?”

“Not if your only defense is that you don’t want someone else to take care of you. Because right now you need caring for, and I’m not letting you talk your way out of it.” Hotch said resolutely, and you sighed. The silence lingers for a moment before you speak up again, quietly.

“I could use some more pain meds.” You admitted.

“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get you some toast, drink your coffee to clear up your sinuses and then you can take your next dose and go back to bed.”

“Hotch, the day’s half over. I can’t go back to bed.” You argued, with significantly less heat behind it, lifting the steaming mug of coffee up to your face at his suggestion.

“It’s a sick day. You’re injured. You’re supposed to rest all day and let your body heal. You won’t be arguing with me once you’ve taken the pills.”

Hotch had tried to get you to take the rest of the week off, but you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around in his apartment doing nothing. You also knew that an extended absence would catch the attention of your teammates-- and you weren’t sure if you were ready to share all of this with them yet. That was why you were perched in front of the mirror in Hotch’s guest room, liberally applying concealer and powder to your healing black eye. Aaron had made you promise to take it easy, and you already know he’d have eyes on you all day to make sure you weren’t overdoing it. No need to attract any more attention. There’s a soft knock from the hall.

“Come in,” you called.

“Hey,” Hotch said, swinging open the door. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be ready,” you assured him, dipping your brush into the powder before brushing it over your nose and cheekbone, wincing a little.

“When did you learn to do that?” Hotch asked softly.

“Hotch…” You responded softly.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t need to answer that.” He apologized, averting his gaze to the floor.

“If I answer, are you going to stop blaming yourself for not noticing?”

“I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head.

“I wasn’t… I’m not a battered woman, Hotch.”

“Of course you aren’t.” He’s quick to affirm you, to make sure you know he doesn’t see you as a victim.

“No, I mean, this was excessive. Was he rough? Sure. Did he leave marks? Yeah, he did. But I wasn’t getting tossed around and beaten like that. He’s not really like that, normally. He was just drunk, I think.”

“You’re not seriously making excuses for him, are you?” Hotch asked, and suddenly you’re indignant, even though you know he’s right.

“He had a bad night.” You protest weakly.

“He almost killed you!” Aaron raised his voice, just a tad.

“He was just trying to scare me.” You countered.

“He was escalating. I know that you know that,” Hotch said, searching your face, looking for something to profile. You didn’t blame him, you knew your behavior was erratic. You draw a deep breath, your chin quivering as your eyes welled up.

“It worked. I’m scared.” You squeaked out, trying not to let the tears fall and ruin the makeup you’ve worked so hard on. Hotch wrapped you in his arms again and you breathed in deeply, letting his cologne fill your lungs and lull you into a calm.

“You don’t need to be scared. I’ve got your six. I’ve got you.” He reminded you, and you pulled away from him.

“I don’t think I’m ready to share this with the team yet.” You told him, and he nodded.

“Like I said, your pace. When you’re ready, you’ll tell them, and if you want my support, I’ll be there. I’m gonna go make us some coffee, meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You were silly to think that you could hide anything from a group of profilers-- none of them have guessed it, yet, or if they have, they’re too polite to say anything about it, but they’ve certainly noticed something. They surrounded you with concern and peppered you with questions the second you walked into the office, and Hotch’s devotion to making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. It was during one of your Unit-Chief-Mandated-Breaks that you snuck into the kitchen to refill your water bottle. Almost silently, JJ slipped in behind you.

“You know, you can just say the word, and we’ll all stop pestering you.” She says, and you can hear her gentle smile.

“That’s okay. If I call you off, I lose the right to fuss over whoever’s next.” You tried to crack a joke.

“Good point.” She chuckled.

“I really am okay, Jayje.” You assured her.

“No, honey, you aren’t.” She shook her head. “But you’ll tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll support you even if the secret dies with you.” She laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a small conspiratorial laugh, your heads thrown back as you pass through the doorway. When the ping of the elevator doors opening grabs your attention, you drop your water bottle in shock.

“You okay?” JJ asks, bending over to pick up your water bottle as he storms through the glass doors of the BAU.

“You whore!” Josh spat out, catching the attention of the whole bullpen. So much for keeping them out of it.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Morgan asked, rising from his desk immediately.

“Josh?” Emily says, the first one to recognize him. Your eyes dart around the bullpen, and you spot Reid at his desk phone, no doubt calling security.

“You fucking bitch!” Josh says, still advancing towards you. Your brain is screaming at you to run but you can’t get your legs to move. It’s a literal childhood nightmare, playing out in the flesh.

“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” JJ says softly, her tone betraying none of her fear as she practically shoves you back into the kitchen. You stumble into a chair, and the sound is muted because of the door, but you can still see and hear everything through the glass. Josh takes another step into the bullpen, but Morgan’s in front of him.

“Turn around and walk out of here, man, because there’s no other way this ends well for you.” Morgan puffs out his chest, trying to stop Josh from looking over his shoulder and seeing you.

“Not until that slut gives me some fucking answers,” He spits out, and you feel JJ squeeze your hand, but you’re too laser-focused on the scene in front of you to acknowledge her.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to walk away.” Morgan hisses through his teeth, advancing closer to Josh.

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Hotch said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Josh. You hadn’t seen him come down the stairs.

“Ah, good old boss man.’ Josh jeered. “How’s my sloppy seconds? I hope she’s treating you real good seeing as how you stole her right out from under me in the night.”

Without warning, you watch Hotch’s fist connect with Josh’s face. Josh stumbles away, holding his nose, when security comes in through the elevators.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. He turns around to face Hotch once more. “This isn’t over.” He says, bringing his hands back to his nose and following the security officer into the elevator.

There’s a stunned sort of silence that hangs over the unit for a few moments before you hear someone break out into a sob. When you feel JJ’s hand start rubbing across your back, you realize that it came from you. The door flies open and you startle, but when you look up, you see a clouded figure of Hotch through your tear-saturated eyes.

You hear JJ and Aaron whisper to each other, but you can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the conversation ends with JJ slipping out of the kitchen just as quietly as she came, and Aaron sliding into the chair across from you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice only just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of your own labored breathing. You nodded, unable to verbally respond. He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, taking your hands into his own. “You’re okay, he’s gone. Security knows who he is now, he won’t be allowed back in the building.” He tells you, and you nod again.

“I’m okay.” You manage to choke out.

“I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” He asked of you, disarmingly calm, as he modeled the deep cleansing breaths for you. You take a deep, shaky breath in, trying to force the oxygen all the way down into your lungs before letting it back out in a huff. “Good,” he told you. “Good job, sweetheart, keep going.” he encouraged you, tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to your tear-stained cheek behind your ear. When you were finally calm enough to look up at him, you did so. “There you are,” he smiled at you. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay. Your hand--”

“I’m okay--” He assured you, but you flipped his hand over in your own anyways. It’s swollen.

“You need ice.” You said, standing up and crossing to the freezer.

“You need to sit down before you fall.” Aaron stood up to follow you, shaking his head.

“I took my deep breaths, Hotch. I’m not an eighty year old woman.” You chastised him as you pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping a paper towel around it.

“My hand is fine.” He argued with you as you pressed the ice pack to his knuckles.

“You are in absolutely no position to argue with me about letting someone else take care of you, hypocrite.” You fought back, with nothing but concern behind it.

“Okay, fine, but can you sit down, please.” He begged of you.

“Don’t I owe the rest of the team an explanation for all of that?”

“They can wait. Sit down.” He said, and it was no longer a request. You sat down in the seat across from him. “How’s your head?”

‘It’s been better.” You tell him honestly.

“Take a few more deep breaths, please.” He tells you, and you roll your eyes.

“Hotch, I’m--”

“You’re holding your breath. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Plus, it would make my hand feel better.” He says, shooting you a grin that would be wholly inappropriate for the situation if it didn’t make you feel so at ease.

You roll your eyes at him in mock-contempt, taking the breaths to appease him and dropping your shoulders. “How is your hand, seriously?”

“I’m fine. I’ve thrown my fair share of punches.” He smirked at you, still trying to distract you, to lighten the mood. “We can just leave. You must need more pain meds, if not a nap. We don’t have to get into all of it today.”

“Well, they all basically know now. We should probably just go to clear the air that I’m not sleeping with you for a promotion.”

“If you’re not up to it, we can--”

“No, Hotch.” You stand up, shaking your head at him through a smile. “Let’s go get it over with.”

The team, of course, didn’t need you to explain that all of what Josh had said was false. Your integrity and the trust shared between all of you was louder than any stupid asshole that could bluster in through those glass doors. You’d cried all of your makeup off, so your black eye was now fully exposed to the team. Aaron left a protective hand on the small of your back the whole time you spoke, never once speaking over you or interrupting. As soon as you finished, you felt silly for ever thinking you needed to hide this from them-- they were supportive without being pitying, and JJ, Emily and Garcia had wrapped you up in hugs just as soon as you finally got it all off your chest.

“We’re going to head out, obviously call us if there’s an urgent case notification.” Aaron explained to the team. “You all should feel free to leave as soon as your paperwork is done.”

“Hotch, I’m really fine,” you tried to insist.

“Are you gonna tell the team they have to keep working?” Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you and you scowled, knowing there was no going back now. “I’m just going to pack some of my stuff up.” He told you, turning back to his office. You followed suit, going to your desk and tidying up.

“Hey, cupcake.” Morgan whistled to get your attention before crossing the bullpen to get to you. “If I had known--if I had seen that bruise on your face before he walked in here -- I would have taken him down myself. Hotchner showed an... impressive amount of restraint.” He told you with a humorless chuckle.

“Thank you, Derek. But he’s not worth it, seriously.” You told him with a smile.

“No, he’s not.” He agreed. “But you are. Don’t you forget that, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.”

Instead of responding verbally, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, crushing you into his chest. It hurt, a little, but the overwhelming security you found with him holding you was far stronger than any pain.

You pulled away and bid your goodnights to the team, following Aaron out to the car taking off towards his apartment.

“You were really brave back there. I’m proud of you. As your friend, not your boss. Or, I guess as your friend and your boss.” He tells you, taking one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze yours briefly.

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” you rolled your eyes with a small smirk.

“There’s always a choice. You chose to get out, and you chose to let your team in. That’s not nothing.” He told you as he parked the car in front of his place.

“Thank you,” you said, choosing to accept the compliment even though you didn’t believe him. Aaron saw it in your eyes, but he let it slide. You’d see, eventually. At her pace, he reminded himself.

“I was thinking I’d cook tonight. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He asked as you settled into the apartment, hanging up your coats.

“Aaron Hotchner, you can cook?” You laughed, turning around and beaming at him. He couldn’t help but return your smile.

“I’m not Dave, but I manage.” He said coyly.

“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.” You told him graciously. “And I’m very excited to try it.”

He tossed you an orange from the bowl of fruit on his counter, and then your pain meds. “Go take a nap.”

“Hotch, I’m---”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I let you spend six hours squinting at screens and paperwork under fluorescents. None of that was good for your head. Go.”

You rolled your eyes at him goodnaturedly before going to the guest room, stripping your work clothes off in favor of a pair of sweats and an FBI Academy t-shirt. Truth be told, everything that had gone down at work had been exhausting, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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How ats characters would celebrate their s/o’s Birthday:

Characters include: Angel; Spike; Cordelia; Wesley; Fred; Lorne; Gunn; Doyle; Lindsey; Drusilla and Darla

A/N: Again, totally self-indulgent for my Birthday lol! They’re fluffy !! Hope you guys enjoy them, you can save them for your Birthdays or just enjoy them today !! 🖤💖

Angel:

- Money is no object

- Will ask what you wanna do

- Could literally be anything at all

- He has enough disposable income that you feasibly could do anything

- You insist that all you want is him though

- Not his money, just him

- You adore him

- And this assurance absolutely makes him melt

- All he ever wants is for you to be happy

- But he insists that you should mark the occasion

- So you suggest a party

- Just a small gathering with the team and some good music

- He grins, pressing a kiss to your lips

- He’s actually really excited

- He can get awkward at parties (and just in general)

- But he does enjoy them somewhat

- Especially since he began dating you

- Everything’s better with you

- And that’s why he wanted to celebrate your day properly

- The hotel’s back and functioning

- And completely covered in decorations

- He appeared to have raided the entire party store

- Every occasion seemed to be represented lol

- Literally everything you could imagine stuck to the walls

- There’s even a balloon arch

- He clearly spent a really long time on it so you give him lots of kisses

- Which makes him almost blush

- He really cares and just wants you to feel good

- He would be by your side the entire time

- You would have a lot of fun

- Mostly just enjoys wrapping his arms around you

- And swaying slightly

- Whispering his love and happy birthdays

- The gift he gave you would be very meaningful and super romantic

- You would have melted right then and there

- You have a really great time, drinking and laughing

- You sit on his lap when you’re not being hauled up to dance with Cordy and Wes

- You even convince Angel to dance

- It’s equal parts dorky and adorable

- You definitely dance with him

Cordy:

- She would be so ridiculously excited

- For your birthday

- Like, ordering everyone around

- Making sure they get you the very best gifts

- And nobody is allowed to forget

- Or else

- She’s really pumped for you to be celebrated

- You’ll probably go to a bar the night before with all your friends

- Maybe Caritas if it’s up and running at the time

- (Cordy swings free drinks for you all)

- But the next day was your birthday

- You would wake up beside her

- It would honestly just be the best gift

- Just to have her this way

- You pull her into you

- Snuggling together

- Both of you sleeping off a hangover (Depending on how much/if you drank)

- Today, your actual birthday, was just for you and her

- Intimate in a way that she has always craved

- And with you she has

- Completely

- She has bought a lot of presents

- They can be assigned to two categories:

- Things you want and others that she insists you need

- All very well thought out and incredibly sweet

- She would be very cute and press lots of kisses to your lips

- Soft, sleepy kisses

- You spend a lot of the day in bed

- Just the two of you

- It’s honestly just perfect

- She wanted you to herself and you completely feel the same

- She’ll have rented movies, anything you like and you just spend it on the sofa

- Wrapped in blankets and each other

- Understated (yes, she can do understated)

- And yours

Lorne:

- The grandest plans

- You only deserved the best

- You always felt completely cherished with Lorne

- But he made sure to give you his undivided attention around your Birthday

- He wanted all the attention to be lavished upon you

- He could be so soft and so very insistent too

-He could tell you sometimes felt guilty about it but his nature made it so that he always made sure you were enjoying yourself

- The most important thing was always that you felt good

- Caritas was basically a shrine to you

- He would source pictures of you growing up, fixing them up everywhere

- There would be themed drinks (from important points in your life)

- Not to mention the list of karaoke songs all evening were exclusively your favourites

- Absolutely no exceptions

- You would be showered in gifts

- Despite you telling him it really wasn’t necessary

- Especially if it’s one of your first birthdays with you both together

- Would go so far past overboard

- But he would be entirely too cute about it

- He would vibrate with excitement

- Waiting for you to open everything

- Just when you thought you were finished

- Another pile of presents would appear from nowhere

- All the affection too

- Through the entire day, would want to be close to you

- Always does but especially so

- At the end of the day, would wrap you in his arms

- Already planning to outdo himself next year

Spike:

- The man is near obsessive over your birthday

- Consumes his thoughts the entire month, just like you do all of the time

- Won’t stop thinking about it

- Mentioning it

- He’s definitely more into it than you are

- He wants you to have something normal, human

- You have to have something special - he insists

- Wants to cherish you, the entire day would be yours

- You would make the decisions for the day

- And then he would have something planned for the evening

- Will decide to take you for drinks

- But at a more high end place than he would usually take you

- Might even take you for a trip away, somewhere you used to go

- will steal Angel’s fanciest car

- he’ll take you somewhere that he knows you like

- maybe somewhere special to the both of you

- The evening will be nice, he’ll make you smile as always

- Might treat you to some human food

- A restaurant too if you like that kind of thing

- You always feel special with him

- But the evening won’t end there

- You’ll make your way back to the car

- But he’ll grab your hand with a smirk

- Dragging you in the opposite direction

- He has it all set up

- He paid off the security guard

- There are blankets and tiny little fairy lights

- That he would have to turn off in a second, but he knew he would enjoy seeing your smile though

- He had wanted a big gesture

- Something from the movies

- Because that’s what your love was like

- Something more human but still intimate

- Just for you

- He would help you lie back, lying by your side

- Pulling you into him

- You would be stargazing as you nestled into him

- Pointing out constellations that he probably was naming completely wrong

- But you wouldn’t care because he had thought all of this up just for you

- You were happy just as long as you would be together

- He would make you laugh so hard

- And just make you feel so cherished and celebrated 😊

Wes:

- Would be so bashful about his plans

- Ridiculously anxious that you would be enjoying yourself

- That you would like whatever he came up with

- Absolutely head over heels for you

- Completely and utterly yours

- And so wants his plans to reflect this

- The gift he gives would be understated, but completely fitting

- He would be nervous to give it to you

- But once you begin gushing

- He would smile and chuckle in that way he does

- He wants to take you to a bar

- For drinks because you deserve to be celebrated

- The world’s always threatening to end

- So he wants you to have a day where it can just be you both

- Celebrating his absolute favourite person

- You ask him if he’ll dance with you

- He looks around a little embarrassed

- But he gets a burst of courage

- Takes your hand, leads you to the dancefloor

- You dance wildly, matching his moves and laughing

- A slow song started

- You loop your arms around his neck

- It was just the two of you

- For all you knew

- He whispered something

- Something he hadn’t said yet

- “I love you”

- The sweetest, most meaningful Birthday gift

- You would press your lips to his

- Telling him just how much you appreciated this

- And he would smile into the kiss

- Chuckling slightly

- So ecstatic that you were enjoying yourself

- But you insist that it would only be with him

- He wraps his arms around you

- Leaning his head against yours

- You dance slowly in the middle of the room

- Eyes closed

- It was pure bliss

- You love each other so much

Drusilla:

- She would pull out every stop

- An extravagant event

- In your honour

- Everything would have to be just so

- Or she would start cracking skulls

- Would attempt to make it a sweet surprise

- But would begin to murmur about it one evening

- As she held you close

- You would be very used to interpreting her words

- And so realise

- But not tell her so not to upset her

- Either way it would be beautiful

- just before the day, she brings you a bunch of flowers

- they’re night blooming

- and they look a little dead

- but you of course adore them

- The night of your birthday was so pretty, she says it’s because it belongs to you

- Your night

-The event would be filled with gifts and people you vaguely knew and liked

- She would ensure you were the centre of attention

- As you were already the centre of her world

- She would smile, laying such adoring affections on you

- Her hands entwined with you

- Would be by your side for the entire day

- Soft gestures of physical affection as you both enjoyed the celebration

- Always touching you

- Would definitely have several gifts for you

- Definitely a birthday tarot reading

- You tell her that you don’t need a future reading, you see yourself with her

- For eternity

- She would adore this and get very excited

- Lots and lots of love

- And probably several trinkets

- She probably found these trinkets by purposefully targeting the owners

- And taking them for you

- (A for effort, isn’t she the sweetest? Always thinking of you)

Gunn:

- He would be a man with a plan

- It may not be pulled off exactly as planned

- But he would have had the idea in advance

- Very caring for a s/o

- Can get wrapped up in a relationship

- Which is lucky for you

- He adores you

- Absolutely worships you

- (just as you do for him ofc)

- He gets up early, ready to set everything up

- But gets instantly interrupted

- You roll over and wake up

- He can’t resist you

- Gets caught out and slides back into bed

- Holds you for a while and you cuddle up to him

- Long story short…

- You spend most of the day in bed

- Long into the afternoon

- Which, he finds a lot better than he could have planned anyway

- He tried to get away at first but by noon he just couldn’t tear himself away

- He holds you close

- Telling you how lucky he feels to have you

- And that he wants everything to be good

- He’ll singlehandedly stop an apocalypse for you

- He insists nothing’s gonna stop celebrating your day

- But you pull him back into bed again

- Pressing kisses against him

- Insisting he’s the only gift you could ever want

- But when he presents his actual gift you of course take it

- He’s very in tune with you, always listens to what you like

- And so the gift is very thoughtful but also useful/something you will use

- Which leads to you peppering him in kisses and gushing

- Which makes him smile

- That one that makes him absolutely glow

- You’re still not quite sure what the plans were

- But they were easily cancelled, he sent a chain text and it was sorted

- he called for takeout instead

- your favourite of course

- it was simple but honestly you wouldn’t want it any other way

- just you and him

Darla:

- Probably would not have remembered

- Until you mentioned it

- Definitely isn’t used to birthday celebrations

- You had been through so much since then

- But once she realises

- Decides she wishes to dedicate the day to you

- She doesn’t show it often, but she can be so ridiculously soft for you

- The day would be intimate and just for the both of you

- She can be very possessive and wouldn’t want anyone else involved

- Anything you wanted she would get for you

- You name it, literally

- It’s yours

- She can take over entire shopping malls

- Hold up an evil law firm

- Make them do a spell or something for you

- She would lavish so much on you

- You could take your pick of anything and she would take your hand the entire day

- Such obvious affection is rare, but she does adore you

- Presses a single kiss against your temple

- With that sweet, knowing smile

- Her eyes would always be on you

- You would feel loved just by her gaze

- She truly stopped everything just to celebrate you

- Evil plots on pause, won’t even talk to Wolfram and Hart

- If that’s what you wish

- She doesn’t like to admit how much you mean to her

- But because it’s your birthday

- She would

- If she hasn’t already, she would love to sire you

- It would be a very romantic gift for her to offer

- As if she had brought you a dozen roses

- Making your death day and your birthday the same day

- She would see it as the best present she could give you

Lindsey:

- Doesn’t mention your birthday

- Always so busy at work

- You presume he’s forgotten

- And you don’t remind him

- You don’t mind

- (or I mean that’s what you tell yourself)

- But when the day rolls around you wake up

- And frown

- His work clothes are still out

- He hasn’t left today

- And someone’s in your kitchen?

- You go and see what’s going on and he’s made your favourite breakfast

- He looks at you as if you just brought the sun into the room

- A heavenly glow that only surrounded you

- You were the light in his life

- He loves so deeply, wants to cling onto this

- Wants you to know just how much he loves you

- By making this day just for you

- He chides you though cos he was trying to make breakfast in bed

- But you had woken up

- But you just wrap your arms around him and hug him close

- He pulls you in for a deep kiss

- Holding onto this moment

- Holding on to you

- He’s got a very rare day off

- And you don’t want to ask how much of his soul was sold off for the luxury

- The day’s completely yours

- You go out and do tourist-y stuff in LA

- You live there but never get a chance to do something just fun and normal

- So you go around and take cheesy pictures

- Try out different hotspots

- You have a really lovely meal at the end of the day too

- He’s comfortable, has money to blow on fancy meals

- But it means more because he appeared to have looked into the local menus and stuff

- Finding suggestions that he knew that you would like

- You go to a few bars that you really enjoy

- but he soon notices you want to go back home

- So you and he can celebrate without any prying eyes

- It was truly one of the best days, you felt so much closer

Fred:

- She would have forgotten about birthdays

- After Pylea

- But when you mentioned it casually

- She jumped into action

- Not just because it was probably only a few days away

- But because she loved you and wanted you happy

- Wouldn’t want to do anything too lavish

- It’s just not the way you both are together

- It would be something simple, but so very meaningful

- She would be so soft

- (I mean she is anyway, but this is a day celebrating you)

- And she loves you so much

- I think she’d take you for a little day out

- A kind of adventure

- But one where you could relax plenty

- A day off from demons and one just for you?

- Perfection

- She would present you with a gift while you were out

- I think she would have made it herself I think

- Probably took a while

- But she enjoyed it so much

- Something clever and cute

- Like her

- She would blush if you made a big deal of thanking her

- But ultimately reciprocate any kisses

- She would probably cuddle up to you and ask what you would like to do that evening

- She apologises for not having grander plans but honestly her just being with you is the best

- And you ofc tell her this

- You settle for drinks at a bar you both like

- But you don’t stay long, mostly just wanting to spend time privately

- You grab some takeout on the way home

- And celebrate more intimately

- The glow of the tv, but neither of you will be watching

- Just the two of you

Doyle:

- He’d be buzzing with excitement

- You always treat him so good

- (he swears he doesn’t deserve it)

- So he makes sure that you feel the love

- Especially so because it’s your birthday

- He says you have plans for your birthday

- And you’re like ??

- That’s news to me lol

- But he absolutely won’t tell you

- And teases you about it in the weeks leading up

- His teasing smile is equal parts infuriating

- And cute

- He just wants you to enjoy yourself

- And this is part of it

- He’s sick of everything ruining your time together

- So he tries to bargain with the powers

- He just looks upwards and half-pleads for them not to bother him

- Just for your birthday weekend

- No visions, please

- Nothing he comes up with, in his own mind, will be good enough

- He wants to give you the world

- And he promises one day he will

- Does this through a cute little globe key chain

- Before giving you a few more gifts

- He truly listens to you and things you like

- Buys things through the year

- So that he has them

- Hiding them is hard

- He would have planned it all out, using his connections

- He’s bagged a weekend away for you both

- somewhere you’ve always wanted to go

- Somewhere really nice, super upmarket

- Not something you’re used to after living in LA so long

- You have the best time

- He honestly makes you feel like the only person in the world

- He’s just so sweet

- Literally would drop anything for his s/o

- To make sure you’re enjoying yourself and happy

- It was just perfect

- You’re already planning to make it a tradition

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libradusk · 4 years ago

Text

Utterly Devoted | Kix

Word Count: 4,370

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x Reader

Summary: You and Kix demonstrate to each other just how deep your devotion lies

Warnings: Explicit smut, tender sex with lots of feeeeeelings because I’ve made this man suffer through the previous chapter, eating pussy as a thank you gift because why the fuck not is there really a better way to start your morning when you’re stuck in the middle of a shitty war, some soft pillow talk to top it all off.

a/n: This is a belated bday gift to @morganas-pendragons! Hope you enjoy the Kix pipe hehe

Its also a continuation from this chapter of my Touch Starved series, consider this the smutty sequel that touches on some of the events that happened the night before.

Tagging: @thatonesakudere, @kaminobiwan and @simping-for-fives (Send me a message if you wanna be tagged in any of my future fics!)

The first thing you notice when you awaken is how groggy you feel, it's as if there is a solid weight pressed against your body and mind, it fights with your half-delirious state of being in an attempt to drag you back down to slumber.

The second thing that dawns on you is that you are not dreaming and there is indeed a heavy weight slung over your chest, but his name is Kix, and he’s currently snoring into your shoulder with the rest of him draped around you like a loth-cat in a sunbeam. He’s also currently dominating the majority of the bed space, which was cramped to begin with, yet you can’t help but smile and relent into the warmth he offers with little more than a roll of your eyes that he won’t see.

It's just nice to see him so peaceful. You can’t confidently recall the last time you had seen him with anything less than a crease to his brow, and a sleep-deprived scowl poisoning his handsome face in the rare moments he allowed his composure to slip. This is nice, it's warm and safe and feels like home for you both despite the hell you had both endured barely a full 10 hours earlier. You’re determined to grasp onto this ribbon of tranquillity for as long as the galaxy permits you to.

The buckling pain that bites down your side when you twist too suddenly to get a better look at him is a painful reminder of that. You force it down in order to run a gentle touch over his cheekbone as he too begins to stir awake, as if the bond you have forged has demanded that he too be pulled from his slumber to meet the morning air alongside you. Two violet rings of exhaustion circle under his eyes as they flutter open to meet your own. Your fingers glide to brush against the one decorating his left socket on impulse. It takes a moment for him to swallow down his disorientation before his vision focuses completely. You note the spark of confusion that flashes across his expression before it dawns on him that no, this isn’t a dream and yes - you are settled in his arms in the same position you had been the previous night when he had curled into your chest until his tears had ceased soaking your shirt’s fabric.

There's a hint of shame that trickles into those tired eyes then and you smile openly in the hope that it will quash any guilt squirming in his gut before it forces him to voice it.

“Good morning, my love.” The sound of your voice is soft and still swaddled with drowsiness. It still manages to pull the corners of his own lips into a sleepy smile, and there's a twinkle in his honey-coloured gaze as his eyes open wider now. The sight of it settles oddly in your stomach, it's the first time he’s looked like himself in a while, the realisation of that fact hurts a little, but you try to focus on the happiness that bubbles alongside it instead.

You’re both alive and you’re together - you’re lucky in so many ways to be squashed into this tiny GAR-issued cot with the man you love. It’s a privilege so many others would kill for, and right now all you want to do is sink into him and forget all about your injury and the God-forsaken war that has caused it.

You lean forward to press a kiss against his forehead, right where the crease of his frown usually sits - thankfully, it's absent this morning, replaced by a honeyed mixture of amusement and adoration as his eyes drift over the sleepy bliss that dances upon your face.

“Good morning yourself.” He waits until you pull away to speak, words tumbling out in a deep purr. They catch in his throat before he clears it of any remaining evidence that indicates he had spent the previous evening crying in both relief and frustration at your situation.

You thread your fingers around the back of his skull to stoke across the seam where his hairline meets his nape. The action is meant to be comforting, but it appears to stoke something deeper in his eyes as he sighs into the contact, tilting his head back in such a way that makes the rumble that echoes through his throat all the more prominent. Kix attempts to keep the lazy smirk on his face as he peers at you through heavy, dark eyelashes, but there's a hazy lust swimming beneath them now. It pairs itself beautifully with the spread of blush peppering his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The whole combination taints his attempt at playing off his bravado with an unmistakable bashfulness that has you smiling even wider against the pace of your own quickening heartbeat.

Your fingers continue to wind teasing little circles down his neck as you still to watch his reaction, lying in wait and thinly veiled curiosity to see what his next move would be. Kix watches you with just as much intensity, tongue jutting out to wet his lips for a moment as his blush grows darker under your touch. His grip around your middle flexes with uncertainty as he cocks an eyebrow when you drag your hand down to rest on his shoulder, digits drumming against the muscle in silent anticipation.

The air between you has shrugged away it's quiet serenity now, what has sunk in to replace it is much more charged, but still apprehensive of crossing the final line with the fear that the other was not completely open to the idea of embracing it, considering all that had unfurled the night before.

He kisses you then, shattering it. The press of his lips is hungry, and carries a hint of the same desperation they had tasted of the previous evening when he’d told you he loved you between the salty bite of tears and yearning. But even so, this is different, because he’s yours and the pain attached to his confession feels long spilled now. By the second time your lips meet, you’re openly sighing into his mouth and you catch the hitch in his own breath as you do so. The fire is all but blazing in his brown eyes when you finally part, though you only get the chance to stare completely into its flames for a moment before he’s pushing himself up to loom over you, fastening you down against the mattress with little more than the press of his hand against your own beside your head.

“How about I help you wake up properly, hmm?” Gone is the tiredness in his tone. His voice reaches you in a husky, thickened wave that wraps down your spine in a shiver. A quiet giggle of delight leaves you as you stare upwards at him, and his smile cracks wider to reach his eyes at your reaction. It sings of the old Kix, the real Kix, and that knowledge warms your heart even deeper than where mere lust could ever hope to reach it. There's still a nagging hint of concern tugging at the corner of your soul however, even despite the heat licking between your thighs at the thought of having him completely. It reminds you that you’re still concerned about his well being considering everything he had endured as of late, as well as the fact you were very much still sore from your own physical injury. Kix seems to read your thoughts because in the second of silence that separates the two of you, his expression softens in time with his voice.

“I’ll be gentle with you, I want this too, so much.”

Another kiss, this one soft and prolonged, whispering adoration and assurance into the very heart of you.

“I love you.”

You seize the forbidden fruit and completely melt into his embrace.

The next thing you know, you’re stripped bare and writhing beneath him as he kisses his way down between your thighs. He’s attentive to each catch of your breath and the buck of your hips when one of his hands ghosts over a particularly sensitive patch of skin in the dip of your hip bone. You have to remind yourself to breathe each time his lips edge further down your torso, the muscles of your abdomen rippling beneath his teasing caresses and the fan of his breath as he chuckles to himself at how you squirm at the slightest indication of him travelling lower, towards where you crave him most. Kix is as naked as you are, having wasted little time tearing off his blacks alongside each article of clothing he stripped away from your own body. His hand was quick to recapture your own in its grasp once he had you exposed to his satisfaction. Your fingers remain caged amidst his own, held hostage while his other hand continues to grope and explore the expanse of your flesh, only breaking their journey to bat away your own free hand each time you reach out to attempt to grasp at him.

“Ah, ah, ah, nope,” His voice is playfully frustrating as he reprimands you, another chuckle slipping through it when you finally relent and flop down in exasperation at his refusal to let you touch him in return, “this is about you, lay back and let me take care of you, cyare.”

You’re about to clap back at him with a sarcastic rebuttal when the sensation of his breath over your core rips any remaining shred of coherency from you. You briefly register him mutter something about ‘thanking you for everything’ and the feeling of him hauling one of your thighs over his shoulder before the sound of your own moaning echoes in your ears. It forces you to clamp your trembling free hand over your mouth in an attempt to keep your noises of delight secret from the rest of the base. It’s counterpart remains laced with his own as he pulls it down to rest near your hip and squeezes it reassuringly to ground you both from floating away with the clouds of lust permeating the room.

Kix groans against your folds as he drags his tongue over your clit in long, drawn out stripes, clearly revelling in the taste and slickness coating his lips. You can feel the scratch of his stubble brush against your inner thigh with each movement of his jaw and it only heightens the fire spreading across your nerves further. It takes a good minute before you can find the strength to push yourself up to lock eyes with him from where he’s stationed between your legs, the heavy-lidded expression decorating his face only pushing you further towards your peak. He looks positively love-struck as he lathes his tongue against your cunt, relentlessly switching between circling your clit and teasing the tip of the slick muscle inside of your entrance in such a way that has you seeing stars once your head tilts back once more, never quite letting you adjust to one pattern before catching you off guard with another. You lift your hips and grind against the pressure his tongue lavishes on you, chest heaving with the threat of a quickly approaching climax, one that’s only spurred on further when Kix’s chest rumbles with a shuddering moan as your slick runs down his chin and onto the sheets below.

It's dizzying almost, and he has you sobbing and babbling sweet nonsense into the pillows when your first orgasm hits you with a shock that threatens your vision white. Kix remains between your legs even as you begin to come down from your high, rubbing soothing circles into the twitching flesh of your thigh as you take in heavy gasps of warm air to steady your breathing.

“You ok there, cyare?” The warmth bubbles upwards to your chest once you register the care cradled in his words.

“-Mmhmm,” You’re more than ok, despite the tremble in your legs you feel fucking elated after his display of ‘gratitude’, but the intensity of your orgasm has left you feeling so dazed it takes a substantial deal of effort to simply nod your head as you remain slumped against the pillows and crumpled sheets.

Kix waits patiently for you to regain composure, his fingers dancing over your hip now as he admires you in your afterglow. You suddenly feel a little shy, spread out, spent and wet beneath where he cranes over you, but the feeling quickly fades as fast as it surfaces because it's Kix and he makes you feel safer than anyone else in the universe.

“I’m great, actually,” Your voice is somewhat raspy from the strain of your moaning, but Kix still grins at you like you’ve just serenaded him instead. The sight of it flusters your words all over again, “‘wanna - want to make you feel good too though, want you, Kix.”

His blush deepens further as the air appears to leave his lungs through his nose at your blunt confession. He swallows thickly, and you can see the remnants of your wetness glistening around his mouth in the dim light.

Now it's your turn to smirk.

He’s lost for words for a moment before he can bring himself to crash down and kiss you again. This time you can taste yourself on his lips and the knowledge of what you’ve shared only makes you groan louder and buck your hips against him, finally released from the cage of his bicep around your thigh. You can feel the length of his cock, hot and heavy and desperate as it skims against your stomach and smears a trail of precum across your skin. His hands remain planted at either side of your head, holding his weight up on his forearms so as not to crush you or potentially aggravate your injury any further. The care he takes in handling you softens your heart, but you note the hesitation stiffening his muscles.

“...Hey,” your tone is as soft as your eyes as you reach up to cup his cheek and force his gaze to yours, marvelling in the way the heat of his body so quickly envelops your own, “I’m not going to break. It’s already healing thanks to the bacta so you don’t need to worry. Please.”

“...Ok.” He keens into your touch as you once again rake your fingernails over the seam of where his tattoo meets his hairline, you make a mental note to remember the reaction such a mindless gesture draws from him. When his eyes reopen to lock with yours, they’re practically swimming with a gilded stream of desire. “I love you.”

You don’t have a chance to repeat the declaration back to him before the words are stolen from you and replaced by a stuttering moan as he pushes into you. Your head hits the pillow the same moment he bites a mark into the curve of your throat and stills his hips against yours, completely submerged within your cunt until his pelvis kisses your own. You both moan in tandem as you flutter around him, split open and stretched in the most delicious way with his pubic bone grazing your clit.

You’re sure you hear him bite down on a whimper as you give an experimental buck of your hips, his eyes closing the moment you wrap your legs around his middle to force him impossibly closer still. Kix’s hands fist the sheets beside your head, and you’re confident you’ve never seen a man look more beautiful than he does in this moment. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and you crane your neck upwards to press a kiss to his chin, a silent plea for him to move and drag another wave of pleasure from your body. Broad hands fly to cup your face the moment he begins a slow pace inside you, the weight of his body falling to his elbows as his eyes snap open to watch for your reactions. He feels incredible, pulling out nearly all the way before snapping his hips back to meet your own each time in long, deep thrusts that have you moaning obscenely each time he comes to the end of you. He steals each sound from your lips with a series of sloppy open mouthed kisses, showering you in stumbled words of praise in a mixture of basic and mando’a.

The bed creaks beneath the force of your bodies, and at this point you’ve all but abandoned your attempts to keep quiet in favour of whispering just how much you love him and how good he makes you feel. You cling to his shoulders as he fucks you deeper into the mattress, holding onto him just as tightly as he does to you - it's a wordless promise that you aren’t going to disappear and abandon him, that you’re his as much as he’s yours.

“-Feel so good, so good to me cyare, always been so good to me-” his gritted-out praise tightens the coil in your stomach and all too soon you feel the familiar creep of another orgasm approaching you. His hands skim over your chest, stomach, face, before settling themselves with one cradling the back of your head whilst the other snakes downward to rub at your clit in tight little circles that have your eyes rolling back into your skull.

His praises fall off into a string of hurried curses as his hips begin to stutter to an erratic pace, however, his eyes never leave your own all the while. His jaw is clenched tightly, pulled taunt like the muscles in his arms as he angles his thrusts to drag against something delicious within your walls that has you mewling in delight. Despite the intensity of his actions, he’s still so gentle, so attentive in how he handles you. Ever vigilant to note each reaction you make to his touches and taking care not to jostle your still-healing body too violently.

“Fuuuck… Fuck! I love you - look so pretty like this, so perfect - just wanna stay like this forever.” His words are borderline incoherent now as he resigns to losing himself inside you, punctuated by rattling groans and a sigh that gets knotted in his throat as the emotion of the moment washes over him time and time again with each thrust.

The moment he dips down to moan into your open mouth as he sheathes himself completely to the hilt once more, you let go. You topple over the edge into a second orgasm that's so strong that it tears a silent scream from your lungs and forces fresh, hot tears of relief to gather in the corner of your eyes, body and mind wrecked in unison from the over stimulation of it all.

Kix follows you into climax straight after, succumbing to the way you tighten and flutter around him as he attempts to fuck you through your orgasm until your toes are curling against where they rest on his lower back. His hips falter and he all but whines as he stills inside you abruptly, eyes finally screwing themselves shut as he pulses within you and paints your insides in thick, hot ropes. He keeps your lower body close against him even after his breathing begins to even out and his cum has long since began to drip out of you from around his softening cock.

You feel thoroughly spent now, limbs heavy and head spinning with the force of the orgasm that had just claimed you. Kix is the first to shift properly, withdrawing from you slowly with a kiss and a low groan that you feel more than you hear. The medic takes a moment to give you a quick visual once over, but you swat at his shoulder in mock annoyance despite the fatigue clinging to your joints. He relents, flopping down beside you and taking up an embrace the mirrors the one you had awoken tangled within that same morning.

“I love you.” You swallow thickly around the words as you gaze at him, despite the lull of your afterglow, they come easily to you and you relish in how normal it feels to say them, to be held in his arms as if you were the only two souls awake in some private little galaxy you had created together. “I love you and I want to stay like this forever with you, Kix.”

His eyes hold a different tiredness now, this one is satisfied and soulful and free from worry - at least for a little while. You hope that this happiness lasts for him, he deserves it more than anyone else you know.

“I love you more, mesh’la.” His fingers reach up to brush against your cheek before pulling you in for a tender kiss, humming in contentment before parting slightly to mutter against your lips, “m’just sorry I don’t have much more to offer you than my charming looks, taste in brandy and my unofficial record for being the fastest at stitching up an incision in the whole GAR.”

You snort into his neck in response to the ridiculous quip before nuzzling your nose against his pulse. He squirms a little at the tickle of your breath against him and you make another point to remember the location of the sensitive spot for a later date.

“But honestly,” his tone drops to something more serious and your eyes wander back to lock with his own, a ghost of a frown pulling at your brow at the change, “you’ve always had to put up with a lot when it comes to me… you’re only going to have to deal with more where loving me is involved-”

“Kix, stop.” You’re firm as you catch his hand in your own, squeezing it to stress the finality of your statement before gracing his knuckles with another light kiss, “Nothing is easy at the moment and loving you is the one thing that's come so naturally to me. I don’t want anyone else because simple or not, they aren’t you.”

He smiles, wide and true before he begins to slowly encroach towards you to steal another kiss-

Until the shrill beep of your comlink shocks you both apart.

You shoot the device a glare, grumbling in annoyance as you untangle yourself from Kix to fish the offending item out from where your clothes lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. He chuckles into his fist and you give him a sideways glance in warning before raising the comlink closer to your face, winching slightly at the brightness flashing from the thin strip of its display.

“Hello?” The annoyance bleeds into your voice before you can think to stop it, a cold pang of panic shoots through you at the realisation that you forgot to check who it was contacting you before accepting the transmission.

“Good morning, am I right to assume that Kix is with you currently? It’s just that he was supposed to be present in the medical bay this morning to relieve me from my shift and yet here I am still - and I happened to bump into a trooper that claimed he saw you bundle him into your room yesterday evening.” It’s Officer Eir, and judging by the dryness coating his tone, he’s in a foul mood and more than aware of why Kix is late to tend to his duties despite the concern he had shown towards your lover the evening prior. You suppose the lack of sleep would do that to anyone.

Your cheeks automatically swelter with heat, quickly beginning to regret trusting the Medical Officer with the closeness of your bond with Kix. The man in question looks mortified at the circumstances he’s found himself in, but he still cockily mentions for you to tell Eir ‘hi’ despite fully knowing that the irritated clone could easily hear him over the line. You can envision Eir’s deadpan blink from all the way over in the medical ward.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I even wasted my time thinking about calling Kix first. I’m glad that you made sure he wasn’t alone last night, but need I remind him that stimshots are too important to waste on a hangover… or any other activity related fatigue that doesn't benefit the Republic.” You hear a sigh from over the comlink, the digital rendering making it sound crackled and disjointed - but it still makes you feel as though you’ve been singled out for committing a heinous crime all the same. “...I’ve taken the liberty of finding him a spare pair of scrubs, because I know he won’t want to risk returning to his bunk late while there are Jedi milling around.”

Kix raises his eyebrows thoughtfully, clearly touched that his fellow medic took the time to cover for him despite no doubt being desperate to lay down his head and rest.

“Um, yeah ok Eir I’ll… pass on that information to him - goodbye.”

You’ve never hung up on a call so quickly, and you hope to the Maker that no one had somehow managed to intercept your communication line. Kix still carries a bashful flush of his own, but it doesn’t stop him from grinning boyishly before another quip leaves his lips.

“Should’ve told him that I’ve already eaten breakfast too, bet that would have flustered him even more than you.”

The comment earns him a sweaty pillow to the face.

You still send him on his way with a ration bar all the same, taking a silent delight in how unsteady his initial movements are when he rushes to slip out of your door and down the hallway. He flashes you a wink and the hint of a loving gaze before slipping back into the role of a disciplined soldier once more as his long legs carry him away.

After he’s gone, you take a moment of private reflection to delight in how your spirit seems lighter and your heart feels fuller than it did yesterday.

Cyare.

You would never grow tired of hearing that fall from his lips.

#kix x reader #kix #kix reader insert #clone wars reader insert #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #touch starved #WOO HERE IT IS #my first full length smut fic #mine #this got soft

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gt-ridel · 4 years ago

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Several hundred words of Half-Life Borrower!AU goodness

(Hi, this is Passportinspection!) Oooh goodness. I actually started writing this as an ask. I really thought what I had to say would fit into an ask. Since sending that anon about having 350 words of thoughts, I ended up getting distracted for a few hours, and then when I came back to this, I apparently had 400 more words to say. I just love rambling what-ifs about AUs. :’>

Hi Passportinspection! Sorry it took so long to reply to this. I had more work than I thought yesterday. >__< I totally agree! Rambling about what-ifs is WAY more fun than actually writing a story. ;;>__> _

These are… not all A-list ideas, and I was very tempted to cut it down to the best bits, BUT I know that if someone said to me “I had 5 ideas for your au but only told you the 2 good ones” I would be extremely interested in hearing the 3 bad ones anyway, so… here it all is. This was written pretty stream-of-consciousness and then rearranged a bit to form my pinballing thoughts into something a little more linear, but, fair warning, it wasn’t edited much beyond that.

_ Ooo, I absolutely want to hear everything! All ideas, good and bad! Are you kidding? (Gets comfy) _

I keep thinking about the end of that “gordon takes borrower!barney with him through the events of HL1” scenario; Imagining gman’s speech at the end, I like the idea of him saying something like, “As for your.. /passenger/..” and both of their bloods running cold. I can’t decide if I’d rather barney actually go into stasis with gordon or not I think it could be an interesting/cute concept- the idea that gman/his employers figured barney was enough of a factor in gordon’s success that they thought it would be wise to keep them together for future “assignments.”

_ Bro I'll be honest, I hadn't gotten that far in the AU because I still haven't finished the game. My only reference for G-man is Mr. Coolatta. So I'll have to at least look the ending up on youtube before I'll be able to give my informed opinion. But taking it as is? That would be freaking terrifying. They've met some other scientists and security guards during their escape, but the HEV helmet was a perfect hiding place. None of them ever noticed that Gordon wasn't alone. But somehow this reality bending creep knows, and it looks like he's not going to let Barney and Gordon just go home, which was basically what they were fighting for the whole time. _

I’m also thinking about, like.. With Barney in Gordon’s helmet with him, Gordon must be able to feel him tense up and hear his breathing speed up whenever something particularly scary/dangerous happens, maybe even at times faintly feel the fluttering of his heart, and it strengthens his resolve to make it out of there bc it’s not just himself he’s saving. 🥺 Also Barney can provide running commentary, which perhaps soothes both of their nerves a little. Maybe he even helps with some puzzles. :> I also think it’s funny/convenient that that would work really well for an actual video game format. A friend that’s with you wherever you go that sees everything you see but can’t interact with the world but provides commentary and occasional helpful tips? That fits in nicely!

_ Ha! Something I was thinking about was how Barney has spent his whole life living in the vents and such. He would probably be a perfect guide for Gordon. :3 As for Gordon feeling when Barney gets tense or scared and that fuling his drive to escape, that was ABSOLUTELY one of the reasons I wanted Barney in the helmet. It would be uncomfortable, inconvenient, and down right dangerous sometimes. But you cannot deny the unique opportunities for deeper emotional exploration it would present. _

…But also, now that I think about it, maybe there are parts where the only way forward is for Barney to slip through a crack in a blockaded doorway and use a control panel that opens another door- that sort of thing. He gets to help with more than just talking sometimes! :> Oh, dang, imagine the part where gordon gets jumped and almost killed by the military. Poor Barney. D: Maybe a factor in Gordon escaping the trash compactor before it crushes him is Barney frantically trying to wake him up.

_ I was defo hyperfixating on what the whole beat down would be like from Barney's perspective a few days ago! Gordon would be at an extra disadvantage in the fight because he'd have to be careful not to accidentally bash Barney between his skull and the helmet while he's being smacked around. Imagine Barney being tossed all over the small space, maybe ending up pinned when Gordon finally passes out. Noticing when a small stream of blood starts leaking from his friends mouth and soaking into his clothes. Gordon is completely helpless, and so is Barney as he hears the soldiers talking about what they're going to do with the body. I just think that whole scene and the escape from the trash compactor would be so fun and exciting~ -

Also, unrelated, but I wonder how barney would wake up in city 17, if he did go into stasis with gordon. That is, since gordon is wearing a citizen outfit when he comes out of stasis, barney obviously can’t be in the helmet anymore. Maybe gman elects to move barney to a pocket somewhere instead lol. I’m imagining as soon as gordon is released from whatever effect gman had him under and he’s able to move again, he starts patting himself down looking for Barney (the same way one does when they forget which pocket their phone is in ), bc last he knew Barney was right up against his face and now he’s /not/, and that man SAID they’d be “hired” as a team so /where is he/ because Gordon needs to know he’s /okay/. As Barney is released from the same effect, he probably moves and makes himself apparent, so it’s only for like a second that Gordon is doing that.

_ Once again, I can't speak much to what would happen in a HL2 continuation of this story, but that sounds about right for an initial reaction scene. Imagine Barney just coming out of it and being in some sort of... bag? being jostled around? He feels a giant hand pat over him from outside and he grunts in surprise. Then the hand rests against him and Barney realizes he's in a humans breast pocket, being held against someones chest as beside him a thundering heart slowly begins to calm. He figures this must be Gordon. He doesn't KNOW any other humans, and he can't imagine that man in the suit would be all that concerned about Barney's wellbeing. _

Barney doesn’t know where they are/who else is out there at all ‘cause he can’t see from where he is, and Gordon can feel him shifting to lean out of the pocket and get a look, and he just puts a hand over the pocket, covering the opening in the process, and applies a gentle pressure for a couple moments, and Barney knows that means he needs to stay put because it’s not safe to come out yet. Thankfully Barney heard Gman talking to Gordon and addressing him by name, so he doesn’t have to worry about whose pocket he just woke up in. He would probably somewhat recognize Gordon’s gait/the feel of his hands at that point, too. As for how Gordon avoids boarding the train to Nova Prospekt without canon barney there to stop him, I have no idea.

_ YEAAAH that is a good point. Barney is kind of vital for that role. Maybe we can slot a different character into his place. ^__^;; _

Oooh, going back a bit, maybe when the nihilanth is teleporting gordon around in the boss level, or from the very beginning when gordon jumps into the portal to Xen, they get teleported separately and end up in different places? (Ignoring for a moment the parts with portals in Black Mesa ^^;) That sure is an additional level of distress for the both of them during the Big Final Level(s). And then perhaps at the end, part of gman’s speech can be like, “As for your.. companion, you can rest assured he was recovered safe and sssound. After all, you two performed so well, together, it would be ideal to hire you as, a team.” Or whatever

_ Imagine Barney, stranded and alone on Xen, desperately trying to find Gordon, and having his OWN creepy G-man encounter. :U _

Our Barney AUs differ in some exciting ways and it’s fun to play in someone else’s sandbox for a while. :p I’ll probably cut my notes doc down into something readable and post it sometime in the near-ish future.. Either that or actually write the dang fic.

_ I would absolutely LOVE to hear about your AU too! So if you do either of those things, be sure to @ me! Thank you so much for playing in this sandbox with me. I am ALWAY down to talk Borrower AU stuff. It's just so much dang fun! ^0^

#Half-Life #Borrower!AU #Borrower!Barney #Gordon Freeman #Barney Calhoun #G-man

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adventuresinwonderlust · 4 years ago

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Title: “Sunsets and Slip ups”

Pairing: dom! Yoongi x sub! brat! Reader ft. Namjoon ft. Jimin

Warnings: angst, cheating, degradation, abusive parent (trigger warning!!), smut, cream pie, spit play, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), If I missed anything, I am sorry!!!

*Author’s Note: I wrote this part very differently, introducing you into the mind of the ‘Min Boy’ character. It’s much longer than my other fics (8300)!! Honestly, the story came together so well that I just kept going. I hope you all enjoy!!*

Rating: 18 and over

Y/N:

Your phone pings beside you causing you to stir in your bed. You roll over reluctantly, not sure if you want to start the day even though you're not really sleeping. A second ping causes you to make your decision, awake it is. ‘I have to go to away this weekend. I’ll be back late Sunday.’ The first message reads. ‘Sorry to spring this on you but I wasn’t expecting it either. Be good brat. Xo. Min.’ You jump up from under the covers and reread the text over and over. You type a response and delete it, then type another and delete that as well. “Fuck it.” You throw off the covers and pace your bedroom, opting to call. The phone rings for what feels like forever. “Hello.” He answers. “You can't go away this weekend!” “Can I call you back please?” He’s annoyed and you don’t care. “No, we can talk now or not at all, ever!” You shout. There is silence on the line, but the call hasn’t dropped. He’s probably muted you. You stop pacing and try listening more intently to no avail. “Hello!” You yell. “Your lack of patience is unsettling.” He comes back on the line. “I don’t care, you don’t just get to spring leaving on me at the last minute after I invited you to my father's birthday party. You promised you would come; said you would meet him. If you flake out on me now, I’ll never talk to you again.” “It’s my mother y/n. She’s asked to see me. I’m sorry but I have to go.” Your eyes widen and you immediately feel stupid. “Is everything alright?” “I honestly don’t know. I won't know until I get there. Look, I am sorry about missing your father’s party. I can make it up to you and to him.” “No, it's ok. Go and do your thing. Maybe one day, I’ll be meeting your mom you know? Who knows right?” Your chuckle meets with silence. “She’s much better company than my father that’s for sure. I gotta go but I'll see you as soon as I get back. Be good for me brat.” “Yoongi,” You begin but he's already hung up.

Min:

Yoongi broods over his packed bag, knowing he shouldn’t really care what y/n thinks but at the same time feeling terrible about letting her down. He did want to spend the weekend with her and meet her father. It was the right thing to do. It was the first time in a long time that he’s ever felt close to someone. He shook his head to tousle his still drying hair, zipping his bag. “Son,” He turns to face his father, “I hear you're going to see your mother.” Yoongi doesn’t answer. His father enters his room and slowly paces, looking over everything with either a shrug or grunt of disapproval. Don’t get angry, that’s what he wants. Yoongi grinds his teeth, repeating this mantra over and over. “Did you need something?” His father stands before him, arms behind his back. “I don’t need many things Yoongi, I have assured myself a comfortable life. The one thing I truly need as a father is the cooperation of his only son. I haven't always been the best father, that I can admit, but I like to think I am fair. Your mother, on the other hand, has always coddled you, made you weak, emotional. It kills me to see you so dependent on her approval, her love, especially when you know who she truly is deep to her core.” He turns to face the window. “Lee An has brought me many new possibilities. A new life, sense of purpose, and love that your mother never could but best of all she has brought me a second chance. A second son. Now having said that, your new brother will be joining us here soon and I expect you to show him around the city, make him comfortable. Booze, clubs, women and spare no expense.” He turns to Yoongi, gripping his shoulder hard, “Am I understood?” “Yes.” Yoongi growls. His father moves his hand up, wrapping it around Yoongi's pale neck and squeezes. “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.” His father nods in approval. “I can see that fire in your eyes. Your Min blood dying to be freed. It gives me hope son, but before you say something witty or disrespectful, think of your mother and how she wouldn’t enjoy seeing you with bruises on your face.” Yoongi swallows down the angry lump in his throat as his father releases his grip and places a kiss on his forehead. “Have a safe flight son and send your mother my regards.”

Y/N:

“Please Joon, please! Give me something, I know you know more than you’re saying. You yourself have said he’s your best friend.” You sit across from Namjoon in his living room, having mustered up the energy to leave the house once the party planners arrived. “I really can't tell you anything Y/N, I'm sorry. You'll just have to ask him yourself. To be honest, I'm surprised he told you he was going to see her in the first place. He's incredibly private, even I have to drag things out of him at times.” You groan aloud which does nothing more than cause Namjoon to grimace. “Well, he is going to miss Daddy’s birthday so that’s a strike against him.” Namjoon laughs before getting up and walking to his kitchen for a glass of water. He takes a long sip and points over at you. “You're falling for him, aren't you?” Your eyes pop open and you chuckle nervously. “Not at all. I don’t FALL for anyone. He’s just interesting that’s all and you know I love a good challenge.” “Nope. I am not buying it. You haven't been this annoying since....” “DON’T even say his name aloud!” You shout. Namjoon gives you a large sly grin before taking a seat with you again. “Is he coming to you father's birthday bash?” “Absolutely not. I haven't seen or heard from him in over a year and to be honest I would very much like to keep it that way.” “I agree Y/N, I would have it no other way. Besides, Yoongi isn't the type to share his toys.” You scoff at the remark. “What exactly does that mean? No one owns me Namjoon. Wait, does he talk about us? What has he told you?” “Uh, Uh, Uh. How do they say it? Ah yes! Bro code. All I will say is keep your nose clean.” You roll your eyes at his comment. “Fuck you Joon and your bro code.” “See you tomorrow night Y/N.” He calls out to you as you let yourself out.

MIN:

Yoongi stares at the fresh bags that have formed under his eyes. His flight arrived late last night and since sleep seemed to evade him, he had opted to forgo it all together. He instead paced his hotel room, stalking Y/N’s Instagram page until the sun shone through the curtains. He should’ve been brave, sent a text or even called to tell her he missed her and wished she was lying in bed with him. He never did, the twisted voice of his father taking over to frown on such behavior, telling him to be a man, let her come to him. It was the never-ending battle of his mind. Do I give in to the darkness and be everything my father wishes me to be or can I hold onto the light my mother gave me and choose a different path? My own path? One where the two sides co-exist and I can just be me. Yoongi’s mind mulled these thoughts over in his frigid shower, his head down, allowing the water to cascade over his pulsing skull. He dressed quickly in dark jeans and a white button down, slamming a red bull in the cab on his way to his destination. Upon arrival, he looked over the unkempt lawn with a sigh. It was only 7am so he let himself into her home using the spare key she still had hidden under a fake frog on the front steps. He knew that her aide would not yet be there so they would have time alone. He couldn’t wait to see her, he had to know what was so urgent. It had been so long since they’ve seen each other, he needed answers. Yet, in this moment, even with all the anticipation and excitement that had borne itself in his chest, he didn’t have the courage to approach her, so he just stood in the doorframe leading to the backyard and watched as she danced carefreely in the sun.

Y/N:

You wake in a hurry and take off from your room to your fathers, only the sounds of your fluffy slippers shuffling against the hardwood can be heard. You burst through the door and jump on your fathers’ bed, scaring him awake. “Happy birthday Daddy!” You shout as he rubs at his eyes. You stand up and start hopping up and down singing happy birthday. He laughs aloud, “Get down Y/N. You’re going to break my bed.” You hop down onto your knees and hand your father a card and red giftbox. “Open it! Open it!” He rips open the card and reads it to himself with a smile before opening the box. His eyes light up at the sight of a golden Rolex. “Y/N, its too much!” “I saved my stipends and got it for you. I knew you wanted it. I hope you love it Daddy. You must wear it tonight at the party. There will be so many beautiful women there and they have to see how stylish you are.” He sighs. “Its perfect darling, thank you and please don’t worry about my impressing anyone tonight. I am more interested in the impression this Min boy you’ve been seeing makes.” Your heart suddenly drops. “About that, he won’t be able to make it. He had a family emergency but he says he will make it up to you.” You fathers brow furrows, “Is that so? Well, no one lets my daughter down. Tell him while I appreciate the sentiment, it isn’t needed. Besides, this must be divine intervention since I’ve invited a more suitable suitor for you.” “Daddy, he has an emergency. He would be here if he could. I am not interested in any other suitors.” “I know how boys like that think and I will not allow you to be taken advantage of, now I will hear no more of this Min boy. Besides, I thought it was my birthday, come let’s go enjoy breakfast.” Your father shuffles out of bed and heads into his restroom, leaving you feeling defeated.

MIN:

Yoongi’s smile soon fades as his mother abruptly stops dancing. He swallows slowly, removing his hands from his pocket and standing upright. “Wont you come say hello to your mother or are you still frightened of me after all this time?” She turns to face Yoongi and his eyes well with tears at her beauty. He hadn’t realized how much he had forgotten of her looks. “Come now angel, hug me.” She spreads her arms wide. He walks over to her slowly and falls into her embrace, sobbing softly as she pets his head. “Shh, its ok now. Mother has you. When did you change your hair color?” She pulls Yoongi away from her body, looking him over. “Do you hate it?” He asks. “No, I love it, your dark hair made you look too much like your father but this makes you look more like my angel.” He smiles at her response. She pulls Yoongi by the arm and over to sit with her in the shade under a large tree. “How are you angel? It’s been too long. I’ve wanted to write but they won’t tell me where you are now.” “I am good mother. It has been quite an adjustment. Father remarried.” She nods. Yoongi wonders what she’s on or not on as she continuously pets his face, arm, or head. “I heard from grandmother. He married his assistant Lee An, they always enjoyed each other’s company. He used to tell me I was crazy but I wasn’t was I angel? I was right, you see. I know things.” She whispers closely to his face and then breaks out laughing. “Mother, why did you ask to see me?” She stops laughing quickly and looks puzzled, hurt almost. “Didn’t you miss me angel? I missed you so much or have you turned against me like your father? Are you settled in with your new family? Your poor mother left with nothing.” She growls and then gasps before smiling. She goes back to petting Yoongi’s arm. “I have missed you mother but I have questions.” “No! Yoongi! No!” Yoongi and his mother turn to see her aide running towards them. “Alice! Hi! My son is here.” Yoongi’s mother waves at her. Alice comes towards them quickly, out of breath, she leans in and whispers into Yoongi’s ear. “You know you aren’t supposed to be alone with her.”

Y/N:

You’ve texted Yoongi multiple times but have yet to receive a response. He’s been on your mind all morning since you broke the news to your father that he wouldn’t be joining in on this evening festivities. “Morning gorgeous!” Your BFF enters your room. “Hey!” “Hey yourself! What’s with the long face?” “Daddy is not happy about Yoongi not being able to make it tonight. He doesn’t want me seeing him. On top of that I can’t reach him at all. Ugh. I really just want to let him have it but I’m trying to be understanding of his situation.” “And what exactly is his situation Y/N? This is the first you’re even hearing about his mother. He could be lying and out somewhere with his actual girlfriend. Don’t let him fool you with his charm or whatever it is you see in him. Tonight, is all about your dad anyway and having a good time. Screw that silly ole Min boy.” You nod, hearing what your friend was saying but upset that she’s feeding you doubt. What if Yoongi really did lie and was out with some other woman? Could you handle being made a fool again by another man? You lift your phone up and type out a text, ‘If you’re lying about your mom and fucking around with another girl so help me God Min, I’ll do everything in my power to bring you down.' You toss your phone to the side and look over at your BFF who is pretending to ignore you. “Wanna see what I’m wearing tonight?” You ask her. Her eyes light up. “Hell yes! Show me!”

MIN:

Yoongi sits in the living room now with his mother as Alice serves them tea. He feels unsettled as he carefully looks over every detail in her home. Shoes in the kitchen, clothes on the coffee table, and missing photos from the wall all have him fearing the worse. “You said you had questions. Well? Ask them love.” His mother says, settling into the seat next to him, petting him once again. He pulls away from her much to her dismay. “You’ve grown cold Yoongi. Like your father.” “Are you off your meds?” Yoongi snaps. Alice walks in, removing the clothing from the coffee table to make room for tea. “Those pills make me crazy. They fog my brain. I’m better without them but to answer your question, no, I am not off them. It’s a condition of my release. I must take them. Alice here makes sure of that. Don’t you Alice?” Alice places the tea kettle and fixings on the coffee table. She pours Yoongi's mother tea but Yoongi shakes his head when offered. His phone begins buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out quickly and smirks at the messages from Y/N. “Girlfriend?” His mother begins rubbing his arm. Yoongi swallows hard and puts his phone away. “Yeah, something like that.” “What’s she like?” “Different, good different. I like her.” “That’s so great, angel. What’s her name?” Yoongi grows tired of the back and forth. “Ah! Why am I here mother? Why did you want to see me? Just tell me already.” Her face dropping, she turns away from Yoongi, sipping her tea obnoxiously.

“I lied to you earlier. Grandmother didn’t tell me about your fathers’ marriage. He did, himself. I spoke with your father. He says that you are going through a tough time. He says you’re angry, emotional. He says it’s my fault. I am so sorry for all that I’ve done Yoongi. You must understand how hard things were for me back then. I was sick. I didn’t know what was real or not. Your father hurt me, and I had to hurt him back. You were all that I had to use against him. I am so sorry for that. Your father thought it would be a good idea for me to give you closure. He only wishes to see you grow into the man I know you are capable of becoming.” Yoongi stands now, pacing back and forth, eyeing his mother suspiciously. “What did he offer you?” He spews. She laughs nervously. “Sit down angel. Your pacing is making me nervous.” “WHAT DID HE OFFER YOU?” He shouts, his body shaking. “15,000 a month if I no longer contact you or see you. He is willing to take care of all my medical needs and the house needs so much work. Don’t you want your mother to be taken care of?” He scoffs. “So, 15,000? Is that all I’m worth? I suppose I shouldn’t be upset though mother, it’s more than the nothing you were originally willing to give my life for isn’t it? I’m not mad, I do want you to be taken care of because I hold more compassion than you or father ever will and he’s right, its time I came into my own. You shouldn’t contact me again, as far as I’m concerned, my mother died years ago.” He turns to walk away. “Yoongi wait,” Although he doesn’t want to, something pulls him to face her, “Don’t misunderstand that night. I was only trying to free you. If you truly care for that girl, leave her be, you’re no good. No matter how hard I tried, you’re rotten just like your father.” His mother’s normally soft features harden, and he can’t help but think about that day. That awful day, she had that same look as she grasped his neck tightly, holding his body underwater in the tub with her own, desperately trying to drown him.

Y/N:

“I want to thank you all for coming to celebrate my amazing father here tonight. Without him I would be nothing, so Daddy I hope your day was everything you imagined, and that tonight is the cherry on top. Yes, that means he’s still single ladies! Happy birthday Daddy! Cheers!” The crowd erupts into laughter and applause, sipping their drinks. You hug your father and he leans in to whisper into your ear, “My esteemed guest has arrived. I hear he is somewhere in the crowd. Go find Namjoon, I’m sure the two are rubbing elbows as we speak.” Your stomach flips suddenly at the thought of some blind date attending the party. You move through the crowd in search of Namjoon. “God this party is fabulous! I love being your friend, have I ever told you that?” Your BFF stops you in your tracks. “Have you seen Joon?” she shakes her head. “You look amazing in that dress girl! The girls are out tonight,” She laughs, “If only that Min boy could see you now. His loss.” She hands you a glass of champagne from a passing waiter that you immediately chug, still looking around for Namjoon. “Something is up, I have this feeling in my gut you know.” “You just need something stronger.” Your friend points out, dragging you to the makeshift bar. “Two double shots of whiskey neat please.” She tells the bartender. She hands one to you after tipping the gentlemen behind the bar. “Cheers!” She shouts before you both swallow your drinks in one hot wave. You breathe out quickly to keep from retching. “There he is!” You make note aloud, leaving your friend at the bar and making your way through the crowd toward the stairs to where you saw Namjoon standing at the banister, overlooking the party. By the time you make it up the stairs however, he’s walked off. “What the?” You say aloud.

“My God, Y/N, I think you are more stunning than the last time I saw you.” Your jaw drops as your ex-boyfriend Jimin approaches you. You scramble to find the words as he looks you up and down. Your skin gooses at the sight of him. He is still as gorgeous as you recall. He stands before you effortlessly handsome. Lips full, hair brushed back and parted, in an all-black suit. “Cat has your tongue huh. How have you been, Jagi? It's been so long since we last spoke or even saw each other. Imagine my surprise when your father called me and invited me to his huge birthday bash. You know I couldn’t resist seeing you right?” “Jimin, I, you can't be here. I don’t want you here.” He smiles wide at your duress. “Oh Jagi, but you're already so excited to see me.” He passes his fingertips along your spine, moving you closer to his body. “People are watching.” You raise your hand up to rest on his chest, keeping him at a distance. “You look so beautiful in this red dress Jagi, hugging every curve, did you wear it just for me?” You can't keep your body from responding to his advances as he rests his hand just above your plump ass. You swallow hard, breathing in his scent, realizing how close you are now. Your entire forearm resting on his chest now. “You hurt me Jimin. We will never, ever, be what we once were. I don’t know what Daddy told you but it's never going to happen. I’ve met someone else, someone more alluring, and honestly I really like him.” You whisper, oh so close to his lips now. He chuckles softly, licking his lips. “Just one kiss then. A sign of peace between us, closure if you will, a chance to seal what once was.” He whispers back, leaning in for the kill. Try as you may, you never could resist him. You hadn't met someone so entrancing until Yoongi and God what would he say if he could see you now? Wrapped in the arms of another man, tongue frantically swirling around his, hands tangled deep in the hairs on the nape of his neck. Could he ever forgive the sight? You know you should stop, rip away but instead you push further into the kiss, allowing him to knead your ass. When you both part you’re out of breath, staring longingly into each other's eyes. “I hope he treats you well Jagi. Better than I ever could. You deserve it.” Jimin trails his fingertips along your spine once again. “Sorry to interrupt,” Namjoon cuts in, placing his hand on your elbow, “We have a problem.”

Min:

God she’s like heaven served up by the devil himself in that dress. Yoongi thinks to himself. He watches in awe as you confidently give your speech, offering your father away. He had hopped on a private jet back home and arrived with enough time to shower, change, and slip into your father’s birthday bash to surprise you. As he watches you walk off into the crowd, he decides to stalk you quietly, taken by your beauty. He smirks as you look around frantically and he wonders if you can feel his presence, if you could both be at all that connected. As you swallow down your drink at the bar, he follows your line of view to see Namjoon looking down over the crowd. He hums to himself, intrigued as to why you’re so excited to have spotted Namjoon at all. He watches you rush through the crowd and decides to intervene. ‘Miss me? Meet me downstairs by the bar.’ Yoongi watches as Namjoon checks his phone, looking over the crowd again and meeting his gaze. Yoongi waves as Namjoon’s turns and takes the back stairwell down to meet him.

“When did you wander in?” Namjoon asks as he approaches Yoongi. “During the speech. How’s my brat been?” Namjoon shakes his head with a chuckle. “I gotta say, I knew you two were gonna hit it off. There should be some sort of prize on my end for letting you have that room at the Lake house, but if I am being honest, she’s been fishing for information. She wants to know more about the enigmatic Min Yoongi.” “She should get in line with the rest of them.” Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah? Well, I gotta say you’ve surprised me. I didn’t think you’d ever tell her about your mother.” Yoongi shrugs. “I didn’t tell her much honestly. Just that she asked to see me. No big deal.” “Speaking of, how did it go?” Yoongi shakes his head, fiddling with a coaster at the bar. “Sorry to hear that bro. I know you were hoping to get some answers from her but I am sure….” Namjoon’s voice fades away, the sound of Yoongi’s pulse booming in his ears instead. His heart drops in his stomach as his blood runs cold. He lifts a finger in the air, pointing up at the spot where Namjoon once stood. “Who the fuck is that?” Yoongi spews. Namjoon turns around to look at where Yoongi is pointing, his eyes soon shooting open at the sight before him. He looks back to Yoongi who if at all possible, has turned paler, eyes sunken in with a look that could kill. “Um, I think that's Jimin, her uh, ex.” Yoongi’s head snaps quickly to meet Namjoon’s gaze. “Why on earth is she up there kissing her fucking ex?” “I don’t know but you gotta calm down ok. I know what you may think but they have been broken up for like 2 years or something. I’m sure there is an explanation.” Yoongi scoffs at the comment. “Oh, yes. I’m sure she just tripped and he caught her with his lips. Get out of my way.” Yoongi pushes past Namjoon now. “Wait,” Namjoon grasp Yoongi by his coat, causing Yoongi to grip Namjoon by the arms tightly, “Let me talk to her first ok. Maybe you and her can go someplace quiet so as not to cause a scene. It IS her father’s birthday after all.” Yoongi grunts angrily at the ground before releasing Namjoon. “Fine. Go.” Namjoon hurries off, leaving Yoongi's head spinning a million miles a minute.

Y/N:

“What? What’s wrong?” You stare at Namjoon, who looks frantic. “It’s good to see you too Namjoon.” “You shouldn’t be here, scum.” Namjoon snips. “I was invited,” Jimin scoffs, looking over to you, “Jagi, call me anytime. I am always available to you, but it seems I am not wanted. I guess I should be leaving now.” Jimin leans in and kisses you on the cheek before turning towards Namjoon. “It really is good to see you Namjoon. Be well.” “I’m sorry but I don’t share the same sentiment.” Namjoon responds, hardening his face. Jimin nods and walks off. “Joon, that was not what you think ok? I can explain. He just wanted…” “Maybe it’s not what I think but I have to say my piece. What exactly are you playing at? He cheated on you, broke your heart, and left you in shambles. Yet here you are like putty in his hands, giving him everything he wants, ready to serve up the same thing he did to you to Yoongi and I know that Yoongi isn't perfect but he means well and deep down he’s a great guy, better than Jimin ever was to you.” Your heart seizes at Namjoon’s words. “Well, we don’t have to tell Yoongi right now ok? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right? I know he’s your friend but so am I and I just need time to process everything and then I can talk to him about this. Just give me some time that’s all I ask.” “I’m sorry Y/N but your time is up.” You gulp at his comment. “Joon.” You plead as he steps to the side, still holding your elbow. Your jaw drops and heart races as you look over towards the seating area and see a familiar pale face staring back at you through his laced fingers. “Yoongi. How?” You whisper. “He was trying to surprise you. I suppose the jokes on him huh. Like I said, we have a problem.”

MIN:

Her shocked face says it all. She didn’t feel me here at all. There is no connection. I am the fool, as always. She thought she could get away with it. Yoongi’s mind races, all his insecurities flooding his psyche. She begins to approach him, taking a seat beside him. “We should talk. I know you think you know what you saw but there is so much to unpack there. I had no clue you were here, why didn’t you tell me?” “Would it have made a difference, if you knew or not? Would you have avoided the kiss all together just for my sake?” Yoongi turns to face her now. “Found an empty lounge room. I guess it's for the staff but if you guys need a few minutes to talk, there’s no one in there.” Namjoon informs. Yoongi stands and watches as Y/N gets up as well, turning to follow Namjoon. He can’t help but watch the sway in her hips, angered by the twitch in his dick caused by her skin-tight dress. “Here we are.” Namjoon says as you all reach the destination. Namjoon opens the door, allowing for Y/N and Yoongi to walk in. Yoongi nods at Namjoon and closes the door behind him, sure to lock it. As Yoongi turns, Y/N slides her body up against his. “Please don’t be mad at me baby. It meant nothing to me. He means nothing to me. It was nonsense, closure. You’re the only one for me and I even told him that. You’re all I need.” Yoongi looks over her pleading face, fighting with himself on what to believe. “I can make everything better. Make it up to you. You know I would never hurt you.” Yoongi closes his eyes tightly at her words, swallowing hard as she rubs his growing erection. He hates how his body responds to her. “Are you angry? Please, say something. What are you thinking? Do you want to spank me? Is that it?” Yoongi’s eyes pop open at her question. His body tightening to her ask. He did want to punish her, hear her desperate cries as he turns the flesh of her ass red. Make her swallow his cock down completely just so he can watch the tears swell in her eyes as she gags, drooling on his balls. Deny her every pleasure, allowing only himself the chance to feel it all. She moves in and places her soft lips against his and all he can picture in his head was her in the arms of another man. As she tries to deepen the kiss, anger ignites inside him and he can’t help but shove her back. “On your knees, Brat!” He commands. ‘Fuck the light, fuck trying to be good, where has it gotten me,’ Yoongi thinks to himself, ‘Tonight, she meets the real me.’

Y/N:

“No!” You shout defiantly. You won’t give into Yoongi’s behavior tonight. Normally you would have no trouble doing exactly as he commanded, reveling in his every explicit desire. It always turned you on, how well he tamed you, how in tune he was with your body, but lately something changed in him and he was softer, more romantic, something you had grown to love as well. You wouldn’t give in without a fight or at the very least having explained the situation fully. Yoongi didn’t respond to your defiance, instead he opts to lean against the door and watch you. “I know I fucked up ok. I should have never even allowed Jimin to touch me, let alone kiss me. I swear though, I told him about us. I told him that I really like you Yoongi and I do.” “I’m going to fuck his name right out of your mouth.” You swallow hard at his response, squeezing your thighs together at the feeling of your cunt clench around nothing. “I, I wanted you here with me. Daddy was upset, he called him because he thought that, that…” Your resolve is failing you as you scramble to find your train of thought. “That his whore of a daughter needed to be chock full of someone, anyone’s cock?” Your eyes pop open and you run towards Yoongi, slamming your fist into his chest. “Don’t talk about daddy like that. You know nothing about him.” “I know that I’m the only one you’ll be calling daddy here tonight, brat!” You shove him away from you. “I know you’re angry Yoongi. You have every right to be but please don’t shut me out. I want to be more to you than just some random girl you fuck.” Yoongi chuckles, walking over to you. He slides his fingertips along your jawline. “I wanted that too, but you ruined everything.” “Don’t say that. It was one slip up. It meant nothing. I’m sorry ok.” He nods running his fingertips down your neck and along your exposed cleavage. He takes the tiny red strap of your dress between his fingertips and twirls it before yanking it hard, snapping the fragile fabric. “Such a gorgeous little slut. Tell me, are you going to be a good girl and take everything I give you?” You moan softly, biting your lip, trying not to fall for his wicked charm. “Yoongi, please.”

He hums, drunk on the sound of you begging. He takes you by the waist, squeezing your hips before pulling you into his massive erection. “I promise I’ll be good, if you promise to forgive me.” You grind against him now. “My gorgeous little brat, you forget who’s in control here.” He spins you around quickly, his hands trailing along your breast and down your torso. You know what he needs, how to take control. You press your backside into him and yank up your skirt, before dropping onto your knees on a loveseat in the lounge. He groans from deep within his chest at the sight of you. “Do it. I know you want to.” You urge, crying out as he wastes no time slapping you hard across the ass. “Better keep it down brat, we wouldn’t want daddy to hear, now would we?” He teases, slapping you once again this time harder. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from screaming. Yoongi plants two more heavy palms on your exposed ass, panting heavily with lust each time. Your backside burns against the cool air, but you don’t care you know he needs this; this is how he speaks; this is how he expresses his emotions. “More!” You shout, egging him on, showing him that you could speak his language. You needed him to know that you needed this too and that you could be each other’s escape, if only he would let you in. He yanks your thong down, cupping your drenched sex. “I said more!” You hear him scoff right before he brings his large hand to meet your exposed cunt. The slap creating an illicit sound against your wet lips. It sends shock waves through you. “Fuck!” You yelp whilst Yoongi proceeds to spread your lips open and tease your swollen bud with two fingers. You mewl and grind against him. “God, feels so good. You always know what to do.” You praise just as Yoongi quickly winds back and slaps your cunt once more causing a sharp zap of electricity to shoot through your needy clit. You jump forward at the new feeling, Yoongi grasping your hips and pulling you back onto your knees. He begins once again to tease your clit, uses your juices to rub small circles around it. You hitch your hips back at the feeling, needing more. “More please. I need you inside me.” Yoongi obliges by sliding one measly finger into your soaked cunt. You clench desperately, “Stop teasing.” You plead. “Such a greedy cunt. Look how she gobbles at my finger. So wet, so sweet, begging for more.” Yoongi mocks. He adds another finger and you growl with pleasure at the feeling. You raise your hand up and begin to rub your neglected clit as Yoongi fingers you roughly. “Fuck! I’m so close.” You cry out. “That’s enough.” Yoongi yanks his fingers from inside you, instead slapping your hard once more on the ass. “You fuck!” You cry out. “You don’t cum until I say you do brat.” Yoongi groans, licking a long trail from your clit to your taint before slapping you once more upon your exposed cunt. You cry out once more not sure of how much more you can take. “Yoongi, my God, please. I need you.” You beg him. Yoongi gently rubs his palms over your burning ass and you wince in pain. You wait to see if he'll plant kisses along your backside like normal but instead, he squeezes your cheeks tightly causing you to yelp in pain. He hums in delight before planting himself on the couch, allowing you take in the sight of his cock pressing firmly against his zipper, begging to be freed. He bites his lip seductively watching you yearn over him. “Not until you come suck daddy’s cock.”

MIN:

She’s never looked so fucking needy and desperate to please me. Yoongi thinks to himself as she drops to her knees before him. She licks her lips in anticipation as she unbuttons his pants, freeing his aching cock from its restraint. She slowly strokes him, using his pre-cum to ease the passing of her soft hands along his shaft. He watches her with lust filled eyes as she bites her lip, twisting and twirling her fist around his cock. “Spit on it.” He demands. She swallows nervously making Yoongi smile. He wonders if this is the first time someone has asked her to do this. No matter to him, he was willing to work with her, push her past her limits, tame the needy brat inside her. He passes his thumb gently across her bottom lip before shoving his index and middle finger into the back of her throat causing her to gag. “Good girl. Now, spit on it.” She leans forward and allows her drool to accumulate at her lips before dropping a glob of spit on his reddened tip. Yoongi sucks in a deep breath as he watches her drool make its way down his shaft. He yanks her tits free, sliding down on the couch, he nestles his cock between them. He presses the soft flesh tightly against his throbbing member as he hitches his hips upward, fucking her full breasts. She places her hands over his, mouth opened, watching him through her lashes.

“Does my little slut like it when I fuck her tits?” “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.” “Tsk, tsk. Not tonight I’m not.” Yoongi grasp her by her hair and yanks her head back licking unabashedly at her neck while tugging at her pointed nipple, eliciting a deep dark moan to escape her. “Yes, what?” “Yes, daddy.” Yoongi smiles against her neck, pulling her head down to meet his drooling cock. “Open wide for me baby.” She does exactly as she's told and Yoongi rewards her with a slow entrance into her mouth rather than the hard one he had planned. He allows her to relax her throat as he finds purchase there, holding her in place by her hair, as his cock throbs against her quaking esophagus. He rolls his head back at the feeling. He looks back down at her as she digs her nails into his thighs. He wonders if he should let her up for air or if she could hold on for a bit longer. She whines slightly and he presses into her further before pulling her up to his tip. She gasps for air and he groans at the sight of her all teary eyed, drool string from her lips to his cock, out of breath. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.” He tells her. “I’m so wet for you daddy. I want you so bad.” He smirks at her response. “Almost, baby, almost.” He hints, running his tip along her lips. She nods opening her mouth. She slides her tongue along the underside of his head, wrapping her lips around the tip fully she suckles at the mushroomed top, working one hand along his shaft and the other massaging his balls. Yoongi moans aloud feeling his body tense as his climax builds. If she keeps this up, he’s going to cum a lot faster than he intends to.

Y/N:

Yoongi abruptly stops you just as you are intensely working his cock. “Up.” He commands. You stand immediately, watching as Yoongi get on his feet, and pushes you onto your knees once more on the couch. He leans in and takes your ear lobe in his mouth, nibbling and tugging at it. “Do you love him?” He asks out of nowhere. “What?” He ignores you and begins kissing down your neck, biting at the sensitive flesh. “Did he kiss you like this?” He grips your hips, trailing his kisses down your back. “Yoongi, don’t do that. You're the only one I want.” You try to reassure him. “Prove it,” He moans, grabbing your sore ass and spreading your cheeks apart. He lands a slap on your already tormented rear end, “Beg me to fuck you. Make it convincing.” “Yoongi....” You start but your protest is only met with another whack across the bum. Your wanting pussy coming alive once again. “Daddy, please won't you fuck me?” You twirl your hips up at him. “No.” He slaps you hard across the ass once more, your juices flowing past your lips. “Fuck! Please, please, fuck me.” “Hmmm. Better, you're getting warmer.” He rubs his fingers along your slit, slapping down against your moistened mound. “Ah! Fuck me Min ok, stop playing games. I’m over this. Just please. I need release.” “Brattier.” He mulls, sticking two fingers deep inside you, igniting your nerve endings. You grip the couch now to keep from wailing at the feeling. “God, Please, it's not enough. I need your cock. Only yours will do. No one fucks like you. Please.” “Good girl.” He praises, shoving the whole of his cock deep within you. Your gasp caught in your throat. Yoongi takes the opportunity to shove his sticky fingers into your gaping mouth and excitedly you clamp down on them, sucking your juices from each one.

He drops his hand from your mouth to your throat, grasping tightly as he begins to drill his cock into you over and over. His moans grow hoarse and more animal like with each thrust as you feel your core burn with your rising climax. “Don't....you...cum!” He growls into your ear, keeping his tortuous pace, your pussy clenching and releasing with burning pleasure. You feel his grip get tighter around your neck as the air begins to restrict, “Yoongi”, You tap his hand to try and warn him of your oncoming climax. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. You vision becomes blurry as Yoongi cries out into the room, his release hitting him like a bus, he unloads his massive seed into you. You tap his hand once more, as you feel his seed create a heavenly slickness as it spills out of you. Yoongi tightens down on your neck once again and immediately releases, dropping his hand to attack your swollen clit as you take your first deep breath. Your body quakes in a way you’ve never felt before as your coil snaps at an unprecedented rate. You screech out, as you squirt your climax all over Yoongi’s balls. Yoongi continues to rub small circles along your bud whilst slowly thrusting in and out of you until you beg him to stop, the feelings of overstimulation too much to bear. Yoongi pulls his now softening member from inside you and you both begin to dress in silence. He hands you a few paper towels from inside the lounges bathroom and you happily take them, cleaning up the mess between your thighs. Yoongi looks down at his crotch, knowing no amount of scrubbing will fix the damage done to his suit pants so he opts to just untuck his dress shirt. “I guess ruining your suits is becoming a habit of mine.” You smile. He doesn’t respond. You walk over to him, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Yoongi I am so sorry about tonight with Ji-, my ex. I know what I did isn't excusable but please know if I could take it back I would. I, God, I’m falling for you. I love you.” You painfully admit. Yoongi winces at your confession, causing your stomach to flip. “Don’t say things you couldn’t possibly understand the meaning of. I don’t take those words lightly and you shouldn't either. I’ve never said those words to anyone, and I don’t think I'll be starting now.” He smooths out his shirt of its wrinkles and you try hard to swallow down the lump in your throat, tears prickling at your eyes. “Yoongi, please, things have been so good.” He nods. “They have been and all it takes is one moment to fuck it all up.” He waves his hands up in defeat. You stop trying and just let your tears fall, hoping they will sway him, chip away at his cold exterior.

MIN:

It kills Yoongi to see her standing before him crying, her mascara running. She looks spent, defeated, lip quivering. It broke his heart to hear her utter the words I love you. He lied when he said he has never told anyone those words. He’s told his mother but what was that for, she only ever loved herself. Deep down inside he knew that he loved this woman before him. She wasn’t just some girl he fucked. His emotions for her ran deep. Their connection immediate, from the moment he saw her face bathed in sunlight on the terrace of Namjoon’s Lake house, he knew he had to have her all to himself. Namjoon warned him of her, that she was breath taking, “A rollercoaster.” was his exact description and he couldn’t have been more accurate. She had made him feel things he hadn't felt in a long time but tonight she made him feel something that he felt every day of his life, betrayal, and that he couldn't have. So, as much as it pained him to shut her out, he had to pull his guard up, his wall was the only thing that truly kept him from breaking. Even as she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, crying into his chest, he stood stern in decision. “I’m sorry but I don’t love you.” He whispered, watching her heart break before him, as he wiped away her tears. “Open it!” You both hear from the other side of the door right before it swings open. “What the hell is going on here? Who are you and why they hell are touching my daughter?” Y/N clings to Yoongi’s side. He’s almost proud to have been caught, the thought of her father setting her up with another man causing his anger to surge. “Daddy! Wait, let me explain. This is...” “I don’t give a shit who it is! I am told to investigate the sounds of screaming and what do I find? My daughter in the arms of this heathen? You dishonor me Y/N! Get over here, now!” For a moment Yoongi tugs at you, keeping you at his side, wanting to protect you from your fathers wrath. He knew all too well what you were feeling. “Its not her fault sir.” “Shut up snail! You’re unworthy of my attention nor that of my daughters.” “Daddy stop it.” She defies. “I understand sir. Good thing I’m already done with her.” Yoongi watches as both Y/N and her fathers face drop. He smirks, unbothered, making sure to shove his shoulder into her fathers on the way out of the room. “Wait, Yoongi!” She calls to him but he doesn’t turn around, this time choosing to hold onto the upper hand.

#bts smut #suga x you #suga x reader #yoongi smut

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silverfootstepswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Amaryllis | Chapter 24

++++

Karui tapped the pipe against the edge of the table. Ash fluttered down as the blue smoke rose up. She placed the tip in her mouth, leaning over to peek at the envelope.

“What is it, Grandfather?” she wondered, tilting her head to read the words.

Ebizo stroked his long beard.

“She is very much like her grandmother,” Ebizo murmured. He chuckled as he handed the letter over to Karui.

Karui’s fist rose to cover her mouth as she read through the contents of the letter. And then a laugh spurted out of her too.

“Oh, I wish I could see the expression on Prince Baki’s face. How terrible this is,” Karui sighed. She lowered the letter into her lap. “What will you do, Grandfather?”

Ebizo clucked his tongue. He held his hand out. With a guilty smile, Karui returned his pipe.

“The situation is actually quite straightforward. She’s made a reasonable request. And it will cost me very little to indulge her,” he mused.

“I thought she was just a military woman. I’m surprised to see such a cunning scheme from her,” Karui commented, looking down at the letter again. She blinked when Ebizo tapped his knuckles against the top of her head.

“Silly child. Do you think that branch of the family has survived so long in hostile lands simply by waving a sword around?” he scolded her. Karui rubbed her head, even though it hadn’t hurt at all. She blinked.

“I supposed not,” Karui said.

++++

Konohamaru swiveled his head around to check the alley behind him for what felt like the hundredth time. It hadn’t been easy to pin down a meeting with this person. And he wasn’t even certain if this was the person he needed to talk to.

Pulling his hood a little closer to his face, he ducked into the seedy little bar deep in the heart of the slums. Wary eyes fell on him when the door creaked. They followed him as he made his way to the bartender, an older woman with an eyepatch.

“Beat it if you don’t have any money, kid. This isn’t a charity,” the bartender grumbled.

But her visible eye widened when he pushed a golden coin across the counter towards her.

“I’d like to take some singing lessons,” he whispered. The bartender glared at him as she lifted the coin to her mouth. She bit down hard before she scrutinized the coin. And then she jerked her head for him to follow. Konohamaru looked around. When he couldn’t find a place to enter, he ducked under the bar to follow the woman past the wooden barrels of alcohol. To a small door in the back.

The bartender knocked in a peculiar pattern. There was a pause. And then a voice came from within.

“What?”

“You got a guest.”

“…Let the kid in.”

The bartender muttered something about being “full of herself”. She said nothing to Konohamaru as she hobbled her way back to the bar.

Konohamaru stared at the worn doorknob. He closed his hand around it and pushed. The door opened with little noise.

“You found the place alright. Not bad.”

It was just a dusty little room filled with barrels and shelves. There was a bed wedged into the corner, as if someone had squeezed it in last-minute. The woman sat at the foot of the bed. A lute case lay open behind her.

“You’re… the court musician,” Konohamaru said. But it was more of a question than anything.

Tenten leaned back on her palm, smiling. “Yeah.”

Konohamaru frowned. “How do I know I can trust you?”

It had been difficult to even find the musician in the first place. He knew there were messengers who ran for the General when she was in the capital. It had taken every moment of his spare time for a week to find one of them. And once he located the messenger, it had taken almost all of the money the General had given him to convince the man to point him in the direction of this tiny bar that didn’t even have a sign out front.

“A good question. And how do I know I can trust you, kid?” she wondered in return.

“I… I want to help the General,” he stated, a little helplessly. Because he had nothing else to support him. No documents, not that he could read anyway. No seal or ring to prove that he served someone more powerful than him.

Tenten tilted her head to the side as she appraised him.

“I’ve seen you tending the General’s horse. You really like her, don’t you?” she observed.

Konohamaru nodded.

“I owe the General. She picked me up when I was just some urchin who could sing. I’m not dumb enough to bite the hand that feeds,” Tenten then assured him. And then she sat up straight.

“So. What is this message you need to get to her?”

Konohamaru hesitated. And then he spoke. “Prince Naruto came to me in secret. He paid me to send word to Lieutenant General Inuzuka. I heard the Lieutenant General talk about how someone is shooting down… messenger birds? I don’t know why. But it has to do with the prince. And then he said he needed to send word quickly.”

Tenten scratched her arm as she took that in. “Well. Sounds like he’s going to tell the General, doesn’t it? Why come all the way here?” And then her hand stilled when she met Konohamaru’s eyes. He stared at her.

Tenten laughed. “Oh. You already know not to trust these people.” She tilted her head from side to side as she considered things. And then she got to her feet.

“Things are getting stale in the capital anyway. I might as well pay her a visit,” she decided.

Konohamaru fumbled when she suddenly reached inside her pocket and flicked him something. It was a silver coin.

“Thanks for the tip. But don’t give away this kind of stuff for free anymore. If you’ve got something I don’t have, you can profit in some way,” she advised him.

Tenten rode out of the city at dawn the next day. She joined up with a few merchants making their way up to Whitewave. She offered them a little coin to let her ride on the back of one of their wagons. She played songs to help pass the time. And by the time they arrived at the port city, the merchants were sad to see her go.

The city of Whitewave was run by Countess Inuzuka, an outspoken supporter of the General. The strong tie between the two women was reflected in their trade relations. The city was filled with exotic fruits and teas found nowhere else in the kingdom. It only took a day or so to find cheap passage to the Southern Tea Isle. In exchange, all Tenten had to do was play a few songs here and there to keep morale of the sailors up.

When Tenten arrived on the island, storm clouds hovered over the trees. She kept her head down and booked a room in one of the island’s more run-down taverns called The Sailor’s Rest. It wasn’t empty, but it also wasn’t crowded. As she climbed the stairs up to her room, Tenten noticed a few men occupying a table in the back. One of them eyed her in a sharp way, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. She made a note to herself not to linger too long here.

It almost didn’t surprise her when she realized that the General wasn’t here. It wasn’t like her to be quiet for so long. And she usually visited the mainland for a few months every year.

Tenten leaned against the bar in the Sailor’s Rest as she considered her options.

It was quite natural for most people to relay information to Admiral Haruno. The General’s cousin was well-known as her close confidante. Those who wished to curry favor with the General usually started with the Admiral first. But when she asked around, she found that the Admiral was quite busy. And with the General absent, there was no guarantee that any news would reach her quickly.

She tapped her fingers once. The bartender slid a tankard over to her. She nodded in his direction.

The man who had stared at her earlier was nowhere in sight. But at the same table was a huge, blue man. He offered her a smile, nodding before he turned his attention elsewhere. Tenten’s eyes narrowed when, a few minutes later, he made his way over to her.

“I’m not interested,” she stated before he could set his drink down.

The large man appraised her. Laughed.

“No offense. You’re an attractive woman. But that’s not it,” he replied. And then he offered his free hand.

Tenten stared at it. She considered swatting it away. She decided to shake it.

“Kisame Hoshigaki, handsome marauder and outlaw,” he introduced himself. And then he thought before he added, “Been working as the General’s security these days.”

She toyed with the idea of giving him a fake name. But she decided against it.

“Tenten.”

Leaning his elbow on the bar, Kisame jerked his chin toward her.

“You looking for her?” he questioned.

Tenten studied the man for a long moment. He was huge. The hand on his tankard made it look like a child’s cup. And that hand could easily bash her skull in. But then she had also noticed the way people who passed him greeted him with “Howzit, Big Blue” and “Hey there, brother”. Those sorts of greetings didn’t roll off the tongue overnight.

“Maybe,” Tenten responded.

She flinched back a little when the mercenary reached for his belt. He froze. Paused to give a pointed look, as if to reassure her. And then he rummaged around in the pouches on his belt until he produced a small gold ring. He could squeeze it onto his finger if he had to. But it was annoying to have anything on his hands, so he just carried it around on a gold chain instead. He handed the ring to her, keeping the chain looped around a couple of his fingers.

Tenten scrutinized the desert rose engraved into the gold.

“Never thought I’d see the day the General hired a mercenary,” she murmured. She handed the ring back to him.

Kisame flashed his pointy teeth.

“People keep saying that. It’s starting to hurt my feelings a little,” he replied.

Tenten glanced around the tavern. She tapped the bar a few times.

“Not here,” she declared. “Maybe the palace.”

Kisame snorted. “No.” He read the expression on her face and smiled again. “I know you want the palace because you want witnesses in case I try to kill you. But it’s not exactly the best place to exchange secrets right now,” he explained.

Tenten’s forehead wrinkled.

“The docks at dawn? The fishermen will be out then. Too far to eavesdrop. But close enough to see if either of us tries to stab the other,” Kisame suggested instead. He pointed at his chest, at the exact spot where Tenten had hidden a knife. She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking down at herself. It was a well-concealed weapon. This man was even more dangerous than he appeared if he could figure that out just from a short conversation like this one.

Tenten’s eyes narrowed as she held the mercenary’s gaze.

When she gave him a stiff nod, Kisame looked satisfied. He told the bartender to get her another drink on his tab before he walked away. Tenten left the drink untouched, slipping out of the tavern as quietly as possible.

At dawn, Tenten was already at the docks, concealed in the shadows of one of the stalls that had closed for the night. She could see the huge mercenary standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. There was another man standing some distance away. Just in case they were planning an ambush, she kicked at a rock, sending it skittering across the path. Both men turned toward the sound. She was too far away to hear, but she could see Kisame turn toward the other man to say something. The second man departed with a wave of his hand. She couldn’t tell whether the wave was for Kisame or for her.

“The General mentioned she had a musician wandering around the capital. That’s you?” he said in greeting when she finally joined him. She stood a good distance away, her arms folded across her chest.

“Where is she?” Tenten asked.

Kisame sighed. “If she didn’t tell you, I sure as hell won’t.”

Tenten clicked her tongue. She couldn’t help but approve a little. She tried not to show it in her face.

“Can you read?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Kisame answered.

She handed a note over to him. “Stableboy at Whiteriver Keep got wind of some strange happenings. Kid felt worried enough to come find me.”

Kisame unfolded the paper and read through the contents. His expression didn’t change. And when he finished reading, he tore up the paper and tossed it into the ocean.

“Lots of strangeness going around lately,” he grumbled.

Tenten stole a glance at the mercenary. At least he wasn’t asking stupid questions. She noticed a pebble at her feet. She nudged it into the water.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Tenten sniffed, unfolding and refolding her arms. “Don’t think so. I saw them bring more birds in. Lots of them. So seems like Little Namikaze isn’t lying about that, at least.”

Kisame paused mid-stretch as he took that in. Frowning, he turned to look at Tenten. She stared right back. Arching an eyebrow.

“They brought in more birds,” he repeated.

She nodded. “Crows from the north. Doves from the east. They do doves here don’t they?”

“So if they had to send more doves to Whiteriver, folks here would know…” mused Kisame, trying to put the pieces together.

Tenten didn’t quite follow his line of thinking. “Someone has to sign off. So… whoever’s in charge while the General’s gone, I guess.”

Kisame’s eyes narrowed. “Then there’s no way they wouldn’t notice something like this unless they were signing off with their eyes closed.”

Tenten’s arms dropped.

“Are you saying that-”

“She knows. The aunt knows and she hasn’t said anything,” Kisame declared, glaring out at the ocean now. He heaved a sigh, rubbing his hand across his forehead. “General’s not going to take this news well.”

Tenten’s eyes widened. “Lieutenant General Inuzuka said he would write to the Admiral about this,” she recalled.

“He won’t pass it to the General. That kid is right in his mother’s pocket. If the aunt isn’t telling her, then the cousin won’t either,” Kisame pointed out. Pressing his knuckles to his mouth, he continued staring out at the water. The sun was beginning to peer over the horizon now. The bottom of the black sky began to glow orange and red.

Tenten jolted a little when the mercenary’s eyes suddenly fell on her.

“This conversation didn’t happen,” he warned her.

Tenten smirked. “The General pays me too well for me to remember any of her secrets,” she assured him. But Kisame didn’t smile.

“I hope you forget this quick then.”

Tenten folded her arms again. “You really like her too, huh?” She glanced over him, noted the scars on his wrists.

“I’ve seen those before on slaves from the south. They had you in the fighting pits?” she observed.

Kisame rubbed his wrists. “Not for long,” he assured her. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to break through chains when you really want to bash someone’s head in.”

They stood there, staring out at the water for another moment.

++++

“I’m confused. So we’re not going home?” Kankuro wondered, hugging a pillow to his chest as he sat down. On the other side of the room, Gaara leaned against the lid of one of the trunks they had been filling with various clothes and souvenirs they had gathered during their time in the Viper’s Fang. All the gifts provided by Prince Baki had been placed in a separate pile. Kankuro kicked at some of the objects in that pile whenever he walked past.

“It all depends. But no. That’s not in the plan for now,” answered Sakura, leaning on her hand. She sorted through the letters she had spent the morning writing. Each one sealed with her ring. Temari had gone out to mail the first batch a little while ago. She would be back to send the others soon. Normally this was a task left for servants. But Sakura wanted to be sure that these letters made it to their destination quickly.

“What’s the atmosphere like in the palace, Meno?” asked Sakura.

Meno paused while folding one of Sakura’s robes for travel.

“Prince Baki is in meetings with his advisors much of the time. Consort Hoki interrogated the servants to identify which concubines aided Concubine Deba when she destroyed your property, General,” Meno reported.

“Any word on their punishment?”

“No, General. For now, Concubine Deba had the servants and guards confiscate their possessions to be appraised,” added Meno.

“For what?” Kankuro scoffed, stretching out onto his back and staring up at the gilded ceiling. “They destroyed something priceless. That’s like trying to fill up a bottomless pit with gold.”

“I suppose it’s more of a gesture. Shijima’s trying to show that she’s taking this situation seriously,” Sakura guessed. And then she smiled a little. “She really is a smart girl. It’s a shame that that’s gone unrecognized for so long in this place.”

Since Sakura was “furious”, it made no sense for Shijima to wander in and out of her quarters anymore. And while she wasn’t lonely with her cousins beside her, Sakura worried about Shijima. With the huge upset in the power structure of the harem, all Shijima would have to do is seize control. With Prince Baki in a foul mood, not many of the concubines would be brave enough to try any underhanded tactics for a little while. Still, Sakura knew how daunting it could be to do something like this. She hoped that the few allies Shijima had made in the harem were serving her well now.

As Shijima seized control of the harem from within, Sakura’s letters spread to all the cities with relationships to the Haruno family. Of course Princess Mei would be one of the first to receive word of the great offense Prince Baki and his wives had struck against her. Sakura was aware that Mei’s relationship with Baki was all about business. When forced to choose between Baki and the Haruno family, Mei was certain to choose the Haruno’s. It wasn’t just about distant family relations. It was about profit as well. Baki controlled some trade routes to the east. But the Haruno family’s access to gold and marble, as well as their vast network of connections to other cities in the Arids made them a better investment.

An added bonus was that Shijima had expressed discomfort at the relationship between Mei and Baki. Mei had mentioned once that she had a son by Baki, which ensured that he would never raise a hand against her city. After all, what kind of father would try to harm his own son? Mei was adamant that she had no other interest in the man. But if it bothered Shijima, then this was one way to solve the problem.

The other cities would face a similar dilemma. If the Haruno family was cutting ties with the Viper’s Fang, what would they do?

The Haruno family had spent generations marrying its children into the various cities surrounding them. And because blood must always be honored, there would be very few in their right mind who would choose to turn their back on a Haruno.

Baki was likely meeting with his advisors, who would push him to try to salvage the relationship with Prince Ebizo’s grand-niece before it was too late. But Baki’s pride would prove a stumbling block, just as she had predicted would happen.

It didn’t take long for messengers to begin pouring into the Viper’s Throat. They carried letters with seals of all different colors and patterns.

Prince Byakuren apologized for the conduct of Concubine Toge, one of Deba’s strongest supporters. Her father had been removed from his position as ambassador and was reflecting on his failure to raise a good daughter. Byakuren sent along jewels, as well as a written vow that he would always remain an ally of the Haruno family.

Prince Ibushi to the southwest disavowed Prince Baki for his lack of respect for traditions. He expressed mortification that he had ever shared a meal with such a man. He explained that the Viper’s Fang would no long be welcome to conduct trade through their port city.

Sakura recalled a battle a few years ago. It was towards the end of the war with Sound Country. With winter closing in, bringing with it the promise of frostbite, Shikamaru had proposed a plan that had sounded impossible at the time.

Rather than attack the main garrison of enemy troops, he had proposed ambushing the cities and roads that provided supplies. It had been a risky maneuver. But they had divided their remaining soldiers and disrupted Sound Country’s supply lines. That was how they had taken one of the biggest fortresses in the country and turned the tides of war in their favor.

Politics was like war in many ways. Maybe people did a little less stabbing, but the outcome was the same. Some people lived. Others died. And all it took was one mistake to break whatever careful balance there was.

There were, of course, some cities who remained silent. None of them would be foolish enough to criticize Sakura outright. But pressure from the surrounding cities would be enough to change their minds in time.

When word came from Karo a few days later, Sakura had to read the letter twice. Just to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood.

Prince Ebizo was disappointed to learn that Prince Baki was not the wise man that rumors suggested. Ebizo urged Sakura to return to Karo and not to suffer discomfort for an instant longer than necessary. He also mentioned that with the souring of this relationship, naturally Sakura could not accept the troops Baki had promised.

“What? But you need those soldiers, don’t you, Lady Sakura?” Temari read over her shoulder.

Sakura sighed as she tried to piece together what Ebizo meant.

“I think… I think that Great-Uncle is suggesting that if I were to refuse those troops… it would be another blow to Prince Baki’s reputation. Because he would be unable to honor a promise he made to me,” Sakura guessed.

“That is a very serious issue here. It might ruin him completely,” Kankuro agreed, looking a little too happy about the prospect.

There was one letter that arrived that put a damper on things.

It was from the city of Solace. To the north. Where Mei’s stepbrother Ao ruled.

Prince Ao sent his regrets at the misfortune that had befallen her. But due to the poor harvest in the north this year, he was unable to cut ties with Prince Baki. He reminded Sakura of how Baki was technically a cousin to her, and suggested that she try to find forgiveness in her heart, which was the mark of a good ruler.

“He must be out of his mind. He’s being deliberately disrespectful,” Kankuro complained.

Sakura tossed the letter on the table with a noise of disgust.

“Well… that was unpleasant,” she remarked.

“Why did you stop, Lady Sakura? There’s more,” Gaara wondered, reaching for the later. He turned pale as he read the final paragraph that Sakura had omitted. Temari grasped his shoulder to steady him.

“What is it?” demanded Kankuro. He grabbed Gaara’s arm to bring the letter closer to him.

“…Father’s in Solace,” Kankuro realized as he read.

“I wonder what he’s said about Lady Sakura. And about us. No wonder Prince Ao seems less than fond of us,” Temari said, her face grim. She moved to put her arm around Gaara’s shoulders instead.

“I’ll inform Great-Uncle. Perhaps there’s something he can do to chastise that man,” muttered Sakura, already thinking of what to write. When she looked up, biting the tip of her thumb, she spotted Gaara’s panicked expression. Her face softened.

She reached across the table to grasp Gaara’s hand. Her eyes were still unfocused. But he squeezed back.

“He’s far from you. He can’t hurt you,” she assured him. Gaara nodded. But he didn’t look convinced.

Along with Ebizo’s letter came an envoy who bowed deeply.

“Since your needs are not being met here, His Highness has commanded me to find housing for you in the city until safe passage to Karo can be arranged,” he reported.

Sakura gazed past the man, to Meno dusting in the corner. When Sakura met her eyes, Meno turned to glance at the door. Then looked back to her. Sakura nodded. She watched Meno gather some dirty linens in a basket before she made her way out. Hopefully the rumor would spread through the palace quickly.

Returning her gaze to the envoy, Sakura smiled.

“I’ll trust your judgment. Please inform my Great-Uncle that I am thankful for his care and kindness,” answered Sakura. The envoy nodded, bowing once again.

That night, Azra and Esma cleared away the bowls and cups from their evening meal.

Sakura had stopped dining with Prince Baki for obvious reasons. She even refused food from the palace’s kitchen. Instead, she sent the twins out to buy food from the market each day. They always returned with grilled meats and fresh bread. They tried to find something new, although Sakura assured them that she wasn’t so picky. When they counted out the change, Sakura pushed it back into their hands.

“Would you like tea? Some more wine?” Azra asked.

“No. You haven’t had a chance to eat yet, have you? Go,” Sakura urged, sending the girls out with impatient pushing motions. The twins smiled as they lifted the trays and made their way out of the room.

Heaving a sigh, Sakura leaned her head back on the couch. Her cousins were out for a walk to help them digest the heavy meal. Their company was nice. It would have been difficult to be away from home for so long if not for them. But a moment of silence was also something she looked forward to every now and then.

She heard the door open.

“What is it?”

“The security of this place is really terrible,” Suigetsu complained, not for the first time, lowering his hood. He crossed the room to hand over a folded piece of paper. And then he helped himself to rest of her wine.

It was a message from Shijima. Thanks to that lax security, Suigetsu and Mangetsu were able to slip in and out of the harem to deliver notes like this one.

“Listen to this,” Sakura said as she read. Suigetsu turned to her, still gulping.

“Prince Baki has been in a foul temper these days. He summoned me, demanding to know how to ‘fix that woman’s mood’. I appeared, shed some tears, and insisted that I was trying my best. I’m beginning to think that you might be right. He is not a bad man, but not very clever.”

Suigetsu choked on the wine. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he coughed and laughed at the same time.

“She sounds like you,” he pointed out, thumping his fist against his chest.

Sakura skimmed over the rest of the message. She crumpled it into her palm to burn later.

“M’Lady,” Suigetsu called, suddenly serious. Her eyes fell on him.

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

The nightmares had crept up on her. It was so sudden that she had almost felt bewildered by their return. But once they settled back into her skull, it was like they had never left in the first place.

She knew that it was stress. The unfamiliar environment. And even as she dreamt, she was frustrated by her lack of control over her own mind.

Swords dripped blood onto rotting corpses. And everywhere she roamed, whether it was on charred battlefields or barren cities, she could hear sobbing. As constant as the chorus of crickets during the summer.

She jerked awake in the darkness, her heart racing. And if there was someone else in the room, her mind automatically screamed ‘enemy’ without giving the rest of her a chance to catch up. Temari nearly went blind one night when she burst into the room, hearing strange noises. Luckily, the dagger missed and hit the door instead. From that point on, Sakura laid down a strict rule that no one was to disturb her at night.

Mangetsu broke the rule. A lot.

When Sakura woke shouting about someone bleeding out. Ordering someone to put pressure on the wound, because soon the number of corpses would outnumber the living who had to carry them. Sweat drenched her shirt and her hair. And she whipped around as she heard a sound at the window. Mangetsu had opened it from the outside. He pocketed his knife that he had used to wedge the lock open.

“Sleep. I’ll just sit here,” he said, settling in a chair in the corner of the room.

She was too exhausted for anger. She wiped her hand across her forehead.

“What?”

“I’ll just be here. Go back to sleep, M’Lady,” Mangetsu repeated. He idly flicked a bit of sand off his clothes. And when Sakura glared at him, Mangetsu pointed toward the door, where Suigetsu was probably standing watch.

“Has the same thing. It’s better when someone’s in the room with him. I figured I could do the same for you,” the mercenary explained.

Sakura considered throwing him out. But she had spent enough time with Mangetsu and Suigetsu. If she removed him, he would find another way back in. It wasn’t worth arguing with him about this.

It was easier than she thought to fall asleep with him watching her from the corner of the room. Maybe because she was used to him walking past the room at night on his patrols. She had never asked either of the brothers to watch her room so closely. And she had never asked them to confront the palace guards who spoke ill of her. Neither of them had mentioned the latter to her. It was only because Meno and the twins had whispered it to her during a rare moment when both of the mercenaries were out of the room. The rumors were likely exaggerated. But Sakura was confident that it was true that Suigetsu had taken down a guard twice his size. She was less confident that the guard had burst into tears.

She slept a little. It wasn’t perfect. She still jerked awake a few times. But the haunting wails that pierced her ears were a little easier to ignore when in her half-woken daze, she heard a soft sigh and “It’s not real. Try to sleep some more”.

In the morning, when she crawled out of bed, the chair in the corner was empty. And Mangetsu said nothing to her about where he had spent his night, as if it had never happened in the first place.

As Shijima had mentioned in her note, she was kneeling in front of the doors that led to the northern wing of the palace. When the doors opened up, Sakura hesitated. As if surprised to see Shijima sitting there. And then she resumed speaking to Temari as she walked right past the consort. Kankuro and Gaara stared at Shijima. They exchanged looks and then watched Sakura continue down the hall.

“Sorry,” Gaara whispered before they hurried to catch up to Sakura.

“I know what she’s doing. Suddenly extending an olive branch will only undermine her at this point,” Sakura assured Temari once they were out of the palace. She adjusted the shawl that covered her hair.

They didn’t actually have much business in the city. However, it was important that Prince Baki think that they did. They checked the post station to see if any messengers had arrived with news from out west. They relaxed at the bathhouse, ate street foot standing in the shade of a tall building, and then visited a few vendors to browse the shiny wares they had on sale.

By the time they returned to the Viper’s Fang, night had fallen. And Shijima was still kneeling in front of those double doors.

Sakura ignored her again as she swept past.

“Have one of the girls pour some of that wine we purchased. The day has been hot and I’m quite thirsty,” Sakura remarked.

Temari glanced at Shijima. But her steps didn’t falter as she continued after Sakura.

“Of course, Lady Sakura,” Temari replied.

In the morning, Suigetsu tapped on the door to Sakura’s room. Just enough to wake her that she didn’t draw a weapon on him when he stepped inside.

“You know that she’s still out there,” he said, without greeting. He glanced at the empty chair in the corner. Mangetsu had slipped out a little while ago. Suigetsu seemed to know of the arrangement. But like his brother, he made no comment about it.

“Who?” asked Sakura, raking her hands through her tangled hair.

“Shij- The Consort. Whatever.”

Sakura’s hands froze.

“You mean that she’s returned this morning?”

“No. She went somewhere for a few minutes during the night. But then she came right back. Probably went to the…” Suigetsu trailed off and Sakura caught his meaning. Her hands dropped into her lap.

“So she’s been there a full day? Without eating?”

Suigetsu rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “I mean, I haven’t seen anything. Maybe she snuck in a meal during those few minutes? I wouldn’t put it past you nobles. You’re all kind of crazy,” he answered.

Sakura closed her eyes, thinking. She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. She reached her arm for something, pointing. Suigetsu followed the line of her arm until he spotted her robe draped over the back of her chair. A year ago, he would have balked at the thought of being ordered around like this.

Snickering a little at himself, Suigetsu plucked the robe off the chair and draped it over Sakura’s shoulders. She pulled her arms through without thanks. She opened her eyes. They were bloodshot and a little puffy. When Suigetsu pointed to them, Sakura swatted his finger away. She pressed the backs of her hands to her eyelids. Suigetsu’s smile faded as he examined her face.

“What’s the reason why you don’t want to sleep?” he suddenly wondered.

She lowered her hands a little. “What do you mean?”

“Are you scared of your dreams? You know they can’t hurt you,” Suigetsu told her. While he was smiling, it wasn’t a mocking expression. Sakura held his gaze for an extra moment, lowering her hands all the way now.

“No. I’m scared of who I am inside them,” she answered.

Suigetsu was quiet. He nodded.

“Better scared than dead,” he pointed out before he stepped out of the room.

Shijima raised her head when the double doors rumbled open. Sakura took a step out, arms folded across her chest. Her hair was loose. She was still in her nightgown with just a robe thrown on top.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Sakura without greeting.

Shijima lowered her head again.

Shijima had informed her in a short message that she would be putting on some sort of scene. Sakura hadn’t realized that she would push her body so far.

“Please don’t leave, General. I realize that you are rightfully upset. But please reconsider,” Shijima requested, staring at the floor.

“And you think this will change my mind somehow? Kneeling here?”

There were bound to be guards or servants hiding somewhere nearby. Sakura kept her tone cold, her gaze sharp.

“It seems you intend to starve yourself on my doorstep. You must not realize that someone like me is quite familiar with death. Do as you please,” Sakura stated before she slipped back inside. The doors slamming shut behind her.

Sakura walked past Shijima again on her way out into the city. When she returned in the evening, Shijima still knelt there, her face haggard. Sakura didn’t speak to her. Safely inside her room, Sakura turned to Gaara. She put her hands on his shoulders.

“You’ve always been friendly with her, so it will be less suspicious. Sneak outside later and bring the poor girl something to eat. And some water,” Sakura instructed. Gaara nodded. He cast a look of concern toward the door.

But when Gaara returned, he shook his head.

“She refused.”

Sakura sat down. She clenched her jaw. Lifting her fist to her mouth, she pressed her knuckles to her lips.

“She’ll hurt herself,” Temari worried too.

“She must have a plan. She’s not that stupid is she?” Kankuro leaned his elbow on the back of the couch as he spoke.

“She must. But…” Sakura trailed off. She looked up when Gaara crossed the room. He sat at her feet, grasping her free hand.

“We should trust her. She must know what she’s doing,” Gaara urged. She looked down at his face. When had he grown up so much? It took a moment. But a faint smile appeared on her face. She pulled her hand free of his to pat his cheek.

“Yes. I suppose so,” she agreed.

That night, Sakura slept even more fitfully than usual. She was startled awake by someone yelling her name too close to her. Her eyes flew open to find Mangetsu’s face above her. She moved to push him away, but her arm jerked to a stop. It took her a moment to take in the situation.

Mangetsu’s hands gripped her wrists, holding them above her head. And before she could rebuke him, she felt the shape and weight of a knife in her hand. In both of them, actually. She slowly relaxed her fingers and wrists. Let the blades fall harmlessly onto the bed. Mangetsu stared her right in the eyes. Whatever he read there seemed like enough. He let out a sigh of relief as he released her. Sakura flexed her hands, rubbing her reddened wrists. They would probably bruise.

“Sorry. You woke swinging knives and I had to,” he muttered, taking a few steps back.

Sakura nodded. She tried to calm her shallow breaths as she sat up. She turned her head away from him, fist pressed to her forehead. It was mortifying enough for someone to witness this. Somehow his lack of judgment made it all the more embarrassing.

The door opened.

“You don’t look like you’re going back to sleep this time.”

“So you’re both just walking in and out as you wish now,” Sakura growled as she recognized Suigetsu’s voice.

“Come on, M’Lady. Let me show you something nice,” Suigetsu said, ignoring her glare. He picked up her falchion propped up in the corner by the bed.

“What nonsense are you saying in the middle of the night?” she sighed. “Put my sword back.”

Suigetsu’s tone changed. He was serious now. “M’Lady.” He waited until she was looking at him properly. “I don’t know a lot of things. But this… I know this.”

So Sakura followed Suigetsu outside, into the courtyard. Mangetsu trailed after them, an odd smile on his lips, as if he were in on some kind of joke.

He tossed Sakura her falchion. She kept it in the scabbard, regarding Suigetsu with suspicion. Suigetsu wielded his own weapon. And then he reached out toward his brother. Mangetsu unsheathed his sword and handed it over to Suigetsu with a pointed look.

Looking insulted, Suigetsu grumbled, “I’ll be careful. I’ve only dropped it once…. twice.”

And then he turned to Sakura with a grin.

“I’ve seen you fight before. With all those fancy twirls. It’s stupid.”

Suigetsu was brutal. He lunged and slashed in the moments when she felt most vulnerable. And just when she felt like she might be able to catch her breath, he was attacking again. There was no question that Suigetsu’s fighting style was unrefined and nonsensical at times. But it was something that was born out of necessity, not flair. So what it lacked in showmanship it more than made up in efficiency. She managed to get in some good maneuvers here in there, but by the end of the round, she felt somewhat like a fox being chased down by a pack of particularly tenacious hounds.

“Sometimes…” Suigetsu suddenly said, “It feels nice to just do something… and not to think. It helps.” He held his hand out to her.

Sakura searched his face. And then she almost smiled as she grasped his hand, letting him pull her up.

“I know what you mean,” she replied.

She washed up and fell back into bed for the little time left until dawn. She closed her eyes, still a little afraid to sleep. But exhaustion made it difficult for her to fight sleep for long. And mercifully, when she succumbed, it was to a dark, dreamless sleep. Kind and quiet like the bottom of the ocean.

A few hours later, Sakura was out of her bed. She opened up the doors to the north wing of the palace. Shijima still knelt there. Her movements were sluggish as she lifted her head. Sakura took a few steps forward. Stopped in front of her. And then she knelt, leaning in close.

“You’re not waiting for me, are you?” Sakura whispered.

Shijima glanced around. And then she offered Sakura a tiny, secretive smile.

Sakura lifted her head a little. She pulled a wineskin out of her cloak and tossed it in front of Shijima.

“Drink. Or I really will leave today,” Sakura ordered.

Shijima opened the cap and took a sip of the water. And then she another. Soon, she was gulping down every last drop in the container. When she looked up to Sakura, wiping her chin on the back of her hand, Sakura was holding out an orange.

“You must realize that this is ridiculous, Consort Hoki,” Sakura chastised as she watched Shijima peel the orange. But her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t do it. Clucking her tongue, Sakura reached out to peel the fruit for her. She handed the segments to Shijima and watched her eat.

“What will happen if you leave this way? Doesn’t that doom this city?” Shijima worried, chewing as she spoke.

Cheek in her hand, Sakura tilted her head as she thought.

“Doom is a strong word.”

Shijima looked relieved.

“But not wholly inaccurate.”

Shijima looked even more concerned than before.

“His contacts to the east will continue to deal with him. Largely because of you, actually. You do know that marrying you has made that man richer than he could have ever hoped?” Sakura pointed out. And though she had mentioned this to Shijima before, perhaps the wording struck a chord within her. Because Shijima’s eyes widened.

“His standing out here will certainly change, however. I’ve persuaded my Great-Uncle not to declare war, which is a good thing. Great-Uncle hates conflict, but his heir doesn’t,” Sakura went on. Her eyes darted to the presence she had noticed hiding further down the corridor. The servant girl ducked behind the column, likely praying that Sakura hadn’t spotted her.

“I’ll tell you something good because I personally like you, Consort Hoki. The Arids have been peaceful for so long for two reasons,” Sakura said, holding two fingers up. “The first is that the major cities have intermarried so much that there are few of us who cannot call each other ‘cousin’. And second is that most of the cities here are of similar standing. Or they are allied with someone who can protect them. It’s usually the weakest in a pack that gets swallowed by predators, after all.”

Sakura could see the words settling into Shijima’s head. The girl turned pale.

“So if The Viper’s Throat falls-” Shijima whispered.

“Predators will fall on it like vultures on carrion,” Sakura finished the thought for her.

This wasn’t something she had gone over with Shijima beforehand. She hadn’t wanted this reaction to feel rehearsed in any way. And perhaps it was a little cruel. Sakura wouldn’t abandon Shijima in the middle of such a risky affair, but the girl had no way of knowing that. They had only known each other for a short time.

With the consequences hanging over her head, Shijima would be pushed to be think a little harder and to speak with more conviction. And from the way that the servant girl went sprinting down the hall, perhaps Baki would realize just how badly things could go if he continued to cling to his pride.

“You can kneel here for as long as you wish, Consort. But I am returning to my Great-Uncle’s city in a week’s time. As soon as all my affairs are put into order. And you can continue to kneel here once I’m gone for all I care,” Sakura concluded, rising to her full height. As the double doors closed, Sakura turned around to look at Shijima. She offered her a glimpse of a smile before the doors separated them again. She hoped that the girl would be smart enough to put together a good strategy. Sakura had set her up with some strong pieces, but there was only so much she could do from behind for her.

Later that morning, Azra and Esma whispered to Sakura that there was some sort of commotion. They guided her by the hand to a secret passage hidden behind a large urn. She had always felt suspicious of the placement of the ostentatious decoration. But she was thankful for it now when the twins guided her into the narrow space. It led them an oddly-shaped space. When Azra pointed to a set of tiny holes, Sakura was confused. Esma mimed cupping her hands around one ear. So Sakura leaned in closer, pressing her ear against the holes.

“I’ve had enough of this spectacle. Get up this instant, Consort Hoki.”

It was Prince Baki’s voice.

When Sakura looked to the twins, Azra nodded furiously. Sakura pointed at the other holes on the wall. She motioned for the girls to join her. Eyes glittering, they squished in with her to listen in on the conversation.

“I will kneel here for as long as it takes for the General to quell her anger, My Lord,” Shijima replied. Sakura smiled at how confident Shijima sounded.

“Forget that woman. She’ll be leaving soon. You should be thinking of how this affects my reputation,” Baki grumbled.

Sakura scoffed. So did Esma.

“I am thinking of your reputation, My Lord. If relations with the Haruno family truly remain this way, it will affect every part of your reputation. Surely you realize this.”

“Do not nag me, Consort Hoki. Don’t think as if you know everything just because you’ve spent some time with that woman.”

Sakura shook her head. She had no idea what Shijima saw in that bull-headed man. She had asked Shijima on multiple occasions whether this was the path she really wanted to choose. It would be a simple affair to have them divorce and to bring Shijima with her to Plumeria. They had no children, so the divorce could be on the basis that they had failed to produce a legitimate heir. One of Baki’s many concubines could be promoted to Consort instead. She would do well in the tropical climate. And there were so many nice young men she could introduce her to. Ones that would surely be head over heels for her. Unlike a certain stubborn fool.

“Maybe I should be nagging you. You haven’t handled things very well with my silence.”

That snapped Sakura right back to attention. Azra grabbed Esma’s hand, eyes wide.

“What was that?”

“You’ve never seen me as your consort. You allow your concubines to harass me. You exclude me from social events when I should be by your side. And all this time, I’ve held my tongue because I trusted that my lord husband would know what he was doing.”

Azra’s mouth fell open.

Sakura grimaced to herself. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the expression on Baki’s face. That was a bold criticism to unleash on anyone.

“I’m no longer a child. And you’re not the man I thought you were. I suppose it’s time for the both of us to face reality.”

Esma slapped her hands over Azra’s mouth. Sakura covered her own mouth with her hand. They waited for something else. But it was silent.

Just as Sakura began to worry that she might have to intervene, she heard noises again.

“Come with me,” Baki growled. And then footsteps began retreating across the stone. Hurried and sharp.

The following morning, Shijima arrived at the northern wing of the Viper’s Fang. Meno opened the door, bowed, and then disappeared to go inform Sakura of the visitor.

Sakura leaned against the inside of the door, staring out at Shijima. Because Shijima was rosy-faced and practically glowing with satisfaction. Sakura appraised her, sighed.

“What is it?” she demanded, still aware of the eyes all around the palace.

“I have a proposition from my lord husband,” Shijima announced.

Sakura folded her arms across her chest. “And where is this… lord husband of yours during such an important discussion?” she wondered.

Shijima gave an impish smile. “Still asleep. My lord is quite tired from… a long night,” she admitted, lowering her voice. Sakura had to fight the urge to smile right back. She turned on her heel instead.

“Come inside quickly. Don’t waste my time,” she retorted. The doors closed behind Shijima as she followed after her.

But as soon as the doors were gone, and Mangetsu confirmed that no one else was around, Sakura threw her arms around Shijima.

“Oh, well done, love. You’ve worked so hard,” Sakura said, her voice warm now.

And although Shijima had been smiling, the instant she heard those words, she burst into tears. Clinging on to the back of Sakura’s dress, she sobbed about how frightened she had been. How difficult it was to watch everyone who had once been so warm to her to act so cold now. Even if it was all just a show. Azra and Esma sniffled too as they set an extra place for Shijima at the breakfast table.

Teary-eyed and runny-nosed, Shijima took a sip of the tea they offered to her. She had cried even harder when Temari had rushed out in her nightgown to hug her too, starting the hysterics anew.

“Now. Eat something. You must be starving,” Sakura urged. Before she could move her hands, Gaara was already piling fruits and bread onto her plate. Kankuro refilled her teacup and added a bit of sugar.

“I… ate last night… with His Majesty,” she confessed, her eyes falling to the table.

“Is that all you did? Eat?” Kankuro probed.

Shijima erupted scarlet. Temari reached over to slap her brother on the arm while Sakura chuckled.

“So this is what you meant when you told me you learned things before you came here,” Sakura teased. Hands on her cheeks, Shijima peeked up at her. When she nodded, Kankuro burst out laughing. He fell against Gaara’s shoulder. Gaara had his face turned away to be polite, but from the way his shoulder’s shook, it was easy to see that he was laughing too.

“Mother told me many stories. I’d never… but I knew… so…”

As Shijima grew an even brighter shade of red, Kankuro took a sip of tea.

“Father had 8 concubines, so Mother had to be good at maintaining a household.”

Kankuro spat his tea out. And Sakura couldn’t even chastise him for his poor table manners because she was too busy coughing and choking on her tea too.

As it turned out, one of the skills Shijima’s mother had instilled in her was the art of good pillow talk. Whatever had transpired during the night had left Prince Baki quite open to suggestions. Shijima wormed her way into his thoughts, suggesting this and gently steering him away from that. While Shijima had struggled with dealing with other women, apparently she had little trouble with the opposite sex.

“So I suggested that all you really wanted was a fair punishment for Concubine Deba. And that if you were appeased, all the relations and diplomacy would go back to normal,” Shijima explained.

“What is ‘fair’ in your eyes then?” asked Sakura.

“Well… I knew Prince Baki wouldn’t want to execute Concubine Deba and her son. After all, that’s his son too. So I suggested stripping the son of his title and sending Concubine Deba away instead.”

Sakura nodded, examining the healing cuts on the back of her hand. “Why not send her to work for my Great-Uncle? Labor for her debts?”

“What about the other concubines? The ones that helped Deba?” prompted Temari.

“The same treatment. Prince Baki was hesitant at first. But then I assured him that our son would be the best successor,” Shijima said, placing her hand on her stomach.

“There’s no way of knowing that you are already…” Kankuro trailed off, miming a rounded stomach with his hands.

“No. But… we have time. It will happen eventually. The women of my family are very fertile,” Shijima answered with confidence. “I also suggested that since I’d appraised the value of the goods I confiscated from the harem, that we could send them to the Haruno family as a gesture of apology and goodwill. It would cost Prince Baki no additional money and it would help smooth things over for now. Just like you said, General.”

Sakura nodded, her coughing finally under control.

Gaara handed over her tea to help clear her throat. Sakura took a sip before she spoke again.

“You do realize that by not killing his sons you’re leaving a threat for the future,” Sakura warned, not for the first time.

Shijima nodded. “I don’t want to do it. It doesn’t feel right. Even if it means they’ll come back to challenge me. I’ll just have to work a little harder.”

Sakura looked down at her tea. She set it to the side. “I don’t know if it’s the right choice, but you’ve made it. And I respect that,” she admitted.

They went over some more details together. Sakura would send out a letter to Karo in a few more days outlining Shijima’s compromise. Another one would reach Hilal as well. From there, the rumors would spread. And Sakura would make every effort to ensure that Consort Hoki’s name was attached to the story.

Prince Baki was not a complicated man. Whatever Shijima’s mother had taught her was obviously effective against him. As the days went by, he was rarely seen without Shijima at his side. And when the concubines saw how much the prince favored the consort now, there was a mad scramble to try to get into her good graces. The servants as well were quick to change their allegiances.

With some persuasion on Shijima’s part, Prince Baki even apologized for the delay in handling such a terrible insult against her. It was interesting how much his gaze had changed in a matter of days. No longer were his stares directed at her. In fact, it seemed he was having trouble looking anywhere but at Shijima, which Sakura welcomed. And hanging on Baki’s arm, Shijima looked so happy that Sakura couldn’t find it in her to criticize the man too much.

“It’s quite alright. It’s all thanks to Consort Hoki that things were resolved so quickly,” Sakura commended instead.

And Baki looked over at Shijima to smile.

“Yes. She’s wise, isn’t she?” he answered.

But as Sakura prepared to move on to their next stop, the eastern kingdoms to the east of the Viper’s Throat, Sakura received a letter from Ebizo.

My dear,

I know it was your intention to visit the Qing Kingdom, but I must ask you to journey north instead.

Rasa’s influence over Prince Ao has become concerning for all of us. He has refused summons to return back to Karo. I would send troops there myself, but Prince Ao may see that as an act of aggression. Instead, I must request that you visit the city for yourself and handle Rasa as you see fit. He ceased to serve a purpose for us when you had him removed for your employ. You have dealt with the man for much longer than I have, so I will trust whatever judgment you pass.

Sakura burned the letter as quickly as she could.

When she read between the lines, she could see what her great-uncle was asking. If she found it necessary, she could eliminate Rasa completely. And that wasn’t something she wanted Temari and her siblings to have to confront.

Instead, she put on a smile as she informed her cousins that there was to be a change of plans. Kankuro was a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t get a chance to see the markets in the east. There were rumors of grand festivals that he had been looking forward to taking part in. And when Sakura revealed that they would be moving north instead, Gaara said nothing. His expression was tight though. Temari grabbed his hand. She motioned for Kankuro, who moved to grasp Gaara’s other hand.

“You can return to Karo first if you’d prefer. It should be a quick trip,” Sakura offered.

Heads close together, the siblings exchanged a few quiet words. Temari frowned as Gaara shook his head.

“We will be with you, Lady Sakura,” Gaara promised.

Sakura sent word ahead of her. Although she hadn’t actually been invited, Ao would have no choice but to open his arms to her if he didn’t want to suffer some sort of criticism from neighboring cities.

As they prepared the luggage and the gifts for their reluctant hosts, Baki invited Sakura to visit the barracks in the city with him. Kankuro and Temari were busy overseeing preparations, but Gaara was free to accompany her. He held her hand as they walked through the busy city. Mangetsu trailed a little ways behind them.

When they arrived at the barracks, they appeared to be running through drills. Sakura recognized the setup. Men lined up in a formation. A single man in front barking orders.

As Baki stepped onto the field, they stopped. The man in front was tall with shaggy white hair. He stood at attention, saluting as Baki approached him. He yelled an order. All the soldiers saluted in unison.

Smiling, Baki extended an arm to gesture towards the men.

“Your regiment, as promised, General,” he announced.

Sakura released Gaara’s hand. She crossed her arms behind her back as she turned her gaze to the men. “How many in total?”

“5000, as promised. And this is Commander Darui. My best,” Baki replied.

Sakura arched an eyebrow. “You’re giving away your best? Let’s not tell each other lies, Prince Baki,” Sakura retorted.

Baki’s smile faded a little. But he tried to reclaim the expression, laughing.

“Alright, you’ve caught me there. But Commander Darui is certainly one of the best. He will not fail you. And he speaks the language of the west, so you should have no discomfort communicating with him.”

Sakura looked Darui over. He kept his gaze on her feet.

“Do you have a problem serving under a woman?” she queried.

“No, Ma’am,” came his prompt reply.

“We’re going far from here. You will not return to these lands. Are you still willing?” she pressed.

He saluted. “I will follow you wherever, General. It is an honor.”

Sakura scrutinized his face. And then she laughed a little. “What an insincere reply. Well, you have some time to change your mind if necessary.”

Then she turned to face the soldiers still in formation.

“My travels will take me far from this land. If any of you are unwilling to follow me, be it family or an aversion to reporting to a woman, then I will not force you on this journey. We depart in a week. If you choose not to follow me, there will be no consequences. Take some time to make your decision,” she announced before clapping her hands once.

Without waiting for any input from the two men, Sakura began walking away from the barracks. Gaara hurried after her. But Mangetsu was already at her side, leaning in towards her to whisper.

“You shouldn’t have been so easy-going, M’Lady. You’ll lose some of them.”

Sakura leveled him with a look. As if she couldn’t believe his line of thinking.

“Good,” she replied, “I need troops to become my hands and feet, not a burden. I would rather leave any whining children behind.”

Mangetsu snickered, shaking his head a little.

“Then why are you bringing Suigetsu?” Gaara asked, grabbing onto Sakura’s sleeve as he finally caught up.

Mangetsu laughed even louder. And Sakura smiled too as they made their way onto the bustling city streets.

++++

#itasaku #courtly intrigue! au #fanfiction #amaryllis

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

Note

Chromeskull blackmailing the reader after he sees her kill her abusive father. Her father use to let Jesse use his funeral parlor and such so now the reader has to as well It's tense at first but Jesse ends up gaining feelings for and readers unsure what she feels about him until he saves her life from home invader. Sorry for the word vomit. 😊

Not exactly what you wanted, but I hope it turned out right at last 50%

Chromeskull x Reader- Farewell Job

There were a few things that Jesse Cromeans disliked, down from having his car scratched to a wrinkled suit, the most were when someone was in debt to him and the fucker had the audacity to play dumb and not answer his texts, especially the threatening ones. Normally, he would let his co-workers deal with such insignificant concerns, but none ignored Jesse Chromeskull Cromeans and got away without at last a broken wrist.

That's why he was driving at midnight full-on speed down the road to the funeral house where the old geezer was doing his business, and where Jesse sometimes decapitated his piggies. He couldn't wait to sink his knife into the man's back, maybe skin his legs off? He will have time to think about it once he has him bound to a chair begging for his life.

After one hour of speeding down and ignoring red lights, he managed to get to the said funeral house, parking the Bentley as the engine's sound died down into the silence of the night. Getting out of the car, he put on the chromed skull mask, smirking at the familiar coldness of it. He took the silver suitcase and waltzed to the front entrance which was surprisingly open.

No wonder...The disgusting bastard had a habit of drinking and always forgot to lock it. Not the first time.

Jesse expected to see the old scumbag passed down on a chair or better yet on the floor, blackout drunk, but imagine the surprised behind the silver mask when he saw the man on the floor with his head bashed in, brains spilling out.

Well, that is surely unexpected.

The old and rusty skin close by with pieces of the brain was probably the primary weapon.

Someone got here first.

Jesse took one step towards the corpse and he heard a door open and felt something sharp slash the black material of his coat along with a slightly deep wound of his biceps.

Brown eye locked on a feral face twisted into a deadly scowl that promised murder. The culprit was a female, young, and was ready to aim another hit, but Jesse was quicker and he knocked what looked like a scalpel from the tiny hand. His hand fisted her shirt and slammed her against the wall, pinning her there.

Despite the position she was in, no fear was in her eyes that were bloodshot, probably from lack of sleep. She was still snarling like she wanted to bite his head off.

"Let me go or I will cut your balls off!" You screamed at him, nails digging into the sleeves of his coat, trying to inflict some type of pain.

Jesse waisted little no time and after some struggling and an almost painful hit to his manhood, he had you bound to a chair, glaring at him with acidic eyes.

For someone so small you sure were a feisty one. He smirked behind the mask at your immobilized form. He couldn't recall the last time he was faced with such a dangerous piggy.

His usual piggies were always begging, pleading for their lives, or just running away, but fighting back was a low occurrence. To say the least, he was impressed, not many had hurt him and you did it so well, the stinging in his biceps hurt like a bitch, but Jesse was used to being stabbed and shot, all the tattoos of covering up his scars were proof to that.

He was looming over you, debating what he should do. He was so tempted to rip your jaw off, but that wasn't the primary reason why he was here. He needed some information because the fucker that was in debt to him was dead.

Jesse pulled out his phone and quickly typed in.

'Who are you, piggy?'

You arched an eyebrow at the tall man.

"Why should I answer you?"

WITTY PIGGY.

'Because I can do worse than what happened to that corpse over there.'

"The fucker had it coming." You found yourself muttering under your breath.

That piqued Jesse's interest. You seemed to speak with venom when mentioned about the old male.

'Related?'

"Father....But why the fuck do you even care?!" Your aggressive demeanor quickly came back and Jesse had to admit the way your brows were furrowing and eyes blazing with fury were kind of cute.

'Because your DEAR father owns me a lot of money.'

"Not my fucking problem." You snarled and in the dim light, Jesse could see the old purple bruises around your left eye, along with deep fingerprints on your neck.

Not done by him. It didn't take a genius to figure out what your father did to you. No wonder you were like a tiger that came out of a circus cage, ready to destroy everything in your path.

'I must admit, you put on a good show. I'm impressed.'

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, jerk." You snorted.

Jesse licked his lips behind the mask, so tempted to use that mouth of yours for other things that cursing him out.

Yes, killing you won't get him any benefice, although he was tempted to cut your tongue off.

'You own me.'

You spat on his silver mask, making his chest rumble like he was ready to pounce you, but Jesse composed himself.

"I don't own you shit." You muttered in a murderous tone and if Jesse could talk he sure would laugh.

'You have no idea in what deepness you are, little girl.'

You internally groaned at the use of his words, always been treated like you were some hopeless child that couldn't stand up for themselves.

Well, tonight you proved everyone wrong by your masterpiece a few feet away from you two.

"Care to enlighten me why?" you asked, curious about what he was implying.

The skull masked man's broad shoulders moved up and down, silently chuckling at your blind eyes of what was happening. He began to type, this time taking a little longer.

'Tell me if I am wrong, but you just killed someone and you will most likely go to jail, despite that you will say that it was in pure defense. Judges these days aren't so merciful, doll. You wouldn't want to rot between four walls of concrete, would you now?'

You swallowed down at the electronic voice, nibbling on your lower lip in thought. As much as you hated it, he was right and by your expression, his body language spoke of satisfaction.

Egocentric jerk.

Here goes the typing again.

'But I am willing to make you a sweet deal that will assure you freedom. Your father owned me cash that you couldn't make even if you sucked on old men cocks all your life.'

You felt disgusted and if your hands were free you would have shown that phone down the man's throat.

"You're saying that...."

'Work for me and you will be safe.'

"Doesn't sound like freedom to me."

'Better than jail, no?'

Winning asshole.

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

Your opinion on Jesse Cromeans was that he was a man which you would love go gauge his remaining brown eye out, that was the first month, but in time you learned to live with him being your 'boss'.

Nothing screamed dream job than cleaning the mess after the killings of your boss.

If you looked that over you could say that your life was at last perfect. He always made sure you had everything you needed and you couldn't be happier; down from expensive clothing to delicious rich food, you were spoiled, so different from your past life.

You were currently scrubbing down the tiles of a bathroom after a 'piggy' as your boss liked to call them had her guts spilled out. You whipped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, then you heard footsteps approach.

When you turned around you were meet with the scarred face of Jesse, the black eyepatch covering the empty socket of his eye, the remaining brown one observing your work.

'You get better and better.' he signed.

The first thing that Jesse did when you agreed to work for him was to take you to ASL lessons because typing over again on his phone was irritating.

"I take that was a compliment." you muttered, throwing the rags into a black bag to be burned.

'Are you free tonight?' he signed.

"Another murder scene that needs to be cleaned?" you asked, disposing of your gloves.

Jesse chuckled silently and stepped to your form, taking your chin between his fingers, your eyes moving from his face to his full inked forearms. His hand left your chin to sign.

'No. Dinner tonight. I've got you a nice dress and shoes.' he signed, making you look at him dumbfounded.

"B-But you're my boss and-" you tried to reason, but a finger pressed to your lips.

You wanted to yell at him that this was forbidden, not to mention the age gap between the two of you.

'Taboo? You know I am notorious for being a nonconformist.' he signed with a smug smirk.

You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him, exiting the warehouse and walking outside.

"You are contemptible." you mused and Jesse followed after you.

'So? Tonight? At 7?' he insisted, ignoring your insults.

You couldn't deny that it was tempting. He wasn't like any other man, always sybaritic, fast-living, and exorbitant luxurious vibes.

You could swear that he was the perfect incarnation of pride, not that you minded, because it was attractive, just like the forbidden fruit. You knew how poisonous he was, but the sweetest taste was mind-blowing.

"Do I have to wear heels?" you asked, making him grin, his arms wrapping around your waist, a squeak leaving your lips at the sudden touch.

His expression spoke more: 'What do you think?'

You groaned, resting your forehead against his chest.

"You own me big time for this."

#Laid to rest 2009 #Chromeskull: Laid to rest 2 #Chromeskull #Jesse Cromeans #chromeskull x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies

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kelyon · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Rings 10: A Favor

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumple deals with the Savior

Read on AO3

He frowns at the parchment in his hands. The twittering bluebird that delivered the message flaps its wings to get away from the window as quickly as it can. The clever animal must sense that the Dark One is in a mood to throw firebolts.

“How bad is it?” His wife gets up from the dining room table. She stands beside him in a patch of sunlight by the uncurtained window.

He slides his arm around her waist. After a year of marriage the gesture is automatic. Touching her is as natural as breathing.

“It is all of our nightmares come to life!” He says the words lightly, as though that will diminish the truth of them.

Belle takes the letter and reads it for herself. “Princess Ella is having twins?” She reads further. “And she thinks you’ll want to take both babies? But the deal was only for her first-born. She would know that if she had read the contract before she signed it! ”

Softly, Rumpelstiltskin drifts away from her. He walks a slow circle around the dining room. Though he never thought much about the castle, he has lived there for hundreds of years. Soon he will never see this place again. He married Belle here. It is his home. It is their home.

“Do you know what really annoys me?”

Belle looks up from the letter. “What, Rumple?”

“In the message,” he takes the parchment back, “the cinder-girl says that a dwarf heard a second heartbeat in her womb. A dwarf. How would a dwarf know to listen for that kind of thing? Dwarves are hatched, fully-grown, from eggs.” He paces back and forth across the room. “In the entire history of time, fewer than a hundred dwarves have ever come out from their mines to interact with the above-ground. How in any hell would one of them be knowledgeable about the pregnancy of a human woman?” He shakes his head. “It’s sloppy. By acting like I believe such a ruse, I will look an utter fool.”

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

The words come out as a cry, and Belle’s hand covers her mouth. Her eyes are wide. She is shocked that she would allow such a thought to escape her lips. He knows that she would take it back if she could.

But the words have already been spoken. They hang in the air between husband and wife like a barrier.

He goes to her, without hesitation. He breaks the barrier of her words. He takes her hand away from her mouth, kisses her fingers, then her lips. There is nothing she can do or say to him that she will ever need to take back. He loves her, and her love for him is his only certainty.

When they pull apart, Belle’s cheeks are wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She shakes her head and lowers her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin holds her in his arms and lets her cry.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs. He rocks her gently, swaying from side to side. It’s almost like they’re dancing. The last dance they will ever share in this world.

He cannot fault her for not wanting to be abandoned. When he is gone, she will be vulnerable, even with all their best precautions in place. There is still a risk, and Belle is right to be mindful of her own safety. He needs to be near her in order for her to be protected.

“I thought I could be brave enough,” she murmurs. “But I can’t.” She puts her hands on his chest and takes a deep breath. “I can’t let them do this to you!”

Stunned, Rumpelstiltskin looks at his wife. Gently, he brings his hands up to her face. There is nothing but honesty in her eyes. He sees her so clearly, his Belle, his beloved. This tiny, fragile, mortal woman is more fearful for his comfort than her own survival.

“Me?” he whispers. “Belle, what about you?”

“They’re going to put you in a cage, Rumple! A cage with no magic! You’ll be powerless! Those people could do anything to you! They could hurt you or--”

“You’re the only person who can hurt me, Belle,” he assures her. “You are the mistress of the dagger. Nothing anyone else does to me matters.”

Her breath shakes. “I just wish--”

“Shh.” He pulls her close, holds her tight. “No wishing. Wishing is how little cinder-Ella got into the position she’s in. Wishing is wanting something without putting in the work to get it, and we know better than that. After all, my love, all magic--”

“Comes at a price,” she finishes it with him. “I know.”

Her hands go up to his face. She traces his lines and his scales, rubs her palms against his sharp jaw, his cheekbones. He closes his eyes and rests against her touch. Belle runs a finger up the edge of his nose and over his eyebrows. She cups his cheeks in her soft hands. By the end of it, both of them are breathing more easily.

“When will the Savior be born, Rumple? When will the curse be cast?”

“By tradition, the announcements are made in the royal mother’s sixth month of pregnancy. That was just a few days ago. Snow White is about as far along as the ash-girl.”

“So three months,” she says. “For three months, you’ll be in prison and I’ll be pretending.”

“It will keep us safe.” He takes her hands, kisses her ring. “You will be safe from Regina and everyone else will be safe from me. Whoever wants to find me will know exactly where I am. They’ll see me beaten, and will have no reason to fear me.”

“But we won’t see each other for three months.”

He embraces her again, kisses her forehead. “Three months, and twenty-eight years.”

Belle shudders. “Tell me you don’t have to leave right now.”

He squeezes her, and shakes his head. “Tomorrow night, the letter said. At the stroke of midnight. I think the princess thought that was clever.”

Belle scoffs.

Rumpelstiltskin tilts her chin up so that she’s looking at him. “I am yours forever, sweetheart. But for this plan to work, I must play my part. I must be all the darkness mothers tell tales of to frighten children. I must steal babes and trick maidens and be vanquished by heroes who are oh-so-very-good and clever. I must be every evil thing they think I am. And then, Belle, in order to win--I must lose.”

****

Rumpelstiltskin came out of the darkness to the sound of a frantic banging and a woman’s voice:

“Oh my God! Are you alright?”

Belle. His eyes stung and his head hurt. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say. Sweetheart, don’t worry about me…

But Belle’s voice kept shouting, almost screaming. It came from some distance away, even more than through the fog of his unconsciousness. It was like she was in another room. Once again, they were separated by a locked door.

He was lying on the ground. The floor, inside somewhere. A wooden floor.

It was dark. When he tried to open his eyes, lights streamed in through the windows. Orange, electric lights. Street lights. Storybrooke.

“The door’s locked, but I’ve got my new key!” Belle’s voice cried. But it wasn’t Belle on the other side of the door to Gold’s shop. “I’m coming in!”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his head for a moment, but then the pain flashed like lightning and he sunk back to the ground.

“Oh, Jesus!” Mrs. Gold opened the door and turned on the lights. He winced at the brightness. Eyes closed, he heard the crunch of broken glass under her gray suede boots. “Oh Jesus Christ, Mr. Gold! What happened? Are you okay?”

She knelt on the floor beside him, touching his face and chest frantically. Like she was trying to assure herself that he was real, that he was breathing. Her touch was warm on his skin. Belle was always so warm...

“Christ, Mr. Gold, you’re bleeding! Can you talk to me? Please talk to me!”

Obedient to his wife, Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth and made a noise. It was mostly a groan, but it was enough to calm her a little.

“Can you open your eyes?”

Her concerned face blocked the light, so it was easier to do what she asked. Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin sat up. He pushed himself backward with his good leg, until he was leaning against one of the glass counters.

“I’m all right,” he whispered.

“Bullshit! You’re bleeding. And you were clearly knocked out! What happened? Who did this to you?”

“I did it to myself,” he breathed. True, his assailant had sprayed his face with some noxious chemical potion. Blinded, he had flailed back into a display. But he hadn’t gotten the cut on his head until he tried to lunge forward and his ankle had given out on him. He had fallen onto the corner of a chess board on the counter.

It could have been worse. The girl could have bashed him in the head with the brick she had used to break the window. His mortal skull could have shattered just like the glass. He could have bled out on the shop floor without ever seeing the curse broken. He could have died without ever seeing Belle again, without ever finding Bae...

“Oh my God.” Tears rolled down Mrs. Gold’s cheeks. Why would she cry for him? Gold had never been anything but awful to her, and Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t been much better.

“Check the safe,” he said, mostly as a way to get her away from him for a moment. He needed to think.

“Jesus, were you robbed?” Mrs. Gold scrambled to her feet and hurried to the back wall of the shop. Framed paintings crowded every inch of wall space. One picture swung open on a hinge. Behind it, a metal safe door was also open. When she spoke again, her tone was less teary.

“You were robbed by an idiot,” she said. “They left the key in the lock. And they locked the side door on the way out!” Rumpelstiltskin heard the rustling of papers. “They left all the cash too. It looks like the only thing missing is--”

“A contract,” he finished. Where was that cane? A moment’s reprieve had given him time to come up with a plan. But he couldn’t enact it on the floor. “Ashley Boyd’s contract.”

Mrs. Gold scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? That stupid bitch!” Slamming the safe closed, Mrs. Gold stormed through the curtain into the back room of the pawn shop.

“What are you doing?” he called weakly.

“Getting the first aid kit!”

Rumpelstiltskin leaned his head back against the display case. Right. Gold kept a good stock of medical supplies in his house, his car, and the shop. Bandages, burn ointments, medical scissors. Considering what Gold liked to do with his wife, it was best to be prepared for injuries.

Mrs. Gold reappeared with a white metal box in her hands. Kneeling beside him, she opened it. She put on a pair of rubber gloves before she began to clean the cut on his forehead.

He let her. It was the first time he had allowed Mrs. Gold to touch him. The first time anyone had touched him, since the last time he had seen Belle.

“I can’t believe that sneaky little skank!” Her touch was gentle, but her words were furious. “You’re saving her by taking that baby off her hands! And this is how she repays you? She thinks she can weasel out of a deal with you? Unbelievable!”

Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes again. “The girl said something about changing her life.”

“Ruining her life is more like it!” Mrs. Gold huffed. “Ashley Boyd thinks she can be a mother? She’s too stupid and irresponsible. She’s always wanted some fucking fairy godmother to solve all her problems for her. You just know she got pregnant on purpose.” Mrs. Gold squeezed a paste out of a white tube and spread it over his skin. Careful to brush his hair out of the way first, she adhered a plastic bandage to his scalp. “She wanted Sean to marry her, so she decided to trap him. And when his father found out, he came to you to take care of it. You found some family to adopt the baby and got Ashley to sign the contract. But now she wants out of it? Why? What reason could she possibly have for wanting a fucking baby?”

Snapping the metal lid shut on the box, Mrs. Gold stormed back into the other room to put away the first aid kit.

“Something must have changed,” Rumpelstiltskin said when she returned. Gingerly, he brought his hand up to the bandage. “I suspect Ashley spoke to someone who convinced her that she was stronger than she thought.” Despite the pain, he found himself grinning. “Someone who made her believe in the possibility of a happy ending.”

Mrs. Gold handed him the cane and helped him stand up. “Who would do that?”

“The same person I’m going to talk to in the morning.”

****

Technically, an unauthorized roommate was a violation of the lease on the studio apartment that Mary Margaret Blanchard rented from Gold. But that didn’t matter to Rumpelstiltskin. It was convenient for him that Emma Swan had taken to living with the woman she didn’t know was her mother. It made her easy to find.

When Snow White answered the door, the former princess went even paler than normal. She had never seemed afraid of him before, even when he looked his most inhuman. Of course, to the people of Storybrooke, Gold was more of a monster than the Dark One could ever be.

“Is Emma Swan here?”

Mary Margaret Blanchard looked over to the side of the room before speaking. It looked like she was trying to be discreet about having a guest, while simultaneously advertising the fact for all to see. Well, that was to be expected. Snow White had never been known for her ability to keep a secret.

Emma came to the door.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Even in this world, she was a princess. A true princess, someone who had battled and politicked and worked her way to whatever power she had. Emma Swan had been born in a castle, but she had spent her first eighteen years of life in a dozen different foster homes. Gold knew that Henry Mills’ birth mother had had him in jail. She had given birth while handcuffed to a hospital bed. Since then, the woman had made a career as a bail bondsperson. Her job was to find people who were running from their fates and force them to do the right thing--by hook or by crook, as the shepherds used to say when herding sheep back into the fold.

There was a fire in her green eyes, a vibrant spirit that no one else in this town had. Even if Rumpelstiltskin didn’t know she was the savior, it was obvious there was something special about this woman. From the moment she was born, she’d had to fight.

And there was nothing a fighter needed more than an opponent.

“Hi,” Rumpelstiltskin extended his hand out for her to shake. “I’m Mr. Gold, we met briefly when you first came into town.”

“I remember.”

She wasn’t, exactly, unfriendly. But she spoke with a businesslike brusqueness, a tone that said get to the point more than any actual words. She certainly was her father’s daughter.

“May I speak to you about something? Privately?” He gave a meaningful look to Mary Margaret, who bolted like a rabbit away from her own door.

“Sure,” Emma said begrudgingly.

Without asking, Rumpelstiltskin walked in to the apartment. The central room was as neat as a pin, except for a dozen packing boxes in one corner. All of them were opened, half the contents of each box scattered and piled around that section of the room. A knitted blanket was draped over a chair. It was a small blanket, the kind in which a loving mother would wrap a newborn before sending her on a perilous journey. The name Emma was stitched out in royal purple.

“Moving in?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said, neither denying the obvious nor giving any extra details. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Gold?”

Emma Swan’s natural posture was to keep her back to the wall, her feet apart, and her hands on her hips. Not aggressive, but not one to be pushed over either. She was a rock, as so many heroes were. No force could move her unless she thought it was her idea to move.

“I don’t want to go to the police about this,” he began. “But something has been stolen from me, and I understand you’re good at finding people.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Where’d you hear that?”

“There was a write-up about you in the paper,” he answered. “If you were hoping to avoid attention, breaking the ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign on your first night in town wasn’t the best move.”

With a rueful expression, Emma wiped her hands on her trousers. “So what was taken?”

“All due respect, Miss Swan, one of the advantages of you not being the police is a certain level of discretion. Let’s just say it was a precious object and leave it at that. I’m more concerned about who did the taking. Last night, a young girl named Ashley Boyd broke into my shop and opened my safe. She’s also responsible for this.”

Brushing his hair back, Rumpelstiltskin revealed the cut on his forehead. It had scabbed over, but the wound was still a vivid red.

Emma frowned. “So that’s breaking and entering, petty burglary, and assault. You’re sure you don’t want to call the cops?”

He looked at the ground, made a show of playing with his cane. He had to make sure Emma underestimated him. “Ashley’s a nice girl. She’s never been in trouble like this before. She’s young, she’s pregnant. She’s just a confused young woman at a bad place in her life. I’m more than willing to forgive and forget, as long as my property is returned.” Rumpelstiltskin looked up at Emma, and mentioned something that hadn’t been published in the paper. “Can you imagine one bad decision leading to a baby being born in jail?”

It was gone in a flash, that flicker of emotion in Emma’s eyes. He would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. Emma’s masks were better than Regina’s, but he had been manipulating people for centuries. He knew how to recognize that moment of decision--often long before the other party knew it. That moment when he knew that they were his.

“Yeah, that’d be terrible,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rumpelstiltskin pressed in. The deal would be finalized before she even knew she was seriously considering it.

“So you’ll help me?”

“I will help her,” Emma said. She was stone again. The Savior had wavered for just a moment, but that moment was all he needed.

“Grand.” He gave her a smile. Nothing nicer than making people feel good about doing exactly what you wanted them to.

Before they could say anything more, the apartment door opened.

“Hey, Emma, I think we need to--” Henry Mills stopped talking as soon as he saw that his birth mother wasn’t alone.

“Hey, Henry.” Rumpelstiltskin’s cheer became more genuine. There was something about Henry Mills that he liked. The boy had an insight and a determination that were rare gifts in a cursed town. Something about him reminded Rumpelstiltskin of Baelfire when he was that age. “How are you?”

“O...kay.” The boy took a step back. His excited features slowly schooled themselves into a cautious non-expression.

To Rumpelstiltskin’s sorrow, the sudden transformation from excitement to sobriety was also something he had seen in Baelfire. Shrewd children could always identify monsters, no matter how friendly they tried to act.

“Well then.” He made his way to the door, passing by Henry in the process. The boy swiveled so he never had his back turned to the fearsome Mr. Gold. “Give my regards to your mother. And Miss Swan?” He nodded to the Savior before he let her go fulfill her destiny. “Good luck.”

****

When he got back to the shop, Mrs. Gold was behind the counter, ringing out a customer.

“Your sister is going to love this! A cute little pin is a great fashion statement. And where else could you find jewelry that looks like a brick wall? It’s so different!”

She handed a gift bag to the middle-aged woman, who took it with a dubious expression.

When Mrs. Gold saw that he had walked in the side door, she quickly added. “Of course, it all depends on how you like getting pinned!”

The other woman went pink and barreled out of the shop, her stick-brown hair streaming behind her.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t talk to Mrs. Gold about how she intimidated people with her innuendo. What else could he expect from her? She did and said what she thought her husband wanted.

“Was everything alright while I was out?”

Mrs. Gold nodded. “No break-ins today, though I did keep a weapon handy.” From the far side of the cash register, she pulled out a flat, heavy wooden paddle. Gold identified it as a cricket bat. Mrs. Gold twirled the handle with practiced deftness. “But now that you’re here, maybe we can put this to better use?”

He didn’t give her an answer. He didn’t need to. After just a moment of glittering hope, Mrs. Gold lowered her gaze and set the cricket bat aside.

“Sorry for asking, Mr. Gold. I know that’s not my place.” Still looking down, she knocked her knuckles against the countertop. “I, uh, I just wanted to show you that I’m willing, always. For anything.”

Rumpelstiltskin licked his lips and resisted the urge to reach out to her. He didn’t desire Mrs. Gold, and he wasn’t going to treat her the way she wanted him to. But she looked so helpless now--so small and confused, seeking affection from the only person she had, in the only way she could think of. He wanted to help her, he wanted to comfort her.

He wanted to hold his wife in his arms and let them comfort each other.

But he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he took the cricket bat from the counter and put it back in its proper place among the store’s merchandise. Out the front windows, he saw a bright red vintage sports car make its way up Main Street.

“That’s Ruby Lucas’ car,” he said mildly. “But that isn’t Ruby driving.”

Mrs. Gold rushed to the window. “Who is it?” She craned her neck to see, then grinned as she recognized the driver. “A dumb blonde in a ratty sweater, that’s Ashley Boyd alright.” She looked to her husband. “Now that we know where she is, are you going to call Sheriff Graham?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “I have every confidence Miss Swan will work things out.”

“She’d better work fast.” Mrs. Gold squinted out the window. “It looks like Miss Too-Good-For-Birth-Control is trying to get out of town.”

“You sound pleased to know that.”

“Idiot’s taking the Widowmaker Highway.” There was a grimness seeping through Mrs. Gold’s vindictive pleasure. “Even in broad daylight, that road is a death trap.” She shook her head, moved away from the window. “If Ashley doesn’t know enough to stay in Storybrooke, she deserves whatever happens to her.”

Despite his better instincts, Rumpelstiltskin decided to keep talking to Mrs. Gold. “Why do you hate her?”

“Huh?” She blinked.

“Ashley,” he said. “You seem… uniquely unsympathetic to her plight.”

Mrs. Gold pursed her lips in thought. “I mean, she broke in here and knocked you out. I’m not nuts for taking that personally, am I?”

“I suppose not,” he assured her. “But your enmity clearly runs deeper than that.”

Shrugging, she began to wander back to the cash register. “She’s stupid, that’s the main thing. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, so she’s bad at it. That offends me on a professional level.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows. He stayed where he was near the door. “Professional?”

“Well, yeah, it’s…” Mrs. Gold began to search around the counter, less like she had something to do and more like she was finding an excuse to fidget. “I mean, it’s not a secret that I know a thing or two about a trashy Old Town slut trying to get a better life by marrying someone rich enough to make her problems go away.” Now she looked at him, her face determinedly impassive as she said what she thought was the truth about her own life. “I don’t blame Ashley for wanting Sean to marry her. He’s an idiot too, so they’ll get along well, and his parents will always bail him out if things get too tight. But she didn’t get the job done. He split and she’s trying to avoid the consequences of her failure.”

“She wants to keep the baby,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “That doesn’t sound like avoiding consequences.”

Mrs. Gold shook her head. “Even if she hadn’t made a deal with you, things were never going to work out for that girl. Not so long as she went around thinking that she didn’t have to work for what she wanted to get out of life.”

She slid her forearms over the glass as she leaned against the counter. The posture displayed her cleavage, but it didn’t seem to be an invitation. Not a pose, just a slump.

“It was the first lesson you ever taught me, Mr. Gold.” She gave a smile, wistful, nostalgic. “Everything comes at a price.”

****

Shortly after Ruby’s car had left town, Emma Swan’s yellow Volkswagen rumbled down the road in the opposite direction.

Half an hour later, the Beetle drove past the shop again. Faster than before, it was now heading the same direction as the runaway Ashley.

Later still, the car raced up the street at a frightening speed. This time, Emma and her passengers made a turn at the hospital.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled and checked his pocket watch. It was almost four in the evening. Gold didn’t normally close the shop so early on Saturdays, but this was a special occasion.

“I’m going to drop you off at home,” he said to Mrs. Gold. “I’ll be back in time to make supper.”

Mrs. Gold looked up from the small case of rings she had been arranging according to size. “Am I allowed to know where you’re going?”

“The hospital,” he answered with no small amount of pleasure. “I’m going to see if Miss Swan will let me steal Ashley’s baby.”

****

Gold was familiar with Storybrooke General Hospital. His physician, Dr. Whale, did his private practice on the third floor of this building. Today, Rumpelstiltskin was heading for the maternity ward.

When he rounded the corner around the reception desk to the waiting room, he saw Emma talking to a nurse. Henry was there too, patiently sitting in one of the stuffed vinyl chairs. The boy’s feet swung back and forth and didn’t touch the ground.

“It’s a healthy six pound girl,” the nurse told Emma. “And the mother is doing fine.”

“What lovely news.” He announced his presence. “Excellent work, Miss Swan. Thank you, for bringing me my merchandise.”

Before Emma could react, before she could vent out any of her undoubtedly righteous fury, Rumpelstiltskin slid past her to get to the vending machines, cool as a mountain stream. He took some coins out of his trouser pocket and deposited them into the coffee machine. He had no intention of drinking any coffee, but it would serve a purpose. When Emma saw that he had a styrofoam cup in one hand and the cane in the other, she would see that he was powerless. Just a harmless old cripple. Not a threat at all.

“You could have mentioned that the precious object Ashley ‘stole’ was her own child.”

Interesting that Emma’s wrath was not the fiery passion of her parents. Prince Charming would have drawn his sword as soon as the Dark One had made his presence known. But aggression had never done the prince any favors, and maybe Emma knew that posturing would only waste time. Get to the point, was the Savior’s way of doing things. Whatever needs to be done, just do it.

How delightfully refreshing.

“You didn’t need to know,” he answered calmly. “All you needed to do was keep Miss Boyd from leaving Storybrooke.”

“She isn’t going to run,” Emma said. “I talked with her today. She wants to stay. She wants to raise her kid.”

“Now, that’s a very heartwarming sentiment.” Rumpelstiltskin brought the cup to his lips to look like he was drinking. “But I have a contract that says that baby is going home with me. I even have a car seat for the wee thing.”

“That’s a lie,” Emma said, correctly. “Consent to adoption papers can’t be signed sooner than seventy-two hours after the birth.”

That was a good strike, but he didn’t let it land. “I also have an envelope filled with more cash than Miss Boyd has ever seen in her life. I find that sort of thing tends to smooth over certain technicalities.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you even want with a newborn? Why are you adopting?”

His instinct was to let out an impish giggle from the old world. But he restrained himself just in time. “I’m not,” he said simply. “I’m merely the go-between. I arranged things with a very nice couple. They’ve already adopted one daughter, and were willing to take on a second.”

“‘Willing?’” Emma repeated the word with exaggerated brightness. “Well, Ashley is more than ‘willing.’ She is eager. She is desperate to keep this baby. And I’m not going to let you stop her from being a mother.”

Rumpelstiltskin grinned. Here it was at last, the declaration of intent. In her own way, Emma Swan had just drawn her sword. Now he could draw his.

“A mother who committed--what did you say earlier? Breaking and entering, petty burglary and assault?”

She clenched her jaw and he went on.

“All I have to do is press charges against the mother, and that baby is going into the foster care system. And that would be a real shame. Did you enjoy your time in the foster system, Emma?“

At that barb, she fought back. “No jury in the world is going to convict a woman who only committed crimes so she could keep her kid.”

He shrugged, dodged the attack. “Maybe.”

Emma pressed in. “And maybe a court of law will think there’s something kind of fishy about a pawnbroker pressuring a teenage girl into placing her baby for adoption for financial compensation. ‘More cash than she’d ever seen in her life,’ isn’t that what you said? Why do you have that much cash, Gold? Do you want a court looking into your business dealings? Or into any other contracts you might have?”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. Oh, the Savior was magnificent--like a force of nature or a perfectly executed spell. If she was ever actually a threat to him, he might well have something to worry about.

“I like you, Miss Swan,” he said. “You’re not afraid of me. That’s either cocky or presumptuous, but I find it charming. And I’d like to have you on my side.”

She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t loosen her stance. “So you’ll rip up Ashley’s contract?”

He raised his cup of coffee in a gesture of helplessness. “That’s not what I do. After all, a contract, an agreement between two parties where both of them benefit--that’s the very foundation of a civilized society.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, what happened today has all been very civilized.”

“And there’s the adoptive family to consider. I’ll have to make things right with them and that won’t be easy. It’s not something I’ll do for nothing.”

Arms still crossed over her chest, Emma stepped closer to him. “Alright, Gold. What will you do it for? What’s your price?”

Rumpelstiltskin gave her a long, slow look. “I don’t know just yet,” he said. “But seeing the lengths you went to for Ashley’s sake is rather inspiring, Miss Swan. You said you were going to help her, and you did. I may be wrong, but I think you have the resources necessary to help a lot of people.”

“So what’s your point?”

“Help me,” he said with all the sincerity he could while still acting like Gold. “When there comes a time, when I--or one of mine--needs the assistance of Emma Swan, fight for me. The way you did for Ashley. Call it a favor.”

“A favor, huh?” Emma offered her hand. “Deal.”

He tossed the coffee in the trash to take her hand and shake it. Now he knew how the Savior worked. He knew what she was capable of, and now she owed him a favor. He had won so much--and all he’d had to do was lose.

“Deal.”

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfic #ouat

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bipercabeth · 4 years ago

Note

👀 anything + "does it still hurt to think about?"

(happy birthday alyssa i love u!!!)

this is a bellarke fic so let’s pretend it’s on my sideblog and call it a day. s7 compliant until 7x10. then i do what i want.

It all happens so fast.

Bellamy comes back, ragged and worse for wear but alive. He and Echo meet an abrupt, messy end Clarke doesn’t catch the details of. And somehow, inexplicably, Clarke ends up alone with Bellamy in Octavia’s quarters while the others recuperate.

Part of her longs to be with them—making plans, gathering information, maybe trying MCAP to crack Bellamy’s stubborn memories—but loyalty and guilt keep her rooted in place. It’s stupid to think she could’ve prevented Bellamy from being taken in the first place, but still. She should’ve been there. She should’ve known sooner.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Bellamy calls from the bathroom.

It earns a laugh in the way only Bellamy can. Laughter has been scarce lately. It always seems to be when they’re apart.

She pushes the door open and leans against the frame, making eye contact with Bellamy in the mirror. He’s frowning, running his fingers through the long beard he grew on Etherea. Clarke wonders how much time he’s lost. At least she knew the number of days she spent in Eden. It’s a cruel trick of the universe to steal more time after everything it’s put them through.

“How’d you know?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I still know you.”

He says it like it’s inevitable. This man has no memory of the past several months to years of his life, but he knows when Clarke Griffin is overthinking based on her silence alone.

“Can I ask you something?”

Clarke smiles. “Anything.”

He turns to her, scissors in hand. “Will you cut my hair?”

She takes in his unruly waves, which are nearly as long as her own. “I don’t know, I kind of like matching.”

“Just take the damn scissors, Princess.”

Clarke’s hand freezes, her fingers ghosting over Bellamy’s. It takes all she has to curb the shock from her face, but she doesn’t manage to suppress her smile. “Been a while since you called me that,” she says lightly. She drags a chair from the corner and motions for him to sit.

She busies herself ruffling his hair. “How short?”

“Like it was before?”

It makes sense, wanting to return to who he was and how he looked before this. It’s not Clarke’s favorite cut, but she can do it. She measures the length out with her fingers. “Here?”

“No, before. On Earth.” His voice is heavy with significance. Clarke learned long ago not to put words in Bellamy’s mouth, but she can almost hear him say with you at the end of that sentence.

She swallows. “I can do that.”

She works in comfortable silence, chopping off the longest parts before shaping up the rest. Bellamy’s gaze burns into her through the mirror, but she can’t bring herself to meet it. Regardless of how fun it would be to make fun of him with half his head shaggy, all Clarke can think about is how he’ll look when she’s done. The Bellamy she imagined for six years in Eden is about to be in front of her. That takes some priority.

Six years of cutting her own and Madi’s hair has made Clarke something of an expert. Before she knows it, Bellamy is halfway back to himself, save the beard.

It’s a bit shorter than before, she thinks as he looks in the mirror. Despite her experience, she hasn’t done a cut like this. A slight miscalculation meant she had to take in the sides a bit more than she’d have liked, but it works for him. She thinks most looks would, even the caveman thing he has going on on the lower half of his face. After all, it’s Bellamy.

Bellamy’s responding grin is somewhat hidden under the beard, but Clarke sees it in his eyes. He tips his head back against her chest as she fusses and fluffs the front with anxious hands. “Looks good, Princess.”

There he goes with that nickname again. This time Clarke can’t hide the way her hands still.

“You haven’t called me that in 131 years.”

Bellamy frowns, as if to protest, but quickly devolves into distress and confusion. “I don’t think that’s right. I think I called you that when I was... wherever I was.”

The amount of baggage to unpack in that statement alone almost shuts Clarke down. She can’t look at him.

Instead she moves to the medicine cabinet, distracting herself with the need to get rid of that horrific beard. “Does it still hurt to think about?”

“When I push too hard, yeah. Sometimes the memories are buried so deep it feels like someone is bashing against my skull. Sometimes I can feel them, even if I don’t know what they mean. I’m just drawn to certain things. I think that means they were important to me there.”

“Like what?”

“You.”

When Clarke’s breath stutters and she looks at Bellamy, she only finds quiet resolve.

“I may not remember it, but there’s no way I was stranded like that and didn’t think about you. And when I came through the Anomaly, that was the one thing that stayed with me. Just you.”

“I know how you feel. After Praimfaya...” Clarke feels her cheeks heat. “Well, you know how I got through it.”

The misery of all the times fate has ripped Bellamy away climbs in Clarke’s chest, propelling her back to the medicine cabinet where she finds shaving cream and a straight razor.

Bellamy’s face changes in an instant, morphing from something wistful and longing to his signature Big Brother face.

“Why is there a razor in my little sister’s room?”

Clarke simply smiles. “Little?”

“I don’t care how long she spent on Penance. She’s my baby sister,” he groans. “Besides. I could still be older.”

He moves to take the razor from Clarke, but she holds it close. “Can I?”

“I can shave myself, Clarke.”

“I know, but—” The misery climbs up her throat, now— “I thought I lost you.”

That softens him. He leans back and offers himself to her. “All yours.”

There isn’t much room for talking after that. Clarke wets his beard and rubs in some shaving cream, thankful for the towel she wrapped around him before she started this whole process. She doesn’t want to see him in the stiff Bardo robes or the parka he made himself on Etherea. Here, in the Henley she recognizes from before he left, he is almost her Bellamy again.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks as she lines up the blade with his sideburn.

“No,” she admits. “But I have steady hands.”

They’re less steady with body heat radiating in the space between Clarke’s body and Bellamy’s, but she won’t tell him that.

The first swipe is a series of careful tugs with her left hand, assisted by her right holding his skin. Each inch reveals constellations of the freckles she so dearly missed.

Clarke watches his face as she tosses the hair and wipes the blade. He meets her with unwavering trust as she brings the blade back to his skin, this time with more confidence. With each pass, the man she loves comes back to her.

Bellamy’s cheekbones are easy, all sharp lines and simple angles. It’s one thing to watch the freckles bloom on his cheeks and another entirely to feel his breath ghost her fingertips as she takes off his mustache. Her fingertip traces the scar on his lip without thought or caution. Her eyes follow.

Next comes the divot in his chin, freed at last. Clarke rests her thumb there to tilt his head back for the final strokes along his neck. He’s all trust in her gentle hands. He always has been. It becomes them, same as love.

Love lives in Clarke’s hands as she holds his neck, feeling his muscles jump with anticipation. They have never let themselves get this close, and now she understands why. Clarke has been so strong for so long, but Bellamy is her undoing.

“All done,” she breathes.

He sits up, but Clarke is frozen in place. Her blade hovers near Bellamy’s throat while her hand cups the other side. A single drop of blood gathers where she nicked his upper lip earlier. She has the ridiculous urge to kiss it away.

“Been a while since I saw you bleed,” is all she can say.

His breath is warm on her lips. “I don’t think it’s been a while since I bled.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to patch you up.”

“You were,” he assures her.

“Bellamy, I...”

“Yeah,” he eases the razor away and lets it clatter to the ground. “Me too.”

The dam breaks, unleashing a flood of emotions Clarke never dreamed she would allow to surface. Bellamy’s hand tangles in her hair, and it’s unclear who pulls the other in first, but that doesn’t matter because his lips are on hers after centuries of waiting. She throws a leg over his lap and straddles him, her caution drowned in the wake of passion.

They part too soon for Clarke’s liking, but Bellamy’s hands stroke her back idly, like he has all the time in the world to touch her, and all that matters is that they get that time. They have seen the world end countless times, but it is reborn with each second Bellamy looks at Clarke like he looked at the sky that first day on Earth: joyful, disbelieving, reverent.

“I never thought I’d get this,” he pants.

“Me?”

“Happiness.” He says it like it’s the same thing.

Clarke kisses him for it, half because he’s sweet and half because she can.

Their love has eclipsed entire planets, even outlasting the one where it was born, but he has always been Earth to her. The final journey home. Joy.

And joy tasted better on Earth.

#TUMBLR ATE THE FIRST PRINCESS LINE AFTER THE READ MORE RIP TO THOSE READING FROM EARLY RBS #this rly got away from me it was supposed to be a DRABBLE #BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALYSSA I AM SORRY ALL I HAVE IS HALF EDITED FIC WHEN U DESERVE THE WORLD BUT I LOVE U!!!!!!!!!!#my fic #my bellarke #alyssa tag #the 100 #bellarke #useralyssa #the 100 fics

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ginnympotter · 5 years ago

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I Think He Knows

A/N: Yes, this fanfiction was inspired by the line "I think he knows his hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it's mine" from "I Think He Knows" by Taylor Swift; then it kind of just took on a life of its own. Hope you enjoy :) You can also read it on AO3!

Had she never realized how strong and tan his hands were before?

For the life of her, she could not stop staring at them.

Well, most of the time. Her eyes occasionally flickered to his face. But he was talking to Marlene about strategy or whatnot, and she knew if Marlene caught her staring at his face for too long she would embarrass her. His hands were safe, because for all they knew she could just be zoning out. But, lord, was she zoning in.

His fingers were long and his nails were surprisingly clean considering he had just played a two-hour Quidditch match. She wondered how many blisters and calluses were on his palm. His hands must be twice the size of her own, because her hand barely fits halfway around her glass, while his grasp fully encircled it. She saw droplets from the condensation dripping under his fingers, but he kept his grip firm, so much so that his veins were becoming more and more defined.

Someone cleared their throat above her.

Before she could will herself to look away and up, they plopped down on the couch next to her.

“You might need some lessons in subtlety, Evans.”

She forced herself to turn to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sirius snorted, placing his empty butterbeer bottle on the table. “You were staring, for the seventieth time, the past hour alone. Day by day you are losing tact, my friend.”

“I was zoning out,” she defended herself automatically, trying to maintain eye contact with Sirius without breaking.

“More like daydreaming.”

“Zoning out, daydreaming, whatever you want to call it-“

“-All right, fantasizing more like it.”

“Excuse me-“

“I was standing here for a solid minute before I made my presence known. You were practically drooling looking at his hands,” he laughed, taking the glass from her and taking a sip for himself.

“Definitely fantasizing. Wishing that instead of his hand being around that glass it was around your thro-“

Lily clapped her hand over his mouth. “There are people around,” she muttered through gritted teeth as he continued to snicker. She noticed Sirius’s eyes flicker towards James and she allowed herself permission to look momentarily too, and both he and Marlene were giving them a curious glance.

“Ooh, making him jealous?” Sirius mumbled against her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “Smart, smart. Never knew you were devious though, but you both have been playing at this for months to no avail so I guess desperate times call for desperate measures-“

She removed her hand and used it to punch his arm instead. “Oh, shut it.”

“I won’t say anything to him,” he assured her, not even flinching at her attempts to harm him. "I mean, I don't have to. At this point, your subtlety is so far gone that I think he knows."

“I still have no clue what you’re talking about, Sirius,” she shrugged, failing to be nonchalant. “So, great match today. Saw you hit that bludger right at Rosier. Very satisfying.”

Sirius downed the rest of Lily’s drink before placing it next to his empty butterbeer bottle. “Of course you saw that play.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Of course I saw it, I watched the entire match.”

Sirius smirked as he patted her shoulder sympathetically. “That particular bludger hit was when I saved it from nearly crushing your boyfriend’s skull-“

“He’s not my boyfriend-“

“Not yet, at least,” he retorted, ruffling her hair. “You’re blushing.”

She groaned, closing her eyes and covering her face as she dramatically fell onto her back on the red sofa. “Maybe if I blush enough it’ll match my hair and the couch and then I’ll just blend in and no one will remember I exist, including you.”

“He won’t forget,” Sirius said quietly, and she could feel him standing up. He patted her knee before she heard him begin to walk away.

“Good, leave me!” she shouted after him. She thought she heard his footsteps dying away, but then she heard more approaching her again. “I thought I just told you-“

She opened her eyes and saw James Potter standing above her, his glasses a bit askew, still holding his drink.

“Oh,” she said, feeling her face heat up again.

“Huh,” James surveyed her. “Looks like you could blend in with the couch.”

She attempted a smile, now her entire body heating up. “That was the goal.”

He gazed at her for a moment, smiling back. Lily quickly sat up- perhaps too quickly, as she suddenly became lightheaded, although maybe that was just being so close to James- and made some room for him. “Thanks,” he said quietly and sat so close to her that their legs would be touching if she moved just a centimeter closer. “You enjoy the match?”

“Of course I did. You were brilliant as always,” she said automatically, and then felt her stomach drop. Sirius was right; she was not subtle at all.

But maybe James did not notice, because he responded, “It was a team effort, really,” all bashful.

“Pft. James Potter? Being modest?” she laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugged. “Miracles happen all the time.”

“C’mon, Potter,” she said as she turned to face him properly and folded her legs into a pretzel. “You got more than half of Gryffindor’s goals, and that interception between Regulus and Mulciber? Top-notch.”

He smiled, and oh no, that gleam of confidence sparked in his eye, always a dangerous sign. One that she unwillingly brought back on, but, dear god, was it attractive. “Keeping tabs on me, Evans?”

“It’s just called paying attention,” she played off, picking at a piece of lint on her trousers. “Something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

“I know a lot about paying attention,” he countered, and Lily could see through her peripherals James leaning back more comfortably into the sofa and stretching his free arm out over the top of it, his hand resting quite close to her shoulder. His other was still gripping his glass, Lily knew, but she continued to pick at any stray lint on her clothing. She could feel him staring at her. “Maybe not in class,” he amended, “but I don’t need to, anyway.”

“Ah, there he is,” she said, looking back up at him. “We get it, you’re so naturally talented in everything you do, all hail Head Boy Potter, we are not worthy.”

“Can’t argue with the truth,” he sighed. “Although, the Head Girl could give him a run for his money.”

“Hell yeah, I could.”

James laughed, ruffling his hair. “In charms and potions, sure. But Transfiguration? Good luck.”

Lily scoffed, jabbing one of her feet at the side of his thigh. “That’s only because you have favoritism on your side. You see McGonagall practically crying tears of joy in the stands before? All in the name of Quidditch.”

“Oh, and you don’t have old Sluggy in the palm of your hands? Please-“

“But that’s because of my innovative potion-making and my vibrant personality, not because I’m helping Slytherin win the cup-“

“It’s not all about Quidditch-“

Lily gasped dramatically. “Not all about Quidditch? Potter…are you alright?”

“Oh, boy. That’s not what I-“

She reached a hand out and put it against his forehead. “You must be ill. Maybe you should go to Pomfrey-“

James’s smile then lit up his face, and as his dimples emerged Lily suddenly felt like the heat from his forehead shot through her hand into her body. She attempted to bring her hand back into her lap, but James moved his arm from the top of the couch and caught it, held her hand firmly in his own, and kept speaking, as if the gesture was nothing at all. “What I meant was,” he said as he interlaced their fingers casually, and dear Lord, his hand was so much bigger than hers. “I have achieved Transfiguration feats that well exceed N.E.W.T. level.”

Lily became momentarily distracted, as she marveled at how utterly natural it felt for them to be holding hands. Why had they never held hands before? She exhaled pleasantly as the warmth from his fingers spread over hers, trying to stop herself from closing her eyes to just revel in it. And then she tuned back in, realizing what James was implying. The only reason she even knew James was an Animagus was because Remus told her last year once she finally admitted to him that she figured out he was a werewolf in fourth year. She cocked her head to the side, giving James an accusatory look. “And illegal,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, illegal? You must’ve meant to say admirable. They kind of sound similar, I can see how you might mix them up.”

Lily snorted, despite the fact that she did find it admirable, sickeningly so - and then gulped as James squeezed her hand tighter right before she spoke. “And what was that Sirius said when we talked about it last? Something about if Peter could pull it off anyone could? Which was mean, by the way.”

“I didn’t say it!”

“You agreed!”

“Not everyone is as lucky as Peter to have two transfiguration masters as their best mates, so he had significant help, I’d say.”

“It’s not too tough to chew a leaf, I would think.”

“You are completely oversimplifying the entire process,” James accused her. “And if it’s as easy as that, why don’t you become one?”

“It’s illegal.”

“Not if you register.”

“I have no need for it,” she said and, on a delayed reflex, squeezed his hand back before she could stop herself. “You lot had good reason, I’ll give you that.”

“Admirable reasons, one might say!” he reminded her. “Let’s say you did: what do you think you’d be?”

Lily pondered the question for a moment. “I just thought of something. Aren’t all three of your Animagus forms the same as your corporeal patronuses?”

“Correct,” James confirmed.

“So I guess mine would be a doe, then, wouldn’t it?”

“Not definitely, but probably, yes,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet and raspy. “And mine is a stag, the doe’s mate for life. So we’re a perfect fit in all forms. Fancy that, huh?”

Despite the fact that, yes, she did quite fancy that, she rolled her eyes at him as he raised his glass with his other hand to his smirking lips and took a sip. Lily felt like she was going mad; his hand and his lips in one frame? And the other hand holding hers? Through the glass she could see James eyeing her curiously. He lowered it slowly, surveying her. “You want some?” he offered, holding it out to her.

Maybe Sirius was right; they’d been playing at this for too long. And too often, really. Ever since the Easter holidays in sixth year when she confided in him and he comforted her and they became actual mates and then she found herself disgustingly obsessed. And then ever since they got those badges she’s used every excuse to be near him, and they began waiting for each other every morning in the common room to go down to breakfast together, an unspoken agreement that started about two weeks into term. And they’d spent the majority of the time on their rounds eating food James nicked from the kitchen and talking about the war and family but then eventually laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe, and she valued their friendship so much but man she did not want to do to her friends the things she was imagining doing to him.

She needed some courage, so she took James’s glass out of his stupidly large hand and chugged what was left of it.

“Whoa, there, Evans!” he said, taking the glass from her as she drank the last drop, and then placed it on the table beside them. And then, leaning in a bit, he whispered in a mocking tone, “You’re supposed to be setting an example!”

Lily ignored this as she let the aftertaste of the firewhiskey settle and admired the closeness of James’s face to hers, examining his features. He was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Something you want to say?”

She shook her head, rubbing her thumb gently across the back of his hand. She looked at him determinedly. “The All Powerful Potter can’t master legilimency?”

“I’m an amateur legilimens,” he joked. “What rank of occlumens are you?”

“You tell me.”

“Hm,” he started as he looked at her quizzically. She wanted him to read her mind to save her the embarrassment of actually initiating this thing, and if Sirius’s word meant anything, and if her longing for him was as obvious as it felt, she thought he might already know that she wanted to jump his bones, anyway. He was studying her, and as her eyes strayed from his face back to his hands, one entangled with hers, the other one free on his lap, he followed her gaze. And before she knew it, his hand was on her thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and she looked up at him. The expression on his face was as if he was waiting for an answer, or permission. She nodded and bit her lip, and he chuckled, causing her heart to skip several beats and leap up into her throat. “Not too bad of an occlumens,” he mumbled, still leaning closer. “But I don’t think you’re trying too hard.”

“Nope,” she replied honestly, offering a smile.

He returned a nervous smile to her, breathed in sharply as if trying to restrain himself, and then eventually said, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Okay,” she said, and without letting go of his hand, released her leg from James’s grasp and stood up. “Where we gonna go?”

James sat there, rooted to the couch cushion for a moment. At first it seemed as if he thought she was joking, but then he gulped, and stood up too, tightening his hold on her hand even more so. His eyes quickly darted from her face towards the boys’ staircase and back. “If that’s ok,” he added when she didn’t respond but instead looked as if she was searching the room intently.

She nodded. “I just want to make sure Sirius is distracted before he catches us and announces our whereabouts to the entire school.”

“Good thinking,” he told her, and began to search as well. He spotted him quickly. He nudged Lily gently, and jerked his head towards the far right corner so that Lily could see Sirius pouring butterbeer down Peter’s throat as Remus sat there shaking his head while rubbing his temples and Marlene and Mary counted loudly. “I think we’re safe.”

Lily found herself torn between giggling and groaning at the sight, but ultimately either option was wasting time she could be using dragging James up the boys’ staircase. So she marched towards it, doing just that. With one final check behind them, they began climbing the stairs until they reached the fourth floor with the door that said Seventh Years.

James smiled at her nervously as he held the door open, and Lily did not hesitate. She let her eyes scan the beds, and it was easier than she thought. She pointed towards the second bed to the left, completely unmade with 3 pillows and a Puddlemore United poster above the headboard. “That one, innit?”

She heard James make some vague noise of confirmation after he closed the door, although maybe trying to disguise the fact that he also clicked in the lock. She kicked off her trainers and lied down right in the middle. She was smart enough to know it wasn’t the little firewhiskey she had a few minutes before making her do this, but something definitely came over her to the point where she no longer cared what she did or how it was perceived. It could have been the lack of audience, but she preferred not to think too hard about it as she stretched out and inhaled deeply, thoroughly overwhelmed and pleased by James’s scent all over the sheets.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” James said, amused, still standing by the door.

“I have, thank you,” she replied. “Why don’t you?”

James rolled his eyes and kicked off his own trainers. He walked over to his four-poster and stood by the frame. “How’d you know this one was mine?”

“Easy,” she started. “For one thing, you seem like an unmade-bed type of guy.”

“Should I be insulted?”

“Yes. We’re seventeen, not seven.”

“I mean, what’s the point of making it if I’m just going to go right back under the covers anyway?”

“Two,” she continued, ignoring him, “the Puddlemore United poster was a dead giveaway.”

James crossed his arms, and although she felt temporarily distracted by this, as his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms, she did hear him say, “Peter supports them too. He has two posters.”

“But here’s the thing,” Lily said, and she sat up slowly, pushing herself backward towards the headboard and away from his tempting forearms. “Yours was the only bed with three pillows.”

“I- excuse me?” James looked at her in disbelief. “How did you- huh?”

“Just the other week, the four of you were having such a heated debate about it at lunch, remember?” James’s stare was intense, and she felt as if it was burning through her cheeks. She gestured to the other beds as a means of looking away and regaining her composure, but her voice sounded compromised as she spoke. “Peter and Remus are both normal, so they sleep with two pillows. You went on to call Sirius a madman for only sleeping with one pillow, and then he expanded saying he pushes the pillow away right as he is about to fall asleep, so he practically sleeps with none.”

“Which is mad!” James interjected, his arms loose and flailing in exasperation. “And he claims it’s better for your back, but that’s bullocks because he complains about his back at least twice a day. At least!”

Lily laughed at James’s indignation. “I didn’t say I necessarily disagree with you. But I don’t disagree with Sirius either about your way. I mean, are three pillows really necessary?”

“Yes, they are, in fact!”

Lily turned her head, made sure the 3 pillows were stacked nicely, fluffled them a bit, then situated herself as she was going to sleep, putting the covers over her legs and laying her head against the pillows. She closed her eyes, lying there for a moment, but it was only moments later that her eyes flew open and she groaned. “This is absolutely awful for your neck, and extremely uncomfortable.”

“You’re just not using them right,” he murmured.

Lily shifted herself forward and to the right side of the bed, took all 3 pillows in her arms, and held them out for James. “So show me.”

He surveyed her, then put a hand through his hair. He sighed. “Alright, Evans. But don’t make fun.”

“Oh, I will.”

He took a few steps forward and plopped down on the vacant side of the bed. Without speaking, he lied down on his side to face Lily. He took the first pillow and put it between his knees. He took the second pillow and put it under his head. The last pillow he held in his own arms, hugging it.

“That’s it?” she asked, her eyebrows raised. “But your head is only on one pillow, anyway! Your criticism towards Sirius is completely hypocritical!”

“But he still pushes his away, basically sleeping with none!” he fought back. “And the other pillows are necessary.”

“How so?”

“Pillow between the knees is good for a bad back,” he explained.

Lily laughed, grabbing the pillow James was holding from him. “And this one?”

James cleared his throat, his cheeks turned pink. “You really can’t make fun.”

“I already told you I will. So tough. Tell me,” she said, hugging it to her chest.

He nudged his head forward. “For that.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking from his face to the pillow in her arms. “To....cuddle it?”

“Listen, I just hate sleeping alone,” he said quickly, looking away from her, now. “And at home I always have our cat, but Mum and Dad don’t let me bring him here, so I’m forced to use a pillow. Happy?”

Lily tried her best to suppress a giggle, she really did. But it bubbled out, and the pink in James’s face was turning three shades darker as he took the pillow out from between his legs and stacked it on top of the one under his head before turning to lie flat on his back again. “No, it’s sweet, James.”

“You’re laughing.”

“It can be sweet and laughable at the same time,” she told him, and she suddenly realized how close they were, and that they were lying in his bed. You’re a Gryffindor, she reminded herself, it’s now or never. “But let me ask you something.”

“What?”

“Does Sirius get jealous?”

He turned his gaze back to her, puzzled. “Of…?”

“Of your cat! I mean, why doesn’t he just transform into a dog and cuddle you at night while you’re here? I’d think when you’re both at the Potter residence there’d be a rivalry, no?”

James laughed heartily. “There is, but believe it or not Sirius likes cats. When he transforms into Padfoot at my house he and my cat have the best time together, it’s mental. And besides, Sirius is not really a physical affection kind of bloke.”

“So all you’ve got is your pillow to hold here, huh.”

“Sadly,” he sighed dramatically.

Lily casually dropped the pillow she was holding in her arms over her shoulder and off the edge of the bed. “That can be remedied, I think.”

And before James could have the time to process her words, she scooted over to him, put her head on his chest, draped a leg over one of his and an arm around his torso, burying her face into his shirt, letting herself do something she so desperately wanted to for ages.

At first it felt like James’s entire body went rigid, but after about three seconds, it relaxed completely, as his legs locked with hers and he brought one arm around her and the other towards her head, his fingers gently combing through her hair. Lily shivered at his touch, moving her face up into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, as if she was about to run out of air for good.

After a few still and precious moments, Lily let herself exhale. “Better than the pillows?” she asked meekly.

James’s chest shook as he chuckled lightly. “Much.”

“Good,” she said, satisfied but now paralyzed. This was good. Almost too good. And she didn’t want to risk moving a single limb and losing it all, despite the ache throughout her body pleading for more of him.

Luckily for her, James was a risk taker. He stopped running his fingers through her hair and instead cradled her head, pulling it back so that her face would lift, and she could see him. And he looked excitedly determined, the same way he looked on the Quidditch pitch, a golden sparkle in his hazel eyes behind his spectacles. She suddenly felt the need to say something to him. She didn’t know what, exactly, and he most likely knew whatever she was feeling, but she tried anyway. “James-”

She barely got his full name out before he swooped down, his lips pressing urgently against hers. And all attempts at speaking were suddenly forgotten as she pushed her face upward and threw herself into the kiss. She didn’t even care that she might break his glasses from trying to close any amount of space left between their faces, nor did he. His lips were chapped but they felt electric against hers, and she moved a hand up to cup his face, pressing kiss after kiss to his eager mouth. She felt her heart swell bigger with each one, unable to fully believe that this was actually, finally happening, and she knew it couldn’t be a dream this time, because this was far better than how it felt in her dreams. He shifted under her so that he was back on his side and they were facing each other again. No kiss was ever enough, but after a minute or so the urgency settled down, and James began to kiss her more softly yet firm, one hand still in her hair, the other resting on her hip. He suddenly moved his mouth over her cheek, her jaw, down to her neck, staying there for quite a bit, but Lily still felt like they weren’t close enough.

James must have been a better legilimens than he let on, because he then moved his lips back to hers, and opened his mouth slightly, as she did too, and their tongues met, and Lily thought that her entire body must have been on fire by now, as she moaned at the feel of him, and James let out a soft moan almost simultaneously. And they both laughed, and then James pulled away to properly laugh.

“Stop laughing,” she choked out, though she was unsure how she even found words, and she leaned back into him, kissing his laughing mouth. He kissed her back briefly before pulling away again. She groaned. “Would you quit-”

“Just give me a second,” he said gruffly, but she opened her eyes and found him grinning. “Trying to preserve this moment in my brain forever.”

“Well, I’m trying to make new moments over here, if you’d please.”

But that just made James laugh even harder. But now looking at him laughing, well, she supposed he didn’t have to stop yet. His laugh was almost as glorious as his kiss. She smiled, and he looked at her in a way no one had ever looked at her before.

“As you wish,” he responded, flashing a wicked smile back before crushing his mouth back to hers, and she shortly learned how much glory of his kiss was left to be discovered as she parted her lips again and allowed his tongue to enter her mouth, and they both moaned again, all laughs left behind.

As they continued to kiss for the next few minutes, James slowly began to let his hand on her hip wander the small of her back beneath her shirt, and she took that as a green light for her hands to wander too. She put one hand on his chest, and moved the one on his face to his hair instead, allowing herself to feel his hair through her fingers like she’d so often see him do when ruffling his hair to look like he’d just gotten off his broom, or when he did just get off his broom. Her nails lightly grazed his scalp and she felt him shiver as he let out a sound of approval against her. She giggled now, and pulled away briefly to let him in on the secret. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” she whispered triumphantly.

She opened her eyes again to see an unreadable expression on James’s face. “Not always,” he replied as he exhaled, and then looked at her- really looked at her. And she knew what she wanted to say now.

“James,” she said, gripping the collar of his shirt, trying to regain breath control. “You must know how I…how I feel about you...I mean, I practically dragged you up here to seduce you. I don’t do that with just anyone.”

“I know,” he answered with a hint of a smile. “But it’s hard to just...forget sometimes.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you were a conceited git in fifth year,” she responded, and she did not let herself feel guilty saying it. “Sorry, but that’s just the truth.”

“I know it is,” he muttered, looking a bit ashamed of himself. He looked away from her and past her shoulder, thinking hard. She let the silence sit until he spoke again. “I guess I’m worried that...that perception of me you had- or the memory of who I once was- might always be there.”

“Well, it will be,” she responded bluntly, taking hold of his chin and making him face her again. “But that’s not a bad thing-”

“Sorry,” he interrupted her, rubbing her back. “I didn’t mean to bring this up tonight. I didn’t mean to say this at all ever, actually. I don’t know why I’d remind you of it, anyway-”

She cut him off by pulling his face towards hers and kissing him again, though she forced herself to pull away in order to finish her thought. “Shut up and just listen. I was saying that it’s not a bad thing because some people never change- I mean, we all have the capacity to, but so few actually take a good look at themselves and actually do it, and knowing that you have is....it’s just something special.”

“But there’s still some of those parts of me that haven’t changed, you know?” He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers. “And what if when you see those, you…” he drifted off, threading his fingers through her hair again.

Lily closed her eyes at the feel of his touch. “But I’ve seen them already,” she told him, letting go of his chin and placing her hand on his shoulder. “Both now and then. I mean...I’m a bit obsessed with you, really.” James snorted, but she kept going. “I didn’t think I’d have to tell you that. I thought you knew.”

“I knew a bit,” he admitted, and though her eyes were closed, she could feel him smiling now. “Sirius said as much, anyway.”

“Of course he did.”

“But it seemed too good to be true,” he almost whispered. “So thanks for telling me.”

Lily opened her eyes and kissed his forehead. “You’re welcome. My point being, I know all the good and the bad. And I still want you. Ergo, the seducing bit.”

James’s smile was positively dazzling at those words. “You sure it’s not just the firewhiskey talking?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she scoffed. “I barely had any.”

“Well, it’s not like you were the only unsubtle one here. I’ve never once bothered hiding it. Couldn’t if I tried. So why didn’t you try the seducing bit before now? ”

She raised her eyebrows at him as the hand on her back moved lower down towards her waist. “I think the real question is why hadn’t you?”

He attempted a frown at her and reminded her, “I mean, I was the one who held your hand tonight first.” The smile quickly returned. “And I initiated the first kiss. And we are here in my bed. Maybe the seduction efforts were equal and we’re giving you too much credit here. I’d like an equal share.”

Lily rolled her eyes, feeling impatient. She wanted answers, too. “Before tonight, then.”

James pulled her closer to him and maneuvered them so that he was on his back again, and she was cradled against him. “I’d been rejected by you many times-“

“I mean this term! Not back then-“

“But as just revealed,” he said. “I am clearly still wounded by those rejections.”

“Boo hoo.”

He chuckled, pinching her side. “I just...wanted to be sure,” he told her. “I guess when I started to feel like you might fancy me, I tried convincing myself that it couldn’t be true… I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I started making excuses as to why it couldn’t be real, or permanent... maybe it was just the Head Boy badge, or-“

“How can you think that?” she interrupted, looking up at him, exasperated. It made her heart sink ever so slightly at the thought that he’d think her feelings were anything but sincere.

Noting the hurt in her voice, his hand found hers and he squeezed it tightly. “I didn’t truly think it. Like I said, I just was trying to convince myself of it because I… I just didn’t know how many more rejections I could take.” He smiled softly as he intertwined their fingers.

Keeping their hands linked, she (mostly) removed herself from James and sat back up. It was easier to think straight and articulate her thoughts when she wasn’t plastered up against James’s person, no matter how badly she wanted to return. James followed her lead, sitting up too and facing her, but keeping a respectable amount of space between their faces. She looked up into his, which was soft and still smiling, but she could see the shadows of doubt and fear still swimming in his eyes. “You weren’t the only one trying to avoid rejection, you know,” she whispered.

James looked at her in utter befuddlement. “What? In what world would I ever reject you?”

Lily did not answer, and instead looked down into her lap.

He waited a moment, but when she failed to respond he said her name, “Lily,” with such gentleness and fondness that she could not help but look back up at him. “You must know how I feel about you, don’t you?” he echoed her own words back to her from only moments ago. “I’ve been mental over you for ages! Years! Hell, I mean, I’m-“ but he cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

“You’re what?”

He said nothing for a moment, and the silence was heavy, but he eventually opened his eyes and shook his head again. “Nothing. I just can’t believe you’d think that. Explain your logic to me.”

She sighed reluctantly, but supposed he deserved the truth. “It’s like you said,” she started. “You’ve fancied me for ages, and for most of that time, well, you didn’t really know me, you know? Just this idea of me, prefect, top-marks Lily Evans who everyone assumed was perfect, and that her life is wrapped up in a neat bow...but that’s not all I am, that’s not even the half of it. That’s just what people see, or what they think they see...And that’s the version of me you fancied for so long. But really I’m a mess whose sister hates her and who used to be best friends with someone who is probably a Death Eater now and I have deep-rooted self-esteem issues and I’m a picky eater and you’re right, I kind of do suck at Transfiguration, and I’m stubborn and...and what if it ends up being just about the chase? What if, you know, we did date and you finally saw that I wasn’t always what you thought I was?”

He was looking at her very seriously. His eyes looked sad, half hurt, half concerned. “You’re right. You’re not always what I thought you were,” he said very softly.

“W-what?” she responded, her throat suddenly very dry.

This was a mistake, this whole night. She wanted to run out, but she felt immobile. All she knew was that she couldn’t look at his face anymore or she’d cry. It was only a millisecond after she looked down at her knee that James used his free hand to grab her face and make her look right back at him. “You’re not always what I thought you were,” he repeated. Then he smiled. “You are...so much more.”

“Oh,” Lily exhaled in relief, which made James smile harder.

“Yeah, oh,” he said back. He lifted up their linked hands and kissed the back of hers, and then let go, so that both of his hands could be on either side of her face. “It’s just like you said about me. I’ve been lucky enough to have seen a lot of those parts of you now. Actually being your friend and getting to really know you, the good and the not-so-good...well, it made me want you even more. Everyday.”

“Me too,” Lily said.

He grazed his thumb gently across her cheek. “And that’s not going to go away. It’s not about the chase. It’s not about this picture-perfect idea of you. It’s about you. I promise you that. So no more doubts, ok?”

“No more doubts,” she agreed, and before she could stop herself she moved forward and kissed him, kissed him with everything she had, trying to convey what she couldn’t quite say. His hands moved into her hair as he kissed her back, taking control of the kiss, slowing it down, making Lily feel much more intoxicated than the firewhiskey could.

She moved herself on top of his lap, and his hands moved to her back as he pulled her closer to him. He deepened the kiss, and just after Lily responded he broke it off, putting his head on her shoulder, breathing heavily. “You alright?” she asked, scratching the back of his neck lightly.

“Mhm,” he responded, lifting his head up, looking a bit dazed behind his fogged spectacles. He kissed her cheek, then put his chin back on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly. She hugged him back, and she felt warm and whole. “I’m just happy,” he whispered.

“Me too.” She closed her eyes and leaned her face against his neck.

They sat there, holding one another in silence for a while. Lily felt like she was in a trance, until James’s voice pulled her out of it. “Thank you.”

She lifted her head and pulled back a bit, though James’s arms were still firmly around her, but she was able to move just enough to be face-to-face again. “For what?”

And then he smiled brightly, and that boyish look she knew far too well shined through. “For seducing me.”

She laughed, and he laughed too, and the laughter was so infectious that she couldn’t stop, even when James shouted, “I’m serious!” which just made her laugh harder. He removed her from his lap and feigned offense as she lied down on her back, trying to recover.

“You done?”

“Nearly,” she choked out. “I do have one question, though.”

“And what is that?”

She beckoned him over to her, and he obliged, lying on his side and facing her. She turned to him, and the warmth behind his features lit a fire inside her. “Can I be your girlfriend?”

James stared at her in amazement. “Can you?! Of-”

“Shit, sorry. May I be your girlfriend?” she amended.

There was a brief pause, and then James threw his head back, laughing freely. “You are unbelievable, Evans,” he observed, looking back at her and shaking his head. “Yes, of course you may. As long as I get to be your boyfriend.”

“Reasonable condition,” she said, pretending to think about it for a moment. “Alright, sounds like a deal. Shake on it?”

Letting out a (fake) exasperated sigh, he shook her outstretched hand.

“I look forward to doing business with you, Potter,” she said in her best impression of a professional, suppressing a giggle.

James’s smile in return felt almost lyrical; it said so much with so little. He moved in quickly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Why don’t we get started immediately, yeah?”

#harry potter #fanfiction #fan fiction #jily #james potter #lily evans #lily evans potter #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #hogwarts #seventh year #james/lily #hp #hp fanfic #ao3

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theskyeandsea · 4 years ago

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Just Medicine || Erin & Skylar

Location: Nic & Skylar’s Home

Timing: June 14th

Tagging: @corpse--diem & @theskyeandsea

Description: Concerned by their troubling conversation online, Erin comes to check in on Skylar and the answers she finds are only more alarming.

Warnings: Addiction TW

If there was one person in town Erin never thought she had to worry about, it was the very one she found herself using the speed limit as a suggestion to get to right now. God damn it, Skylar. Sweet, innocent Skylar. The same young woman who taught ASL, who helped throw a gator-theme birthday bash. The woman was a seal, for Christ’s sake. It was an unfair pedestal to put her on, Erin knew that, and felt guilty when her frustrations drew those quick-fire judgments. People slipped up, lost their footing while trying to balance their worlds on their shoulders. Seal or not, Skylar was as susceptible as anyone. She didn’t know how to help, or if she could, but she’d be there even for a night to maybe help her keep her footing. Judging by the way she spoke earlier, that was very possibly a literal predicament. And with Nic fucking off into the woods, her own worry needed an outlet. And Skylar needed someone. “Skylar!” Erin hollered, nice and loud as she banged in the door. Jabbed the doorbell a few times for good measure. “Don’t even think about ignoring me, kid! I know where you hide your spare key!”

For the past twenty four hours, Skylar had felt as though she was on cloud nine. Untouchable, nothing could stop her, nothing could hold her down. There was no pain, there wasn’t anything other than the euphoria that came with feeling completely, entirely good. The world was wonderful and bright and the sun was shining, eyeball free. Between that and her random spurts of energy that had driven her to run around in the backyard until she was dizzy, Skylar was feeling great. She’d never felt this way before. Never, ever, ever. Right now, she was lying in the middle of the living room, watching the fan whirl overhead, her eyes tracking one of the blades. Around and around and around and around and-- Skylar sat upright when she heard a loud pounding at the door. Glancing at her phone, she tilted her head. Erin? Listening closer, she nodded. Erin. Walking to the door, Skylar opened it, a dazed grin still on her face. “Hey, Erin!”

The longer Erin stood there waiting, the higher her blood pressure climbed. Tried not to think hard about why it was taking her so long to get to the damn door but it was hard when those enthusiastic, muddled messages kept replaying in her head. Then finally, footsteps. Skylar greeted her with a smile that wasn’t quite right, dark circles underlining nearly nonexistent pupils. “Skylar—“ she started but that concern returned, sharper than before as it trickled down her throat like barbed wire. Did she even remember Erin was coming over? It seemed like Skylar’s initial resistance to her company had disappeared like the rest of her good sense. “Hi,” she finally breathed out. “Can I come in?” It was framed as a question but Erin was already crossing the threshold to let herself in. There was no way she was leaving now.

Erin was standing right in front of her and then she wasn’t, she was already inside. Skylar nodded all the same, happy to let the woman inside. “Nic’s not here right now, but,” She frowned, trying to piece together things. Time was strange. It felt both incredibly fast and slow at the same time-- like every moment went for infinity, but every hour felt like a second. Which didn’t make sense, even to her. “I think I already told you that.” Shutting the door behind her, Skylar wandered back over to the couch, where Dundee was still curled up. What she really wanted to do was lie on the floor like she had been doing before, the feeling of the wood cool compared to the rug. But, instead, she sat on the couch next to Dundee, staring at the dog as it wagged its tail once at her before going back to sleep. Running her hands against the material of the couch, Skylar tilted her head at Erin. “Why are you here again? Not that I’m not happy that you’re here, it’s always nice when you are! Nic smiles a lot when you say you’re coming by. But he’s not here right now.”

All Erin could do was follow silently, observing Skylar’s sporadic train of thought—when she wasn’t veering off course or colliding with other thoughts, anyway. It was all still jumbled and worrisome, even if she was being as sweet as she always was. “Yeah, I know he’s not,” she nodded. Her eyes flickered around the large room anyway, like he’d changed his mind and come home. Part of her was hoping that he had, that she’d answer the door and see him standing there. But the moment she saw Skylar’s state, it was likely for the best. One mess at a time. Couldn’t help smiling, even briefly, at her words, dropping her gaze to stare at the floor. “I didn’t come to see him,” Erin said, take great care to speak softly as she joined her on the couch. “I came to see you.” She bit her lip, Skylar’s bloodshot eyes more vibrant ever in the better lighting. “You said you were feeling better and I just—“ she paused, shrugging. “I was hoping you could help me with something?”

As Erin continued to speak, Skylar blinked-- it was harder for her to hear, harder for her to pick up the words that she was saying. And, as she tried to focus on the woman’s lips in an attempt to lip read, she was only able to pick up bits and pieces. Not much, just little hints here and there that managed to make it through the wonderfully light feeling that had encompassed her. It felt like there were bubbles in her, like she was floating up and up and up and there was nothing that could bring her down. “Mhm! I’m better!” She said with a vigorous nod as she pieced together the last of the woman’s words. “Help you? What do you need?” She asked, wanting to do whatever she could to help Erin. She liked Erin, even if she had initially been a little creeped out to find out that she worked with dead people all the time.

Erin wasn’t entirely convinced Skylar was following what she was saying, her eyes roaming like they were a little lost when she spoke. Right. Slow it down. Ugh, this was painful. “I’m really happy that you’re so happy. Honestly, I am,” she nodded, taking her time, giving her a warmer smile. “But I gotta say, I’m not having the greatest day myself, you know? Like it’s been a really, really rough one.” Her brows narrowed in her direction, hoping Skylar was still out of it enough to roll with her impromptu plan. That part at least wasn’t a blatant lie? “I was hoping you could... show me what you did. To make yourself feel better.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “We’re friends, right? You’d help me out with something like that? Oh—just between us, too, of course,” she added, running her fingers along her lips like a zipper.

The slower Erin spoke, the harder it was for Skylar to track what she was saying. The lip movements didn’t make as much sense, the pauses made it harder for her to latch onto what was being said. But, she did her best to parse through the words. Not… greatest… rough. “Oh, no! I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry, that’s awful.” She said, her head lolling back against the soft cushion of the couch as she stared up at Erin. She didn’t want Erin to have a bad day and she wanted to help! She really, really did. But, a look of confusion spread across her face at her words. “Are you hurt?” She asked, confused. Because the stuff making her feel better, it was only if she was hurting. Looking at Erin, she tilted her head. “Did someone hurt you?”

This was going to be difficult no matter which way she spliced it, huh? Erin willed her patience to persevere and worked her jaw, then nodded. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she assured her, pausing briefly as she tried to navigate a believable lie. “Yep,” she answered when it felt like she was taking too long. “I, uh—got into an argument the other day with a real jerk. You don’t know him, and I took care of it so don’t worry about that either, but he gave me a heck of a shiner.” She pointed to the very faint purpled and yellowed bruise that still lingered near her eye and down her cheek. Cringed first show, then pointed to the back of her head. “Hit my head too, been killing me ever since. So if you’ve got anything to help—I’d really appreciate it.”

As Erin showed her the marks on the side of her head, Skylar’s eyes widened in shock. “And he hit you? Does Nic know?” She asked, a thin trickle of concern managing to seep through the buoyant lightness that kept her spirits aloft, that kept her from feeling the pain that she normally would. At the other woman’s words, Skylar bit the inside of her cheek, though the gesture lacked the normal dull pressure that it usually did. The stuff Felix gave to her, it was strong. Really, really strong. How else could it have worked on her? It would probably be super bad for Erin. So she wasn’t going to show her the bliss. Nope, that would probably knock her out really bad. But, she still had a pill or two left from when she’d gotten shot by the river. “I’ve got something that could help!” She said, standing up on slightly unsteady feet before walking to her room.

Erin shook her head softly, waving off Skylar’s concern. “Nic knows. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but—I hit him back,” she assured her, the sound of the metal baseball back smacking against skull thundering in her mind. “Got him sent to a place where he can’t hurt anyone again.” She shifted slightly. Was this actually working? Hopefully she wouldn’t remember why Erin needed whatever it was that had gotten Skylar so completely fucked up in the first place. Erin was on her feet, following behind her—partially to make sure she made it to her room in one piece. But she hung back by the doorway, crossing her arms as she watched her. As glad as she was that this was actually about to work, her insides twisted at the reality here. Skylar wasn’t fucking okay. “And this helped?” She asked, peering into her room

“Oh, okay.” Skylar nodded, her concerns disappearing with the wave of Erin’s hand. If she said it was fine, if she said that the guy who hurt her was gone, then there wasn’t anything for her to worry about. As she entered her room, she made her way to her desk, opening the drawer and rummaging around among the papers, pens, and the random odds and ends that rolled around inside. Her fingers brushed against the small box Felix had sent her, that she’d taped to the underside of the desk to hide it from anyone who might try and find it. Instead of taking the box, her fingers curled around the pill bottle he’d sent her over a month ago. A few loose pills rattled around and she showed it to Erin. “I don’t know if it would be safe for you, though. It’s very, very strong. Medicine doesn’t work on me very well, so I need a lot of it.” She said, holding out the bottle.

Erin bit the inside of her lip as she eyed the pill bottle, torn between being infuriated and heartbroken right now. “I’m not taking these,” she answered honestly, grabbing the bottle. So this was it, huh? There only a few left, which made sense considering Skylar’s current state. Erin held it up before giving it a little shake at her, then met her bloodshot eyes. “And neither are you,” she added, the softness in her tone slipping, giving way to a mix of concern and disappointment. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this shit isn’t the answer. I know you feel good now but it’s temporary.” Skylar was a grown ass woman and Erin knew she wasn’t saying anything every after school special had to offer, but she had to try right? She handed the bottle back to her “I want you to toss those. Right now.”

Blinking in confusion, Skylar was too out of it to react quickly enough to stop Erin from pulling the pill bottle from her hand. Before she could wrap her head around what was going on, the bottle was back in her hand and she was staring at Erin with a confused expression on her face. “I... Why? I’ve never felt good, in my entire life. Never, ever.” She shook her head vigorously. Even if these weren’t the right pills, what she was saying about the medicine… “It’s medicine. It’s helping me. It’s helping me not feel bad and not be stuck,” Skylar pointed at her bed, “Stuck in bed all day because, because everything is too much.” And she didn’t need to change. And that was the most important thing.

Erin felt another crack in her chest give way while Skylar spoke. “Skylar…” she shook her head. “It’s not. I swear to you that it’s not. What you’re feeling, right now? It’s not real. There are other ways—better ways—to cope. I promise. I’m not just staying that either. I understand… that,” she said, gesturing to the bed now too. That heavy exhaustion that could trap a person down like a leaded blanket was a battle she knew all too well. It was hell. Turning to this was tempting on so many levels that she couldn’t blame Skylar at all for wanting that escape. But God did this ever feel a minefield. “Way better than you’d think, okay? And we can talk about all of that, as little or as much as you want.” Her eyes dropped to the bottle with the pills again. “After you flush those.”

Skylar did her best to muddle through Erin’s words. Not real? No, this was the only thing that felt real and right and good. Shaking her head, she looked at Erin, her blue eyes earnest, “I don’t think you do, though. No one really does. I hate what I am. It’s hurt me. It hurt my family, the people I care about. It still hurts me. And I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I just want,” She let out a puff of air, blowing loose strands of hair from her face, “to be normal. And this is normal!” Skylar gestured to herself. “I feel good! I love how I am! I’m happy and better like this.” She nodded with renewed vigor.

Of all the nonsense Skylar had been blabbering on about, this threw Erin for a loop. It wasn’t nonsense at all, of course, if you focused on the direction this skewed train headed toward. It was very real. And very concerning. “Because you’re a selkie?” She asked, if only just to clarify. “What’s wrong with that?” Erin had her secrets, no question, but this specifically wasn’t an area she could dole out sage advice. And unless selkies were also some sort of man eating version of a seal she wasn’t aware of, she genuinely didn’t understand. She shook her head slowly. “Skylar—there is no normal. It doesn’t exist. And if there ever was one, it’s not you doped up on painkillers. It’s temporary because it’s not you. You will crash, and you will feel even more like shit than you did before.”

“Everything’s wrong with me.” Skylar said, her voice still even and upbeat as she spoke. She’d lost everything by being what she was. Her family had cut her out of their lives entirely. She’d tried and failed to gain control over this side of her, tried to figure out how to love what she was. She’d lost Ricky, lost the one person who had reassured her that he would be there to help her figure out what it meant to be a selkie. She’d only ever failed and lost and been hurt by what she was. So, what was wrong with this? What was wrong with feeling good? Even if it was only for now… maybe she could keep it going. If she just took a little more, took a little bit to make sure that she was good, that she was okay, maybe then she’d never need to turn. Maybe she could be human. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.” She said with a blissful smile.

Skylar was convinced this was the better way and Erin was realizing nothing she said was going to penetrate the iron-clad armor of serotonin that kept her grinning like an idiot. What little energy she had was depleting fast and what Erin could do right now was make sure she didn’t do anything stupid in this state. “It’ll be okay,” she echoed with a long sigh. Everything would be okay. It had to. Nic would come home and they’d work this all out. Squids and seal self-loathing be damned. She’d accept nothing less. “Come here,” she stepped forward, a temporary defeat in her voice as she wrapped her arms around the young woman. “I happen to think you’re pretty awesome just the way you are, you know. So I’m gonna stay here tonight and hang out. That alright with you?”

When Erin reached out and pulled her into a tight hug, Skylar wasn’t sure how to react. Hadn’t she been mad at her? But now she was hugging her. Whatever confusion she had was pushed out of her mind as she leaned into the embrace, burrowing her head into the woman’s shoulders. Skylar hugged Erin back, though her limbs felt limp and rubbery as she did so. “Okay. That sounds good to me.” She said, her voice muffled. This was good. Everything was right and good. Even if the house was empty, even if Nic was nowhere to be found, even if Shiloh hadn’t messaged her in days, even if Remmy had been torn into pieces before her eyes, even if Morgan was still trying to figure out her new life as a zombie, even if Deirdre had murdered people, even if White Crest was awful and cruel and terrible… Right now, things were good. And that’s what mattered.

#p: jm #p: erin nichols #addiction tw #wickedswriting

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puppywritings · 5 years ago

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the kindness of a stranger

pairing: kim doyoung x male reader word count: 2,971 description: doyoung is little more than a stranger, though you can’t help but feel drawn to him. masterlist

Your commute to and from work had never been the source of anything interesting. You would meander to the bus stop around the corner from your apartment building, take a fifteen-minute bus ride, then repeat this on the way home in the evening. It was mundane, uneventful, and generally unremarkable. Which was perhaps the reason why, on a dreary Monday evening when you were exhausted after a long day and yearning for your bed, something unfamiliar struck you as so surprising. When you hopped onto the crowded bus, headed towards the bed you so longed for, you caught sight of a man you had never seen before.

You didn’t aspire to be overly dramatic, but that man’s face had undoubtedly been sculpted by the gods to serve no purpose other than making him the most beautiful man to ever walk the face of the earth. You didn’t consider that description to be too dramatic, considering that he genuinely might have been the most attractive person you had ever seen.

And the man, it just so happened, was sitting next to the only empty seat on the whole bus. You gave consideration to the idea of standing the whole way home, but you were sure your aching back would have something to say about that. Reaching deep into yourself for any last morsel of bravery, you approached the man.

You found yourself cursing the lack of effort you put into getting ready that morning - washing your face and combing your hair was decidedly not enough preparation for encountering somebody like that. Moreover, you were sure the day had taken a toll on you, and you smoothed your hair self-consciously as you descended into the seat, taking care not to sit too close to him. You were well aware of the fact that you would combust if your leg happened to graze his.

Mere moments after the bus pulled away from your stop, your hubris got the better of you, and you chanced a glimpse of the man. Much to your alarm, the following events ensued: just as you initially picked up on, the man was beautiful; your heart was sent into a frenzy by the man’s beauty; you made eye contact with the man; the man smiled at you; you attempted a smile back, but you were sure it came across as more of a pained grimace; you looked away, vowing not to look back for the remainder of the journey.

Hurriedly, you pulled your phone and earphones from the pocket of your coat, untangling them from the twisted mess they had grown into. Though the bus was due to arrive in only three minutes, you wanted to eliminate any possibility of executing small talk with this guy. You would surely make a fool out of yourself if you spoke even a single word to him, and you didn’t need such an extreme embarrassment to sully what had been already a pretty dreary day.

The duration of the bus ride seemed dreadfully long. Mentally, you had been chastising both your mind and your heart for reacting this way to a stranger. You had never fallen prey to a pretty face like this before - though it was true that you had never seen a face this pretty before. By the time the bus reached your stop, you felt even more exhausted than you had done when you left work. After you disembarked, you stopped in the bus shelter to unplug your headphones and return them to your pocket.

When you looked up, however, you were met with yet another surprise that jolted you again. The man had got off at the same stop as you, and was now walking a few paces ahead. You were somewhat astonished, and unsure of how you had failed to notice him getting off the bus behind you. Although you supposed you had been too focused on trying not to fall on your face in front of him.

It was as though a higher power was intervening with your day and gifting you with the most commotion it could conjure. Ahead of you, you noted in utter bewilderment, cute bus guy turned a key and entered an apartment building. Your apartment building. The one where you lived. You shook your head, resigned to distant perplexity at this point.

As you had ended up walking a little distance behind him, you took relief in the knowledge that he would have already ascended to his floor in the elevator. However, when you stood in front of the tall metal doors, you found them open just a gap. And through that gap, you viewed, for another time, the man. The man from the bus, that was. You saw him hurry to jab the open doors button for you, allowing you to step in the lift beside him. You mumbled a quick “thank you” to him as you entered.

You felt tense in the few moments it took for the elevator to reach Doyoung’s floor, as an irrational fear that he could hear your racing heartbeat wracked you. As you climbed higher, you willed the metal box to stop to allow him to leave, but each floor passed fruitlessly until you reached the one just below your own, providing you with perhaps the most awkward elevator experience you had ever suffered through.

When he stepped out, he bid you goodbye with a smile and a wave that was excruciatingly adorable. You smiled back at him, and felt you did a better job than earlier.

Once he was gone and you were safely alone, you rested your head against the cool, silver wall, and let out a groan. You were going to get far too carried away with this crush that had blossomed far too soon - you knew that much already.

***

Since that first day you had seen him, cute bus guy - as you had so aptly dubbed him - became a fixture your daily routine, and one that you quite looked forward to. Though you never held a full conversation with him, the two of you developed an unspoken ritual. Each evening, you would step onto the bus to find him guarding the seat next to him with his bag, or his coat, only to remove the item for you to sit down.

This went on for a number of weeks, well into winter when a biting chill made itself at home in the air. Were you a bolder, fearless individual, you would’ve asked him for his number some time ago, and perhaps even invited him out for drinks with you. You simply didn’t have the confidence for that, however, and the fear of rejection from such an ethereal person was almost debilitating. Plus, the thrill of sitting next to him each day, sharing smiles, and riding in the elevator together was exhilarating enough in itself. He became a beacon of light in your day, and seeing him waiting for you each evening filled you with a strange sense of relief.

This was especially true on a particular Friday evening when you had been dreaming of returning home from the moment you stepped into work. From the second you woke up that morning you had been sure you had gotten sick. And with every moment that passed, your certainty had grown more and more solid. To your great upset and exhaustion, you hadn’t been able to leave; you had no remaining sick days, and your boss wasn’t in the greatest of moods so you hadn’t wanted to approach them anyways.

As you stood at the bus stop, awaiting its arrival, you were rather surprised that you had made it to the end of the day at all. And, as seemed typical for your life lately, it had begun to rain. That exact bus stop didn’t have a shelter, and so the sky’s downpour was delivered directly to you. You, who didn’t have a hooded coat or an umbrella. When the bus turned the corner and drove towards you, you could have cried or even thanked the heavens.

When you took your seat next to cute bus guy, your smile was a bashful and reluctant one; you were sure you looked far from your best. You probably looked closer to a drenched rat than a person, and your nose was bright red from blowing it all day long. Sitting next to the man, however, you were filled with a peculiar and overwhelming feeling of peace. You felt more peace and security than you had all day, even if your seat was a little lumpy and the bus lurched and jerked over each pothole in the road. You supposed it was just the familiarity of the man. After all, even if the two of you hadn’t spoken properly, you did sit with him every day, five days a week. You settled, feeling much steadier now, despite the pounding ache that battered your skull.

***

The next thing you felt was the panicked sensation of being woken up before you even realised you had fallen asleep. “Huh?” you mumbled as you made sense of your surroundings. “Did I miss my stop?”

In the seconds it took you to register cute bus guy shaking you awake gently, along with the fact that you had just raised your head from its resting place on his shoulder, you felt the heat in your cheeks intensify. They had already been glowing, you were sure - you had been feeling as though you were running a fever for hours.

“No, our stop is in a few minutes,” the man answered your question, his voice gentle. “I thought I’d give you some time to wake up.”

“Oh my goodness, I-I’m so sorry,” you stammered out an apology, glaring at your shoes to avoid looking at him.

He simply chuckled in response, which surprised you; he didn’t seem annoyed or angry at all. “You’re really cute when you’re sleeping so I don’t mind too much.”

If it were possible for your cheeks to burn any brighter, you were sure they would. “Oh,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

“I hope that wasn’t a creepy thing to say,” he went on, “It’s just you were doing these adorable tiny snores, it was really sweet.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered, picking at a thread on your sleeve, a display of your anxiety.

“Don’t be,” he assured you, his tone light and friendly. It was only when he reached over to press the alert button that you realised you had reached your stop. When you alighted together, he erected an umbrella that covered both of you.

“Walk with me,” he asked of you, “I don’t want you to get any wetter.” From another person, this could’ve been a mocking statement. But from him, it came across as real concern.

“Thank you,” you say earnestly, before you let out a sudden, explosive sneeze.

“I really hope you haven’t caught a cold in this rain,” Doyoung spoke, eyeing you with slight alarm.

“It wasn’t the rain,” you told him with a sniffle. “I’ve been sick all day.”

“Oh no.” You were surprised to hear genuine worry in his voice, and you looked up at him to see him frowning at you. “Do you have someone to take care of you?”

You shook your head. “I live alone.” It occurred to you that you maybe shouldn’t tell this to somebody who was mostly a stranger, especially not when he knew where you lived. This thought seemed ridiculous, though. Despite the fact that you didn’t really know him, you knew this man was kind and honest; you could just tell.

“I know we’ve never really spoken, but...” He paused, as if thinking over his words before he said them. “I can come over and keep you company, if you want?”

As he keyed you both into the building, you gave consideration to his offer. You really didn’t want to be alone when you were feeling so sick - you already felt shitty enough, without loneliness kicking in. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone fetch you water and medicine when you needed it.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you checked apprehensively.

“Of course not,” he confirmed. “I have no plans, anyways.”

“You’re a saint,” you told him as you stepped into the elevator together. “Can you come over in about an hour? I want to take a shower first.”

“Sure. My name is Doyoung, by the way.” It only hit you then that you hadn’t even known his name. You had invited him to your apartment, not only to keep you company but to take care of you while you were sick, and you hadn’t even known his name.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself. “And it’s apartment 413, by the way.”

“See you soon, Y/N,” he bid you goodbye warmly as he stepped out of the elevator. The absurdity of the situation wasn’t lost on you, not even with your sick and cloudy mind.

***

The long shower you had taken had done a little to soothe your aching muscles, and the warm water had made your sinuses feel a little clearer. But, you were feeling extraordinarily weak, and you had been forced to exit when you began to feel faint. When Doyoung arrived at your apartment, you were seated on your couch. You had just finished eating a bowl of heated tinned soup, and you were wearing your cleanest cosy sweater and your least shabby pair of sweatpants - you felt a little silly, picking out your most pristine loungewear. You knew any efforts to impress Doyoung were futile, with your bright red nose and swollen eyes.

When you opened your door, you were a little taken aback. You had never seen him wear anything other than his thick jacket, but to see him in casual wear was something else. He had dressed in a pair of jeans, along with a plain white tee under a grey plaid shirt. It wasn’t anything special, but he made it work exceptionally well.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, sounding much more cheerful than you felt.

“Hey, Doyoung.” You stepped aside to let him in. “I really appreciate you coming over.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed your concerns. “But I hope you don’t keep a habit of inviting strange men into your apartment - not that I’m dangerous or anything,” he stopped, letting out a nervous chuckle. “But others... Could be.” He paused again. “I’m not building such a convincing case for myself, am I?”

You simply smiled and told him not to worry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh along with him, purely because of how awful you were feeling.

“Anyways, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Pretty shit,” you spoke flatly.

He frowned sympathetically. “Have you taken any painkillers?”

When you shook your head no, he sighed.

“That’s silly of you. Sit down,” he instructed you, and you complied without a second thought, a little taken aback by his assertive yet caring nature. “Where are they?”

“The cupboard above the oven and to the left,” you directed him, pointing towards your kitchen. “They should be on the top shelf.”

“You’ll be wanting cold meds, right?” he spoke as he re-entered the lounge, equipped with a glass of water and a box of tablets. You nodded weakly, taking what he handed to you.

“Have you eaten?” he asked as he sat down next to you, to which you nodded in response. “Alright, good. Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” You simply nodded again, lacking the energy to speak. “You should pick,” he decided. “You’re the one who’s sick.”

You took the remote from his hands, working the buttons until Beauty and the Beast was playing, a comfort film of yours.

“Good choice,” Doyoung commented.

You laid your head back lazily, curling your legs up beneath you and waiting for the meds to kick in. You passively obeyed when Doyoung took a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over you. Though you didn’t speak, you were immensely thankful for the warmth it brought you.

“I really hope you don’t get sick,” you murmured slowly, around thirty minutes into the movie.

“I have a really good immune system. I never get sick,” Doyoung promised you.

Though there was silence between you two, it was strangely comfortable when considering you hadn’t really spoken to the guy until that day. You could only hope the comfort extended to him, but you thought he looked pretty relaxed. As the medication began to kick in, your limbs felt heavier, and your mind got loose and distant.

“It was really nice of you to keep me company like this,” you spoke quietly, your words a little slurred from the effort.

“It’s nothing. I wouldn’t want you to be alone like this,” Doyoung dismissed your words.

You spoke again, your tongue running away from your foggy brain.“Y’know, before I knew your name I called you ‘cute bus guy.’ Just in my head.”

“Oh yeah? That’s cute.” Doyoung was smiling widely at you.

Distantly, in the recesses of your mind that were still somewhat active, you were aware that you might have been saying things you shouldn’t. Unfortunately, your mind wasn’t quite strong enough to stop yourself, or to even care. “Yeah. I think I might even have a crush on you.”

“That’s sweet, Y/N, but I think it’s just the cold meds talking,” Doyoung assured you, his voice lilted with a laugh.

“No, really,” you insisted earnestly.

“Let’s just discuss that another time, yeah?” Doyoung proposed.

“Okay,” you said, your voice not much more than a sleepy mumble. You let yourself drift into a heavy, dreamless sleep. Any embarrassment would have to be postponed until you woke up.

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